Houses

"Almost!" He sounded incredulous. "I'll have you know that the rest of the team are sick of hearing about my state-secrets worthy wife. They have wagers on how long I can go without bringing my family life up."

"I should hope so too," he said, acting as if he were affronted by her remark. "You'd be rather insulted if I started rooting for criminals over the ministry." It was perhaps an incomparable analogy, but it was the best he could come up with in that moment.

Will sunk lower in his chair, nudging her leg with his foot. "But you love me," he pouted, withdrawing his feet to sit carefully on the very edge of the table so as to avoid a possible retaliation from her.

"Finland's nicer," he commented with a grin. "The Quidditch teams are of a higher calibre. And Norway's too expensive, especially if we were to give up our jobs."

"I suppose I'd better just support the ministry then." He let out a dramatic sigh. "The things I do for you, honestly."

"I have an incredibly competent wife who usually does most things for me," Will pushed his own pizza box back onto the table, deciding he would take it to the bin the next time he needed to get up.

Will nodded, suddenly enthusiastic. "We haven't had a film night in ages; I think we still have some ice cream left from last time. What d'you want to watch?"

He raised an eyebrow, lips curving into a smile. "So an action movie then? What about the one about that American archaeologist? India Jones, or something." He'd never been partial to Muggle movies himself, but he had acquired some basic knowledge of them through idle chatter at work.

"India Jones it is, then," he heaved himself from the seat. "I'll make sure we do have that ice cream in. Hey, when's Giovanni back from school? This term's gone on forever."