Edric certainly hoped there wouldn't be much for him to do—law enforcement wise, at least—in the wake of the fog, though there was still a feeling of impending doom that loomed in the air. He didn't want to believe that it was an intentional act against the magical community, but these sort of things always came with their own share of drama.

An attempt to take a drink of the coffee she'd brought left his swaying where he sat, so much so that his shoulder bumped into hers for a moment. He straightened himself up and blinked his eyes, trying to clear his senses. He wasn't that tired, was he? He'd spent entire nights in high-stake situations before, and never had he felt this tired.

"I worry about everything, Miss Lynch; anyone who knows me well could tell you that." And she'd probably learned that by now, too, but he wasn't sure she knew the extent of which his worry went sometimes. He turned to face her, brushing his hair out of his face once more. "Don't you go punching me again," he started, but couldn't prevent a chuckled from escaping his lips, "but I need you to stay alert—especially if it reaching Bartonburg." He reached over and touched her arm, a sincere (albeit perhaps a bit improper, but this whole situation had already left the realm of propriety) display of concern.

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— set by MJ! —

Febby furrowed her brows, though a smile remained on her features. She wasn't used to being worried about and still wasn't very fond of it, but at least now she knew it was coming from a genuine place and not one of condescension. She started as he brushed up against her arm and automatically straightened up as he did; good thing it was dark and he wasn't likely to see the faint blush creeping into her cheeks.  "I think you'll have more important things to worry about." She tried to brush it off, but he looked very serious which gave her a brief moment of pause.

She flushed brighter when he laid a hand on her arm. Oh Merlin she hoped it was too dark to really see. Nodding, it took her a moment to recover with what would have been a normal quip. "I shall refrain, as my last punch earned me several weeks of being house-bound. Which lucky for you, will keep me in the house and out of trouble as well." Sitting out here on the steps would likely earn her an extension of her sentence, but if this fog was as serious as she was starting to think it was, it was unlikely anybody would be leaving the house.

"Besides I'm all out of hands to bruise." She added with a chuckle, patting the hand on her arm lightly, making an effort to lighten the mood. "Perhaps you should call it a night, you look as though you'll fall over." Speaking of unnecessary concern.

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He could sense her stiffness, but the darkness of the evening made seeing the color of her face difficult. He worried he'd done something wrong, but she continued without complain—a definite change from their former exchanges.

(Did he like it? He hadn't decided yet.)

"I was so prepared to get you out of trouble," he teased, his own cheeks flushing a subtle pink as she patted his hand. "but perhaps having you here might give me peace of mind for the moment. You wouldn't hate me for that, would you?" he continued with a wide, noticeably exhausted smile.

He tried to stand up—tried being the key word, as the moment he made it to his feet, he was landing on his knees and palms (which, unfortunately, were now stinging and likely bleeding) on the ground in front of him. He swore under his breath, his mind wandering to the spell that he'd been hit with earlier.

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— set by MJ! —

Febby pressed her lips together to prevent both the impending laugh and smirk that threatened to precede a nasty quip about enjoying seeing her caged up, she refrained however, just barely. "Who said I even liked you to begin with?" Okay, she hadn't been able to completely hold back.

The intent to tease was lost however, as he stood, perhaps ready to take her advice for once, when he swayed forward this time and stumbled, falling to the ground in front of the steps. Febby was up just as soon as he was down, coffee cup carelessly falling from her hands and shattering on the stone steps as she leapt forward after him. Being tired did not cause an experienced auror to fall down over a bottom step. Feb hit her knees, fortunately cushioned by skirts, beside him, laying and hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong? Tell me the truth." He'd said earlier he'd thought he'd been hit with something, but had been so nonplussed about it, she'd thought maybe it was something minor- and he hadn't elaborated which was most likely by choice, she realized.

Hearing the door open behind her, Febby saw Mrs. Harding standing there as though she'd been awoken suddenly. Febs passed her a helpless look, waiting to see if she could get anything out of Mr. Umbridge, unsure as if she should get the attention of one of his coworkers or see if Mrs. Harding would know what to do.

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While by no means entirely well, to say he was entirely out of it would have been equal of a lie. He was conscious and aware of what was going on around him—the shattering of the cup that had followed her remark, the sound of her footsteps, the sudden touch on his shoulders, all of it. Still, that wasn't enough to make him answer immediately; he wasn't really sure what had happened.

"Something hit me—alright?" he snapped, his words coming out a wee too sharp for his liking. It was quickly followed by an apologetic glance in her direction with a mumbled "sorry". His knees, much like his palms, were now stinging too, so he rolled himself onto his behind and looked up to face her.

"I'm sure it was nothing more than a subduing spell. Or something." Something was probably the correct answer, because normal jinxes and hexes had an immediate effect, not one that showed the effects ten or twenty minutes later. He didn't want to worry her, though, so quickly snapped his gaze down to his bleeding palms.

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— set by MJ! —

Feb flinched at his tone; such a stark contrast to their conversation just a moment ago. "Snap at me again and I'll hit you." She warned, though she wouldn't actually follow through this time; he probably couldn't tell how serious she was, given their history on that front.

She softened a little after his apology, kneeling before him now as she tried to mask her concern. She was slowly coming to realize that they were far too alike in this respect. Febs did not like to be the point of concern or to be a bother, but clearly he had been hit with something, something that took an extended time to cause a reaction. That was actual cause for concern. "Don't you dare get mad at me, but I think you should go to the hospital. Just to be on the safe side. If it's nothing, I'll get Mrs. H. to  make you  more cookies for the trouble."

Bargaining with sweets should work in her favor, but just in case, "Please? I promise I'll stay in my house until there's no more fog." Hopefully that would seal the deal. He was stubborn, she'd learned, but she watched him with wide grey eyes, for either some kind of reaction or anything that could be related to what he'd been hit with.

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He ignored her threats, unable to believe she'd hit him after she'd jumped from her seat to see what was wrong with him. He was too focused on trying to figure out what was wrong him with him, and more specifically, if he was going to end up an invalid on her lawn. That probably wouldn't bode well with him; he had no desire to be the subject of her teasing when he recovered—which was also probably putting his priorities in the wrong place, but whatever.

"I don't want to go to the hospital. I'm sure it's nothing," he responded stubbornly, trying to pull himself up to no avail. "You'll be at home anyways; you already said you were house-bound by your parents," he added as an afterthought. Going to the hospital would mean admitting he was injured, which meant being teased.

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— set by MJ! —

Febby gaped at him.

Ooo that would serve her right for trying to be nice about it. He'd triggered her we'll-see-about-that reflex and it wasn't going to end well, but it was going to end where she wanted. She was going to be in such deep shit for this that he really wouldn't have to worry about her ever having to leave the house again.

Shooting an apologetic look at Mrs. Harding standing in the doorway, Febby pulled her wand from the pocket of her housecoat, grabbed him by the wrist and apparated them straight to Hogsmeade Hospital, grumpy auror, slippers and all.

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