June 13th, 1888 - Bartonburg
Edric Umbridge

February was feeling pretty pleased with herself after her last letter to Mr. Umbridge last evening. She had already trekked to the ministry to deliver a thank you gift and he'd treated her like some silly school girl with no wits about her whatsoever! Now he needed her to come all the way back to fill out a statement? Something she'd already done once. No no, that was not happening.

He hadn't bothered to respond, so she assumed he didn't need to speak to her that badly.

As she descended the stairs, book and a blanket in hand, she had every intention of going out behind the house into the garden to read for a little while. She was passing by the door and paused as she saw Lydia standing there looking out the window. The poor girl was finally starting to come around, but the look on her face said it all. With a quick glance, February watched her open the door and was not surprised to find Mr. Umbridge on the other side.

February strode right up to the large wooden door and without any remorse or hesitaton, slammed it shut. Lydia stood there gaping at her, awestruck, before Febby turned on her heel and walked straight through the house and out the back door to follow through with her original plans for the morning.

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The following 2 users Like February Umbridge's post:2 users Like February Umbridge's post
   Edric Umbridge, January Lynch

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Miss Lynch had not bothered to write him back to confirm (or even rearrange) their meeting this morning, so Edric had trekked down to the Lynch household, letting out an aggravated huff with every step he took up the walkway to the townhouse. He'd brought his paperwork and attitude today, and he was ready.

Well, except for anything but that.

Fully preparing to walk inside the Lynch family home as the housekeeper opened the door, he was taken aback by Miss Lynch's casual stroll to doorway and then, without hesitation—slam, it was shut once more.

(Well, she did have nerve.)

"Really? That was completely uncalled for!" he called through the door before knocking again.

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Her feathers ruffled, Febby, found herself a spot beneath the large oak tree in their backyard, spread out the blanket she had, and promptly plopped herself down to read her book. She rearranged her skirts comfortably around her and opened her novel to where she'd left off last. Febs was in her happy place and she was not about to let anyone ruin it, especially one incredibly handsome stubborn auror.

Except Lydia apparently had other plans. It was barely a moment after she was situated that the maid came down the back steps, sheepishly glancing over her shoulder.

Oh. The. Nerve!

She affixed A Look on her face as she watched him, shoulders set back, chin up, as if she were completely unperturbed by his determination. "Well, I see you found us alright." She said finally, followed by a haughty chuckle.

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Luckily, the maid had taken pity on him and allowed him into the house, but left him further flabbergasted when she'd explained Miss Lynch had gone to the backyard. So she truly had had no plans to speak to him—truly an insufferable woman indeed! He was in that mindset when they reached the backdoor and his eyes settled on the woman herself (who definitely looked very pretty as she sat under the tree, but altogether too pleased with herself).

He took in and released a deep breath as he marched towards where she sat, and, without responding, sat himself down on the ground across from her with paperwork in hand.

"You're terrible to me, Miss Lynch," he responded with a scoff, beginning to open his files. "No response last night, nothing this morning—I do hope you're enjoying yourself," he added, and a glance up at her face quickly proving that she was based on her expression.

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Though February was quite surprised he had the audacity to join her on the ground, she managed to keep the shock off of her face, instead fixing him with a narrow glare. Lydia however, was not quite as successful as she hovered nearby, no doubt to keep an eye on February at this point and just in case she too was needed for the paperwork. The expression on the maid's face was between utter surprise amusement.

February was absolutely no level of amused.

"Mmm, the feeling is mutual, Mr. Umbridge." She placed her bookmark back in its place and closed the book firmly. "I take time out of my day to bring you something nice to say thank you and you treat me like a child who doesn't know how to stay out of trouble. It's quite irritating." She huffed, making sure to cover the remnants of her bruise in the process. "So pardon me if I wasn't exactly willing to make the same effort a second time." Febby turned her icy blue eyes on his, chin tilted upward in retaliation.

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Her words were surprising; she'd always been one to give witty comebacks rather than explanations, hence the brow he raised as he glanced up at her. "I wasn't unaware that expressing my concern equated to treating you like a child. I'm sorry the sentiment didn't come across as intended," he responded coolly in return.

He'd had no intention of treating her like a helpless child; he was an auror, and aurors did their best to protect the magical community. He would much rather prevent Miss Lynch from finding herself in harm's way rather than have to rescue her once more—or worse, have her find herself in a position where no one could help her.

"If I'm so terribly irritating, I will make a pointed effort to avoid bothering you again—but only after we're through with this whole mess," he added, passing her a list of questions to answer on parchment.

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Oh no, no. He didn't get to put this on her like that. Like she'd misunderstood him when he was being patronizing. "Since when am I of concern to you Mr. Umbridge? Please enlighten me."  It was meant more as a rhetorical question and pushed on without so much as a chance for him to answer. "You are, incredibly irritating, you know." February blew a stray strand of hair from her eyes.

"All high and mighty because you're an auror. I handled myself quite well until the very end of our little adventure there." She flexed her hand idly, just thinking about punching him again to prove her point. Febs however, wanted to be let out of the house again before her twenty-fifth birthday and so refrained. She had put up a good fight though and had managed to free herself without his help;  he just so happened to finish the creep off. "It's a situation I don't plan to be in ever again, so you can save your concern for some poor doe-eyed waif who actually needs your help." She narrowed her eyes dangerously.

"Now, please tell me how I can assist you so I can be rid of you as quickly as possible." Absolutely insufferable this one!

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Merlin, she was definitely feeling wordy today.

"I don't know," he said defensively. Why was she of any concern to him? "I suppose—well, why did you bring me cookies?" Obviously the best defense was to respond to a question with a question. That always worked.

"—and I'm not all high and mighty. I was doing my job; I was summoned to capture the criminal, whether or not you were prepared to handle it," he challenged. Her words were unkind, which shouldn't have been a big deal—he dealt with Connolly on the regular, and she could be nasty when provoked—but he couldn't help but tighten his jaw to prevent his expression from giving away the string that followed them.

"Just... let's finish the paperwork and I'll leave," he answered with a tired sigh.

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Febby nearly rolled her eyes, running out of steam for this... argument. It couldn't exactly be a conversation when all they were doing was tossing insults at one another. "I brought them, because I was thankful for what you did." She huffed, adding, even if I don't appreciate your assumption that I can't stay out of trouble, to herself. Had she needed his help at the end there? Yes, of course she had and she was thankful for it, but it was over and he needn't concern himself with her well being anymore if she was so "irritating".

"Fine, what else do you need to know?" Just get this over with and she could go back to her book and sulking in peace.

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He focused on his breathing, having learned it as one of the methods for keeping calm in a tense situation. He always thought be he'd use it when being bad-mouthed by criminals—not a very stubborn, very aggravating woman.

"Thankful," he quietly scoffed, scribbling his automatically-inking pill across the parchment. "I suppose this is one of the cases where words speak louder than actions, hm?" he questioned—calmly and without anger—while peeking up at her. Whatever efforts she'd made, she'd come off as nothing other than ungrateful.

Calm, calm, calm. He needed to do his business, and he didn't need to let some woman take control of his emotions. She was nothing to him, he tried to remind himself. She was only a memorable case in a sea of files, and within a few weeks, she'd just be another name that rang as familiar when mentioned. Right?

"They need you to confirm the suspect based on these pictures," he said, handing another file her way. "Apparently going simply off an auror's word is against protocol when other witnesses were at the scene. It looks bad," he explained, trying to smile as genuinely as he could—but ultimately falling flat.

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"Mm, something I'm coming to regret." February mumbled, mostly to herself, though she wasn't as quiet as she could have been. This was pointless. Hopefully after this interview that would be the end of Mr. Umbridge where she was concerned.

"Apparently my word means nothing to you, but yes that's him. I remember the scar on the chin, just there." She gestured toward that section of the picture haphazardly and ended up brushing her fingers against his. She retracted her hand quickly, moving it atop hey book once more. Her cheeks flushed a faint shade of pink as she tried to cover it up with a more resigned tone to her voice. "Anything else?"

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Edric hadn't bothered to see if the maid was lurking nearby, but he could just imagine the look on her face. They probably looked ridiculous, sitting beside a tree with a garden, her looking all pretty and him in his work robes while they pestered each other with petty insults and condescending comments. It was ridiculous, but what could he do about it? She was being stubborn, and he was just—well, he was maybe being a pain in the arse. Just a little.

"I don't see where you got that impression," he retorted, scribbling a messy circle around the scars and adding a little note. Her hand reached over and brushed his—accidentally, he assumed, but it was enough to cause his gaze to flick towards her. Her cheeks were pink, Merlin, and his whole "I'm going to return to the office and forget about this" idea went right out the window. Insufferable woman. What was she even thinking?

"Yes, I—" He opened his mouth to continue, but no words came out. Well, at least the loss of his eloquence was accompanied by the loss of her wittiness. He took a moment to contemplate his words—a very long, very agonizing moment for the man who enjoyed a constant stream of snippy comments—before continuing.

"I must let you know that further inquiries regarding the case may come through the owl post, but I'll see to it that another auror handles it." It came out colder than he'd expected, as evidenced by the regretful glance he cast in her direction a moment later. "—I would hate to continue being irritating."

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Embarrassed about her slip up and the following blush, Febby simply shook her head slowly and sighed. She was done with this; being purposefully stubborn wasn't fun anymore. She felt silly and she hated being a frivolous airhead who blushed like a school girl who let a man get under her skin. She'd enjoyed the witty banter they'd started with when they'd first met and even at the beginning of her visit to the ministry. Now, however, she rather thought it would be bet to just cooperate and move on.

"Whatever you think is best." Wrapping this whole ordeal would be easiest and clearly he knew how to handle it. I'll answer any inquiries to the best of my ability." She sighed again slowly, shoulder slumped as she looked down at her lap. Febby's annoyance, much like her anger, was white-hot and quick to flare. It was also slow to ebb, but once it did, she could at least make en effort to be reasonable.

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Edric was the embodiment of "???" at the moment as he stared at her with an expression that could only be described as confusion, hesitation, and regret all bottled up into one. What? She was done fighting? Had he broken her? And even more of a question: should he be celebrating that, or should he be trying to apologize?

"I—" Merlin, what was the right thing to say? She was a woman, not one of his colleagues who he could nudge in the shoulder and tell to lighten up. "I think it would be best for you to punch me again; I understand that message better than the pouting," he said under his breath, hoping it was too quiet for her to make out.

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Though she very nearly missed what he said and it took her a second to register what he had indeed said, Febby's head shot up from where she'd been contemplating the cover of her book very intensely. Eyebrows raised, expression incredulous, Febby was well and truly lost for words.

It took less than a second for her to react- anger flaring up again and she wound up with her good hand, her un-bruised one, for one hell of a right cross, right across that insufferably strong jaw of his.

From her position on the ground it didn't have nearly as much force as she would have liked, but there was enough zing for her to know she'd have matching bruises come evening, screw being house-bound for the rest of her life.

"There, happy?" She spat out, color rising to her cheeks again, but this time out of frustration as she cradled her hand against her bodice, no trace of a pout on her features as she scowled at him. She didn't even dare look at Lydia, though could guess the look she was getting right about now.

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"Fuck," he swore, his eyes squeezed shut and his hand cradling his jaw for a minute. She'd done it—Miss Lynch had actually punched him again. He opened his eyes and stared at her with a mixture of shock and awe.

"Incredibly," he chuckled, though his voice was laced with an equal amount of pain as there was amusement. "I must give you credit; you do have an impressive right hook." His eyes moved to her hand, which she'd covered and pressed against her torso—a sight that was almost enough to make him feel guilty.

This time, however, she'd made the choice to hit him, rather than doing so out of instinct.

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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! —