For gaby, with love.
"Have we got everything now?" Bill has got past the trying-to-be-patient point, and his tone has a definite edge to it.
Fleur is counting on her fingers. "Nappy bag, change of clothes, pram, blanket, dummy, soft toy… Oui, I sink so, but if you'd just check upstairs once more, chéri…"
Bill rolls his eyes, but decides not to argue. He is back a few minutes later, with a bib and a second soft toy that he adds to the pile at his wife's feet.
"Can we go now?" he asks, and Fleur nods.
They call their goodbyes to the family, and step into the fireplace, both laden with baby paraphernalia.
In their own living room, they collapse together onto the settee, Bill's arm around Fleur's shoulders. She snuggles into him, but then sits up abruptly, a look of sheer horror on her face.
"Bill, nous avons oublié…"
"What?" he demands. "We got everything, we can't possibly have forgotten…"
He is interrupted by the Floo crackling into life, and his mother's voice, half amused, half exasperated: "Do you two want your daughter?"