Tyb's interjections were nothing new, she expected them and in this instance, found his enthusiasm for the subject rather endearing. His added details only enhanced her visual of the scene in her head. It was something she'd done daydreaming, but had never dared to say as much aloud to anyone. Saying it now made it very real and she was already hopelessly attached to the idea. The picture was so clear she could reach out and touch it. All she wanted to do was hold it close and protect the possibility of it. Elsie felt the image to be incredibly fragile, like it was inside a bubble and one wrong move would see it burst. For now everything was fine, round and whole, there for them to enjoy for as long as the night lasted.

"Yes a swing, I never had one growing up, but I always fancied having a big tree with one in the garden." There was something incredibly peaceful about a quiet garden, surrounded by flowers and a little swing in the sunshine. Perhaps she read too many romance novels, but someday she'd have one- even if she had to share.  She chuckled at his tone, the very real mention of children making her blush lightly. "I'll share, somebody has to make sure it's safe after all." It would be a while before they got the swing, and longer still until children, she could enjoy it for a bit first!

Sighing contentedly, Elsie could very nearly picture curly-haired Gryffindors running around the garden and wondered in just what context Lucinda had referred to them. "Tiny terrors who will no doubt make me grey long before my time." She teased, running her fingers through his curls to prove a point. It would be tough to tell which of them their kids would take after, but if they were anything like Tyb, Elsie would surely have her work cut out for her, in the best possible way. 

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MJ always makes her so pretty

A swing. Tyb didn’t know how they’d gotten here - all the champagne fizzing in his gut, all the fervour of the evening had become a comfortable haze at the corners, and he was floating somewhere between hyper-awake and exhausted at this odd hour - but that swing was more vivid a picture than almost anything he’d seen.

The children he’d mentioned - whether or not they were Gryffindors! - were a little less distinct in his head (but only because there was something inherently terrifying about the thought, even in wanting it so badly). “Please, who knows,” he protested, grinning nonetheless, “they might take after you.” Her mother had done a pretty good job on Elsie, after all; even half of Elsie’s nature rubbing off on a child would probably count for a success, comparatively.

“As long as we’re not both grey before we get there, I don’t care,” Tybalt murmured, twisting his hand into the loose strands of her hair in turn. When, he said still, and not if. He had to, or they’d be right back where they’d begun. Honestly, he felt a little delirious all of a sudden, some strange heady feeling washing over him from all this overreaching. “But damn it, we’ll get you that swing.”

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   Elsie Kirke

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It was quite the question, who potential children would take after more. It would no doubt be a matter of time until they found out, but she could be content to leave that for a little while. There were several hurdles to get over before children could even be a consideration. Too many that sometimes; it seemed impossible. One step at a time and Elsie refused to fall down that spiral again.

All of this talk of what could (would!) be was a different kind of thrill, it was a softer one, but still gave her that warm fuzzy feeling. The cadence of the evening wasn't quite what she'd expected, but she wasn't complaining in the slightest. She'd monopolize his time in any way she possible could.

She chuckled, very aware of his hand in her hair and the subtle change in the air between them. It would have been hard to miss from any other place, but maybe she was just very in tune with him. She could feel that little switch flip. "One step at a time, Love." She reminded him in a whisper, blue eyes on his, as she leaned in to brush her lips against his cheek softly. "But I'll hold you to that." She added before she moved in to kiss him

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   Tybalt Kirke

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MJ always makes her so pretty

“One step at a time,” he repeated in murmured agreement, as Elsie kissed his cheek, “but always forwards.”

“You’d better,” Tyb added, the corner of his mouth quirking before she leant in to kiss him properly, which tied up the conversation with as neat a bow as anything. Kissing her back, he felt himself caught again between that tiredness - of the hour and of their situation - and the strange awakeness of being alone here with her, in some kind of dreamland, somewhere outside of society, where there were no consequences and nothing could go wrong.

Tyb let his fingers bury themselves a little deeper in her hair as his other hand tightened around her waist, distantly aware at how they had been wasting time in talking, and that sooner or later, she should probably go. But, truthfully, that conversation had been as dangerous as any kiss; more dangerous, almost, because now it had made him greedy for a future that they might well be risking even now.

At least they had been well-behaved (enough) at the ball. And as long as they didn’t fall asleep here, Elsie being here a little while longer couldn’t hurt.

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