“Let’s forget about the kitchen for now,” Tybalt suggested with a lopsided grin, as he darted towards Elsie in the hallway. Bentley was fine – tucked safely into his chair, even if Tyb did have an excessive degree of worry about being responsible for him getting hurt somehow – and the kitchen was, well, still standing.
It took glancing at Hallie with her dusting of flour to envision himself and the inevitable layer of white in his own hair; before Elsie could take too much of a look and work out what was going on (as if she couldn’t guess!), Tyb reached around her head and clasped his hands over her eyes. “Sitting room,” he instructed instead, guiding her – and the kitten in her arms – that way, and manoeuvring them through the door. He wasn’t quite as prepared as he had planned to be by now, but he toed the picnic blanket spread better into place on the floor. “Alright,” he said, pressing gently on her shoulders to get her to sit, “Bentley and I’ll be right with you.”
He ducked back into the kitchen, glancing down briefly but deciding not to bother with the whole state of himself. After the finishing touches – well, the best he could do – on the day’s baking, Tybalt scooped up Bentley with one arm and his wand in the other, and cast a levitation charm to move the birthday picnic, pie and cake and all, into the sitting room. Don’t drop anything, don’t drop anything, do not drop anything, Tyb repeated to himself in prayer, hardly able to watch –
But everything made it onto the picnic blanket right side up, thank Merlin. (There was some icing on the doorframe, but that was it.) “Okay,” Tyb declared, breathing a sigh of relief as he settled on the sitting room floor with Bentley. “Happy birthday, by the way.”
It took glancing at Hallie with her dusting of flour to envision himself and the inevitable layer of white in his own hair; before Elsie could take too much of a look and work out what was going on (as if she couldn’t guess!), Tyb reached around her head and clasped his hands over her eyes. “Sitting room,” he instructed instead, guiding her – and the kitten in her arms – that way, and manoeuvring them through the door. He wasn’t quite as prepared as he had planned to be by now, but he toed the picnic blanket spread better into place on the floor. “Alright,” he said, pressing gently on her shoulders to get her to sit, “Bentley and I’ll be right with you.”
He ducked back into the kitchen, glancing down briefly but deciding not to bother with the whole state of himself. After the finishing touches – well, the best he could do – on the day’s baking, Tybalt scooped up Bentley with one arm and his wand in the other, and cast a levitation charm to move the birthday picnic, pie and cake and all, into the sitting room. Don’t drop anything, don’t drop anything, do not drop anything, Tyb repeated to himself in prayer, hardly able to watch –
But everything made it onto the picnic blanket right side up, thank Merlin. (There was some icing on the doorframe, but that was it.) “Okay,” Tyb declared, breathing a sigh of relief as he settled on the sitting room floor with Bentley. “Happy birthday, by the way.”
