Molly heaved the can of paint onto the counter-top with a triumphant smile: they were celebrating the start of the third trimester by painting another room. The room. If it didn’t seem all that long ago that Molly had poked and prodded Casper (without much persuasion) to paint everything in bright or warm hues that suited the homemaking Hufflepuff alum, this was the paint job to top the list. But a lot of time had passed.

It was funny, how the clock could play tricks when Molly lost herself in her head. Some bits of time seemed to go by so fast that they whiplashed. Others, painful memories, lingered.

But now new life was blooming, covering the old scars, and the waiting and whirlwind both had been worth it. They were safely at the point where they could paint, not worry about jinxing it. Molly had taken Frank with her to choose the color, so as to surprise Casper. She had also told her brother that morning of their news.

And there was another surprise.

Pulling out the paper with an animated sweep, as if she were waving her wand, Molly set it beside the can and waited. Her eyes moved from the pair of ‘gifts’ up to Casper, whose height never failed to make her feel warm (and sometimes a little fuzzy in a good way).

The certificate had gilded gold edges and fancy script in shining, newly-dried ink, which made ceremony out of its otherwise very official looking, butter-colored parchment. Amidst its thick prettiness was a plain fact: Molly had changed her name. She had taken his.

If there had been a lengthy discussion about it when they’d first married, if Molly had decided that it was not the name, but Casper, whom she was marrying, if it was their love that mattered in the end, she had still been resolute when she’d gone to the proper office to have her name changed to Bagman: he was her family, and she wanted to everyone to know. She didn’t care what weight came with the name of Bagman. It was both of theirs to carry, along with the new weight growing inside of her.

“Now you have to buy me pillows that say Mrs. Bagman,” she teased, after leaning up on tippy-toes to kiss his cheek. Molly wasn’t the sort who needed such pillows— she would make them herself if she really wanted them, and they were more likely to be cute and humorous than bragging and gaudy. “With little cats all over them,” she added, out of necessity. She hooked an arm around his neck and smiled wide against his jaw, pressing up further into her toes as her free hand came down to cradle her belly. She could no longer hide it, and didn’t want to. She was in love with this feeling, carrying and protecting the sweetest things she had ever baked.

She was in love, too, with her tall, gamble-happy husband whose penchant for painting walls neatly was so different and yet so complimentary to her love for letting her imagination loose on a canvas. “Or we can settle for a cake,” she added softly, almost comfortingly as she finally came back down onto her feet— which were pleasantly swollen. Molly even loved that part of pregnancy.

The cake in question already existed. She had baked it that morning. She waved her wand, lifting the lid off of its container and summoning the plate toward them. The frosting was in shades similar to the paint she had bought. “Happy… Almost There,” she said, laughing.

Casper had been eating an afternoon snack when he heard Molly come in. Work had been long and boring, preparing for the summer internships by printing off brochures and setting up small lectures. The Obliviators had monthly meetings where they all got together and discussed problems, went over different protocol, and addressed improvements from the previous meeting. It was his job to set up the next one, and as it would take place when the internships would start... it meant he had to make it perfect.

Or he thought so, anyway. He’d spent the better part of the morning working on his presentation for it, and the early afternoon he had gone over a few reports. It was an early but busy day, and he’d forgotten to eat his lunch.

So once he’d gotten home, and realized Molly was out and about, he’d decided to eat half of his sandwich, to tide him over until dinner. He paired it with a fresh cup of tea as he leaned against the counter with his free hand, glancing over the kitchen. He wanted to put the breakfast nook together; the bench he had put together still needed painted, and then Molly could cover them with all the reupholstered cushions she wanted. The table and chairs still fit it well.

“I’m in the kitchen.” He finished his quick bite with a biscuit, cleaning off the plate he’d used before setting it in the sink for cleaning later. He leaned one hand on the counter as he picked up his tea, sipping it as she came in. He frowned at her as the can was lifted up, setting his mug down. “Molly, you know you shouldn’t be lifting heavy things.” Not that a paint can was that heavy. It still felt nice to baby her.

He glanced to the color in interest anyway, picking his tea back up as he noticed the shade of green. “Do you think that will really...” His voice trailed off as his eyes swept over the other piece of paper, mug edge resting against his lips. He accepted the cheek kiss, his face still in a daze before he sat the mug down and pulled the paper to him. “That’s my mums name...” There was little conviction behind it, though, as his eyes took it all in.

She was forcing his attention away; he turned to look at her and put his arm gently around her, questions attacking her in his gaze. As she started to get the cake together, Casper came back to himself, setting the mug down and blinking before he frowned dramatically at her. “Get off your feet.” As an afterthought, he smirked. “Mrs. Bagman.” Casper leaned over and gave her a light kiss before pulling back. “Go on, to the living room with you. I’ll bring you a slice. Do you want some tea? Maybe Chamomile?”

He pulled a knife out of the drawer and sliced into it, glancing to the paper now and again as he continued to process what she’d done. Casper was chuffed, sure, but he was also concerned. He summoned the cake with him after fixing her a mug, taking their snack with him as he followed after her. Once he made sure she was settled, he sat next to her, his arm wrapping lightly around her. “I thought...” He cleared his throat. “I thought we’d discussed the name, Molls.”

Paying no attention to the snack— that’s what they were there for— Molly grinned at his concern. “It does weigh more than some things,” she admitted. Like babies! “But it’s not that bad.” She had managed just fine, and there were always charms if she couldn’t. (Not that Molly was always the most logical witch. Sometimes she was distracted, and the extra weight in her arms just seemed like part of the package. She was organized where she needed to be— like for her boss.) “I like carrying it,” she admitted, too, even if it was already sitting nicely on the counter and her arms were grateful for the relief. It meant something.

Whether they could agree on that or the color was another question.

“Why not?” She asked, brows raising. She thought it was lovely. “Green is calming, and it will look great with that view of the garden.” It was neutral enough, but still reasonably gave hints about… their future family. When they had the solid news that it was actually happening, Molly had wanted every color in the world.

She watched Casper’s eyes move from the paint to the paper, and swallowed a little even as she stood a bit taller. They’d had this loving argument before, and Molly had all of her arguing points ready— even if she knew he was ultimately going to have to live with it. On most things, she could get him to cave, with her round-about, sometimes random logic. “It’s your name,” she corrected. “Your mum just happens to share it.” And might have had it first. Details. “I want it because it’s yours.”

From her new, familiar place in his arm, she watched him abandon the teacup. She looked up at him with sweet eyes as he commanded she get off her feet. A huge smile took up her face when he used that new name. Maybe she’d already won! And she didn’t even need to bicker. She was still smiling into the kiss. “Chamomile would be lovely. Mr. Bagman.”

Now it was even more fun to say.

She made her way to the living room, easing into the couch and sitting back a bit as a cat came by mewing. It perched up on the edge of the cushion and Molly reached out to rub its nestling head. Its purr was loud and ticklish against her palm. As Casper returned, she gently shooed it away (she did need to stay on his good side, if she was keeping the name).

“We did,” she said. “But I haven’t changed my mind. I’ve waited long enough, don’t you think? Don’t you want…” She looked down at her tummy, rubbing it. “Don’t you want me to have the same name as the baby?” Maybe she was forcing his hand a bit. She felt almost like a rebel. She leaned in him and lifted her hand from her stomach, cupping the mug with both hands now. “Unless we call it Pratt,” she added, lightening the mood a little. “Cat Pratt. I like it.” She leaned in to nestle her scrunched, teasing nose against his cheek, pecking him before settling back to take a sip and eye him over the brim of her mug. She might have forgotten that she was keeping the cats to a minimum for this discussion.

“We just... you still need to be careful, love.” He shook his head and sighed, giving her a small smirk that spoke that he wasn’t arguing, just concerned. And sometimes that came across negatively. He wasn’t the best with expressing himself, but he was most used to it with her. He rolled his eyes so she could see. “Of course you do.” When she wanted to be, Molly could be stubborn.

She just usually was the sweetest thing on two feet, though.

Even as she questioned his objection to green, he had no response. Mostly because he wasn’t listening to her. He was processing something else she’d brought in to distract him from the paint choice! What a sly devil he’d married.

Who now, it seemed, shared his name. The lump in his throat was stuck there, no matter that he tried to swallow past it. Casper cleared his throat a little, hoping that would help. It didn’t.

Now he had a task to focus on. She was going to have the most thought out cup of chamomile tea that he’d recently made. They needed to discuss this name thing, though, so he finally allowed himself to gather everything before moving in to tackle it.

Casper rolled his eyes, again, when she tried to guilt it out of him. He sighed and shook his head, clearly flustered with his inability to properly explain himself. “I had thought... that maybe the baby would have your last name.” He had made a muck of the rest of their savings, after all. There was a reason they were just getting to the nursery paint job. Why he had finished what he could of his office with supplies left over.

He had also been picking up a few extra hours here and there at work to try and rebuild their safety net that he’d gambled away. The arm that was wrapped loosely around her came up, his hand covering her mouth for a moment as Cat came out. “Shh... you’re talking nonsense, Molly. Pregnancy brain, isn’t it?” He smiled and kissed the side of her head, holding her close as he stayed there; his nose rested in her hairline. “Eat your delicious cake. And I think we need some blue in there, too. Maybe if we have some left over from your office?”