"Might we try the Africa pen? I heard the giraffe is rather peculiar." Millie suggested, feeling more curious than decisive at the moment. Her cousin's interests seemed more depressed lately, she hardly ever saw Zin drawing or painting much anymore. It might be difficult, she supposed, to work at a canvas now with such a large belly. That was hard enough to miss these days, though her pregnancy had been hardly more than a suggestion at Eastertime.

The young witch was surprised at how quickly it had come to pass. She had never known Zinnia to be so reclusive and withdrawn until the rumors began floating in, first as chatter among students, and then in print in a Witch Weekly issue. Awash in a school full of whispers and gossip, even Millie took the suggestions of impropriety by her cousin as hurtful. Others didn't know Zin like she did, they didn't see the thoughtful soul behind the sometimes-clumsy and inelegant mannerisms. Her cousin might make mistakes but that didn't make Millie love her any less, or shirk from any thought of companionship.

Today's was slower paced than Millie was accustomed to, two weeks after leaving the bustle of life at Hogwarts. It might be even slower than that, at times she found herself pausing her step to let Zin catch up or letting her go first through narrower passages lest she fall. Thinking of her cousin as some delicate creature was new for her, only feeling inklings of it during the winter holidays before. The young witch wondered if there were worries on Zin's mind, or if this was just the way of pregnant women.

"But I don't want to miss your wishes, either," she put in belatedly. With Zin looking quite ready to burst, Millie could hardly be surprised if this was her last outing for a while. She was happy to help make it count, a summertime of idleness and drudgery would have to be the worst way to greet motherhood. "We can always come back to Africa later."

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