Charming

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2 February 1892 — Zelfred's House, Sanditon Terrace

The Voyager had made port around sunrise that morning, and although Alfred would have liked to have flooed straight home and told Zelda he was back, there were a number of things to tend to before the ship could be left alone at the pier. He kept his crew working hard on the various odds and ends — unloading cargo, tying up sail cloth, repairing frayed rigging — until just before lunch, when he let them loose. They were late returning by nearly a week compared to what he'd planned at the beginning of the voyage, but he actually felt they'd made good time; the merchant they'd been escorting had a devil of a time with the winds around the cape, and that delay could have set them back two weeks if he hadn't made some of it up. The last time he'd written Zelda he'd told her he'd likely be gone well into February, so he was hoping this would be a pleasant surprise. Of course, he hadn't made it quite quickly enough to find her at home on a weekend, so when he did make it back to their home (through the Sanditon Resort's floo and then a short walk — he'd meant to file the paperwork to have their parlor fireplace connected to the floo network before he'd left, but he'd put it off to accomplish hurricane repairs and hadn't done it, and he wasn't sure whether Zelda would have or not) it was empty except for her dog.

He killed time. He tossed a toy for the dog, who was interested for ten minutes and then decided to nap on the rug instead. He made a sandwich for lunch and wandered through the house, taking in the little ways that it had changed in the months since he'd been here last. He'd gotten used to things being different from how he'd left them; even when he'd had his own room in London there were always subtle changes when he was away so long. A new cozy in the kitchen for the tea kettle; one fewer mug in the cabinet, presumably because one had broken; things in the lavatory had gravitated towards new positions. It took ten minutes for him to find his shaving razor.

Alfred opened his seabag and considered unpacking, but in the new context of this house the salt ground in to everything he'd brought with him from the ship was apparent. He'd probably have to wash everything before he did any actual unpacking, which meant he'd have to wait for their laundry woman to visit again — Alfred didn't know how to wash clothes except with saltwater.

Eventually he ran out of things to do and decided to leave the house, abandoning his still-packed seabag in the hallway and his wand on the table by the door. Of course he ended up at the Sanditon's docks; even if he'd set out to wander aimlessly he would have found himself there sooner or later. The sailboats were in much the same condition that he'd left them, since they had been safe from winter weather (there had, apparently, been no further hurricanes), but there was still upkeep to be done, so he busied himself with that. He hadn't brought a watch with him and there was no clock at the docks, so he didn't realize how late it was getting until he the light from the sun started to slant and impact his work. Zelda would have been home from work by now, probably — what time of day did the sun set in this part of the world, at this time of year? He couldn't recall. He stopped by the boathouse to wash his hands and left his sleeves rolled up as he returned home. He considered knocking, but only for a second before he chided himself for being foolish — this was his house, after all.

"Hell-o," he called as he swung the door open, already grinning at the thought of seeing Zelda inside.
Zelda hadn't known Alfred was back until she'd apparated home from work and found his seabag. A brief wander about the house had confirmed that he wasn't here, although he obviously had been, and Zelda changed into a housedress from her Ministry robes before she started puttering around. She felt the apprehension in her limbs and her chest, because Alfred was home and she hadn't expected it, and she could hardly imagine going to run errands or settling into things when she was waiting to see him.

The sound of the door opening had her speed-walking down the stairs even before she heard her husband's hello. Zelda was grinning widely and bounced down the last few steps so she could fling her arms around him. "You're back!" she chirped, with obvious delight in her voice. Alfred was back and he was early, and she had so much to tell him she didn't know where to start.

"I'm back," he echoed, grinning wide as he spread his arms to catch her in an embrace. He lifted her off the ground for a second and squeezed her tight, caught up in the momentum of the moment. "I missed you," he continued as he set her back down, leaving his arms wrapped around her. "I meant to be home when you came back but I went to the docks and didn't bring my pocket watch, so of course I lost track of time. But I missed you so much," he said emphatically, before leaning in to kiss her neck.
Zelda hummed and tucked her head against Alfred's chest. She inhaled the sea-salt scent of him and grinned to herself. She'd been handling it — the being on her own — better than she thought she would, but it was still a relief to have Alfred here, solid and real. "I missed you so much," she said, "I love you."

"Love you more," he teased lightly (obviously it was not a competition; he didn't think what he felt for her could ever be quantified, anyway). "How's the winter been? Did the repairs on the roof hold up alright?" The Sanditon usually didn't see bad weather, regardless of the time of year, but they had been known to alter their weather charms to create snow for a few festive days in the winter. Given everything that had happened this year, he imagined they'd skipped any temporary tampering with the weather charms.
Zelda grinned. "The roof held up," she said, although the weather had never been severe enough within the Sanditon for her to worry about it. "I have news for you."

"Oh," he said pleasantly. "I have news for you, too. Who should go first?" As he spoke his hands settled around her hips. It was good to be able to hold her again, and he had no plans to let go for a while.
Zelda rested the palms of her hands on Alfred's chest. "You can go," she said. She was pretty sure that when she told him, they'd both be distracted for a while.

"Alright," he said. He paused to kiss her on the forehead before continuing. "I picked up another job for the Voyager. February thirteenth to March tenth."

This was good news, because more time at sea for him meant more money for them and more that they were able to invest in their house and their life together, but he was admittedly nervous that she might protest at the idea of him setting sail the day before Saint Valentine's.
Zelda's eyebrows rose before she could stop them — she hadn't expected him to be gone again so soon, and for nearly a month. "In ten days?" she said, trying to recollect herself.

Alfred glanced at the ceiling and tried to remember exactly which date today was. He needn't have bothered; he could have trusted her math to be correct, because Zelda was usually correct about these kinds of things. "Ten days, yeah," he said after a moment. "Sorry, I hadn't counted." There hadn't been much point when he still hadn't been sure exactly which day they'd be back in London. At least he'd gotten back early — if he'd kept on track with the last letter he'd sent Zelda the turn-around would have only been a day or two.
"Oh," Zelda said; she had an instinct to frown, but pressed her lips together instead, because she didn't actually want to pout at him. "Where are you going?" she asked. This wasn't related to what she wanted to tell him, but it was hard to refocus.

She seemed like she was displeased but trying to be a good sport about it, and Alfred supposed he'd been correct in his assumption that she would want him home for Saint Valentine's. "Just Greece," he said carelessly, as though Greece were only as far as Wales. Compared to some of the places he had sailed before, though, Greece wasn't too exotic; he was familiar with all the waters between here and there, and only once had they presented any danger. The sea monster having been handled by Portugal (or so he had been told), there was little to concern anyone between England and Greece. (In the end, the sea monster had been good for business, despite the damage it had caused the Voyager; merchants were more interested in hiring naval protection now than they had been two years ago).

"We could have a bit of a Valentine's celebration before I go," he offered. "Cocoa on the Wanderer, maybe? Sort of a call back to that Christmas?"
Greece would be nice; she would have letters of Alfred's from Greece to look forward to. "That would be nice," Zelda said; she tried for a smile, and it ended up half-genuine. "I'd like Wanderer cocoa."

She should just tell him — she didn't need to do all this lead-up first.

"Alright," he said, with a small smile. He wasn't sure he was entirely in the clear, but if she was receptive to the idea of cocoa she'd probably forgive him for missing Valentine's sooner or later. "What was your news?"
Zelda flushed. "We're going to have a baby," she said; and never mind her disappointment, because she was grinning at him already. "August, I think."

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