April 1, 1894 - Honeydukes' Bartonburg Home

Quin's birthday, Dahlia had determined with the enthusiasm of a newlywed, had to be absolutely perfect. It didn't matter that her feet ached, her stomach churned, or that she could hardly keep her eyes open in the evenings these days. No, what mattered was that it was absolutely perfect for Quin. So she'd set to it that day, determining to scrub every surface in their home until it was polished to perfection. She had gone to her mother's greenhouses and filled the house with the brightest blooms she could find, filling vases and enchanting garlands of the flowers to drape over the windows and arch over their heads. And of course she baked. She baked three types of bread, unsure what he'd like, make him scones and cookies, she'd even made him some truffles (lavender and vanilla in a dark chocolate, a new flavor she had been hoping to surprise him with). She'd ended the evening with making his favorite meal.

By the time Quin got home, however, Dahlia was flustered beyond repair. She'd burned one of the breads, had a pot full of jam boil over, the flowers were falling down and losing petals from the heat of the kitchen, she hadn't even had a chance to change into a nicer dress, her hair was doing the thing it did when she was sweaty where it curled and frizzed at the same time, she was fairly certain the clotted cream for the scones had spoiled, and she was convinced that everything was a complete disaster.

The kitchen door opened, presumably to let Quin in, but Dahlia barely spared it a glance, she was trying to enchant a falling garland of flowers back up along a ceiling beam and stirring pudding for tonight's dessert with the other hand as she balanced on tiptoe for the spellwork. There was flour every where and petals and leaves almost seemed to be falling like rain. "Oh! Hello dear!" She greeted, but her voice almost broke. Her magical surprise was utterly ruined and she couldn't even spare him the attention to salvage anything beyond what she was already salvaging. "Happy birthday!" She piped, spinning around once the garland was floating again, her wand still trailing it behind her unnoticed, her apron catching on the stove doorway and tearing and the spoon that had been stirring tipping the pot of scolding milk toward her. In short, it was the moment before chaos hit. The silent pause of absolutely everything going wrong.

Quincey Honeyduke

  

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At this point in his life, his birthday was just any other day. Nearing forty surely meant he didn't need to celebrate anymore and if he'd had any idea what Dahlia had planned for the day, he would have encouraged her not to go overboard, or even bother. Just a nice little dinner, the two of them, something simple.

Definitely not what he'd come home to.

There was a lot to digest; the flowers were to be expected; the kitchen was a bit of a disaster; Dahlia was a bit of a disaster and he knew that look on her face by now. He set his jacket aside and quickly made his way into the kitchen, keeping a soft smile on his features, even though he was a little worried about her. "Thank you, Darling. Looks like you've been hard at work." Too much, always trying to do too much. It seemed to be in the Potts genes, as he was pretty sure he had heard this mentioned about some of her sisters too.

As she got caught on the stove and the milk spilled, Quin managed to keep it from getting too far, magically levitating it back to where it had sat upon the stove top. Quin was the king of making messes in the kitchen both intentionally and accidentally, he knew how to manage the chaos better than most.

"Everything smells wonderful, can I help?" He asked gently, even though he had started to take over, moving things around, off the stove, away from anything terribly messy. Quin liked to think he was getting better at reading her moods, but the pregnancy was sending them both for a loop and he was back to square one.

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It was supposed to look effortless, like she hadn't put any work in at all. Dahlia bit the inside of her lip as her smile wobbled. He hasn't supposed to have any idea how hard she had worked at any of this. And yet there were disasters every which way she looked. She would not cry on his birthday, Dahlia told herself sternly. No. She could salvage this.

But then he was moving forward his wand already rescuing the milk from splashing on her, right over the jagged tear of her apron and he was saying everything smelled.... wonderful? "No it doesn't!" Dahlia protested, her voice wobbling now too. "I've burned the bread, wilted the flowers, scalded the milk. How can you even say it smells wonderful. I've ruined your entire birthday!" The words tumbled out of her in mounting hysteria, her arms gesturing from one disaster to the next until she flung them over her face to hide the tears that were beginning to well beyond her control.

  

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Quin wasn't sure which mess to take care of first; the ones on the stove or his wife.

Wife first. "Dahlia," he turned toward her after he shut down everything on the stove top, leaving his wand on the counter nearby in case anything revolted. "You could not ruin my birthday even if you tried." He assured her, holding her face in his hands gently. These Potts women were always trying to do too much. He didn't need anything fancy for his birthday and he especially didn't need all of this. "I appreciate your effort, I really do, but you didn't need to go to such lengths." Quin was more than happy to come home and bake a little something or have their cook make something easy for dinner.

"I'm an old man," he teased her lightly. "I've had a lot of birthdays." Alright, he wasn't that old, and he understood her wanting to do something special since this was their first set of birthdays after the wedding, but he truly didn't need to be fussed over. He much preferred to do the fussing. Her own birthday was just ten short days away and he would certainly treat her to all of her favorites, but she'd only had half the amount of birthdays he'd had.

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"You're just saying that because you have too." Dahlia's voice broke as she tried to brush his hands away from her face to hide her eyes. But instead his hands captured her chin, forcing her watery eyes to look up at him. "Of course I did." She declared stubbornly. It was, after all, their first birthday since they'd been married. And he deserved every delight she could think of.

"You are not!" Dahlia was resolute in this. Quin, while yes much older than her, was no where near the grizzled old men she considered when she thought of old. He was nothing like Professor Valenderius or even Professor Ruskin. As far as she could tell he didn't even have a gray hair - and she'd looked!

"I don't care how many birthdays you've had Quin! I wanted this one to be perfect."

  

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"It is perfect," he contested with a smile. He could clean up the mess easily enough and enjoy was wasn't overcooked or he could make them something quick and easy. It really didn't matter to him, it didn't have to be any different than any other day. "You are growing a little human in there," Quin gently rested one hand on her growing belly. "Our little human, and that is all I need from you. Please do not stress about it." He beseeched her with his eyes, hoping she would let all of this go.

"I can clean up and make something quickly and we can have a little dessert and head up to bed early?" He waggled his eyebrows at her playfully, sliding the hand around to her back to pull her in, dipping his head to press a kiss just below her jawline, hoping to distract her. He was not very well-versed in the art of seduction, but he wasn't a complete idiot, and he had picked up on a few ways to get her off task.

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There was absolutely no way Dahlia was going to allow him to clean up her mess. She opened her mouth but he'd pulled her in closer, his warm breath dusting kisses along her jawline. Her mind welt blank as her body melted and her eyes fluttered shut. There was something she was supposed to say... "Quin," She started in a whine but she'd forgotten what it was. Instead she tilted her head up so he could access under her jaw. "Early bed?" She breathed. Eyes shut, safe in Quin's arms, Dahlia's hormones ranged against her being, muddling her mind and creating one thought and one thought alone - bed. Their wonderful comfortable bed where Quin did all sorts of wicked things to her.

  

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To say he was proud of himself would be a bit of a stretch, but it looked like he had succeeded in distracting her. It didn't take much. He very much felt like they were still in their honeymoon period and had no desire to let it slide just yet. "If you want." He mumbled against her skin. Bed first, dessert after. Dinner was optional really. The kitchen could wait as long as nothing was going to catch fire, which, he looked up briefly, didn't look like a problem. Magic was a wonderful clean up tool.

He chuckled lowly, moving back up to kiss her fully, tangling his other hand in her hair gently. Now who was he distracting?

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"It's your birthday." She insisted, but most logical arguments melted away.

"Oh! And then I've got to get the truffles done." She pushed away from Quin her eyes wide. There was no way she wanted to leave Quin's embrace, but it was his birthday and she certainly wanted to salvage at least something before he took her to bed.

  

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Quin laughed and shook his head. "Dahlia, leave it." He contested lightly, reaching out to pull her with him toward the back stairs. "We can deal with this later." He waggled his eyebrows at her playfully. Nothing was going to go awry in the time they took away from the kitchen. Whether in was in half an hour, two hours or tomorrow, Quin had so much experience cleaning up messy kitchens he could probably do it in his sleep.

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Oh how she wanted to leave it, to snuggle in his embrace and find solace in their bedroom. She wouldn't have done it, she told herself, had his hand not gently captured her arm and tugged her away. She couldn't resist. It was his birthday after all.

She didn't acquiesce in words, but rather in actions, allowing him to pull her in. For there to be smiles and laughter and a trail of clothes. There she gave him a present that likely was much more enjoyable than the flowers and treats downstairs. And for Dahlia's part... well she was incandescently happy, mess or no.

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