(Untitled)

[clumsy_auror]

It's late; far later than the lights are generally on in the living room. But on they are, even though the fireplace has died down to its embers. There are some files on the coffee table, and a half-finished grocery list. One pile of neatly folded clothes occupies the armchair, while basketful of unfolded laundry sits on the floor beside it

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[the_woodpecker]

Bernard is half on top of his wife, wrapped around her tightly, his face burrowed into her neck, one arm around her.

The hand of that arm is firmly on top of 'Dora's left breast.

It's kind of like a security blanket that way.

[clumsy_auror]

Nymphadora actually shows no signs whatsoever of waking.

But there may, in fact, be some movement at the end of the couch.

Beside Bernard's feet.

[the_woodpecker]

A slow, soft snore emerges from 'Dora's neck, and ends in a snort.

"Wussadoin," Bernard murmurs, wiggling his toes.

[clumsy_auror]

Toes are such funny things. Particularly wiggly ones.

Hiss is enthralled.

[the_woodpecker]

All is silent for a few more moments.

Then the infernal toe-rustling starts up again.

"...Touchin' my toes."

More concerted wriggling and a near-kick.

[clumsy_auror]

'Dora snorts softly in her sleep and shifts, nearly dislodging the hand on her boob.

[the_woodpecker]

The key is nearly.

Hiss, finally frustrated by all the movement, secures his amusement by taking the corner of Bernard's sock between his jagged teeth.

This way he can nuzzle and munch all at once.

One of Bernard's eyes slides open.

"Whuh."

[clumsy_auror]

It's no skin off Nymphadora's nose, what's going on at the other end of the couch. She's happy as a clam, and lets out a little sigh.

[the_woodpecker]

Bernard lies there, eye open, contemplating where he is, and what he is doing.

"Ngh."

There is that movement at his foot again.

His hand is in a good place though.

He lifts his head, licking his lips stickily.

"Ah sssssssssssssshit."

There is gentle kicking.

[clumsy_auror]

Now her brow furrows. "B'nard. Stop kickin'."

[the_woodpecker]

"Can't," he replies petulantly. "Monster's eatin' my sock."

Hiss glares at Bernard over the side of his foot.

Bernard kicks again.

"Get off!"

[clumsy_auror]

With an exasperated sigh, Nymphadora shunts Bernard off to the side and leans down to pick up Hiss.

Grey eyes glare sternly into beady red ones.

Hiss would appear to be sulking.

"Sod off."

[the_woodpecker]

"Ha-ha," Bernard taunts, and Hiss... hisses, then hops off menacingly. Bernard's hands pluck at 'Dora's shirt. "Come back. I'm all cold now."

[clumsy_auror]

With a groan, 'Dora complies, burying her face in the warm cushions of the sofa. "Fuckaduck. What time's it."

[the_woodpecker]

"Um." Bernard wrestles his left arm out from under himself and checks his watch.

"Shitfuck. 2AM."

[clumsy_auror]

"Awwwww, bugger me. No wonder 'm so sore."

She sighs and turns over, throwing an arm over her eyes.

"Should we go t'bed?"