June 16th, 1888 — Bartonburg, Hogsmeade
@"February Lynch"

Work had been less hell than usual, if only because the majority of it was spent in his office. That brought its own hell, he supposed—sitting down and filing paperwork made him ridiculously restless—and on top of that he'd been eager to get to Bartonburg to retrieve his injured owl (and see Miss Lynch again).

Unfortunately, the sun had already set by the time he'd arrived in Bartonburg, which didn't help getting to the Lynch house any easier. By the time he'd arrived, his sense of smell had been polluted by the dustiness and his eyes were strained from trying to see through the foggy air.

The wait between his knock and the opening of the Lynch door was an excruciating length of time—not because it took very long, but because he wasn't sure (1) who was going to open the door, and (2) if he'd even be welcome at that hour. Fortunately for him, it was Miss Lydia (Miss Lynch's terribly unlucky maid) who had been all too involved with the misadventures of Miss Lynch and himself.

She'd initially refused him access to the family home—(citing that "the majority of the family had already gone to bed")—but a minute or two of light manipulation and flirtation had seen him ushered into the family home and into the unfamiliar kitchen. She'd disappeared out of sight the next moment, leaving him waiting all alone.

Well, what had he expected?

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— set by MJ! —

After sending her last letter, Febby had immediately felt silly about her word choice and called the owl back. Which of course, misjudged it's return and missed the window. She'd had to climb out on the roof of the rooms below to retrieve the poor thing and now it was being a little surly. Then again, she couldn't blame the little guy. She'd sent a better letter informing Mr. Umbridge of the injury and then tried to spoil the poor critter until she figured out what to do with him.  

He hadn't written back, which was a little worrisome, but she'd convinced herself he'd been busy at work and that was that. It was silly to worry about the man, he wouldn't pay it any mind anyway, so there was no point. So instead after dinner, Febs had tended to his owl and then settled into her bed with the book he'd sent her. Curled up in bed with Andromeda in her lap, February was truly startled by the knock at the door. It was well past time to go to sleep, but then again reading late into the night was nothing new for Febby.

Lydia poked her head in to tell her that she had a visitor- in the kitchen. Sitting up, Febs cast her a curious glance and the look on her maid's face was a clear indicator of who it was. Against her better judgement, Febs paused to clean up her appearance in her looking glass, though she made little headway with her unruly plait and made her way incredibly quietly down to the kitchen, owl sitting carefully on her shoulder; at least she hadn't changed into a nightdress yet.

"Are you mad, do you ever want me to be allowed outside the house ever again?" It was hurried whisper, though the smile afterward betrayed her intended annoyance.

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She was fortunately (unfortunately?) still her in her day clothes, which allowed Edric not to relax just a little. Less fortunate was quickening of his heartbeat as she came into the room, scolded him, and then smiled.

His mind flashed back to the kiss—albeit on the cheek, but it was still a kiss—she'd given him the last time they were in each other's presence... and then immediately to the events that followed in the hours after, when he was sprawled across a brothel bed with a drowsy whore curled up at his side. (At least he'd relieved some tension?)

"Maybe this will buy me a few more weeks to make sure you stay indoors," he responded quietly and without hesitation, unable to stop a smile from spreading on his own face.

Insufferable woman.

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— set by MJ! —

Rolling her eyes playfully, Febby fully expected him to mention that. "Why do you hate me?" She whined with an exaggerated sigh, clearly meant to be a joke. He knew she hated being cooped up, inside, stuck reading adventure novels, instead of having her an actual adventure. It was insufferable, even if he was only looking out for her. This whole thing had her all kinds of turned around.

Crossing the room, she positioned herself so that she was leaning casually against the kitchen counter, placing his owl on the little perch their small family owl typically occupied. Though she was pleased to see him (which she wasn't quite ready to admit yet) if any of her family came down here, she would be locked in her room for the rest of her life. He looked well though, no visible, lingering effects from the hospital the other night. Apparently that healer knew his stuff, even if Febby had not bee originally convinced.

"I think he's broken a wing," She started, reaching up gently to run her fingers gingerly across the owl's good wing. "He misjudged the closeness of the houses in the fog. I had to climb out onto the roof to get him." That was the extent of her adventures today... until now.

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He found himself fighting feelings of disappointment as she crossed the room away from him, and took his owl's placement as an excuse to move in her direction. "I don't hate you," he teased, stifling a laughter. "I may or may not enjoy antagonizing you, however," he added cheekily.

"I suppose sending him into the fog was an oversight on my part. Hopefully he'll forgive me," he said once he reached the owl. He held out a finger to try and pet the feathers under its beak, but only found himself wincing after it pecked at him. "Well, maybe not today," he murmured, a quiet chuckle accompanying his words.

It was then that he turned his gaze towards her again, noting that they weren't but a short distance apart. "Your owl flew up towards a window. He wasn't very cooperative on the way here; I don't think he likes me very much." (That was probably the opinion of her family, too, at the moment.)

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— set by MJ! —

Though there was a smirk fixed firmly on her features, Febby felt her heart rate climb as he came toward her. What was wrong with her? "Mmm, likewise." She really did enjoy antagonizing him, which was apparently mutual; it could be downright exasperating, but it was fun.

Chuckling as the owl nipped his finger, Febby pressed her lips together to avoid being too loud. "It is pretty unfair of us to send them out, it can't be easy." Not that she was allowed to or even could leave the house at the moment, but that was not the point. Letters was about all she had at the moment and she enjoyed getting his a little too much.

"He's Papa's owl, doesn't like anyone but him really." Febby had to do a lot of pleading with treats to get it to even take her last letter. In the end the only reason she thought he went was because he saw the other injured owl. "Thank you for the book by the way," She forced herself to choose her words carefully, unlike her unsent letter earlier. "I'm almost halfway through it."

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He wouldn't admit it to Miss Lynch, but he would have felt little remorse if either of their owls had perished in the fog. That wasn't because he lacked empathy—no, it was because he'd seen far worse than a couple of owls perish over his time as an auror. Still, Miss Lynch was a woman and woman had soft spots for animals, right? He had no desire to come off as heartless, especially when his own heart began to race at the sight of her.

"Well I hope Papa's owl doesn't go tipping my presence off to him," he said, his tone joking despite the teetering anxiety he felt about that. While he didn't expect the owl to physically tell her father, his sudden presence—wherever he might have ended up—could set off an alarm.

Her comment about the book—half finished, already?—left him with wide eyes and an agape mouth for what had to be the twentieth time since he'd met her. He wasn't aware that anyone could get through a book that fast.

"Tell me you're joking," he insisted with a dramatic sigh, unknowingly taking a step towards her.

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— set by MJ! —

Oh if her father only knew. He'd been pretty mum on all of this, letting her mother handle the discipline aspect of the misadventures and Feb didn't quite know why. Perhaps he would just rather leave it to his wife, perhaps he didn't want to express his disappointment or maybe he really wasn't surprised. It was hard to tell and she was not pushing it. "He's probably sulking on his favorite outside perch." She hadn't seen him come back in and since his inside perch was currently occupied, she supposed he would do what he wanted. Which probably wouldn't be any more letters any time soon.

Her breath caught in her throat when he took another step toward her, but she had to chuckle quietly at his disbelief as if she hadn't noticed. "Once I get going it's hard to stop me," That was true on many fronts. "It's why I was still awake." Which was good, she realized. Had he shown up after she'd gone to bed, he would have either come for nothing as Lydia wouldn't have likely woken her up for this or she would have and Febs would be in her nightgown again. Merlin forbid one of her family members come down her at any point.

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Her words made his heart race even faster, along with subtle bodily changes that were indicative that his mind was creeping towards less innocent thoughts. They were completely alone in the kitchen, and the risk of being caught—while definitely not a desirable outcome—renewed his adrenaline urges that he'd thought he'd rid of long ago.

He took another, somewhat tentative step towards her, trying to judge her reaction to his closeness. She had kissed him on the cheek (something he'd intended to bring up through letters but had decided against), which should have counted for something; still, he didn't want to make her flee.

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— set by MJ! —

When he didn't respond, Febby eyed him carefully. He took another step closer and she inhaled sharply. Her first instinct was to step back, if only to give her space to think, but she'd perched herself against the counter, so there was nowhere to go.

The silence seemed to stretch out, almost deafening in the kitchen as she watched him, eyes on his as she looked for any indication of what he was thinking. It was frustratingly difficult to figure out what was going though his mind, but she could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the rush of adrenaline at her own thoughts was both a little scary and exhilerating. There was something about the way he was looking at her that kept her from saying anything. Instead she bit her lip to keep herself from saying something unnecessary, waiting to see what, if anything would happen.

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Her reaction was... inconclusive, but it didn't help that he wasn't sure what he was looking for in the first place. She looked vulnerable—that was for sure—but he couldn't decided if that was good or bad. Was she afraid of him? Was she nervous? Was she hoping he'd step back? She was much easier to read when he didn't have to read her; even behind her witty banter he could often make out some meaning to her words.

But here there was nothing.

Impulse was nothing good to follow—in fact, impulse was one of the many things he'd been specifically trained not to follow throughout the duration of his auror training and in the years since. It was so difficult not to, though. She was quiet and he had her undivided attention; for once, he felt completely in control, and control over their situations and conversations was the one thing he and Miss Lynch had battled for since they met.

She was insufferable, but he'd now decided she was the most insufferable when silent.

Now standing directly in front of her, he reached out and placed a tentative hand onto the counter beside her, and then placed his other hand on the counter on the other side of her body. He could hardly loom over her ominously; she was a mere inch or two shorter than him. He cocked a challenging brow.

"You called me Edric," he murmured, staring into her blue eyes. "Tell me, February, why you kissed me yesterday. I hope you didn't think I'd forgotten."

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— set by MJ! —

With her back pressed to the counter and his hands on either side of her, Febby was effectively trapped and she found she didn't altogether mind. Though she was far from ready to admit that she might be developing some kind of feelings for him, even she couldn't deny there was a little spark between them. It was impossible to deny with only mere inches separating them.

Her heart was pounding and she could feel the adrenaline in her veins. A little shiver of anticipation went down the length of her spine when he addressed her finally. It was the way he said it more than what he said that had her mind reeling. Hearing her first name like that, it only added fuel to the fire. There was no good answer to his question; she honestly  had no idea why she'd done that. It seemed like a natural thing at the time, though in the hours afterward she'd questioned herself a dozen times. It was a puzzle even to her and so she had nothing to say, for once.

There was another way to answer though, something else that had plagued her thoughts since she'd gone and done that yesterday. That was also incredibly frustrating to say the least, but it was much easier than trying to explain herself. Pushing off the counter slightly, she closed the small gap between them and kissed him again, though this time it was no chaste kiss on the cheek.

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He wasn't sure what he'd expected her to do, but kiss him was not one of his guesses. It was obvious that he wasn't the only one that had succumbed to his impulses, but this really wasn't the moment to ponder on that.

Any surprise was immediately overtaken by instinct, and in a split second his arms had encircled her waist and pulled her body against his. There was absolutely nothing sweet or soft about this kiss; there was no savoring the feeling, taking time to remember the taste of her lips—none of that. Then again, he hardly believed he'd be forgetting the sensations at least until he found himself some other woman to cloud his judgment, and that was assuming she'd be overrun by guilt and disappear from his life tomorrow.

...Which may have contributed to his unwillingness to break the kiss, but they both needed to breathe, so he reluctantly pulled away—but not before making sure she was pinned once more against the counter.

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— set by MJ! —

There were a thousand different thoughts and sensations running through her body right now, but nothing was coherent. February hadn't really know what to expect, not really. There had been a brief hesitation just before she'd kissed him just now that he may have been upset by her kiss yesterday, but clearly that was not the case.

Though not exactly experienced in this, she'd be lying if she said she hadn't kissed a boy or two in her time at Hogwarts. Nothing had ever been like this though. This was possessive and passionate, no hesitation, no tenderness, no fumbling around. It was electric, full of heat and frankly exhilarating. Febby could feel it in her fingertips as she clutched desperately at his robes, feeling like she was holding on for dear life.

She was thoroughly out of breath by he time he pulled back, weak in the knees and almost dizzy with what she would later figure out was flat out desire. It was a good thing he had her pressed up tight against the counter or she would have likely succumbed to the unsteadiness in her legs. She searched his eyes for something, anything, that may have given away what he was thinking, but she had to settle for her own breathless quip, "Does that answer your question?"

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He could feel the heat all over his body, though her comment helped dispel some of the tension. He bit down on his swollen (and probably already-red) lip so hard he imagined he'd be tasting the blood any minute now in an attempt to quiet the cackling laughter that escaped his throat—and luckily it had managed to muffle the volume.

Letting out a breath, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"It doesn't, actually. Not really," he teased, his hands possessively moving to her waist. He made a pointed effort to make sure his lower half didn't touch hers, as he was fairly sure that would lead to embarrassment or questions he wasn't ready to face. "All this proved—" He tauntingly nudged her nose with his. "—is that I'm the winner of tonight." He'd managed to silence her, throw her off guard, and take her breath away.

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— set by MJ! —

Febby let out a slow, shaky breath. He'd nearly laughed, which would have been detrimental to the carefully crafted quiet of the kitchen. Oh Merlin what was she thinking? Literally anyone could come down, though she didn't think anyone had any midnight snack preferences, even Lydia could still be lurking somewhere. She would actually be dead if she were caught in this position.

Still that didn't mean she wanted it to end. Ever fiber of her being was itching to get closer, to feel that thrill again. She was thrown off, just a little, when he pressed his forehead to hers. It was an intimate move she certainly hadn't been anticipating after a kiss like that, but she appreciated it all the same. "I'll let you have that, this time." She murmured as she slid her hands around his neck, fingers trailing a slow, lazy circle on his skin.

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