[THD] serenity now [quinn]

“Portus,” Alex mumbled, pointing his wand at an empty jam jar on Quinn’s kitchen counter and watching it intently as it glowed.

He looked over at his sister and rested his wand hand on his hip with finality. “Well, there,” he said. He didn’t do this often, due to the illegality of the action, but he’d been planning to apparate and Quinn hadn’t remembered to warn him that apparition wasn’t being kind to her stomach these days and she’d prefer to travel by portkey. This claim struck him as outstandingly strange. But there was very little point in arguing with Quinn on a usual day, therefore absolutely none while she was pregnant. The condition sort of suited her, Alex thought. (Privately.)

At least she was generally trying to act interested in his stuff despite it all. Alex was finding that his moral dilemmas of the moment were something he didn’t really want to talk about and would usually shift the conversation back onto her, but he had a feeling it was part of the reason she’d wanted him to come with her this weekend. He wasn’t very good at hiding stress on the occasions he felt it. And it wasn’t just the last couple months that had been rough on them both. Aside from the league championship bright spot, the entire year had been pretty trying on the whole.

Quinn thought they should get out of town. She did these things sometimes, whichever meditative retreat was supposed to improve her game or her skin or her inner peace. Alex had never had much interest in, or, for that matter, belief in the effectiveness of most of them. But there was no arguing now. Not that he wanted to, really. He figured these times with just the two of them would be significantly less frequent soon, if not disappear altogether. She’d probably call it paranoia. But a child would change things, especially now that Oliver seemed to have accepted the situation. Alex wasn’t sure how he felt about that yet. He hadn’t even ever had a proper conversation with the man—which wasn’t unusual for one of his siblings’ lovers, but felt especially egregious now that things were what they were.

He brushed his hair behind his ears and gave Quinn one last questioning look to make sure she was entirely sure. It sure as hell wasn’t going to be his fault if she didn’t take this as well as she thought she would. Receiving confirmation, Alex nodded. Tucking away his wand, self-consciously adjusting the pair of shorts he was wearing for the first time, and ruffling his loose shirt a little to fan his chest, he placed a hand on the side of the jam jar and smiled at Quinn across the counter.

@Quinn Regan

This trip had been months in the making. This particular resort had a half-year waiting list, even for her, and she wasn’t about to let such a minor detail as a surprise pregnancy keep her from following through with her reservation. Quinn’s original plan had been to take her mother with her, as she usually did, but as she had a particular fondness for talking about herself she assumed it would be difficult to keep the news of the forthcoming additional Regan a secret for very long. It wasn’t that she wasn’t going to tell her ever, just that a weekend of relaxation was not the right time to invite those sorts of questions that would accompany such news.

So instead, she had invited her brother, who had so far been doing a marvelous job of keeping her mind off of things, not thinking about the future in general, the only worrying thing being how much longer so could realistically put off telling everyone else about the impending addition and possibly ruining her career in the process. It had been far easier to convince him that traveling by portkey, however legal or not, was ideal, and she was grateful that she didn’t have to argue her point any farther. Truth be told, she had no idea if a portkey would be any kinder to her than apparation. And in case she was wrong, she wasn’t about to find that out with anyone but Alex, determined to keep her steely resolve intact for everyone else.

She had been reassured over and over again that at some point in the pregnancy her nausea would subside, but that was starting to seem like more and more of a myth. Still, a little discomfort with travel would be worth it in the end if it meant she didn’t have to change every single plan for her life because of this minor setback, and that included spa reservations. Of course, she had needed to rethink the actual things she could do at the resort, as they were most well known for their hot-cold-hot treatment, where one transferred from a blazing hot environment to an icy cold one and back, all in the name of clear skin and a strong core, and this was very highly not recommended for expectant women. They had assured her they would have something much better planned for her, and though she was a bit wary about everything, she wasn’t about to voice her hesitation in front of Alex.

Quinn nodded and returned her brother's smile, placing her hand next to his on the jam jar. She closed her eyes as that familiar portkey feeling started and she immediately regretted her insistence that they travel this way. At least focusing on not losing her breakfast was enough to distract her through the rest of the unpleasantness. She dropped her hand from the jar as soon as she felt new ground beneath her feet, her other hand shooting up to cover her mouth. For a split second she considered giving in to the feeling, but retching would be a wretched to her weekend of not thinking about things.

But she closed her eyes and did her best to think calming thoughts and after a few more seconds she was feeling almost like herself again. Quinn smiled weakly, as close to an apology as she was going to offer, ready to blame his shoddy portkey craftsmanship if he gave her any grief about her reaction to it.

They were somewhere in northern England, a two minute walk down the road from the resort. ”I’ll get us all checked in,” she offered once they were there. The lobby they were standing in had a very similar style to Quinn’s home: many comfy plush surfaces, flowers, an array of colors, and an overwhelming scent of lemon and lavender in the air. It didn’t take too much effort to check in and within a few minutes she was pulling Alex along by the hand, telling him to go change into the provided nice and fluffy robe and to meet in the next room.

The next room was dimly lit with a very relaxing atmosphere: candles, trickling water features, and free champagne Quinn had to begrudgingly refuse. They were simply getting masks here, some sort of concoction that blended known muggle techniques with magical ones, and it was the next best thing to her foregone hot-cold-hot treatment apparently. They were left alone once the mask had been expertly gooped onto their faces, letting it set while they found their inner peace, or something like that. But the intense look of trying to enjoy himself while actually hating everything was too much for Quinn’s peace and she laughed, happy to be happy. “This isn’t even the most ridiculous part, so thank you in advance,” she offered with a sweet smile and the hint of another laugh.

Upon arrival Quinn paused with a pained expression, presumably fighting the nausea which absolutely anyone could foreseen. Alex pursed his lips. Part of him wanted to poke fun at her stubbornness, but he had been able to see for a while that she was under a lot of stress these days. Or just a new sort of stress, perhaps.

They walked down the path, and Alex slid an arm through hers and linked their elbows. “Well, it looks pleasant,” he said. The front building was tucked among trees and a garden adorned with stepping-stones, sort of quaint and earthy in a way that reminded him of Quinn’s. Not his aesthetic, which made his already-wary self feel somewhat justified, but familiar. Maybe this weekend would just be like sleeping over at Quinn’s house, only without cat hair and with people to wait on you and rub your feet. He could get behind that.

He let go of Quinn while she went to check them in, and looked around the lobby with his hands awkwardly in his pockets until she reappeared to lead him down the hall to get changed. In the changing room there was a provided robe. Alex touched it immediately to gauge the fluffiness before unbuttoning his shirt and shorts. He paused there, unsure whether he was meant to leave his underwear on. Though Alex was no stranger to indulgent beauty rituals, this was new to him: he’d always preferred to do such things in the privacy of his own home. Hoping he wasn’t making a fatal error, he hopped out of his boxers and folded them neatly. He tucked his wand into the pocket of the long robe once he was fully swathed in it. Pants could go, but he wasn’t going anywhere without that.

Alex wandered into the next room. He felt a bit as if he were being herded through some sort of maze or haunted house, but instead of monsters there was Quinn, spa veteran and quick changer who had obviously been waiting longer than she’d have liked. “Sorry,” he mumbled. The apology continued to hold as he took a champagne glass, which he’d wanted to refrain from doing in front of Quinn, but after a few moments of watching the tray that had floated up to him found that he was unable to resist.

It wasn’t long before they were joined by an employee, so Alex finished his champagne in a quick gulp before settling down to be slathered in something or other. The solution smelled very strongly and was very cold. He couldn’t help but grimace a little as it was massaged onto his cheeks. They were left alone, and Alex tried to cover up his mild discomfort with a smile at Quinn. Obviously she wasn’t fooled. She laughed, and he snorted softly, immediately assuming a slightly cooler attitude. “I’ve had worse on me,” he replied with a small smirk, stretching out in his cushioned chair. “If they keep giving us drinks I’m sure I’ll get through it.”

He closed his eyes and tried to relax, but after a minute of quiet and feeling the mask slowly dry on his skin, he was starting to get a little fidgety. “What are we meant to do, meditate?” Being alone with his thoughts sounded like the exact opposite of a refreshing weekend.

She was happy to see him lighten up, if even just a little bit, but his next comment made her feel like he was almost actually enjoying himself. “I can’t tell if you’re bragging about that or not.” She returned his smirk before resettling herself in her chair with her eyes closed. “Oh yes, plenty of drinks for us,” Quinn lazily lifted her hands in front of her to put air quotes on the word ‘us’. She sighed and replaced her hands in her lap. She was never a regular drinker beforehand (being quite the lightweight) but that had always been by choice. “I had already prepaid for all the champagne before -- y’know -- so you better drink it all.” She lifted a finger to point towards the table against the far wall, with a chilled bottle of champagne and two fresh glasses.

Quinn opened her eyes just enough to glance sideways. “Meditation only really works if you want it to, and if the person next to you wants it to,” she said slowly, closing her eyes again. She hadn’t wanted it to be a quiet weekend, wanting to spend as much time with Alex as she possibly could before there would inevitably always be a third party with them (and fourth, if she wanted to count Oliver, which was only sometimes). Still, she did her best to look put out that they wouldn’t be sitting in silence as she opened her eyes and turned towards her brother, pulling her feet up and tucking them under her so she could sit sideways in the overly cushioned chair.

Normally she would know no end to topics of conversation they could spend time on, but what little improvement she had made in not tip-toeing around subjects with him after the Dome had all been done away with after her unexpected bit of news. And it was new -- not even because of the leg or the pregnancy -- that she didn’t want to share something with him. She wanted to keep Oliver and their relationship and pending life (?) together all to herself, and she was well aware that she was the reason that her and Alex’s relationship was changing. Apologizing for it, however, was the last thing she wanted to do, especially now that she was crying at the slightest provocation (or nothing at all).

“So,” she started again slowly, “The guy that’s helping me look for houses is pretty cute and I think you’d like him. Enough for free drinks and whatever, anyway.” It had only been a couple weeks since she and Oliver had decided that moving in together was a good idea, and it had been only a few days since Quinn had seriously started looking for something in the countryside somewhere, of all places. She was hopeful but not very confident that she could distract Alex away from the news with the promise of an attractive man, but all the other ways she had thought about telling him just made her sad that she wasn’t searching for some gorgeous Georgian townhome in London conveniently located across the street from him.

But true to new form, even thinking about being sad was enough to make her tear up and she rolled her eyes as she sighed. “Ugh, can’t believe I have five more months of this.”

“Well, brilliant,” said Alex, purposefully selecting another glass. It had begun to feel as if the universe was conspiring to get him drunk on a daily basis. Even if most of those celestial forces were pure self-indulgence, of course, it still felt somehow out of his hands. This, though, was just egregious. At least he could drink her champagne if he couldn’t facilitate her meditation. He scoffed lightly in amusement. “Alright, so that was out from the start, then.” Leaning over to rest his elbows on the armrest closest to Quinn, he looked up at her, then back down at his glass when the absurdity of her glop-smeared serious face tempted him to laugh.

She offered to set him up with her handsome realtor. This was not an uncommon topic of conversation, sort of safe, a good way to start, even though this sort of teasing felt a little less relevant to his life of late. It was almost nostalgic, and he liked it. “What, want me to flirt you into a discount?” he asked with an easy laugh. “Did it not work for you?” He had little doubt that this bloke’s interest in him was assumed after failing to respond to Quinn’s feminine charms. “Of course, though,” he said, unable to stop himself. “I don’t know what’s wrong with the house you’ve got.” Unless she and Oliver were planning to have six more children, it seemed perfectly serviceable. “Suppose a pair of professional athletes can afford whatever they like, though,” he added, though, not wanting her to feel slighted. “May as well have someplace to teach the kid to fly as soon as it can hold its head up.” Quinn may have complained about Oliver at great length, but Alex had a feeling their views on parenting might be rather in line. He spent a  moment with this thought. “Really,” he said, to make sure she knew. “I’m glad you’re moving in together.” After allowing a couple moments of sincerity, he smirked. “Means you’ll never need to sneak in again.”

Quinn, however, looked less amused than he was. Alex bit his tongue as she blinked away sudden tears. Drawing his wand from his fluffy pocket, he transfigured their chairs, moving them together so he could wrap an arm around her. “Don’t cry your mask off,” he said. “You’ve paid good money for this.”

She grumbled about the remaining months of her pregnancy, and he couldn’t think of anything comforting to say when he thought of the years of motherhood to follow. “When are you going to talk to Mam?” he asked instead. “I’m sure she’d be better at this than I am.”

“Something about compromise,” Quinn threw her hands up, “Not living closer to my pitch than his. Load of rubbish, really.” Her house in Falmouth was perfectly fine, perfectly perfect, close to the pitch, close to the water, tailored to every one of Quinn’s preferences. But it was small and Quinn had a lot of ‘stuff’ as Oliver lovingly put it. But even she had to admit that it was a good idea, to look for something in the country, something with a lot of open space perfect for flying and perfect for curating their very own quidditch team. She had been using the word ‘perfect’ a lot to describe all the things that were happening, though she wasn’t ready to concede that things were turning out perfectly for reasons other than herself.

Quinn rolled her eyes dramatically as he mentioned being professional athletes. She didn’t like being lumped in with any sort of other athlete, quite sure that she was on a level all by herself. But she shrugged away her discontent at the label because he wasn’t exactly wrong, as usual. “Do they make brooms with little bassinets?” She was asking herself more than asking Alex seriously, and after a couple seconds she said more quietly, “No, that’s probably not a good idea.” Scrunching up her face in thought, Quinn shrugged.

“I am, too.” Quinn smiled before adding another shrug and an “I think.” Her surety about the whole situation fluctuated as much as her hormones did, though she was sure that she was majority on board with all of the decisions she was making. “No, I am,” she said again with a nod. She smirked. “I don’t know about that, we’ll have to have our quidditch things separated.” Not that she was planning any sort of sabotage, of course, though the thought had crossed her mind. The only thing stopping her, most likely, was retaliation. “You never know, I might need your ever vigilant lookout help again, though I’m afraid Elias won’t be living with us.”

She welcomed the arm around her, feeling immensely better already. The one thing she could be thankful for was that the tears left just as quickly as they showed up and this time they only lasted a few minutes, just long enough for Alex to ask about their mother. “Er, I’m still deciding if the best way to introduce Oliver to him is ‘Hope you like him because he’ll be the father of your first grandchild in a few months. Assuming Dad doesn’t murder him first, of course.” She knew that Quinn was seeing someone, of course, though they were finally at a place in Quinn’s life that she only pried into 80% of her life, so she hadn’t had to mention any more details than that.

“I have to do it soon, I suppose,” she tried to convince herself. “She’ll faint if she hears it from someone else.” There would only be so long she could hide it, especially after all the attention she was bound to get after she showed up to the Quidditch Gala in a couple weeks with Oliver on her arm. Add to that the fact that Quinn was sure she was her mother’s favorite child and it would be absolutely devastating. “Maybe we should go to Dublin after this.” The memory of traveling hit her and she reconsidered: “Or maybe she can just come to mine.” That would still include travel home. “Or you can tell her, that would solve a lot of problems.”

Alex laughed. A neutral location was meaningless of course, it wasn’t as if it took any more time to apparate or floo another fifty miles one way or the other, but he sort of liked the thought that they’d discussed it. He sort of liked to see Quinn with someone exactly as stubborn as herself. Of course, maybe this wasn’t the reason at all and she was making up some petty nonsense to cover up whatever emotions were behind her decision, she’d been known to try and pull that on occasion. He hoped she was being honest, though. They’d come all this way to get in touch with themselves, or something.

The thought made him realize he’d almost forgotten this was supposed to be some kind of relaxing treatment, or that his face had been covered in goo at all. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but his mask had been gradually warming up and was starting to feel interestingly fizzy. “It’s supposed to feel weird, right?” he paused to ask, gesturing at his face. “I’m not having an allergic reaction or anything?” He finished his second champagne and shook his head.

He smiled back at Quinn, pleased, even if she and Oliver apparently hadn’t learned to trust each other yet. “Your kid’s going to have a hell of a time come playoffs,” he said. “Figure you won’t need me for espionage once they’re old enough. Though hopefully you’ll have grown out of it by then.” His grin became a light smirk. “Maybe they won’t even care about quidditch. They’ll just want to read and play chess or whatever. No idea what you’ll do if that happen.”

The conversation then turned a little more serious, despite the jokes Quinn tried to make about it. “Well,” said Alex, “I’ll be there with you, whatever you need. I’ll even tell ‘em if you want.” He was tempted to rest his cheek on her head but thankfully he thought better of it.  “I’d do it sooner rather than later, probably, but it’s not my kid, so what do I know, I guess.” He glanced at the clock, starting to wonder how much time they were supposed to be in here. “Maybe you’ll relax yourself enough this weekend to be ready for it.”

He looked over at the tray of champagne. Too soon to take a third glass, probably.

Quinn nodded, having just noticed the change in her own mask a minute or so before. “Should be fine.” She eyed the emptied glass, realizing that this was the first time she hadn’t been upset after watching someone drink without her, even after being clearly deserving of the champagne.

She waved off any hint that her child would be confused during League playoffs, not worried in the slightest that there would be any less obvious outcome than the Falcons taking the championship as long as she was involved. “What, because I’ll be able to use them instead?” She paused to consider her options. “Probably a good idea. They’d be able to squeeze into smaller spaces.” She laughed, though she was still planning to file away this idea for later, just in case she hadn’t managed to grow out of it by then. Her expression dropped as he mentioned the interest in quidditch, biting her bottom lip as the realization hit her. Surely the odds were in her and Oliver’s favor, right? They were so heavily invested in quidditch, their lives revolved around it. No child of hers would love chess, not if she could help it. “I guess we’ll just worry about that if it happens.” She certainly wasn’t as confident as she sounded.

She turned his words over in her mind, somehow moving her train of thought towards the other this-or-that sort of things she was starting to sincerely worry about. “Oh, and I might need you to only speak Irish when you’re around her.” She didn’t offer any explanation, using a finger to test the firmness of the mask along her jawline.

“Would you really?” She sat up a bit, turning so she could take a proper look at Alex. She had been joking, mostly, when she had suggested him telling their parents her news on her behalf. But before she could take him up on his offer or decide that it really would be best if she did it, a light knock came at the door and she shrugged. She only half-listened as the employee talked over their next steps, removing the masks and heading for their next step towards ultimate relaxation. She gave Alex’s hand a quick squeeze, her silent indication that they weren’t done with this discussion, but it wasn’t one she was about to have when they weren’t alone.

[[ out ]]