(Untitled)

[clumsy_auror]

The days that Nymphadora's been back have sped by far more quickly than she'd like. There've been near-daily visits to the Healers, for tests and exams and ultrasounds, and Durkin's been scratching his head trying to re-calculate Charlotte's exact due date. Then there's Allbright, who hugged her, told her off, and dumped a foot-high stack of

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[the_woodpecker]

Bernard's been swinging from one extreme to the next, either clinging to 'Dora like he can't let her go, or keeping to his study, the door closed, immersed in work.

It's the latter he's indulging in today.

He just... It's hard, getting used to her again. Getting used to not missing her.

[clumsy_auror]

'Dora pauses outside the study door, listening for a moment before rapping softly with one knuckle.

"Bernard? D'you want something to eat?"

Her voice sounds a little tentative.

[the_woodpecker]

"Mmmmno," he answers, absentminded, scribbling in the margins of the top page of a huge stack of back inventory sheets. "You want me to make you something?"

[clumsy_auror]

Her brow furrows, and Nymphadora opens the door enough to stick her head through the crack.

"No, I was asking if you wanted me to make you something. I'm perfectly capable.

[the_woodpecker]

"--Oh." He looks up finally, flushing. "I didn't mean to imply you weren't, I just-- Sorry."

[clumsy_auror]

A sigh. "It's fine, I'll just. Go cut up some apples and cheese, or something."

The door closes with a soft snick, and Nymphadora pads down the hall to the kitchen.

She feels just a little at sea.

[the_woodpecker]

She's not the only one.

Biting his lip, Bernard organizes his papers into five neat stacks and pushes his chair back, padding to the kitchen behind her. Watching. Contrite.

[clumsy_auror]

The only sound is the hum of the refrigerator and her knife on the cutting board. She dices an apple -- from Kathleen's orchard in Walla Walla -- and some gouda. Silently she scoops it all onto a plate, taking a piece of cheese before she offers it to Bernard.

"So," she says finally, leaning on the counter and crossing her arms. "Tom came by."

[the_woodpecker]

Bernard's hand pauses minutely on the way to the plate, and then continues. He picks up an apple slice and fiddles with it. "Oh?"

[clumsy_auror]

And suddenly she's furious, for a thousand reasons she can't really articulate at the moment. "Bernard, he had no idea."

[the_woodpecker]

Bernard's lips press into a thin line, and his flush deepens.

"I know that."

[clumsy_auror]

"So did you tell anyone?" she asks, eyes flashing. "Tom thought we were on fucking holiday. Who was here with you? Who was helping?"

[the_woodpecker]

"Mike," he replies, as if it's ripped out of him. "Raph, a little. Mal."

That apple slice sure looks interesting.

[clumsy_auror]

Nymphadora's eyes widen still further.

Her voice drops, and it's clear she's working to keep it steady.

"Crowley? Aziraphael?"

[the_woodpecker]

He shakes his head once in negation.

"I-"

But there's no good excuse.

[clumsy_auror]

Nymphadora stares at him, open-mouthed.

Then she abruptly turns and walks out into the dining room, falling into one of the chairs.

"I don't even. How could you not--"

She tries to take a breath.

"Haven't we had this fight already? Isn't this what you raked me over the coals for ages ago?"