(Untitled)

[clumsy_auror]

"Christ on a sodding bike, Bernard, slow down!"

Nymphadora braces one hand on the dashboard and the other on her husband's arm, her stricken eyes wide and fixedly staring out at the road.

"Knew we should've taken the train. 'It'll be fine, 'Dora, driving's just like falling off a log! You never forget how! It's no big deal!'"

Comments

[the_woodpecker]

Bernard shakes his head and shifts gears, grinning as the transmission protests. "It's fine, baby. Seriously."

They veer around a stray sheep in the road, and Bernard giggles.

He giggles.

[clumsy_auror]

"YOU'RE DRIFTING AGAIN," she barks, as the coupe meanders a bit to the right. "Ruddy American..."

[the_woodpecker]

He did it on purpose.

"They give you tons of leeway on these roads."

They are on a country road with no lines. It is narrow.

[clumsy_auror]

Now her hands are over her eyes. "I'm not even going to look. I can't take it any more."

[the_woodpecker]

"...Yeah, but, baby," Bernard protests, holding the door of the Eagle and Child open for 'Dora and stepping out behind her, "I think it's fair for me to say that my mushy peas are better even though C. S. Lewis sat around and wrote about talking lions here. It's not like he ate these mushy peas."

He pauses, thinking. "Although..."

[clumsy_auror]

"Yours do have butter," concedes Nymphadora, holding out her hand for Bernard to take. "And anything with butter is automatically better, so I think that's a reasonable comparison, yes."

[the_woodpecker]

"Might try that trick with the pepper, though. Clever."

[clumsy_auror]

She smiles, and presses close against him to ward off the evening chill. "Nice place. Very cozy."

[the_woodpecker]

The chilly spring rain drives sideways and soaks into the legs of Bernard's trousers as he pulls Nymphadora under the awning of a shop a few blocks from the library.

"...You were right. I admit it."

[clumsy_auror]

"Right about what? I mean, yes, of course I was right."

Grinning, 'Dora looks into the shop window with interest.

[the_woodpecker]

"About the umbrella, ninny," Bernard replies, exasperated but smiling. He turns his head to look in the window, too. "...How did we manage to stop in front of a sex shop?"

[clumsy_auror]

"Just lucky, I guess... God, what is that?" she asks, peering into the window and poking her finger against the glass.

[clumsy_auror]

It's not their bed. It's very fluffy, and also features a heavily-flowered duvet and innumerable lace-edged throw pillows.

Nymphadora stretches sleepily and rolls over, peering at the clock beyond Bernard's freckled shoulder.

Three in the morning.

Hm!

[the_woodpecker]

Hm, indeed!

Bernard, dead asleep, does not stir. Aside from his shoulder, he's... a little buried. In the fluff.

[clumsy_auror]

Wriggling closer, 'Dora slips her arm around his waist and presses light kisses to the nape of his neck.

"Bernard?"

[the_woodpecker]

For a moment or two, there is no response.

Then, slowly, Bernard breathes in, out. In, out. "Hm."

[the_woodpecker]

As expected, it's late morning before Bernard even thinks about stirring. In fact, his curled up position in the bed, with his head burrowed under both the covers and Nymphadora's long fall of hair, prevents him from realizing just how close to noon it is until a shaft of sunlight settles on his ear and heats it up to near-burning temperatures.

"Ngh," he moans, one eye opening, then closing.

[clumsy_auror]

'Dora grumbles in return, curling up into her own ball even more tightly, and yanking the covers over her shoulder.

[the_woodpecker]

That, of course, pulls Bernard's warm covers half off him, and he yanks back, then scoots closer to 'Dora, his arm flopping around her waist.

[clumsy_auror]

Letting out a sigh, the witch twists around, her arm tucking itself around Bernard's shoulders.

"Hm," she says, not really very awake at all yet.