Rochefort sits in his office, ignoring the quiet chatter of the portraits of past Headmasters around him. If anyone wishes to bother him, now's a good time.
Donna is in the Hufflepuff common room, tolerating first years who want to see her engagement ring.
Quill dismisses the poor first years, sending them scurrying away to their rooms, and flops on the floor next to her chair with his head in her lap. "Hello my beloved wife-to-be."
She strokes his hair. "Hello, darling. Good mood?"
"Very." He grins, eyes half-closed at the petting. "Rochefort has given permission for us to have the wedding in the Great Hall."
She laughs, delightedly. "That's brilliant, darling. I didn't think he would."
"Neither did I, to tell the truth. Still, it never hurts to ask. Unless you're asking my father. But that's entirely beside the point." he grins. Not even the thought of his father is enough to dampen his spirits after this.
She laughs again, kisses her fingertips and presses them to Quill's lips. "Our wedding is going to be wonderful."
He nips her fingers playfully, grinning. "The social event of the season, dearest. Who shall we get to plan it, do you think? We can't leave everything up to our mothers. Who knows how ghastly it would turn out."
"We could hire a wedding planner."
"Hmm. Yes. But who? The only one I know is the horrid old bat who planned my cousin's wedding, and it involved giant, orange ice-sculptures." His face does not say that this was a pleasant thing.
"My sister's wedding was nice."
"Marvelous. Can you contact her, dearest? If we don't want to get steamrolled by our mothers, we'd best start early."
"Of course, Quill-darling, I'll owl her this evening. Elise is insane for this sort of thing, we should have an answer and details by tomorrow if she gets the owl tonight."
"You are fabulous, my lovely. You will make a wonderful wife." he grins wickedly. "Will you press my robes and rub my feet, dearest? And of course, supper simply must be on the table when I come home from a long, hard day at the club."
She pinches him. "Clearly you're under the influence of something horrid and I must get you to the hospital wing."
He yelps and laughs, shameless. "What? Don't you want to be the perfect little wife? I expect one child every year, and the first five have to be boys. You know how I always wanted sons of my own, dearest."
"You're incorrigible, my love." She laughs, petting his hair again. But then she sobers. "Oh God. Everyone's going to expect us to have children."
"...Fuck." He looks absolutely horrified by the thought.
"We can put them off for a few years, of course, but sooner or later..." She scowls. "I have an idea."
"Oh thank Merlin, because I certainly don't. What is it?"
"Can we go somewhere we're a little less likely to be overheard?"
He blinks, then climbs to his feet and offers his hand with a grin. "If you'll follow me, my lady?"
She grins a bit, and takes his hand, getting up. "Of course. Lead on, MacDuff."
He grins and leads her out of the common room and down the hall, and into a small, abandoned room. He flops down on a pile of cushions in the corner (probably put there by himself) and grins. "Now, what was your idea, lovely?"
"Sooner or later, we're going to have to have children." She curls up next to him, resting her head in his lap. "But nobody's going to do a paternity test to check if they're yours, are they?"