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[clumsy_auror]

Distractions are a positive thing

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[the_woodpecker]

There are also cookies on the way.

And a cake.

And a pumpkin pie.

Sublimating? Bernard? Never.

"...You said you like oatmeal, right?"

[clumsy_auror]

Her brow furrows, and she cranes her neck to look at the clock. "Oatmeal at two in the afternoon?"

[the_woodpecker]

"...No, in the cookie."

Duh.

He's got a bowl in hand, already mixing.

[clumsy_auror]

"Oh. Yeah, sure. Cheers."

There's a tiny half-smile on her face as she turns back to the swatch of fabric in her lap.

[the_woodpecker]

"Okay," he replies, biting his lip and shuffling back to the kitchen for a few minutes.

[clumsy_auror]

'Dora sits quietly, practicing the same stitching spell over and over again. No thinking. No dwelling on the previous day.

[the_woodpecker]

It's comforting, the repetition involved in spooning the cookies onto the sheet, popping the sheet into the oven, readying the second sheet, flipping through the Betty Crocker Cooky Book to see what else to make, what else to fill the next hour.

There are two batches already in tupperware containers in the cupboard.

[clumsy_auror]

She knows exactly what he's doing. He's never been all that opaque, when he doesn't know how to deal with something. Usually Nymphadora's right there to poke at him until he spills, until he tells her what's wrong so they can suss it out together.

Today, she's not all that interesting in poking.

[the_woodpecker]

Sometimes poking isn't the right tactic anyway.

After a few minutes, he comes back out and perches on the end of the couch.

"Need any more tea?"

[clumsy_auror]

A shake of her head, and a brief smile and glance up at Bernard. "No, thanks love."

[the_woodpecker]

"Okay."

But he doesn't go anywhere.

[clumsy_auror]

Nymphadora says nothing. It feels like a staring contest between her and the little pattern of bunnies on the fabric she's holding.

[the_woodpecker]

Demon bunnies, one hopes.

Bernard chews his lip practically to shreds, then scoots closer, lifting her feet onto his lap, grasping one ankle.

[clumsy_auror]

That provokes a minute smile. She settles herself more comfortably against the arm of the sofa and sighs.

[the_woodpecker]

As always with her, his hands have a mind of their own, and he's soon massaging the balls of her feet slowly. It gives him something to do.

"What do you think you'd like for dinner?"

[clumsy_auror]

"Considering how many baked goods you've plied me with today," 'Dora murmurs, arching an eyebrow, "it'll be a miracle if I'm hungry for it at all."