Edric had been on edge over the past few days, but to attribute it all to Febs would have been a lie. Getting back into a proper work schedule and dealing with the day-to-day dealings of the auror department seemed like it would be easier than dealing with a fog-induced crisis, but it really wasn't. There was cases that'd been pushed aside when the fog came, and now was the time to solve them—and preferably before the public made a big deal about it.
That wasn't to say Febs wasn't bothering him. He must have received over a hundred or so letters from her over the past two months, and he knew the tone she usually wrote it. It was so recognizable, in fact, that he could read them in her voice. These last letter, though? They were...almost different. Not her.
His worries noticeably deflated when she'd pounced on him in the garden, as if it was some sort of affirmation that he was being stupid with all his worries. She still loved him; he likely shouldn't have jumped to the opposite conclusion, but his natural pessimism towards matters of romance continued placed doubts in his mind. He'd pushed those thoughts away and apparated home.
Now curled up on the couch, Edric was torn between his desire to just sit there with her—stroking her hand, pressing kisses to her temple every now and then, holding her—and actually talking. He didn't have to make that decision himself, though; Febs was the first to speak, an apology slipping from her lips.
"It's alright, lover," he said, his eyes dropping down to their entangled fingers. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Work's got me all worked up, I suppose; I've started looking for problems to solve where there weren't any to begin with," he admitted, his words leaving his lips in a chuckle.
That wasn't to say Febs wasn't bothering him. He must have received over a hundred or so letters from her over the past two months, and he knew the tone she usually wrote it. It was so recognizable, in fact, that he could read them in her voice. These last letter, though? They were...almost different. Not her.
His worries noticeably deflated when she'd pounced on him in the garden, as if it was some sort of affirmation that he was being stupid with all his worries. She still loved him; he likely shouldn't have jumped to the opposite conclusion, but his natural pessimism towards matters of romance continued placed doubts in his mind. He'd pushed those thoughts away and apparated home.
Now curled up on the couch, Edric was torn between his desire to just sit there with her—stroking her hand, pressing kisses to her temple every now and then, holding her—and actually talking. He didn't have to make that decision himself, though; Febs was the first to speak, an apology slipping from her lips.
"It's alright, lover," he said, his eyes dropping down to their entangled fingers. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Work's got me all worked up, I suppose; I've started looking for problems to solve where there weren't any to begin with," he admitted, his words leaving his lips in a chuckle.
— set by MJ! —