If wishes were horses, beggars would ride -- British Nursery Rhyme, 1605.

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Sometimes being near the library was comforting to Akiva.  She enjoyed her work in the MAO, but sometimes… without Dreogan there and knowing how long it had been – she just couldn’t stay in the office all day. 

So, she made it a day for research outside of the office. 

It was quite nice, sitting at one of the tables with several books sprawled around her, writing notes and copying passages and pages that might be useful for the requester.  She’d lamented that Abby had left the department.  She was a ball of sunshine in many ways, even if she was Aileen’s sister.  They were as different as night and day, Akiva often forgot. 

But, she couldn’t spend all day in the library, she realized as it approached lunch and her stomach started to rumble uncomfortably loudly.  She clipped her folder shut, returned her books to the cart that would put them away (she despised when others did not do librarians that courtesy when she had worked there), and walked away. 

Of course, she didn’t leave the library without three hats, one from everyone except for old Mrs. Poole, which was fine.  Akiva did not expect anything from her.  She thanked them all, even Mrs. Jenkins who had mistakenly made a very pink bonnet for the little one.  Akiva just smiled and put it in the pile with the others, green and yellow respectively. 

She’d brought her lunch (Akiva was much more prepared these days), and sighed as she looked around.  There were virtually no free seats.  She’d almost forgotten about this piece of working in the atrium, but she did not want to bother the librarians by using the back room. 

Scanning the crowd, she saw a number of tables that had only one or two occupants, but she figured she’d go with the safest bet.  There was a single woman at a table, from the back, Akiva could tell she had blonde hair, and she walked up with a slight smile on her face.  “Might I grab this seat?” she asked, moving around the front of the table, noticing the woman was very young and well… seemed in the family way.

Akiva smiled more brightly, and pulled back, though her hand remained on the back of the empty seat, “Unless you might be waiting for someone?” she suggested, thinking it would give the young woman a safe out, should she not want to lose her privacy. 

Waker had been reading old files all day, reorganizing them into new categories to better suit the department’s needs. The next step would be filing a massive stack of new documents. (Which, naturally, would be a blast). But if there was someone who was right for the job, whose love for organization and continuity knew no bounds (so far), it was young Ravenclaw graduate. It didn’t mean that the task didn’t get old fast, but it had to be done, and she’d rest well knowing that she’d done a good job. It was all part of working her way up, finding the right niche at the Ministry. It also suited her current… predicament. A trainee position would have to wait a few months, but Waker was exceptionally determined to make it happen sooner rather than later. If she was tired, sore from the extra life growing everyday inside her, she stubbornly refused to let it show. And so when she’d grabbed her lunch and purse for a break, she had twitched a little to leave the files behind. She had been quite tempted to bring them, but a supervisor had eyed her, told her to give it a rest. Waker had been a little embarrassed, but also grateful, smiling at the wizard as she stepped into the elevator that went in all sorts of directions that even a sensible, logical young woman like Waker was still in a bit of wonderment every time.

She found an empty table in the atrium just as the lunch crowd was beginning to grow. She’d brought her coat and scarf, just in case she decided to run outside for a moment, and folded them neatly over the chair’s back before sitting. Since she and George had had a serious discussion about adult responsibilities, they’d been cooking together more. This morning she’d made sandwiches and fruit salad while he was making breakfast; now she unpacked it, looking around the atrium at all of the professionals who were also starting on their midday meals. She was one of them now, one of these adults with a real job. It was gratifying, and just a little bit nerve-wracking.

As she stabbed fresh fruit with a fork, a woman came up to the table and Waker looked up. She was familiar, somehow, they Waker couldn’t recall having worked with her; she wasn’t in the Department of Mysteries, whose employees the Nolan girl had memorized by name. Waker smiled in return. “Oh no, I’m not waiting on anyone. Please,” she said, gesturing to the empty seat. It was always a bit surprising, to see how many people worked here. She’d memorized the number— for this year and last— but it was always a very vivid scene, people pouring into the atrium from the Floo network in the mornings, queueing to get out in the afternoons, buzzing about at lunchtime. It was like shops at Christmas time, just before they closed.

Suddenly, she seemed to remember where she’d seen her: first in the Ministry library, the summer before her seventh year (Waker could not help finding excuses to visit it while she’d interned), and later, at a distance on several occasions in the mornings, waiting for the elevators, though Waker didn’t know which department she was currently in, only that she seemed to have been transferred from the library (which the Ravenclaw alum still visited regularly). She remembered because the woman had been very pregnant a few months ago. She was obviously no longer pregnant, and Waker felt a little embarrassed lingering on the thought. But meeting someone else who had gone through the same thing, and who was now back at work— so soon!— was interesting, somehow relieving, and also, again, nerve-inducing. “I’m Waker,” she said, setting her fork down gingerly, extending a hand over the table. “Nolan,” she added. It wouldn’t be polite to bring up the fact that she remembered seeing her because she’d been so pregnant, but the thought didn’t exactly leave her mind as the woman joined her. “I think I’ve seen you in the library before,” she said politely, still smiling, hoping it didn't come across as overly observant in an off-putting way.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Akiva dropped into her seat.  She didn’t often wear heels anymore – pregnancy had pushed her out of them, and well, once she got used to the comfort of flats, it seemed silly to go back, but some things just didn’t go right with flat shoes… Slipping her heels out of the shoes (discreetly, of course), Akiva let her shoulders drop as she sat.  “Thank you so much,” she smiled, truly grateful for the seat.  She hated having to bother people, but the young lady looked nice enough and Akiva was far from threatening. 

She pulled out her own lunch – leftovers from the previous evening, and popped open the container, enchanted to keep the contents warm.  Raizel might have scoffed at her spell book, but Akiva knew there were things in there that were essentials: this being one of them.

Of course, before she started eating, she was glad that the young lady had better manners than she did – and introduced herself.  Smiling wide, Akiva extender her hand as well, “A pleasure, Waker Nolan.”   After shaking, she dropped her hand back and pulled her fork out of her bag, “Akiva Eleor,” she introduced herself, laughing a little when the woman said she’d seen her in the library before.

“You have a fantastic memory!” she responded enthusiastically, “Before I switched departments, I was one of the librarians,” she confirmed for the young witch, She wished she could say that she remembered her, however.  The past year had been a whirlwind in so many ways that visitors to the library, unless leaving a lasting impression, hadn’t really – truly – stuck themselves into Akiva’s mind.  This pleasant young woman, she couldn’t have imagined would make the sort of impression that would leave Akiva with a long lasting, bad taste in her mouth. 

She also imagined that last time she had seen her she had also not been as pregnant as she was now.  Akiva knew how the final strides of her pregnancy had made her blow up like a bloody balloon and how horrible it had been, even working minimal amounts like that.  She hoped this young woman wasn’t doing anything too strenuous. 

“What do you do here?” Akiva asked, stabbing salad with her fork before taking a safer route to asking an obvious question, than actually asking it. 

A compliment to her memory was always a good start. Once in a while, when she met new people at the Ministry, she felt like she was still in school, needed to impress them as if they were professors (in some cases, this was true). Meeting people like Akiva— who seemed to have a warmth about her, and seemed genuinely interested in a conversation, was always a nice change of pace. Granted, most people were perfectly friendly, but Waker could get a little too caught up in trying to impress her superiors and the people who had been here for years.

“Oh! I’m sure I asked you for help once or twice, then.” There seemed to be at least two copies of everything ever printed about Wizarding law and history in there. Not to mention the extensive encyclopedic collections on spells, the Wizarding census data, and copies of everything The Daily Prophet had ever printed. A researcher’s dream. "I interned with the Department of Mysteries. I’m assisting now. I plan to apply to train as an Unspeakable, eventually, but…” She said, lowering her voice a bit; it was a habit when she said the word Unspeakable. She looked down and back up, smiling, a little embarrassed. “It’ll have to wait a few months.”

“Which Department are you in now?” She lifted her fork, looking down at her lunch. Her eyes moved from strawberries to the stack of tiny hats the woman had set on the table. Waker had completely missed them while inviting Akiva to sit down. Her eyes lingered a bit too long— she felt the panic setting in, the the jumpiness that came when she saw a buggy or a teddy bear at a moment when she wasn’t anticipating it. She recovered quickly and grabbed a strawberry with her fork, looking up attentively again.

But perhaps the hats were a way in...

“They’re cute,” she said politely, glancing at them again. “Are they for your—” Son? Daughter? From the colors, it was hard to tell what she’d had. Well, one was pink, but she'd seen plenty of wizards in pink robes. “Baby?” She finished. She didn’t think this woman would find her unprofessional, but Waker could always find a reason to dash if she did. “Babies?” She added tentatively, before she could stop herself. There were three hats. She couldn’t imagine having multiples. The impending one was more daunting than any exam she’d taken.

Akiva nodded, listening to the young woman.  She smiled at her suggestion that she’d probably helped her at one point, which was probably true.  Akiva did much legwork in the library when she had worked there – though, late in her pregnancy, that had changed.  Regardless, she liked research as much as the next person, the exact reason she switched departments to work with her husband in a position that suited her strengths. 

But, this young woman, Waker, she reminded herself, had worked in Mysteries, meaning potentially Poole worked with her, but she wasn’t going to correct the poor thing.  She was probably a ball of nerves and trying to be as amiable as possible.  And in the position she was in, well, it sounded to Akiva like the young woman was in a very big position for change.

Akiva knew that feeling.  She smiled sympathetically, tilting her head to the side.  It was a hard issue to breach – wanting to tell her that it wasn’t so bad.  That she would be okay, and that getting back to work, at least for a bit a week, wasn’t hard.  Of course, it was, and Akiva hated leaving Gabriel with Hestia some days, but she promised to be involved – and with everything that happened… She shook her head, caught up in her thoughts before she registered the young woman’s next question.

“I’m in the Muggle Affairs Office.  It’s quite new, part of International Magical Cooperation,” she explained, waving her hand.  “I do research,” added as an afterthought before she munched on a piece of lettuce. 

Covering her mouth with her hand, trying to chew fast enough to talk again, Akiva swallowed hard and immediately started beaming when questions of her most precious thing in life came up.  She laughed a little though, “The ladies in the library, so sweet,” she explained, “but they’re for my son, Gabriel.  Only one so far,” she said lightly – not too sad, currently, at the thought. 

“He’s three months old,” she explained, “and I only come in twice a week, I stay with him most of the time, but they all made presents.  Poor Mrs. Jenkins though,” Akiva picked up the pink hat, “misremembered Gabriel is well… Gabriel, not Gabrielle.”  In a moment of realization, Akiva’s eyes snapped open wider.  “I’m so sorry for rambling though,” she smiled. 

“You find that once they get here, it’s all you’ll ever have to talk about,” she admitted with a tiny bit of a blush creeping on her cheeks.  “How are you feeling?” she asked, an innocuous question, in many ways, but it allowed the girl to answer however she wanted.  Sometimes it was easier to do that with someone who might actually understand. 

The woman’s sympathetic smile was another relief to Waker. And her relief was becoming gratitude. Of all the people in the massive institution that was the Ministry of Magic, she had struck up a conversation with a sweet woman who knew what she was going through. And one who had an affinity for the library, at that.

"I’m so glad the the Ministry has expanded to include Muggle Affairs,” she said, perhaps a bit too excitedly. These sorts of developments were exciting, though. Maybe George knew everything there was to know about quidditch, but Waker loved the goings on of the government.  As a muggleborn who had grown up at Hogwarts, wanting to fit into the wizarding world, to make something of herself, it was good to know that there were people in the magical community doing more to understand the muggle world. “Do you have to do a lot field research?”

Waker smiled. A son. Three months was still very young. It was good to know that the woman had come back so soon, it was very encouraging, but also nice to know that she could choose how much to work. A nice balance. “Don’t apologize! He must be adorable.” Three months sounded like an age when the parent might finally start getting used to the… overwhelmingness of it all. But then came crawling, eating, walking, talking, and a whole host of even more overwhelming things. It was ridiculous, but that Akiva was blushing a bit somehow made Waker feel easier about talking to her. She had always tried her hardest to hide those sorts of things, and a childish a part of her was still convinced that there was some magical level of adulthood, just out of reach, at which people learned to master such things as blushing and blinking and knitting one’s brows. The more logical part of her knew that was ridiculous, and all of the changes that the last year had brought confirmed as much. It only got harder to mask one’s emotions.

“At least he probably won’t mind whether he’s wearing pink or blue,” she said, smiling. But for the average stranger, the color coding seemed to be the best way to decipher whether a baby was a girl or a boy. Waker would be lying if she said she could always tell just by looking. Some of them were just tiny, wailing balls of chubbiness and tufts of hair.

The idea of talking about the baby most of the time was another overwhelming thing, reminded her yet again of what a huge change it was. Waker was trying hard to keep as many things as possible the same, while also taking charge. “I’m alright. I… my back gets a bit annoying after sitting at the desk for so long,” she admitted. “But then by the time I’ve walked out to the atrium, I’m ready for a giant armchair.” Just from the office to the atrium. It was infuriating, really. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted to sit or stand, walk, or hibernate (the latter sounded very appealing). “I want to work as long as I can, though. I think I’ll go stir crazy if I get put on early bed rest.” She wanted to shudder at the idea. But the date was fast approaching. She sometimes had to the urge to ask her belly if it wouldn’t mind waiting a few more months, but then the logical side of her brain got to her.

“I agree,” Akiva smiled, amused and happy for the girl’s enthusiasm.  It wasn’t often that she came across someone who felt some kind of joy at the sound of an office related to the affairs of muggles.  Most were apathetic, at best, some were viscerally upset  at the idea they could possibly think about incorporating muggles into their world. 

Of course, it wasn’t necessarily about taking muggles in – at least not entirely.  Muggleborns, like herself, did not have the advantages of understanding the world upon entering it – and the part of it that fascinated Akiva was the move to help families accept their lives and children through their entry into Hogwarts and the world of magic.  She didn’t want to do too much talking at the young woman, it could, after all, get a little lofty (courtesy of listening to her husband), and smiled.  “It’s not really my research,” she clarified, “I help others in the department amass the resources to continue research – dull stuff,” she wrinkled her nose and shook her head.  “Nothing quite exciting, I assure you.” 

Of course, at the mention of her son, Akiva couldn’t help but go from shrugging off and making excuses to puffed up and full of pride.  “”He is,” she agreed with a bright smile and started digging in her bag.  She knew she had some pictures on her – she always did, particularly when she knew she’d be visiting the library.  A quick feel around and she found the glossy prints, pulling them out.  “This is Gabriel,” she smiled, proudly showing the young woman pictures of her infant son.  One he was wrapped in a blue blanket, quite asleep, while another featured the young boy covered with a face full of food and even some in his curled, dark hair. 

If there was one thing stable in her life, it was her son, and Akiva loved him above all things.  She did, however, have fear still, like this young woman voiced, and she knew she worked for some of the same reasons – though, in context, very different. 

“You can work for a bit longer, I’m sure,” Akiva assured her, “as long as you take care of yourself.”  She wanted the girl to feel good about their conversation, after all.  She wasn’t here to scare the daylights out of her.  “Do you know what you’re having yet, if you don’t mind me asking?” she smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. 

“That doesn’t sound dull to me,” Waker insisted. But then it had been a life goal to work for the Ministry; quiet research in the library had always had a calming effect (if it had also propelled her anxiety in some ways). It took a certain type of person to do research— whether leading the way or assisting— and those were generally the sort of people Waker felt she could trust in some capacity. They tended to be organized, thoughtful, the sort of people who paid attention to and remembered details. “Do you get to do any work from home?"

Leaning into the table, she reached a tentative hand toward the photograph. The baby was tiny— as babies were— and exceptionally cute. Waker felt her heart leap a bit in her chest; it seemed more real, somehow, her inevitable future, talking to Akiva and glancing over photos of her son. The breathy sort of smile that had appeared on her face as she looked at the first picture became a laughing grin at the second. “He’s adorable!” She withdrew her hand gingerly, feeling a bit shaky, and reached for her fork again to occupy her grasp. “Has he shown any signs of magic?” It could come out of nowhere, she knew, usually before the age of seven, but that was a massive stretch of time. She wasn’t sure she had heard any examples of it having happened quite so young, but biographies of Minerva McGonagall suggested she had been a baby in a cot when the signs had begun.

Nodding in agreement— the woman’s words were comforting, reassuring— she said, “I’ve been going to all of my appointments and reading as many books as I can get my hands on. My boyfriend and I have the nursery finished, mostly.” That had been the hardest part— and George had handled ninety percent of it. But Waker knew that real hardest part had yet to come. “I want to squeeze in another month, at least.” Perhaps that was wishful thinking. Returning Akiva’s smile, she felt herself blushing a little but quickly tried to fight it. Mostly she was trying not to recall the argument she had with George. “A girl.” A part of her was relieved it was so; she knew, at least, what it was like, the basics of being girl. But every one of them was different. And confronting puberty was a long, long way off. Luckily.

Akiva couldn’t help but smile at Waker.  She was young, and sweet, and seemed so interested in the things that Akiva had always loved as well.  Of course, it was different than it seemed, particularly because it had taken Akiva many different roads to get where she finally was, and lack of graduation be damned, she hadn’t let that stop her.  So, perhaps the path was at least a little more clear for this girl.  “I do quite a bit from home, particularly the reading bits – at least when Gabriel lets me,” she laughed a little, thinking of her boy and how hard it could be to do work sometimes.  “Nap time can be a blessing.” 

Of course, sharing her pictures with Waker filled her with a sense of pride.  It was strange to know that the little person she cared for with all of her heart had not existed an entire year ago.  It was strange to think about, and it made her heart hurt a little bit, remembering that.  She wished Dree was with her.  She still held hope that he was okay, that he was going to come home to her and Gabriel, but the statistics didn’t bode well.

Her father had tried to help in the early days, at least comforting her, but his analysis of the event had… as time went on… wore on her a bit.  She wasn’t going to give up hoping for him, but there was a sort of constant dull ache that pervaded everything, remembering that it was so unlikely… She took a deep breath and looked at the pictures of their son again, with his big, brown eyes and curly dark hair, at least she had him to keep her sane. 

“No magic yet,” she answered the girl’s question confidently, “but I must have been… oh, five or six when it started, so I’m not terribly worried,” she smiled.  She didn’t know what she would do if he had signs of magic already.  He could be a handful as was, she didn’t need that too – better it waited. 

“A girl! Congratulations!” Akiva grinned.  She remembered talks with Dreogan where they play argued over what they thought the sex of the baby would be, the long discussions of names and reasons, and how they just wanted to wait  and find out when he came.  Of course, knowing would have made things very different.  An idea sprung upon her and she pulled the little pink hat out of the pile.  “Let this be me and Gabriel’s first present to her then,” she held it out.  “Not to be stereotypical or force gendered colors on her,” she babbled and corrected herself – a little bit of her husband had rubbed off on her, “maybe the yellow would suit better?” she held the other up, “both?”

"And," she added, "do not say no.  I won't accept it."

She hoped that she would be able to work from home for a while, simply so that she could work. She knew the baby would be the most important— and half-subconsciously rubbed her tummy as she thought about the impending life change— but stopping work so abruptly and being unable to continue was a nerve-wracking idea. Most especially if she wanted to train to become an Unspeakable. Going stir-crazy while nursing hardly sounded appealing and was definitely not the plan she had set up for the baby’s arrival. “That’s good to know. I’m sure you have to be very organized to get anything done. It’s a lot to handle at once.” Waker, luckily, adored organization. It was a relaxing pastime for the recent Ravenclaw alum. “I doubt they’ll be implementing childcare at the Ministry any time soon,” she added. She couldn’t decide if that relieved her or if it was disappointing.

While Waker seemed to have a better vision of their future daughter than George, having carried for so many months, it was hard to think of their own features on baby, even if she once been a baby and there were photos to prove it. Seeing a picture of someone else’s baby made it easier, and, again, made it more real. She wondered who theirs would take after, both in looks and in temperament. (She not-so-secretly thought that a daughter with George’s face and her own personality would be nice. Waker had not been a handful as a child. She in fact had hardly thought of herself as a child as a child, and had trouble thinking of her younger self that way even now.)

She nodded in agreement, smiling wider as she lifted her work again. “I was six. But I’ve read it can vary wildly. At least I’m a witch. My parents would have been even more shocked than they were originally if it happened before I could talk or walk on my own."

Waker had been upset with George for his initial reaction to the news of ‘it’s-a-girl,' but she had also been glad to hear it (and to know that her guess had been right). She didn’t think it made her a hypocrite; she would have been just as happy with a boy, too. It just seemed natural to believe it was a girl, that it was just like her, the little (now big) thing she’d been carrying for so long. George’s insistence that it had been a boy, and the desire to compete as she might with another student back at Hogwarts, might have helped establish her inclination.

“Thank you!” It was nice to share the news with someone and not feel so self-conscious. The woman did not seem to judge her at all for starting early. Maybe Waker Nolan projected a little sometimes. Her smile became more surprised and her mouth parted as Akiva handed over the tiny pink hat from the pile. Waker felt her heart jump a bit as she reached out to accept it. Akiva had apparently anticipated her refusal, which the younger woman forced back. She gave a breathy response as her smile relaxed again. “Oh, that's so sweet of you— and Gabriel.” Her grin widened a bit still as she said the baby’s name and glanced over the photo once more. Perhaps her future daughter had a similarly young friend now. It was strange and comforting to think about. “Thank you!” She repeated, feeling awkward for pelting the woman with a rush of thanks, but she was sincerely grateful. It was a sweet gesture, and suddenly made being very pregnant in the middle of the Ministry of Magic much easier. “Pink is perfect,” she assured Akiva. It was refreshing to hear that someone didn’t want to overload on gender-specific colors, however. (But Waker would be lying if she hadn’t indulged a bit in the girliness of the news while putting together the nursery with George. There were hints of lavender and blushing pinks among the mostly clean but thrifty, airy white palette of the little room). “It’s lovely. She’ll look great in it in, I’m sure. But you should keep the others. At the rate they grow, I’m sure you can never have too many hats."

The young woman reminded Akiva of a younger version of herself.  She seemed like a hard worker, and someone who thought about everything before it even happened.  That planning ahead and keeping everything in line, it worked for some people, but Akiva had always found it didn’t really do her life any justice, particularly in the recent past.  All of her life planning went to hell in short order.  As for ministry childcare, Akiva shrugged.  “I’ll be very honest, I am lucky enough to have my parents and mother-in-law to help,” she explained, “my husband wasn’t keen on the idea either,” she laughed a little. 

Dreogan had a say in some things, but Akiva’s desire to work and keep herself busy was not one of them.  They’d talked endlessly about the differences between staying at home and working full and part time, finally deciding through her own insistence that she would not be staying in the house all of the time.  It had chuffed Dree a little bit, but she had been taking care of herself for a long time, and she was glad she’d made that choice now. 

She nodded at the magic comments though, supposing that Waker’s magical abilities were as surprising to her family as Akiva’s were.  She wondered when it would show up for Gabriel – if it did.  She didn’t want to be exclusive and rule out the possibility of him being a squib, of course, however unlikely it seemed.  “I’ve read the same,” Akiva confirmed, probably more for her own sanity than the young woman’s, and grinned as Waker leaned forward to take the hat. 

She probably would have used it on Gabriel regardless, but it was nice to do something for someone else, and the happiness on the young woman’s face was enough to know that the ten thousand other hats at home, still knit by the old ladies in the library, would suffice.  “Consider it a congratulations gift,” Akiva put forward, laughing a little at her suggestion about growth.  “They do grow very quickly,” she agreed, “but knitted hats tend to stretch for a good while.” 

It seemed like the rest of his wardrobe (mostly onesies at this point) was useless after ten minutes, but hats tended to at least accommodate a growing head.  Akiva started to tuck the picture of her son away, looking fondly at it one last time before she slipped it into her wallet.  “They really make you want to get home at the end of the day,” she smiled. 

Waker’s parents worked full-time, as did George’s father. His mum did a lot of charity work, but she had offered to help with the baby— and had already heaps of help. Waker felt guilty about it, and awkward. What if people just felt obligated? In a way, George’s family was now her family, but Waker felt as if she had disappointed them in some way. She knew she had disappointed her parents, even if they hadn’t outright said it. They were supposed to grow up and get married first, weren’t they? But George’s mum had not been been anything but lovely and helpful.

“Our families have been great, it’s just overwhelming to think my parents are going to be grandparents. I don’t want to depend on them for everything, even though I know they’re there to help…” Realizing she had probably said too much, she straightened up a bit. It was an insecurity, and she also hadn’t meant to imply anything about Akiva’s situation, which sounded ideal and well-planned to Waker. Akiva was an adult, Waker was a very young adult. “Does your husband work for the Ministry too?”

Waker’s smile relaxed again as she looked down at the hat, tracing the soft material beneath her fingers. Every time she touched a little romper or teddy bear or something they had bought or been given by their parents, she felt a stirring of something like panic mixed with excitement, love, fear, and the sensation of watching something appear, like the first time she had seen someone Apparate. Only it was almost using a Summon Charm. She remembered the first time she had cast one, the feeling it had created. This was magnified.

“That’s true,” she said, her cheeks bunching in another smile. She felt a little dense for not thinking, but not in the panicky way. Knowing everything there was to know about parenting and babies was an unrealistic goal, and the more Waker prepared, the more she realized it. She sometimes became so intent on mastering something or memorizing something (like the rate at which the average baby grew), that common sense (like the stretchiness of a handmade hat) was momentarily overshadowed. And it was silly because Waker was a logical person. Common sense was among her biggest strengths! “I had a big head as a baby,” she admitted. She still had a big head, square, pumpkin-shaped as her father would say. “But even if she inherits it, her hats should last a while.”

She gingerly slipped the little thing into her purse and looked up at Akiva again. “I’ve read about pregnancy brain. I don’t know how real it is, people debate it, but I hope forgetting that hats stretch isn’t a symptom.” Her smile was sheepish as she took another bite of her lunch. She considered Akiva’s next words and again felt a tiny bit of fear mixed with something else. Excitement, perhaps. Certainly anticipation, if it was a nervous kind. Waker was also worried she might not feel that way, that she would look for excuses to go go to work, that she would be a bad mother. “It’s starting to really feel real,” she said, by way of answer.

She could understand the anxiety of taking care of a newborn.  Akiva had read everything to prepare herself, and even then, it wasn’t really enough to really encapsulate the whole experience of taking a baby into one’s home.  But, that’s why people had their families to help them, and pass on that knowledge.  She couldn’t really imagine how her parents felt, though.

Waker was young, it could have been a difficult situation, maybe bringing up family had been the wrong thing, even if she said they were wonderful, it very well could have been untrue.  People said those kinds of things all of the time, to protect their families or whatever other reasons they had.  Akiva wasn’t one to judge, so she nodded and diplomatically pointed out, “That’s fair, but I don’t think the old adage is wrong: it takes a village.” 

Her village, at a glance, was not a strange one.  Close friends, family, that sort of thing.  But, there was a notable figure missing, and Akiva’s stomach twisted, just a little, when Waker asked about her husband.  She continued wearing her rings, without question, but twisted them anxiously.  “Yes,” was the very simple answer, but there was, of course a lot more to that story.  “My husband is Dreogan Eleor,” she added, hoping that the name, or at the very least the connected controversy and disappearance, would ring a bell. 

It was much better to return to more neutral topics though, and Akiva laughed at her assertion that she had a big head as a child.  “Most babies, I’m afraid, have terribly large heads.”  It did not put a shining light on the memories of having her son, but the funny thing was, it didn’t even matter after it was over: the human body and chemicals were fascinating things. 

Including supposed pregnancy brain.  A completely familiar experience, Akiva laughed.  “I believe it’s real,” she smiled warmly, “but it doesn’t last forever, thankfully.”  Having a brilliant idea, Akiva leaned down to her bag and pulled out a small, stiff card. 

It was the department information, with her name and title on it, as well as a forwarding address for post.  “If you need anything, and don’t feel like you want to ask your parents,” Akiva explained, as she put the card down on the table and slid it forward, “you can owl me.  Just send it here,” she indicated the Muggle Affairs Office, “and if I’m not in, I only work two or three days a week, it will be forwarded to me.” 

Waker might have thought a year ago that adulthood was something she could tackle on her own, but Akiva had a point. It would take more than her own will to raise a baby.

She noticed the woman’s anxiety before she spoke, and felt a bit guilty for asking. Waker was again reminded that she was so good at these sorts of conversations, but she felt compelled to listen and offer whatever she could. This woman, Akiva, had already helped her immeasurably in the fifteen or twenty minutes they’d been sitting and talking. The name Eleor, she realized, had been familiar for more reasons than one. It was not just Akiva whom she had recognized. In fact, the reason name was familiar probably had more to do with the woman’s husband than with remembering Akiva from the library. It had been in the papers, but it had also been a name she’d attached to a pair of faces as a young Ministry intern in the summer between her sixth and seventh years. Her brown eyes became immediately perceptive. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I didn’t—” She was usually much better at making connections than this. Pregnancy brain wasn’t enough of an excuse. “I hope he returns safely,” she said softly, feeling useless. Nothing had been concrete or confirmed, at least. There was hope in that, though Waker imagined it was much easier said than felt. Comforting people was something the Nolan girl had not received straight O’s in, which worried her a bit with a baby on the horizon.

Babies heads and the aforementioned pregnancy brain were safer topics, if also a bit silly in light of the connection between Akiva and the name Eleor. Waker nodded, not feeling terribly excited about the prospect of laboring a big-headed baby, no matter how much she might already love her. It curious that wizarding society hadn’t invented a way to… summon them… But Waker immediately felt childish and illogical for thinking so. They were still human beings. Some things were the same, no matter from which corner of the world one hailed. “Did they… give you potions?” Waker asked tentatively, having read up on everything she could find. “I’m sorry if that’s too personal.”

She was comforted to know that someone who had actually been through it thought pregnancy brain was real. Now she had a proper excuse— and more reason to encourage George to make dinner. She reached out to lift the card, smiling down at it. “Oh, you’ve been so much help. Thank you!” Waker carefully filed the card in the little organizer in her purse where she kept other cards and contact information, before focusing on her lunch again. She was anxious to get her own cards made, but thought it best to wait until she was training as an Unspeakable.

She didn’t mean to make the young woman feel badly for asking about her husband.  It was not often that the connection was made between them, except for the last name, and even then, Akiva did not think there were many that would have known Dreogan was actually a devoted husband and father.  It didn’t necessarily matter that no one else did, as long as the ones closest to him did, but still.  His disappearance tended to over shadow most things.  “I do too,” Akiva smiled softly, not wanting to harp on the subject, but acknowledge the sentiment and move on.  There was no need for a constant dampening of conversation. 

Thankfully, babies were an exceedingly happy subject, and for that, she was happy to help.  It was particularly nice when someone was asking advice about the process.  Akiva couldn’t help but giggle a little and wave her hand, “Don’t worry about it,” she assured the young woman, “You can have something if you want it.”  Akiva hadn’t – but she figured she didn’t need to talk about that.

“But I’m glad I could help,” Akiva really was.  The poor girl seemed so lost in some ways, she would love to help her more in the future, and even though Akiva herself was older, their children would be close in age, and meeting other women with children, she did want to make sure Gabriel had enough people his own age in his life as well.  “And don’t hesitate,” Akiva added, “to contact me.” 

She was just about done with her lunch and it was getting close to the time she needed to be back to the office, so she started repackaging what she’d brought.  “I’ll always answer.”