Febs smiled when he reciprocated on purpose this time and leaned up to kiss him, nearly forgetting about where they'd been headed. It was absolutely insane, everything that had led them to this point, and it hadn't been fun the entire time either, but it all kind of made sense. She wasn't second-guessing it now.

A soft whimper left her lips, and she had to break the kiss briefly, sliding her hands down to his shoulders, nails digging in, albeit gently. She'd known it was supposed to hurt at first, that talk had been supplied to her a while ago in hopes to avoid exactly this (whoops). She also knew she had to take her romance novels with a grain of salt, but after the initial time it was supposed to get better.  So far after the little jolt of pain, it was mostly uncomfortable, but it was all so new, she thought she best just go with the flow- slowly at first.

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He hadn't expected the feeling of being inside her to be so special. While he wasn't the sort of man who hit up the brothels every evening after work, neither was he one who ignored them altogether. He'd had plenty experience with a woman in his life, and was never of the belief that being with a specific person could feel better than others.

Being inside February, however, was... different. A good different—a very good different. It was the sort of different that sent not only a jolt of pleasure straight to his mind, but also caused a warmth to seemingly burst from his chest and spread out to his limbs as the seconds ticked by. His emitted a quiet moan and his eyes snapped shut, and he almost forgot that the woman he was with had never been with anyone else before; his lids snapped open upon remembering, and he searched her features for any expression of pain or discomfort.

And there was plenty of it. It was the first time the realization really hit him, and it did so like a goddamn brick: "oh fuck, I've just taken this woman's virtue". Except she'd wanted it, and he wasn't about to pull back or show hesitance now—she had a track record of assuming the worst in cases like that.

He kept his eyes on her as he slowly pulled out of her and pushed in, making sure he could see every little detail of her expression so he knew when to pause, slow down, and more importantly, when he could move.

"You can tell me when to stop, you know," he managed in a raspy gasp. "I never want to hurt you. I don't want you regretting this, lover." But oh how he wanted to continue.

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Admittedly it took a few moments for the discomfort to ease and the thrill to set in. It was easy to get lost in the the feeling after that though. Febs let her lashes flutter closed, head falling back to the grass as she tried to find the confidence to become a little more of an active participant.

His comment caught her off guard and she found him watching her closely, worried, always worried. "No, no, no." She assured him quickly, brushing his hair from his eyes with one hand. She most certainly did not want to stop. "It definitely does not hurt." She chuckled breathlessly before tangling her fingers in his hair to drag him down for a rough kiss.

In the heat of the moment, it wasn't hard to forget the gap in their experience, but she'd catch up quick. Febs was moving on instinct, natural reactions to the sensations that bombarded her system. Tentatively, she arched toward him ever so slightly, trying to match the pace as she pushed her hips toward his. Clearly she just needed a little practice.

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He trusted her words and allowed himself to be dragged into the kiss. Her inexperience was obvious from the tentative, almost erratic movements of her hips, leading him to let out a muffled chuckle against her lips. It was nearly impossible to pull away from her in that moment with her hands in his hair; he was instead left trying to balance himself on one hand, while the other sought out her hip so he could guide them into a rhythm.

It was then that he was able to get truly into it; she was no longer in pain and was even egging him on. He moaned into her mouth, his hips beginning to move on their own accord. He knew he wasn't going to last too long—not in a moment this heated—but that didn't make him any less determined to bring her pleasure, especially since she'd given herself to him right here and sacrificed any opportunity for a more romantic first time.

"Tell me what you're feeling," he breathed against her lips, finding it even more difficult to read her expression as his mind grew hazy from the sensations.

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With a little guidance Febs fell into the right rhythm and oh, did that make a difference. She supposed, for now, until she got the hang of this, she would have to go along with his lead. After that, all bets were off.

She couldn't settle her hands, letting them roam over his shoulders, his back, whatever she could reach, nails grazing along as the sensations built. Breaking the kiss left her panting in ragged gasps, struggling for a way to articulate an answer to his request.  "Edric, I," She really didn't know what to say, her only answer a soft whimper of a moan as her head fell back a little.

"Just- don't stop." She managed, feeling her body approaching her limit.

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He supposed there was nothing wrong with her being unable to respond with intelligible words, especially when what did come out of her mouth was nothing more than a series of gasps and moans. Rather than engage her any further in conversation, he followed her request without question. His hand left her hip, returning to its spot on the ground so he could have full control over his balance and full control over his actions. He picked up the pace, but was not nearly as rough as he could be—though she seemed enthusiastic, she wan't immune to bruises and soreness.

The pressure was building, but he hadn't yet reached the edge; he was getting there, though, and every little moan and whimper that left her mouth led to slightly more desperation in his movements, as did the wild wandering of her hands across his back and shoulder. He wanted to be closer, but they'd been closed every gap between them.

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Every increase in pace sent her breathing into more erratic gasps and she bit her lip to muffle the sound. She bit down hard, sure she would draw blood before she had any sense of relief. The frantic feeling of approaching her peak was incomprehensible; everything felt fuzzy and oddly clear at the same time. The way his body felt against hers, the feeling of fabric under her fingers, every utterance that left their lips, it was all as noticeable feeling of pleasure.

Febs finally felt her hand settle on his shoulders, curled her fingers in the fabric of his robes, as a jolt shot through her system. She clung to him, feeling her muscles tighten, a sharp exhale the only indication of the climax that shot through her body. She had no way to express the sensation and only had a moment to revel in the feeling; it wasn't like everything stopped after that. She still felt the frenzied, heavy cloud of arousal as she felt her body responding to the let down but only for a moment before it started all over again.

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Her body tensed up underneath him and she tightened around him, prompting him to drawn in a sharp breath at the sudden sensations. It wasn't enough to push him over the edge—yet—but it was enough for him to slow down, both so he could let her relax and so he could watch her changing expressions.

"Merlin, Febby," he groaned, burying his face into her neck. She'd been far quieter than he'd expected (which he supposed was good, seeing that they were outdoors), but he couldn't say the same for himself in the final moments; he let out a series of muffled grunts, moans, and unintelligible whispers against her skin before his body finally seized up and he spilled himself inside of her. It was one of those moments that he was glad she wasn't some petite, five-feet-tall thing, as all the strength in his arms gave out and he collapsed onto her.

He lied still for a solid minute, eyes half-closed while he breathed in her scent. It was all too good, but now it was all too over. Moving would mean admitting such, and then they'd get dressed and she'd leave. He'd be waiting who-knows-how-long until he saw her again—it could be weeks, depending on how long the fog expedition took.

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Febs arched her back, her hips pressed tightly against his as she realized they were both spent, everything slowing down in a whirlwind of a spiral after everything that had just happened. She let out a long, slow sigh, trying to even out her breathing even, a satisfied exhaustion spreading throughout her entire body.

The low, throaty chuckle that left her lips was unavoidable as he collapsed atop her, followed by a little oof, though that was more to tease him. She didn't mind- that was a lot of effort. Still the reaction amused her, just a little. Febby laid back, body feeling warm and pliant against the cool grass, as if she were melting right into it. She ran her fingers through his hair gently, eyes closed as her breathing finally started to even out. "Alright there, Love?" She hummed quietly.

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With every stroke of her fingers through his hair, he felt a wave of warmth rush through his body. To say it was soothing would have been an understatement; he could feel his eyelids fluttering as he struggled to stay awake.

"Perfect," he mumbled, pressing a lazy kiss against her neck. "Never been better, actually," he added, a chuckle shaking his chest as he laid atop her. He still couldn't find the strength (or more realistically, the willpower) to push himself off of her in that moment, and he found himself praying that she wouldn't ask him to.

"And you? Do you feel alright?"

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Well, she could certainly get used to this. Of course it would be far more comfortable in a big cozy bed, but she had zero regrets about how this had panned out. Now she wasn't sure if she should be hollering at or thanking Tuni after all...

She nodded at his question, a serene smile on her lips. At the moment she felt... well, exceptionally exhausted, a little sore and universally content. "Perfect." She knew that would not last long, the aches would settle in later, but nothing a good night's sleep couldn't cure. Hopefully this dress wasn't ruined though... Oh Merlin she had to climb the tree back into her room still. That was going to be an event.

"Well, this is not what I envisioned for tonight when I left my house." She mused aloud, tone both tired and entertained. It wasn't a complaint, just an amusing observation. What a tumultuous series of events it had been, the highs and lows so extreme she was still reeling. The worst part was that this would likely be in for a long while and that thought made her more anxious than she would care to admit, if only because he was leaving for that damned expedition and she had no idea for how long or how dangerous it would be.  

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He did manage to lift his head at her next comments, grey eyes gazing into her blue ones. This woman was his, and admittedly he still wasn't sure what he was going to do to make sure she was officially so. They could get married, sure, but there were definitely be a gap of time between now and then—and he wasn't sure he could handle that.

"Nor was it was I expected," he laughed before pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. "I expected yelling—" He leaned down to peck her on the lips. "—and maybe a few punches," he continued. He was definitely far more affectionate this evening than he'd ever been in his life, but he'd never received affection like this—affection that was based in both emotional and physical desire rather than just the latter. Insufferable, irresistible woman.

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   February Umbridge

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Febs had expected yelling too- but not from her. Thank Merlin it hadn't gone awry. This was much, much better. "I can still punch you if you like." She teased, scrunching up her nose as he kissed it. Febs in turn swept kisses across his cheek, hands still combing through his hair.

Despite the fact she was loath to disentangle now, he wasn't exactly light and though she was tall, there wasn't a lot of meat on her bones- no extra cushion. Febs took a deep breath as best she could before pressing a slow, soft kiss to his lips. "You are starting to smother me though, Love." The teasing continued, as her lips curved into a smile against his.

Getting up meant leaving though. It meant fixing clothes and mussed up hair and saying goodbye. It meant being reduced to letters and her being stuck at home wondering what was happening on the expedition. The desire to be able to stop time washed over her again as she tried not to let her worries show; she didn't want to ruin the moment, not when everything had been so ridiculously wonderful.

Febs slid her hands in his hair to his cheeks and she kissed him again, lingering as long as she could, unwilling to give up the moment just yet.

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He mirrored her by scrunching his own nose at the suggestion that she punch him. "I'm going to feel like I've been punched later on," he teased, tone lacking all seriousness. "Making love on the ground isn't something I regularly do; in fact, I don't think it's something I've ever done," he continued, all the while raising his body slightly off hers to allow her some breathing room.

He realized quickly that his muscles were still weak, both from the sex itself and from the uncomfortable spot he'd chosen on the ground. He grumbled something under his breath and then, leaning back down, he wrapped his arms around her and, with a grunt, rolled over so she was lying halfway on top of him.

"Mmm, better?" he asked, wincing at the discomfort he felt when the back of his head hit the ground. Merlin, had he really put her through this amount of discomfort, or did it only feel that way because he was tired?

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Febs yelped in surprise as he rolled them over, a tangled mess of limbs and skirts. The ground really wasn't comfortable at all, but she'd been far too preoccupied before to really notice. Of course she was a little extra sore now too.

Readjusting her position, she could only laugh at his evaluation of the situation. Febs tucked herself in beside him draping one arm across his middle and one leg across his as she rested her head on his shoulder. Her skirts were a tousled mess and her hair was likely no better, but if this meant they could prolong their time together for a little bit she didn't altogether mind. "Better, but yes, a bed next time, please." She chuckled, just the thought of it sending a little shiver of anticipation down her spine. A bed and far fewer clothes, much more ideal, though this certainly could have been worse, she supposed. Who knew, though she doubted it, part of her hoped it might be their bed, but she knew that was highly unlikely.

Febs closed her eyes and tried to relax. Just a few more minutes, then she'd muster up the energy to say goodbye.

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As he lied there, he came to the realization that this—their long-awaited love-making—was unlikely to make anything easier for them. She'd given herself to him physically and he'd given himself to her emotionally; both came with their own complications and insecurities, and on top of that, the distance and uncertainty between them over the next few weeks was likely to leave them with more longing than satisfaction. Their seaside cottage, as vibrant as it was in his imagination, would have to wait, and the length would depend on factors they couldn't control.

He loved her. He'd miss her.

"I don't want to leave," he admitted, angling his head so he could press a kiss to her forehead. "I'm afraid you've gone and gotten me addicted to you now; it's terribly unfair."

But they had to. The candlelit streetlights were not enough to light the street paths at this time of night, and he didn't doubt that Mr. and Mrs. Lynch would check on her at some point. If they were to find out about this—about them—they could disavow her, condemn him, or both. (And even if they did make him marry her, he'd rather not be on poor terms with his in-laws.) He let out a deep breath and turned towards her.

"We need to both get home," he sighed, the disappointment evident in his tone. He smoothed a stray piece of hair out of her face and caught her gaze. "But I love you, Febs. We'll make this work—I promise."

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