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.
"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?"
Blinkblink. Grin. "I do love the way you think, dearest. So devious. Why don't you plot more often, hmm?"
"I realise Professor Crane has brown hair and you and I do not, but there's a spell that'll permanently change hair colour and no one will be any the wiser." She pats his thigh familiarly. "And I don't plot because I so rarely need to."
"That's because you have me to do it for you, lovely." he grins. "I plot enough for ten people." He starts petting her hair, tangling and untangling his fingers. "Crane will be a good family friend, I think. Yes, and...a business partner, perhaps. What kind of business do you think I should start, dearest? I can't very well sit around and let you be the breadwinner, can I?"
"If you want him to be a business partner, then I would suggest something to do with potions." She thinks. "You wouldn't have to actually do it yourself, of course...but start a business developing new and innovative potions." She considers it. "And I think we ought to keep a house in Hogsmeade. Let's build one. Then, you see, we can live in Scotland, out of the way, and Apparate to London for your business and socialising, and I can get to Hogwarts to work and see Professor Crane."
"Brilliant! I'll be the investor, and he can be the inventive genius type!" he grins, actually getting a bit excited. "I've quite the contacts already, as well. Half the most influential businessmen in the wizarding world have at least one child here right now." He pauses for a moment, then grins. "I'll need a personal assistant, I suppose. And we wouldn't want anyone to think I'm being unfaithful to my devoted wife, so a girl just simply wouldn't do."
"Do remember he's a professor at Hogwarts, darling, and there is only so much he can do on top of that. Hire lots of people to be creative geniuses." She twirls her hair around her finger, laughing. "You are wicked, my darling. Have you someone in mind, then?"
"Of course, dear. I'll speak to the potions mistress, see if she has any promising students in need of employment once they finish their NEWTs."He snorts, firmly ignoring that most faint of flushes on his cheeks. "Of course not. As though anyone in this school aside from you were worth my time."
"Get your father or someone to start building the business now, so that you have it there when you leave Hogwarts," she says, nodding firmly. "Well, how am I to know all you do during the holidays?"