Boo!

[Malcolm Macfusty]

10/24
@'Imogen MacFusty'

Mac knew that Imogen liked Halloween more than most people did, between knowing her for a very long time and being married to her at this time last year, too. Somehow he had still been surprised by the sharp increase in Holiday-anticipation over the last several weeks, and it was nearly infectious.

With only a week left until Halloween, he knew that the holiday was going to officially start in his house. He had no idea what to expect, either - so when he swung open the back door to the house and stepped in with a bag full of pastries, he half-expected something to jump out at him.

Nothing did. Mac was actually glad for that; he didn't want to drop any of the pumpkin pasties. He'd decided this morning that he might as well kick off Immie's favorite week with a surprise treat; he'd woken up before her, so a trip to the bakery on Lews had been easy.

By now she was almost definitely awake. He was sure that she was up to something. (Immie was usually up to something. It was one of the things he loved about her.)

"Imogen?" Mac called, slowly closing the back door behind himself.

  

[Imogen MacFusty]

A slight groan of protest escaped Immie's lips as she slowly regained consciousness, habitually bringing the covers up over her head to block out the sunlight filtering in through the window. She had been having such a nice dream. Playing for the Harpies again, no matter if it was only all in her head, had been as thrilling as it was heart-racing, and she was still reliving the way the wind whipped through her hair and the enthusiastic roar of the crowd as she lunged forward on her broom, arm outstretched, her face contorted into a look of pure determination. She had been so, so close, the snitch just beyond her grasp, just another push or two forwards, and not only would it have been a victory for the Harpies, but it would have been a personal win for her as well -- and she recalled how she had practically thrived on that feeling of personal achievement.

But no. It had only been a dream, one that she had given up a long time ago, and it was with that reality that Immie released another groggy sigh and removed the covers from over her face, cringing a little as the rays of late autumn shone bright and unforgiving. She loved sunlight as much as the next person, but good Merlin if it wasn't blinding, and Immie flipped over onto her other side in an effort to avoid it, lazily throwing an arm over the spot where her husband lay in the process.

...Or at least she had thought her husband would be beside her, and her brows furrowed in confusion when her arm met with a space that was decidedly empty and cool, as if it had been some time since he had gotten up. He's away already?, Immie wondered as she raised her head slightly to get a look at the clock that hung above their wardrobe. Strange... And disappointing. She liked waking up to Mac. It always made her day much more brighter when she did, though it seemed that he had risen early that morning, and while she wasn't entirely sure why -- he hadn't said anything to her the night before about having anything pressing to tend to -- she figured that he had his reasons. A dragon-related incident had probably sprung up most likely, and he had to deal with it lest it got out of control.

Knowing that she most likely wouldn't be able to go back to sleep -- and the fact that it was already almost eleven in the morning, thank Merlin the twins were starting to sleep through the night now! -- Immie threw back the covers and swung her legs over the edge of the mattress, raising her arms up above her head in order to stretch and let out a little yawn. Well, her life may no longer be the fast-paced, fun-filled lifestyle of an active Quidditch player -- and quite frankly, even if she was given the option of returning to the field, she highly doubted that she would have accepted or have even been able to keep up with it all again, so it was probably best that she didn't -- but there were still rewarding things in it to keep her feeling fulfilled. Her children, for example, were the highlight of her days spent at home, and she absolutely loved to watch them grow and witness (or hear, in Leo and Roy's case) even the smallest of their achievements  -- it gave her the sense that she was doing something right in her life for once, and even though it pained her to think that she could be missing those little moments with Leo and Roy, she knew that giving them up had been for the best as life would have been vastly difficult for them otherwise.

But there were also other things to look forward to, and a wide grin spread across her face when she realized what day it was. "Halloweek!," she exclaimed happily, the last dregs of sleepiness disappearing as she practically shot off the bed. Ever since she had been a little girl, Halloween had always been one of her favorite holidays -- there was just something appealing about having the freedom to dress up as anyone or anything she wanted to be for a day that she liked, but then there was also candy and tricks and parties to plan/attend and general spookiness and just so much fun that she always had to wonder why anyone would want to celebrate Halloween for just one day. And so, she had invented the “Halloweek”, just a week filled with Halloween goodness to help appease her intense need for an elongated holiday celebration, and sure, it was probably ridiculous -- and insane -- but what harm was it doing? Absolutely nothing.

Feeling highly energized now that she was fully awake,  her mind whirring with all of the last minute preparations she had to do, Immie bustled around her and Mac’s room trying to get ready for the day, throwing on a vaguely Halloweenish-themed dress and arranging her chestnut tresses into a simple bun at the top of her head (more so to keep the twins from getting their fingers tangled in her hair). She then completed the look with a pair of comfortable shoes before venturing out of the bedroom, humming a little to herself as she walked down the hallway and down the stairs to the foyer, and just as she had hopped -- much like a child would -- the last few steps of stairs the sound of Mac’s voice flowed from the back of the house, bringing another bright smile to her lips.

“Why, good morning!,” she said by way of greeting in a slightly sing-song tone as she approached, stretching her neck to place a brief kiss to his cheek before smiling up at him. “Where did you run off to this morning? I didn’t even feel you get out of bed let alone know that you were go-oh!” she exclaimed as her nose caught a familiar scent and her eyes trailed down to the package in her hands. “Are those pumpkin pastries?,” she asked excitedly, looking back up at him with bright eyes, feeling both flattered that he even remembered and loving him even more for it.

Words: 1,089 sorry >.> | Tag: Mac | Outfit: link later, too tired

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   Malcolm Macfusty

[Malcolm Macfusty]

"These are pumpkin pastries," Mac said with a bright smile, handing over the bag to Imogen. He was happy that she'd been able to guess - clearly, they knew each other very well, which one would hope given that they were married - and with the bag of baked goods handed over, Mac felt fully confident in going through the rest of Imogen's questions. 

Well, once he took off his jacket - he hung it up on the hook by the door and turned back to her, preemptively grinning.

"I was awake before you," Mac said, wrinkling his nose at her. That wasn't the most common occurence in the world - usually when he first woke up, Mac glanced at the clock on their bedroom wall and immediately decided to fall right back asleep - but this morning he'd decided to take advantage of it. It was, after all, officially Halloween - in their household, whether the rest of the world was going to tolerate it or not.

"So I decided to pop down to the magical bakery on Lews and pick up some treats," he said, "The holiday starts today, doesn't it?" He was still getting a hang of how the whole Halloweek thing worked, really - but he was sure that he had the right day. (And if not, then it was still completely and utterly fine. It was never a bad day for pumpkin pastries - they were delicious - and surprising one's wife was a good way to maintain a successful marriage.)

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   Imogen MacFusty

[Imogen MacFusty]

Immie beamed brightly as the loaded brown paper bag was deposited into her hands, the savory aroma of baked goods beginning to make her mouth water and her stomach to give a loud growl. Though not before she had three very curious and very expectant -- because Immie, much like she was with her children, wasn’t one to refuse her pets anything, least of all, food -- dogs circling around her, each looking up at her with big pleading eyes and wagging tails, and Immie couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, you’ll get some, don’t worry,” she assured them, chuckling as she reached down to scratch Gryff behind the ears.

“You’re not usually up before me, so of course I was a little surprised,” Immie teased with a smile, watching on as Mac relieved himself of his coat before flitting over to his side. “But thank you,” she said, looking up at him with genuine gratitude in her eyes, stretching to brush her lips against his cheek, “the pasties were a wonderful surprise.” Of course, it wasn't as if surprising her was a difficult feat. Immie loved surprises, and Mac could have come home with nothing but a brown paper bag and she stillwould have been happy about it -- if not somewhat confused and questioning his sanity -- because it had come from him, and he had had the decency to think of her.

“It does!,” Immie confirmed happily, grabbing his hand and tugging him in the direction of the dining room (where she was sure there was a full breakfast awaiting them, though she rather doubted that much of it would get eaten -- which was fine as it meant more food for the servants to eat!), the dogs trailing behind them eagerly. “Which, I was thinking,” Immie started as she strolled along the hallway, “maybe we could do some pumpkin carving today? Of course, Izzie is much too young to do it herself, though I’m sure that she’ll have opinions on what the pumpkin should look like.” Immie chuckled fondly. The almost three-year-old was many things, but unwilling to freely give her thoughts when prompted certainly wasn't one of them.

Words: 358 | Tag: Mac

  

[Malcolm Macfusty]

He'd done well so far this morning. Mac was very pleased - surprising Immie was sometimes difficult to manage, (because she usually woke up before he did,) but when he did it was always very worth it. 

"Oooh, pumpkin carving!" Mac echoed, "That's an excellent idea." Truth be told, he hadn't put much energy into Halloween before marrying Imogen - well, apart from getting drunk with his brothers on the night of - but Mac had found that pumpkin carving was one of his favorite parts of it. He wasn't very good at it, no matter whether he used his wand or a knife, but the entire process was immensely fun. 

He dropped into the seat at the head of the dining room table, and spooned scrambled eggs onto his plate. With a wave of his wand the pile was joined with some juicy strips of bacon: protein was, Mac thought, the foundation of a good breakfast.

"Izzie is always full of Opinions," Mac agreed, raising an eyebrow knowingly. He wasn't surprised at all - MacFustys tended to be opinionated as all hell, and her mother had been as stubborn as an ox - and honestly would have been more shocked if his daughter was docile. She was a hot-headed Gryffindor in the making, and he was just relieved that she didn't seem to be nearly as rash as Malvina.

Mac loved his sister, but no. Just no.

"Where do you think we should get the pumpkins?" Mac asked, trusting Imogen to know far more about this than he did. He skewered his eggs with his fork.  

  

[Imogen MacFusty]

“Excellent,” Immie said happily as they entered the dining room, glad that he was on board, though knowing completely that he’d agree. Pumpkin-carving was a fun activity, and if there was anything her and Mac agreed on (and there were many things!), having fun -- or consequently, enjoying the good things in life -- was definitely one of them.

As she always did in the mornings -- bar when she was feeling far too lazy (or pregnant) to get out of bed -- Immie dropped into a chair beside her husband, and began unraveling the brown paper bag, pulling out the three of the delectables. “One for you, of course,” Immie stated with a smile as she passed one over to Mac, “and, as promised…,” she looked pointedly over the dogs, who were each sitting on their hind legs expectantly, and threw a piece at each of them, chuckling lightly as they caught it in their mouths effortlessly.

She leaned back in her chair then, proceeding to pour herself a cup of tea as Mac asked his question. “Oh, already one step ahead of you!,” Immie responded with a laugh. “I saw some in town the other day while I was running a few errands, and I had thought about getting a few, but then realized that it might be more fun if we all picked them out ourselves!” Not to mention that it would feel more personal too, and everyone always had varying ideas about what the perfect pumpkin should be.

Words: 246 | Tag: Mac

  

[Malcolm Macfusty]

Mac took a bite out of the pumpkin pasty and side-eyed the dogs, who looked entirely too pleased about their little treats. Hopefully they wouldn't get too much of a taste for it, because chocolate and sugar were very bad for dogs and most of theirs were large enough to reach tables if they tried very hard.

Buying their pumpkins themselves sounded like an excellent idea. "I'm sure Izzie would love that," he said cheerfully. His daughter usually spent most of her mornings with the nanny, but as long as she wasn't feel particularly tantrummy then Mac was sure that it was going to go well. 

He took another massive bite of the pasty. "You'll have to help me with mine," he said, with a broad grin.

  

[Imogen MacFusty]

“I think she will too,” Immie agreed with a fond smile. And the twins would too, once they were older. But that wouldn’t be for a while yet, though at the rate those two were growing, it would be sooner rather than later, and it wasn’t for the first time that Immie wondered just where the time had gone. It had only been a year ago since she and Mac had decided to get married, now not only did they have three very big, very messy, but very affectionate dogs, but they also now had three beautiful children together. It was never what she would have expected to happen, and yet, it had. Life was just funny that way, she supposed.

Immie was brought out of her musings by the sound of Mac’s voice addressing her, and a laugh passed her lips. “Of course!,”she replied, equally cheerful. “Though you’ll have to think of potential pumpkin designs.” She continued, stirring a bit of cream and sugar into her tea. “Because while the smiling faces are fun --" and easy to carve -- "they’re also a bit unoriginal. You want to get creative with it!” She looked at her husband over the rim of her teacup, brown eyes sparkling as she lifted it to her lips.

Words: 213 | Tag: Mac

  

[Malcolm Macfusty]

Mac laughed. They would have the most impressive pumpkins in all of the Hebrides, if Imogen had her way - or the most mangled looking, because Mac was not nearly artistic enough to do an actual good job of carving them. (He was not, in fact, very artistic at all.) But he would try. And he would probably be able to get Imogen to laugh, which was all that really mattered, when he thought about it.

"What are you thinking of?" Mac asked. He was sure that she had good ideas because, well, it was Immie. Halloween was kind of her thing, this was why they were celebrating it for a huge week. He took another bite out of his pasty. "I suppose a dragon would be too difficult."

  

[Imogen MacFusty]

“Well, I’m sure that it can’t be any more difficult than the time I tried to carve the Gryffindor crest last year,” Immie replied, chuckling a little at the memory. That, she supposed, had been just a tad more ambitious than her artistic ability -- which was neither very proficient nor completely lacking -- would allow, but it was the attempt that counted even if the actual product hadn’t turned out the way she hoped it would. “Do you remember that?,” she continued, “I think I practically mangled that poor pumpkin!” She laughed, bringing the teacup up to her lips again.

“How about a Quidditch theme this year?,” Immie suggested, looking to her husband for confirmation as she set her cup on the table again. “Like snitches, quaffles, broomsticks, and other things of the sort.” She listed off, trying to give a few ideas. "We could even try to carve a Quidditch Pitch, though after last year's disaster, I can't promise that the attempt will yield the desired results."

An amused smile tugged at Immie’s lips as she took a small bite of her pastry.

Words: 183 | Tag: Mac

  

[Malcolm Macfusty]

”It was artistically mangled,” Mac suggested. He had very much enjoyed the bafflement on people’s faces when they tried to figure out what the pumpkin was supposed to be, and had changed his answer almost every time he was asked. Pumpkin carving was excellent.

”Oh, I like the idea of a Quidditch theme!” Mac said, ”Broomsticks and the balls shouldn’t be too difficult.” ‘Shouldn’t be’ being the operative phrase, because very rarely did anything involving knives go the way that people intended it to.

”It can be a Quidditch pitch on fire,” Mac suggested helpfully, ”If it doesn’t turn out as intended.”

  

[Imogen MacFusty]

“That’s one way to put it, I suppose,” Immie said with a laugh, reaching over to scoop a modest portion of fruit onto her plate. While the pumpkin hadn’t turned out at all the way she had intended for it to -- in truth, it had looked more like a square with a mutilated figure in the center -- it had certainly been a very fun project and well worth the effort. Though it was Mac who started the guessing game with their guests whenever they asked, and Immie had gone along with it because it was just too funny not to.

“That, or we can continue to come up with random names to call it,” Immie suggested with a knowing smile over at her husband, popping a ripe blueberry into her mouth. “Seemed to be working rather well for us before.” She said as she swallowed, and then turned her head towards the clock hanging by the door. Izzie would probably be waking up soon if she wasn’t already, and Immie was eager to go pumpkin hunting before the usual onslaught of autumn rain came.

Words: 183 | Tag: Mac

  

[Malcolm Macfusty]

Reading Immie was a habit that Mac picked up ages before they were even married, and he tracked her gaze to the door and then grinned. "I'll go get Izzie," he said brightly, popping a roll into his pocket. He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up.

"The nanny should have her ready for the day by now -" well, hopefully "- and then we can head out on the pumpkin quest."  Next year the twins would be old enough to come along; that was a scary thought, one that made him feel simultaneously very proud and very old.

Hell, by this time next year, they might have another kid.

  

[Imogen MacFusty]

“I’ll go with you,” Immie stated, taking one last bite of her Pumpkin Pastie before following her husband’s lead and pushing her seat back from the table. “I want to go to the nursery to say good morning to the children --” a habit she’d picked up with Izzie back in Amsterdam not long after her and Mac’s elopement “-- and I haven’t done that yet.” She smiled cheerfully as she rounded the table and placed herself beside Mac, falling into step as she followed him out the door.

Today was going to be marvelous -- she was sure of it!

Words: 98 | Tag: Mac