The Name Game

[Thom Pettigrew]

Thom had spent the morning in his office at QQS, working on the design of a new product, then had taken lunch at the club before dropping by Puddlemere's practice in the afternoon. He had planned to come home after that and be home for an hour or two before dinner, but Beauregard had shown up near the end of the practice in quite a state. Apparently, in the five hours or so that he'd been away from QQS, a crisis had arisen involving a foreign contract, and though Beauregard probably could have seen the matter through just fine on his own, new business relations were usually soothed by the presence of the owner in these sorts of matters. This was a new contract, so appearances mattered. He'd had Beauregard sent off a quick note home, telling Hannah he'd be late coming home, but he hadn't expected to have to work through dinner to resolve matters.

The cook had left a plate for him in the kitchen, and Thom ate quickly before heading up to his wife's room to apologize for being away so long. He tried not to spend the entire day away, particularly since he'd learned the news about her pregnancy, but between his social obligations, the Quidditch team, and his company, sometimes the obligations on his time just stacked up.

He found her already in her dressing gown (how late was it? he hadn't checked the time on his way in) and at the vanity in the room, letting her hair down. With a smile, he moved behind her and slid his hands around her waist, feeling the firm presence of her growing belly beneath the loose garment. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he smiled at her through the mirror. "You look perfect," he said, sincerely. Hannah may have felt self-conscious about the changes her body was going through, but Thom had always found pregnancy attractive in a woman. He couldn't explain it, because none of the features changed throughout the process were things he would have liked on their own. He'd never been one for large-waisted women, or even for big, swollen breasts--he preferred slimmer and more athletic builds, the kind that Hannah and Chastity both had--but there was something about seeing a woman he loved showing signs of being with child that flipped a switch in his brain.

"I'm sorry I was so late tonight," he said, planting a light kiss on her shoulder and then looking back at her in the mirror.

  

[Hannah Pettigrew]

Hannah had wanted to wait up for Thom, once it became clear he wouldn't be home before dinner, but while much of the fatigue and nausea she'd felt in the beginning had faded now, her back was beginning to protest against her growing waistline, not to mention the general discomfort that came with wearing a corset in her condition. And anyway, she was tiring a little more easily -- she'd only spent a couple of hours at The Lady Morgana and done a little window shopping with Carrie today! -- but she would avoid admitting as much for as long as she could. Hannah had never been much of a homebody: the year-long mourning period had nearly driven her mad, and the only upside to her impending confinement in her eyes was that she would no doubt be too huge and miserable to move anyway.

She stood before the vanity in her dressing gown, humming a little to herself as she braided her hair for bed. Her mother swore that the baby would hear it, if she were to sing to it, but to be honest Hannah felt a little too self-conscious for that. The first flutters of movement had begun to stir in her womb in the last few days, and every time she felt them it made the whole thing feel more real. It was thrilling -- but terrifying, too.

She was so lost in thought as she secured her hair that she didn't notice Thom enter the room until he wrapped his arms around her. Merlin, when he held her like that, with that look in his eyes, she almost believed him! Her cheeks reddened as she shyly returned his smile in the looking glass, letting her arms rest on top of his. It would be a lie to say that the rapid changes in her figure weren't disorienting; she had always been lithe, even a little boyish, and now she was anything but. Thom hardly seemed to mind, though, and Hannah squeezed his hands in silent gratitude.

"I suppose I can forgive you this time," she teased lightly, letting her cheek rest against Thom's head. "You missed Carrie this afternoon, though. She was terribly put out she didn't get to say hello."

  

[Thom Pettigrew]

"Well, I'm sorry I missed her," Thom said genuinely. Even though they had met under rather unfortunate circumstances (Carrie being, as it were, the wrong niece for the purpose Thom had in mind), he had always liked the younger woman's company, and he'd gotten the chance to get to know her better at the height of the drama surrounding his and Hannah's beleaguered romance. "Is she recovering from her loss at the Sandition?" Thom had been too busy drinking and making fun of August and Leon (how Leon had convinced August to get on to a boat for a race was beyond him, but Thom had no such inclinations) to pay much attention to the race itself, but he knew that none of the boats he'd sponsored had made a very good showing, Carrie's included. Not that he was terribly disappointed; Puddlemere was first in the league at the moment, and he cared far more about Quidditch rankings than he ever would about sailing medals.

  

[Hannah Pettigrew]

"Oh, you know Carrie," Hannah replied blithely. "Nothing's ever on her mind for more than a day or two; certainly not anything disappointing." It was only the truth; Carrie had always been more carefree, if a little flighty, than Hannah had ever been despite her pretenses otherwise. She'd always envied her cousin for that.

"She was much more interested in the little one today," she continued, segueing rather nicely into what she'd really waited up for. "She asked --" A sudden lurch in her abdomen startled her into a gasp as the baby apparently decided it needed a stretch. That had been the strongest one yet!

"Did -- did you feel it?" Hannah asked, a little breathlessly, as she cocked her head to get a glimpse of Thom's face.

  

[Thom Pettigrew]

Thom's hands were both still on her stomach, and the movement had been significant enough that there was no possible way he could have missed it. He looked over at her, eyes lighting up as he smiled widely. "Yes!" he said, leaving his hands where they were but craning his neck so that he could press his lips briefly to hers. They were not terribly early in the pregnancy, so it wasn't as though it was a surprise to feel the baby move, but it was the first time that Thom had been in the right place and the right time to feel it happen.

"Feels like a future Quidditch player, to me," he teased, shifting his gaze back to her stomach's reflection in the mirror and squeezing his arms around her lightly. In her condition he was cautious about putting unwanted pressure somewhere that would lead to her being uncomfortable, so it wasn't much of an embrace, but he wanted her to get the sentiment from the gesture all the same. "What do you think?"

  

[Hannah Pettigrew]

"Oh, yes, naturally. She'll be the scrappiest beater the Harpies have ever seen," Hannah replied with a smirk. She would be happy regardless of the baby's sex, of course, but part of her desperately wanted a little girl of her own. The baby seemed to have settled back down, but the sudden movement had only exacerbated the dull ache in the small of her back that was becoming commonplace. "She's certainly wearing me out already." Reluctantly, Hannah gently extricated herself from Thom's embrace, then led him by the hand over to the bed.

"Carrie asked if we'd settled on names," she said as she arranged the pillows just so, then eased herself into a sitting position on the bed. "I told her it was a secret, of course, but... did you have anything particular in mind?"

  

[Thom Pettigrew]

Thom wrinkled his nose at her response. He didn't have anything against females playing Quidditch, or even playing more masculine positions like beater--he'd even had a female beater on Puddlemere, once, but she had been an American. No one expected anything different of them. He would hardly let his own daughter go play beater even in school, much less professionally--and he would never allow one of his daughters to play for the Harpies.

"I suppose if she wants to lose every season," he mumbled a little defensively. Holyhead wasn't doing well this year, which he honestly had mixed feelings about. Of course he didn't want them to be doing well, but when they were doing this poorly it was like it wasn't even a triumph when Puddlemere beat them. Thom had started hanging the clippings of Puddlemere victories against Holyhead further down the hall at his office, so that he didn't have to look at them so often--they were a little embarrassing.

He was also hoping for a boy--but since neither of them could do anything about the gender of the baby now, it seemed not worth discussing. Names, on the other hand... Thom hadn't really thought about names, which he supposed was strange, at this point. Chewing the question over, he wandered over to the other side of the bed and laid back on the pillows that hadn't been monopolized by his wife, hands crossed behind his head.

"I don't know that I do," he admitted. "As long as we're not naming him after any of our relatives." Thom's relationship with his father had been respectful enough, but the man's name was Henrich, for Merlin's sake. No one else in his family had done anything to merit having a child named after them--and even if Hannah was still fond of some of the members of her natal family despite their faults, he was rather disinclined to introduce any more of an Echelon-influence into the life of his future child than he or she would already have.

  

[Hannah Pettigrew]

Hannah bit her lip. She suspected he might say that -- and for the most part, she even agreed with the sentiment. Certainly nobody in her immediate family deserved the honor. Sebastian had never been in the running, nor Rolf; Thom already had an Alexander, and even if he didn't, Hannah didn't feel that strongly about her eldest brother. There was Tomas... but Tomas was entirely too similar to Thomas, and if Thom had been keen on passing his name down to his son then he probably would have done so already. Violet sounded too plain to Hannah's ear, and besides, she still had not entirely forgiven her mother's role in all that had happened to them, rationally or no. So the Echelons were all out. Even so...

"I don't know," she began. "August or Caroline wouldn't be so terrible, would they? For a middle name, anyway." They had both done so much for them back then -- August especially. Hannah would likely never feel as if she'd done enough to repay the both of them, but this seemed like a start. "Or -- August's middle name is Theodore. I've always thought that would be a nice name, for a boy." She had been sold on the idea ever since she'd told August she was expecting, honestly, but she didn't want to say as much if Thom was really so opposed to it. She pulled her gaze from her hands, folded on her belly, to her husband's face, hoping to gauge his reaction.

  

[Thom Pettigrew]

August was Thom's closest friend, but that didn't mean that he wanted his children to grow up and be just like August. Not that naming a child after someone was a good way to ensure that they would emulate them, but still. August had gotten himself run over by a carriage because he'd been young and stupid, and now walked with a cane; August had a bastard child and was hung up on a girl who was Merlin only knew where and probably wouldn't ever come back; August didn't really do shit. He didn't really want to get into a conversation like that with Hannah, though, about either of the relatives she'd mentioned, because he did genuinely like both of them. Nothing good would come of that conversation.

"Theodore isn't awful," he said diplomatically, hoping she'd take the hint and move past the idea of using family namesakes. Though he supposed middle names wouldn't be terrible, either, in any case. "Isn't it bad luck to name a daughter after a woman who's still living?"