The feeling over lips, the touch of her hands, and the smile on her face all seemed more intoxicating than several ill-advised shots of firewhiskey, which had never seemed possible when he was with other women. Even yesterday's trip to the whorehouse—even with the emotions and sexual tension riding high—had been dull just compared to Miss Lynch's far more innocent touches by comparison.

He couldn't help but flash her a similar smile in response, though his was more hungry, more anticipative, than hers. While he was stronger and more dominant, she was the one who had him reacting to her. Insufferable woman.

He hadn't even realized how far they've moved until she hit the wall through the thickness of the fog, prompting an husky laugh to leave his throat. The wall meant more leverage—and she'd caught onto that, too.

His hands moved from her backside to her waist, and then wandered up her rib-cage, over her bosom, and up her neck. He cupped her cheeks softly and moved his lips slowly against hers, taking his sweet time in registering her taste and scent into his memory. He only removed his lips from hers to trail light kisses down her neck, his mouth immediately searching for the new skin she'd exposed.

(He wasn't sure just how far she planned on taking them, but damn would he be in need of a little relief later. Who would have ever thought the irritating girl with the pig-maid would end up having so much power over him?)

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— set by MJ! —

Breathless and overheated, Febs knew they should stop, hell she knew they shouldn't even being doing this in the first place, especially here, but it was hard to think rationally once they'd started. Neither one of them thought logically when having a discussion, it was pretty damn impossible here.

There was just something about the way he kissed her, possessive and without hesitation, even as he slowed down, taking his time, that instinctively had her craving more. The undone buttons of her dress really didn't afford them much in the way of exposure, only giving way to the top of her corset and chemise underneath her bodice. It was probably a good thing, lest they get too carried away, but it was exceedingly frustrating.

Winding her arms around his neck, she ran her fingers through his hair, marveling at the feeling of his lips on her skin. She tilted her head back to allow him easier access to the sensitive skin of her neck, resting it against the wall behind her. Though the lower he got the quicker her  breathing became. His name left her lips in a soft breathless gasp, her body automatically arching towards him for more.

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His lips, tongue, and teeth explored her skin, tasting, kissing, and even lightly marking the skin there. His current feelings of possessiveness were ridiculous by his sober standards; she truly was intoxicating. Everything was instinct at this point—the way he ground his hips against hers, the way his hands sought the clasps on his own robes—and so much so that he wasn't even sure where he was taking it, nor where he wanted it to go.

All the way was the obvious answer, but he didn't expect her to want that. (Except he wasn't actually sure now; he'd been positive about it a few minutes ago, but her little gasps and the way she arched into him suggested otherwise.)

"Dammit, Febs," he groaned against her skin before dragging his mouth back up to her lips. He pressed a single kiss to her lips before pulling back to breathe. Goddamn irresistible woman. He leaned forward to press his forehead to hers, his chest heaving harder than it had all day while on the job—and that was saying something.

"What do you want?" he gasped, unwilling to push her any further unless he got a firm "yes".

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— set by MJ! —

This was a slippery slope, going for the closures on clothes, she realized somewhere in the back of her mind. Undoing buttons and clasps and laces meant this had a clear direction and though right now, with the way she felt in this very moment, she could easily see it going there- she didn't want to regret it later.

Thank Merlin he found the willpower to pause. Every time he swore accompanied by her name, she felt an intense sense of power, but that only served to push her in the obvious direction. It was addictive to say the least and if he kept it up, she might just lose the ability to stop altogether.

Febby closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath as he pressed his forehead to hers.  She tried desperately to form some kind of coherent thought that wasn't clouded by arousal, but damn was it hard. If she were being honest, reckless, she wouldn't stop now. However there was one small, rational, romantic part of her that thought this was probably not the best place or time. She didn't want to regret getting into a heated argument about feelings, not really solving that argument, and then wind up losing something else entirely.

"I want you," She admitted slowly, once her voice came back to her. That much was obvious, but she couldn't pull the proverbial trigger just yet. Febby busied herself by running her hands through his hair for a moment, giving her time to formulate the next part. "But I don't think this is the time or place." It also wasn't the firm no it should have been from a young, unmarried girl such as herself. "However, I also don't want to go home, either." That was probably not a helpful answer, but it was all she had.

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She wanted him—but not now and not like this. It was more frustrating than anything, mostly because her words were not concrete and they weren't a definite no. She didn't want to leave, either, but what were they to do? Go back to casual conversation when the tightness in his pants persisted and her hair and clothes were a disheveled mess?

Talking was a dangerous business, too—they'd proven that countless times through their interactions. It was a ridiculous notion, and one that he should immediately wave off; however, he didn't want this to turn into another argument that would stain this memory. He let out an unhappy groan before dropping his lips to hers once more, unsure of really what she wanted from him now.

Insufferable, irresistible, impulsive, and now indecisive woman. He pulled back after a moment to look her, a mischievous, almost playful glint in his eyes.

"You're going to be the death of me, February Lynch."

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— set by MJ! —

Feeling guilty about her non-answer, Febby thought she would have to get over her reluctance to go home and just suck it up. Going home hot and bothered would be incredibly unsatisfying, but necessary. They hadn't exactly solved their earlier argument either, but that she would let to of too. They were somewhat on the same page now, she hoped.

When he kissed her again, Febby tried to keep the intensity at a minimum, which was more difficult than it should have been. As he pulled back again she found herself framing his face with her hands. Despite the chuckle that he'd elicited from her, she did still feel bad. "I'm sorry, I know it's not very fair of me." Getting all wound up only to have to stop was definitely unfair. If she didn't stop now though he would certainly be her undoing. "I'll loose the ability to stop soon," The possibility of something happening was not so much out of the question, but more of a when and she didn't want it to be now.

"Maybe I should go home." Stopping once made stopping again a little easier, but only marginally. That look he'd just given her, the glint in his eyes it made her shiver in anticipation of what could happen. However, she was only being honest and if he cared for her as much as he said he did, he'd have to respect that and respect the boundary she had to set down. She had to keep reminding herself that this was not the time or place.

Gently she pressed a slow, soft kiss to his lips, hands moving back to button up her dress, which was not nearly as much fun as unbuttoning them.

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He didn't want her to go, but it seemed her tone was more certain this time and less challenging. Still, should he argue? Would she take offense if he didn't fight to keep her there? Would she take offense if he did?

"Mmm, you don't have to go, and you don't have to apologize," he insisted, reluctantly peeling himself off of her. He wasn't really sure when he'd see her again after this; though fate had seen them in each other's company multiple times over the past two weeks, the situation in Hogsmeade was getting more dire and there was no telling if it would eventually reach a point where seeing her was impossible.

He returned her gentle kiss—a stark contrast from their former kisses—before pulling back. He watched her button up her dress, any hope of further action dissipating from his thoughts. His hand moved to smooth her hair back into place before he placed a tender, far more innocent kiss to her temple.

These damn emotions were making him soft.

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The following 1 user Likes Edric Umbridge's post:1 user Likes Edric Umbridge's post
   February Umbridge

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— set by MJ! —

After fixing her buttons, Febby blew out a sigh, body trying to readjust after the intensity of the last few minutes. It was a surreal kind of letdown that she hadn't been prepared for. The other night she'd been so angry afterward she'd just ignored the feelings, now though, trying to regain some sense of normalcy after being so hot and bothered. She had to go home like this, just that thought was enough to cool her off a little.

"Mmmm I do have to, not enough self control, have to take advantage when I can find it." She teased, smiling slowly, Febby reached up after he did, attempting to fix her hair, but without being able to look at it, it was unlikely to matter much. Of course it hadn't been the neatest when she'd left, nor would it be all that out of the ordinary for it to be a little mussed up (from flying!)  so perhaps nobody would notice at all.

Switching gears from one extreme to the other was enough to really throw her off, and while it was necessary, she just didn't expect the tenderness in some of his movements. It was surprising and endearing, if a bit perplexing. The physical side of this was easy to understand, the emotional side not so much. After attempting to fix her own hair, Febs reached out to smooth his at the sides where she'd been running her hands through it. "Not sorry about that." She chuckled, but she needed to stop touching him, it was too tempting.

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He watched with a teasing smile as she attempted to tidy herself up, feeling secretly proud that he'd managed to get her in such a disheveled state. Her hair was practically ruined for the moment without the assistance of a trained maid or magic to put all the strands back into place—and apparently his was just as bad.

The feeling of her hands in his hair prompted his face to redden more than it already was. That was definitely a trigger, he decided, and with a sheepish smile reached up to disentangle her fingers from their spot.

"If we're going to leave here, you can't go and do that to me," he admitted, trying to divert his gaze from hers. "It will lead to... complications." He could still feel the tightness in his pants—fuck.

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— set by MJ! —

"Right, sorry." She pressed her lips together to suppress the laugh, retracting her hand, she attempted to smooth out her skirts, but honestly, there was no helping her appearance. The guilty expression, swollen lips and flushed cheeks, in addition to her messy hair and everything else was a dead giveaway. Though she hadn't been thankful much for it, the fog was a brilliant cover today if she couldn't use magic clean herself up.

Giving up, Febs could only sigh. Going home now was going to make being a shut in even more difficult. Merlin how was she supposed to be stuck inside with all of this floating around in her head? If she hadn't been able to get him out of her head after the other night, she was certainly not going to oust him now.

"I should probably go first, not that anyone is around, but I don't want to press my luck today." Great, now she was trying to figure out the logistics of sneaking around with him. What was this day?

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So she was leaving, and she was doing it now. A sense of panic set it, not from the thought of her walking away, but the thought of what came after. They hadn't talked about when—or even if—they planned on seeing each other again, which made him question if she really wanted to. (And if she didn't, what was he supposed to do?)

"Wait, before you go," he said before quickly wrapping his hand around her wrist and tugging her towards him. He placed a firm kiss to her lips and gently rested his hands on her waist, not wanting to disturb her outfit anymore. "This isn't the end, I hope...?" he asked hesitantly, bracing for a the potential affirmation.

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— set by MJ! —

He had a habit of pulling her around by her wrist, which was as vexing as it was predictable now. This time it wasn't so frustrating however, and she softened immediately into cooperating. She allowed herself to be pulled in again, hands coming to rest softly on his shoulders to prevent smacking right into him.  

His question caught her off guard, but supposed it shouldn't have. While she had assumed this was just the beginning of something incredibly complex, they hadn't actually said as much aloud. Sliding her hands up to frame his face, she planted another feather light kiss on his lips. "Not even close." She highly suspected they would be seeing one another around. How or when she had absolutely no idea, which was making it increasingly hard to leave now.

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He hummed in approval as she kissed him, struggling to resist the urge to start again what they'd just stopped. When he pulled away, he flashed her a smile that only a completely-oblivious person could miss as an affectionate one. Still, that didn't answer the when or how, and he knew they were one crisis away from being separated and an unknown length of time. He'd be busy, sure, but there was no doubt that he'd worry for her well-being.

"We can't rely on letters, not after the owl incident," he prompted. "In the event that Hogsmeade decides to start killing off its residents—" A very morbid possibility, but one nonetheless. "—you must get to safety." It was the most predictable thing he could have said, but it was no less true.

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— set by MJ! —

At the mention of the owl incident Febby chuckled and looked away for a moment. "That may or may not have been my fault. My original letter was... well entirely not what I meant to say so I called him back and confused him." She admitted with a sheepish smile. "I do hope he's okay." Considering the way that night had gone she hadn't remembered to ask.

"You can be incredibly pessimistic, you know that. She teased him lightly. "I will be fine." He really was such a worry wort, and though she found it somewhat annoying, it was also kind of charming. "But I promise to absolutely abandon my family and run for the hills should Armageddon begin." She was kidding of course, mostly because she didn't know how to really react to his concern. Nobody every worried specifically about her very much, it was going to take some getting used to.

With that said, she didn't want to make him thing she wasn't listening. "I promise to be careful, but you have to promise me the same." She said more seriously, eyes on his to ensure he knew she was being truthful. The uncertainty of the immediate future had her kissing him again, lingering far longer than was helpful to her leaving.

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Edric couldn't resist a laugh as she explained what had actually happened, trying to imagine his dumb-as-fuck owl dealing with an indecisive February Lynch. "He'll be fine," he reassured. In all reality he'd already made plans to purchase a new owl pending the old one's early retirement or untimely demise (though he expected the former).

Edric was a pessimist, and the more she learned about him, the more she'd understand why. Now wasn't really the time to swap backstories, even if that might give him a few extra minutes with her. Today had been enough of an emotional roller-coaster, and there was little reason to bring up memories—bad memories, in his case—right now.

"As long as you promise not to put yourself in reckless situations—" He gave her a look. "—I'll be happy." The matter of his safety was much less clear, but he wouldn't have ended up in his position if he'd been too cautious. "If I was that reckless, I would have been dead years ago."

He kissed her back against his better judgment, deepening the kiss in an almost desperate manner. A few nights ago he'd figured that a few months away would have him forgetting the kiss they'd shared, but now he didn't think he'd ever forget the feeling of her lips against his. (Right now forgetting the sensation was the least of his worries; he still had yet to muster the willpower to pull himself away from her.)

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— set by MJ! —

It was hard to promise to stay away from reckless situations when this was the exact definition of one.

Merlin, leaving was damn near impossible. Even in the afterglow of a moment ago, they couldn't keep their hands off one another.  It was impossible to disentangle herself, leaning in instead of away; there were too many emotions and needs swirling around in her head to have enough sense to walk away. Why was this so magnetic? That thought was best left for another time though as she had little desire to fully think it through at the moment.

Following his lead was far too easy, desperate and breathless, the familiar sensations creeping up on her again. After a moment she managed to pull back, though just a breath away. "Edric, I have to go." It was little more than a whisper; a frustrated whine against his lips as she turned wide blue eyes up to his as if he was any more capable of finding a reason to leave.

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