Of all the things he could come to the conclusion of.

Did he think so little of her? How many times did she have to say that she loved him for it to sink in? She'd made herself ill worrying about him while he was gone. She'd gone and let herself get to the point where pregnancy legitimate concern and he still doubted her. If she weren't so anxious she would have been furious.

It was a convenient excuse, but she couldn't bring herself to use it. She wanted to be mad at him for even bringing it up, but was too scattered. Frankly she was terrified.

Merlin she couldn't take it anymore, Febs extricated herself from his grip, with more difficulty than she would care to admit to. She had to move, had to do something with her hands. Stopping to look at him, hopelessly, helplessly, eyes pleading. "No, never. There will never be anyone else." Nobody would have her after this anyway. That was fine, she'd survive, somehow. Subconsciously, she pressed both hands to her stomach, pacing once more. A few lengths of the couch and she was slowly going crazy.

Stopping again, Febs cast him another helpless glance. She couldn't honestly answer if she was leaving him, because she didn't know, was just leaning toward yes and consequently breaking his heart. "You haven't done anything wrong, I promise."

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The way she extracted herself from his grasp only to pace the room was unsettling at best and panic-inducing at worst. He wasn't sure what to say for a good minute, and thus watched, elbows propped on his knees and his head resting in his palms, as he tried to decipher her actions and words.

He hadn't done anything wrong, which suggested that she had. If she hadn't been with another man, then what could she have possibly done that she couldn't tell him? He doubted she'd murdered anyone; while she had a hell of a right-hook, she hadn't even been in possession of a damn wand.

He abruptly stood up, marched over to where she was stood, and snatched her hands from where they rested on her stomach. He brought them to his chest where he held them, desperate eyes seeking hers.

"February Lynch, you tell me right now," he said, his voice cracking in a very weak attempt at an authoritative tone. He might have been only thirty-six, but she was going to give him a damn heart-attack with her pacing and panicking and that awful tone of regret.

"I can hardly believe you've done anything worth this sort of panic. I love when you drive me mad, but not this kind of mad. You've got me thinking you've killed someone!"

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— set by MJ! —

What she wouldn't give for her wand right now. She'd disappear this instant. This was all too dramatic. Merlin if she'd just been able to act normally. If he wasn't so damn perceptive to her moods. Why couldn't she just hide it all away, tuck it out of sight where she didn't have to deal with it until things were obvious.

She was caught off guard when he snatched her hands, she had stopped paying attention to him, lost in her panic internally. Turning wide, watery eyes on his, she nearly let out a laugh when he suggested she'd killed someone. "That would likely be easier to cover up." She offered with a wry, hollow sort of huff. There was no covering this up. There was only taking it and running.

"I can't," She'd already said, on more than one occasion, that she would not jeopardize his career, not when he'd work so hard for it. "I'm sorry," She was so sorry it ached. "I won't ruin your life like this." Merlin that sounded dramatic, even to her ears, but it was the truth. She hoped he didn't connect the dots from that statement, but even if he did, he was going to have to let her go. Once she got her wand back, she'd be gone.

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Edric had collected a few of her points and was desperately trying to piece them together:

1. There was a no other man. She solely loved him.
   
2. He'd done nothing wrong—but she'd never said she hadn't.
   
3. It wasn't murder. Murder was easier to cover up.
   
4. Whatever she was hiding, she was firmly of the belief that it would ruin his life...?

He had nothing.

He stared at her with high brows and wide eyes, watching the tears well up in her eyes.

"You sound like you're about to take off on me," he breathed, tilting his head questioningly. "And I promise you that nothing you could say would ruin me more than that."

(Well, at least nothing he could imagine.)

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— set by MJ! —

For as observant of a man as he could be, he was equally as clueless sometimes. Merlin, she loved that about him and that made it hurt all that much more. It was working in her favor in the moment however, and she was hoping to keep it that way.

It was hard to deny his assumption, it was her plan after all. She had to go,  vanish quietly and start over somewhere else. "It would be easier if you let me go." Her tone was quiet, resigned, the hysterical tears that had threatened ended up being more of a slow leak. Blue eyes searched his for something, anything, but she didn't know what exactly.

She knew he wouldn't just accept that, not without a fight. She either had to make him angry enough or break his heart so badly he wouldn't try anything else. There was no more little cottage by the sea, with her library and garden waiting for her, not anymore. But he could have that with someone else some day, she was sure. He would eventually bounce back from this, she had to believe that.

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She was going to leave him—or at least she planned to. He had no intention of letting her walk off without so much as an explanation. He'd given her his heart, and she'd given him her body in return; he could not figure out what was so very awful that she would up and leave him after that. He could feel his chest constricting with the tears that would never fall, and for a moment he was at a loss what to say.

So he said nothing.

He stepped forward, cupped her cheeks in his palms, and leaned forward to press his lips roughly against hers. He held her there for a moment, his body completely still as he tried to convey his feelings for her with something they'd done a thousand times. After a moment, though, he broke the kiss so he could press his forehead to hers.

"No. Absolutely not. It's not an option—not now."

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— set by MJ! —

Tears started falling in earnest as she absolutely poured herself into the unexpected kiss. She clung to him, fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline. She'd hate herself for a lot of things later and this was one of them.

When he broke away, she let out a sniffle, forehead pressed to his, though she kept her eyes resolutely closed. He was putting up a fight that she had to win. "You have to," She insisted, starting to release her grip and step back. She'd walk home if she had to.

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"You can't just leave, Febby!" he huffed, clearly exasperated as he took a single step back. "I don't know what's gotten into that brain of yours—or what's gotten out if it, if I'm being honest." One hand on his hip, he brushed the stringy ringlets of hair from his face before looking up at her again. "Picking up and leaving like this is some - some great romance novel of yours! If you do, this won't have a happy ending."

Of course, he'd write letters that would never receive responses, but that wouldn't last forever. He wasn't supposed to be seen with her in public, and thus would have no chance to accost her in the streets of Hogsmeade.

"If you don't tell me, you'll regret it. I promise."

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— set by MJ! —

No, it wouldn't have a happy ending, not their story at least.

Listening to him rant, all she could do was nod along softly. She had no good excuse to tell him. All she wanted him to know was that she was doing this for his own good, but he wouldn't understand that now, not for a long while, if ever.

Febs already regretted this. She should have put him off for one more day, gotten her wand and gone. He would have been angry, yes, but he would have gotten over it eventually. He still thought her capable of being with someone else, he could fabricate some other nasty things about her to tell himself to get by.

"There is no more happy ending for us, Love. Hands pressed to get corset once more she turned sad eyes on him. "I think I'm pregnant." The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them. There was just something about his expression, maybe she believed him when he'd said she'd regret it, she didn't know, but now it was out there and there was no taking it back.

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His eyes widened, his mouth opened into a little 'o', and all the breath in his lungs escaped at her admission.

"No you're not. Not with my baby," he croaked, his gaze shifting back and forth between her and whatever area of the room he could focus on. She couldn't be pregnant—not yet at least. He knew very little about the internal workings of a woman's body, but their first time being intimate had been a mere month ago, for Merlin's sake! He did, however, realize that the words that left his mouth did not convey that, so he quickly stepped forward.

"That's not what I meant. I mean -" A shallow breath escaped his mouth as he tried to find the right words to console a woman who was convinced she was carrying his child. "You can't be so sure so soon. And even if you are with child—my child—how will running off help you? How will it help me?"

He was getting choked up, less because of what she was telling him, but how he related it to his own life. She didn't know about him or his past, so she couldn't possibly know how her words might affect him.

"I never knew my mother, Febs. She didn't want to know me. I'm not my mother."

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— set by MJ! —

The first words out of his mouth felt like a slap to the face. She visibly recoiled from them, taking a step back as if he'd actually struck her, surprise and hurt clear on her features. Merlin she knew it was a lot to take in, but he knew he'd taken her virtue, it couldn't possibly be anyone else's!

There were several times she wanted to interject but couldn't, he kept moving on too fast, much like she had when she'd come to the realization. She softened, pushing her own panic down for a moment at his last admission.

She had no idea, of course. She'd wondered why he never spoke of his mother, but hadn't dared to ask. Now she knew, or would in a moment. She had the distinct feeling she was going to be swallowing a lot of guilt, but first she had to explain. "I'm not sure," She pointed out softly. "I said I think. The tell-tale sign for not being such is almost three weeks overdue. I won't know for sure for another week or two. But I've never been this... Off schedule before." That was the end of his biology lesson for the day.

"I'm sorry, about your mother." Febs started to reach out to him on instinct, but wasn't so sure it would be well-received at the moment. "But I wasn't about to ruin your carefully crafted career because I'd made a brash decision. You deserve better than that. You've worked so hard to get where you are and I couldn't jeopardize that." She was holding her composure on the surface, despite the tears that still trickled down her cheeks here and there. Inside her heart broke for him. "There's no way we can make this look proper, not when we're not even supposed to be seen together in public." She huffed out a defeated sigh, casting a glance at him before looking away to wipe away more tears.

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His nostrils flared at her words and he jerked his arm away from hers as she reached towards him.

"So I was right!" he shouted, his chest heaving as he tried (and failed) to keep his emotions in check. "You don't know, Febby. You were planning to leave without explanation on the off-chance that you were with child—no confirmation or anything!" He balled up his fist, his arm nearly shaking.

"You worry about me without considering what I want," he continued on, beginning to pace in circles. "And if you disappeared, then what? They'll gossip and make assumptions—and you know my name will circulate. This is something we must do together."

What was she thinking, anyways? That she could run off, have a child somewhere, and then return back to Hogsmeade? What would come of the child? What would come of her reputation? He was torn between wanting to comfort her and wanting to continue his little rant. He wanted to talk about his mother, to tell her that she wouldn't dare run off, too, but he couldn't find the words nor the cruelty to speak to her like that when she was like this.

"If you truly are with child, I'll figure something out. I just - I can't have you hiding things that effect me, too. I deserve at least the truth, don't I? You're not just my lover, you're my - love."

With a huff, he walked over to the couch and sat back down.

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— set by MJ! —

Febs stood there mouth agape as he went on. He hadn't any idea how badly this was going to ruin them. He had absolutely no clue. This was exactly why she hadn't planned on telling him.

She was... Unexpectedly angry, of all things. He sat there and just assumed he could take care of it. He couldn't possibly make this look any kind of proper. "This is exactly why I wasn't going to tell you. You haven't got any idea." Febs dragged her hands over her face and through her hair, coming back to push the heels of her hands to her eyes. Her whole body was shaking, whether if was from the bubbling anger or the rising fear in her throat, but she felt like she was going lose it somehow. Her knees were shaking too bad for to stand there any more, but she didn't dare go sit with him on the couch and so she simply crumpled into a heap of skirts on the floor

When she spoke next, her tone was deceptively calm, tears threatening to fall again. She looked at her lap, unable to handle the expression on his face.  "I wasn't going to do anything until I was sure. Until it was barely obvious. But you, you just couldn't-" What? She hadn't any good ways to finish the sentence, just a string of disconnected thoughts and worries that threatened to spill out. He barely even wanted to accept the possibility that this was actually something to deal with.  

"You can't just solve this like it's some case at work. I refuse to stay here when all it's going to do is make you resent me. Wouldn't it be easier if I just wasn't here? Even if somebody put us together somehow, the rumors would fade. It's not like I would have been back to confirm or deny them." She wouldn't have just left the babe somewhere, she wasn't coming back.

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She crumpled on the floor, and, much unlike he'd done in the past, he simply stayed seated on the couch and let her be. He was too angry—and admittedly too shocked—to provide any comfort for her. He was in his own mind, processing her words and what they meant for the future, both short and long-term.

"So, what? You'd just - disappear with the babe?" he asked, leaning forward in his seat. "Raise it without its father? With a mother who's not prepared to raise it on her own? What will become of you? What will become of him?" he asked, finding his way to his feet in the midst of his interrogation.

"It won't turn out well, I'll tell you that," he scoffed. "When he asks who his father is, what will you tell him? What when he starts looking like me? What would you tell him of me?" he continued, moving in front of her and bending down to her level.

"I can tell you right now that one of the worst things to hear as a child is that you're a lot like a parent you'll never meet. You're left with a longing, a wondering of what could have been but will never be," he explained "And when you're torn between letting your child think you a whore or believing his father abandoned him, you'll take the latter. You will."

He stood back up just as abruptly as he bent down.

"—If there's a child to begin with. I wouldn't ask you to stay if I didn't want you to. You're not going anywhere. Not until we figure this out. You're not running away from me."

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— set by MJ! —

His words stung and a fresh wave of tears flowed down her cheeks. Febs flinched when he got down to her level, unsure of what he would do. This was a side of him she'd only see in letters and it was deeply unsettling to her.

Normally she would have fought back, being angry was easier. Now she was just sad, the heartbreak of reality leaving her winded. "It's nice to know you think so little of me." She whispered once he was finished. All she had done since coming to the realization that she might be pregnant was think of him and how she could make this easier for him, now all he wanted to do was make it unnecessarily hard on them.

"I would have told him that he was so loved, by both of us. That you and I got so caught up being in love that we forgot to do things the right way and that it would upset a lot of people if I didn't go away," She took a deep breath before continuing, eyes cast downward at her skirts, wiping away the falling tears with her sleeve.  She couldn't look at him, it hurt too much and so she closed her eyes and kept going.

"So I had a hard choice to make and there was no right answer, but I had to make it and I did what I thought would be best for everyone. Maybe it was right, maybe it was wrong and maybe everybody ends up hating me for it," Because clearly that was the only option in his eyes. Children would never understand a parent's motives until they were parents themselves, but Febs was getting an idea. "But I would never, ever say anything but good things about you."

Everything bubbled up to the surface now, spilling out in a steady stream. She had thought about this, what it would be like down the line when the child was old enough to ask questions. What else could she do when she was wide awake in the middle of the night? "I would have told him you're brave and handsome and thoughtful and kind, that you loved him, but weren't ready to be a parent. Neither one of us was," But the responsibility fell on her. "And that you had a really important job to do and that you couldn't do it with us there, so we had to go." She had to, she just had to.

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As he stood facing away from her, he was unable to move, speaking, or do just about anything that would make a difference. He was frozen in place, all his memories—the good, the bad, the old, the recent—rushing through his mind. She was so quick to contradict every word that left his mouth in an attempt to reassure him.

He didn't deserve her, but assuming she was carrying his child, she would seem like the undeserving one in the eyes of the public if they remained together. What could he do, though? Sending her away with nothing was a non-option, but eloping and effectively letting the public know of their indiscretions with an early delivery was neither one he wanted to consider. There was no way this situation would end ideally.

His job was something he promised not to sacrifice for any woman, but that original promise had not included a child. He'd promised himself fourteen years ago to prioritize his career above all, but thirty years ago he'd promised not to end up like his parents. He'd promised that he'd be there; he didn't want to be the absent parent, whether it be emotionally or physically. He wanted to be the parent he'd never had—and Febby's proposal was not one that would allow him to be that. (If there was a child, he reminded himself. This was all still hypothetical, but it didn't seem that way; their entire relationship had started out as something hypothetical.)

He had options. It was only a matter of which one to take.

He turned towards her and bent back down, his expression much softer and eyes glazed over from the tears that had yet to fall. He wasn't sure how to convey his emotions without seeming like he thought so little when it was so obvious to him that he didn't. He reached out and grabbed her hands, cradling them in his own.

"Do you think I could live with myself like that? Knowing you and our child are out there somewhere without me? Only being able to send money and not affection?" he asked, nearly choking on his words. "I'm not a heartless man, lover; I've been trying to make up for my parents' failings my entire life, and parenting is the one category I've been desperately waiting to improve on."

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— set by MJ! —