The way she was touching him was certainly distracting, but not in a way that drove him so mad he couldn't control his urges. He mirrored her actions by encircling her waist with his arms once against so he could trace shapes on the small of her back. While his senses were heightened (his lips were tingling and her scent had overcome the annoying dusty smell) he was definitely not at the height of his judgment.

"I didn't think you were the type of woman who would kiss me like that," he murmured. In the midst of his bliss, he wasn't aware of just how accusatory such a statement could sound—and he definitely hadn't meant it negatively. It wasn't like she'd kissed him without incitement; he'd definitely put in the effort to throw her off guard.

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— set by MJ! —

He opened his mouth again and Febby's whole demeanor changed. The statement itself gave her mixed emotions... Just yesterday he'd been all about her reputation and the fact the the newspaper article was wrong about her, now he was saying, well it almost sounded like he was accusing her, of what, not being new to this? This was far from her first kiss, but that didn't make her a harlot. He certainly hadn't seemed to mind just a moment ago.

The haze of clouded judgement and excitement ebbed as she started to disentangle herself from him, trying to keep her uncertainty and frankly, the hurt, off her face. She made a concentrated effort to remain passive and though she couldn't step back from him, she could nudge him backwards with a gentle push. Space would give her room to think and sthe rather thought it was time for him to take his owl and leave. "You should go." It was a quiet request, no hint of emotion to it as she crossed her arms and tried desperately to keep herself together.

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Confusion crossed his features; in that moment, he wasn't exactly what sure what had caused her sudden shift in emotions... until he thought long and hard and realized, oh fuck.

"Miss Lynch- February," he protested quietly, his hand reaching out for her wrist but deciding not to grab it as she crossed her arms across her chest. "I didn't mean it like that." Surely she knew that much. "I mean- I thought- I don't think any less of you. I liked it."

I like you, he realized he'd almost said.

It was an observation that would have been clear and obvious to almost anyone else, but too him, it was like a smack in the face—realization that he'd gone and gotten attached. His jaw tightened and he firmly pressed his lips into a straight line, mostly to avoid letting any other words slip from his lips. She was right—he did need to get out of here lest he be forced to admit out loud that he cared more than he'd thought.

He took a step backward, allowing both of them space in that moment. "At least I thought I liked it," he said coolly before wiping his lips with the back of his hand. It was mean, and more importantly, it was untruthful; he'd definitely shared many kisses in his thirty-six years of life, but none of them had been as fervent as this one. Unfortunately, there was no kind way—at least in his mind—to detach himself from this situation and from her.

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— set by MJ! —

Febby nearly flinched when he reached out and she shook her head, pressed up against the counter with nowhere to go. Thankfully he stepped back, but nothing he said was helping any. He was really awful with words sometimes, careless and reckless.

This was a mistake, a huge mistake, getting involved with him. What had she been thinking? From the first time they'd met they hadn't exactly been seeing eye to eye. Her judgement had been clouded; she'd gone and landed herself in the god damn newspaper for cry out loud! This was turning very slowly into a nightmare.

She watched him as he spoke next, cruel words and actions that knocked the wind right out of her. Just because she wasn't the typical debutante didn't mean she didn't have feelings (even if she didn't want to fully acknowledge them yet). Febs stood there, shock and hurt clear across her expression now, frustrated tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She absolutely refused to let him see her cry; he wasn't worth it, this wasn't worth it. "Get. Out." She punctuated each word carefully, hoping not to betray the flood of emotions that would surely follow.

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She'd taken the bait without much ado, making it very easy—unsettling easy, actually—to just go. There was no violence, no yelling, nothing—and he wasn't sure why he expected anything of that nature after he'd so cruelly spoken to her. He didn't think about that, though; he needed to get out.

He avoided eye contact as moved swiftly to her side to snatch his injured owl, being careful not to make a further ass out of himself by hurting the poor bugger. He then cast one last, almost pained glance in direction before pivoting on his feet and attempting to find his way out of the house just as he'd come in.

It would definitely be a journey home.

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— set by MJ! —

Febby held her breath, lest it catch while he was still here. She watched in silence as he collected his owl, not another word spoken between them, which was good, she realized. Anything else that would have been said would have been yelled and that would have only made matters worse.

Once he was out there door, Febby let out a long, slow, shaky breath. She slid down the cabinets to the floor in a heap of skirts. She didn't want to cry over this, but she couldn't help but to feel a huge wave of disappointment, the let down from that kiss and the fallout afterward.

For the first time in a long time, Febby felt incredibly foolish; she gone and developed feelings for him, against everything she thought she knew and wanted, like an idiot. She hated feeling like an idiot.

Febs wiped away a few frustrated tears after sitting on the floor for a little while. She picked herself up, wiped her hands on her skirts and traipsed back up to her room. The book she'd abandoned got thrown across the room as she collapsed in bed and curled up under the covers, though she knew she wouldn't be getting any sleep

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   Edric Umbridge

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