October 1st, 1888 — Umbridge Residence, London
February Umbridge

They were man and wife.

It was something he'd been waiting to say since the realization that he loved her, but he hadn't expected them to tie the knot this way. The effects of the amortentia had him in a euphoric haze: his ability to think rationally—and about potential troubles that could come from this—was completely nonexistent.

Except for now.

Rather than show up at work first thing in the morning as usual, he'd stayed in bed with the new Mrs. Umbridge. Edric hummed softly against Febby's hair, his arm wrapped around her chemise-clad waist from behind. All he could think about was her—her beautiful brown eyes, her melodic laugh, the way she tangled her hands in his hair...

And then, there was a blip. A blip of rational thought.

They were married. They weren't planning on doing that until, well... until they figured out the logistics of work and family and making it look respectable. There was a jolt of panic in his chest, but his mouth remained shut even as his eyes fluttered open. He took a deep breath, and muttered ever-so-hesitantly: "Good morning, lover."

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   February Umbridge

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— set by MJ! —

The last couple days were a blur of a whirlwind. Febs was certainly enjoying it, but the haze couldn't last forever. It was a strange feeling, living your life, but more like you were watching it than experiencing it. The crash would come soon enough.

It hadn't taken long for Febs to get very used to waking up next to her husband but this morning, feeling almost hungover, she just wasn't ready to be awake. Smiling to herself, it slipped when she noticed the tone to his voice. Febs sighed quietly, rousing herself more properly as she rolled over to face him better. Snuggling in, still groggy, she mumbled a quiet, "Good morning Love."

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His eyes did not leave her as she rolled over and snuggled up against him. It was morning. Monday morning. He had work—obligations, meetings to attend, an office to run. But somehow, the prospect of showing up with a cheap wedding band around his left-hand ring finger was more frightening than any consequences he might face for not showing up. He was overrun with a hundred different emotions: confusion, guilt, regret, and then more guilt for feeling regret. This is what he'd wanted. He'd wanted to Miss February Lynch to become Mrs. February Umbridge.

A glance over his shoulder confirmed what the light shining through the window hinted at: the sun was already high in the sky, clearly marking it as mid-morning. He cursed under his breath and began untangling himself from both her. "Morning, love, morning," he hissed. He moved into a sitting position, and then—fuck.

He buried his head in his hands, an unwelcome dizziness hitting him like the Hogwarts Express. "I don't suppose it would be too late to tell the office I'm not coming in, mm?" he asked his wife. His wife.

Merlin's beard, they'd really done that.

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— set by MJ! —

Febs groaned out a protest when he moved away from her, suddenly cold from the lack of extra body heat. She had nowhere to be today, so she was staying in bed a little while longer, especially with this inexplicable headache. Did they drink something last night she didn't remember that would warrant this? Honestly Febby didn't think so, but the last few days were kind of foggy.

Curling up in his spot, on his pillow, Febs let her lashes flutter open, watching him carefully. The realization of their situation was starting to settle over her, but unlike Edric, she wasn't quite as... uneasy with it. Gently she reached out one hand to rub his back, hoping to exude some comfort, her ring catching her eye. The purple engagement ring she'd had to hide, was sitting there boldly on her ring finger, and she didn't have to take it off. That she wasn't upset about.

"I don't think they take "suddenly married" as an excuse." She teased, retracting her hand to brush her hair from her face and press the heel of her hand to her temple.

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Though thoroughly shaken by the realization of what they'd done and what it could mean (if things took the worst possible turn), Edric found it difficult to express that when his wife right beside him, clearly content with her current situation. And besides, it wasn't like he wasn't pleased to be her husband. It was merely the... spontaneity.

"The headache might, though," he grumbled, eyes squinted as he peered around the room in search of whiskey bottles. Nothing. "I'm not ready do deal with the questions." Because I don't have the answers myself, he wanted to add, but it was clear enough what had happened. They'd opened the letters and been drugged by something—but as an auror trained specifically in avoiding those situations, the prospect of facing his colleagues was humiliating. "I don't suppose there's someone around to grab us tea."

(At least, he thought, they were at his home and not in some entirely unknown place. He supposed at some point he'd have to go searching for a house—specifically the seaside cottage he'd promised her.)

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— set by MJ! —

Sighing softly, Febs pulled herself from the pillows, wrapping the blanket around her as she moved forward to be a little more supportive. He had far more to deal with than she did and she could sympathize with not wanting to face anyone at the moment. She would, eventually, have to go home and face her mother. Still, his job was on the line and that made the guilt settle over her.

Leaning in, she rested her chin on his shoulder, head swimming a little, but she tried to ignore it. The whole situation was a little ridiculous, but had been their plan... it was just a little sooner than they'd expected. Of course they'd had reasons to wait and now they had to deal with it without really having everything in place the way they wanted, but they'd figure it out. They'd been ready to do it when they thought she'd been pregnant, they could figure it out now, she hoped.

"I know it's not exactly what we planned, but we'll figure it out." Febs highly doubted it could truly be held against them, she still had the letter in the pocket of her dress... somewhere, if it was needed for proof of some kind. "Still technically not my house, I have no idea who's around." Wasn't that the truth? She'd run into one or two over the last couple days and she was getting decidedly mixed reactions in that respect. "I'll tell you what though, I'll go tell your boss if you go tell my mom." She offered as a trade, chuckling quietly as she kissed his shoulder.

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"I know," he murmured in response to her comforting, knowing very well she wasn't to blame for any of this. Though his memories of their elopement were a hazy, they weren't missing. He remembered suggesting they marry on the spot, and he remembered saying "I do" in front of the officiator. Being married to her wasn't even a bad thing; it only meant they'd have to brainstorm answers to complicated questions and get their life in order—soon.

"Hopefully you won't have to get too comfortable. I'll begin looking for the perfect cottage for us—and in the meantime, I'm sure we could rent a place that's more..." He glanced around his bedroom. It wasn't small, but it was the only part of the house that was truly his. This was not a place Febby could truly be the mistress of. "... private," he finally said, shooting a half-smile in her direction.

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— set by MJ! —

Frowning slightly, she could tell the reality was starting to sink in. She understood the gravity of where they were, even now, coming down off whatever high it was they'd been on the last few days (she wasn't dumb enough to think there hadn't been something off about those pink envelopes), but he seemed almost... hesitant. She didn't want this to be a chore, like she was an obligation now.

Febs bit her lip, unsure of how exactly to put her thoughts into careful words. The last thing she wanted to do was add to the already mounting stress. "I can go home, if it would be easier." She said it quietly, no added emotion, as she tried to keep herself in check. This wasn't how she wanted things to start off either, Febs truly preferred to do things once she had her ducks in a row, despite her tendency to be impulsive on some fronts. Of course they did still have a lot to figure out, but she was actually... relieved was the right word, she thought, and happy to finally be married.

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The noticeable disappointment in her voice had him letting out a shallow breath. He shouldn't be so negative—not with her, the woman who had agreed to be his wife, even before they'd eloped in a love-struck haze. He wrapped an arm around her back and pressed her smaller frame against his before pressing a kiss to her temple.

"No, no," he murmured. He turned and pressed his face into her hair, letting his eyes flutter shut. He really didn't want to go to work, not today—and part of it because he wanted to be here with her. "As long as you share my name, I won't be sending you home to your parents. With the exception of my father's study, you have free roam here. You're my wife now," he asserted, pulling back to look at her.

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— set by MJ! —

The knot of worry in the pit of her stomach loosened a little at his reaction to her suggestion. Allowing herself to be pulled in, Feb snuggled into him, closing her eyes for a moment, taking some comfort in his words. For somebody as confident as she liked to pretend she was, when she was this far out of her realm of normal, she started to get a little hesitant herself. She wanted this; she wanted to be his wife, had already agreed to it previously, even if it had finally come about unexpectedly.

"I just don't want to be... a burden." She admitted in a whisper, brown eyes meeting his cautiously. She'd finally come up with the right word for that nameless worry she couldn't quite squash. Without being able to get everything squared away first like they'd wanted, she almost felt like they were starting off on a low note and it was putting a sour taste in her mouth. This really wasn't how she wanted to start their marriage.

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A burden? She thought she was a burden?

Edric stared at her, expression blank and mouth agape, as she stared back at him with vulnerable eyes. February Lynch—Umbridge now, he reminded himself—never struck him as the sort of woman who needed affirmation from him, her friends, or anyone, but she clearly needed just that at the moment.

"You're not a burden, February," he insisted, reaching up with his free hand to cup her cheek. "I don't think anything could have compelled me to marry a woman I didn't wish to marry. No letter, no potion, nothing." In reality, it wasn't sure whether he would have or not; all he knew is that he'd wanted to marry her, letter or no letter. The fact that she doubted that fact—doubted him—made his chest tighten.

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— set by MJ! —

Febs nearly winced, regretting her words almost immediately. What the hell was wrong with her? Married for just a few days and she was already all out of whack. Maybe it was whatever those letters had done to them and the conclusion of the curse? Potion? That was getting to her. Ugh, she needed to snap out of it.

Clearly he hadn't meant for her to feel that way, why would he? She was simply having a rare moment of insecurity; a little identity crisis. "I know, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." This boomerang of going from such a high to a questionable low was making her headache worse.

"We just got all out of order again and I don't regret it and I don't want you to either, but I know we have to figure some things out and my head is killing me and now I'm rambling," Febs cut herself off. "Please stay home with me today?" The last thing she wanted was to be here, which was now her home, at least for the time being, by herself all day without him.

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Her rambling was enough to make him release an audible breath of exasperation, but one eye-roll and sleepy smile later, he'd pulled her tighter against him. He made a living handling and resolving conflicts, but marriage conflicts were not the sort he was trained to handle—nor did he desire any reason to need training for them. Despite the questionable methods that had seen them married, it didn't change the fact that they were legally married. He needed to make adjustments—quickly—to ensure he did not have an unhappy wife.

"I'll stay home," he agreed, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips before moving to his feet. "I'll have to write a letter to the office and find some reasonable explanation." Or a way to phrase his current situation to make it sound like a legitimate emergency (though he knew many who would consider a magic-induced marriage the perfect example of one). "Do you still have your letter? I might need it."

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— set by MJ! —

Burying her face into his shoulder when her pulled her in, Febs tried to rationalize all of these crazy emotions running through her head. She was relieved that he would stay home today, hopefully he could make a convincing argument for his boss. This would give them time to figure a few things out before she had to go home and face her parents and he had to go into the office.

As he got up, Febs laid back down, snuggling into his pillow. She curled up into the blanket a little haphazardly, hair all over the place, legs tangled in the duvet. The headache was better when she was lying down, but she watched him carefully instead of closing her eyes. "I think it's in the pocket of my dress still, wherever that landed." Honestly she hadn't exactly worn it in the last couple days.

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Edric hummed in response, quickly searching for and locating her dress. Just the sight of it sent vivid flashbacks to the day they'd eloped, and he snorted realizing that she'd gotten married in the least traditional outfit. So Febby-ish. After struggling to locate the dress pockets, he pulled out the letter. He imagined its pink hue could be spotted from a mile away, as could the ugly, large calligraphy her name had been written in.

He started towards his desk that was positioned opposite the bed, running a hand mindlessly through his hair. "I'm sure they'll understand," he reassured, though it was unknown whether it was her or him that needed the reassurance. "Do you plan on staying curled up in bed all day? Or should I send someone to fetch some dresses from your family?" He wasn't sure what the Lynchs were thinking, but he imagined they'd figured it out when she didn't return home later that day.

So much for being a beloved son-in-law.

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— set by MJ! —

Febs pulled the covers up to her nose to answer his question. She desperately wanted to stay in bed and get rid of this headache, but knew she couldn't hide forever, as much as she would like to.

Sighing, she reasoned, "The responsible choice is to get up and go face my parents ourselves. The selfish choice is to convince you to stay in bed with me all day." Febby knew what she'd prefer, but wasn't so sure on where he stood at the moment. Poor, poor Mrs. H. had likely filled her parents in on where she was and why, but that didn't make it any easier. They hadn't come breaking down his door either, so who knew at this point.

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