June 08th, 1888 — Auror Office, Ministry of Magic
@"February Lynch"

Nearly the whole work week had passed since the incident with Miss February Lynch and her pig-maid, but with all of the fuss in Irvingly, he'd nearly forgotten about it—and he would have completely forgotten it if the incident hadn't found its way into his mind an startling amount of times throughout the day.

As much as he hated to admit it, he supposed he had been concerned about her current condition, and had also hoped to write with her to inquire after her maid (and only her maid, obviously). The frequent instances of criminal activity, combined with the now magicless Irvingly, however, had prevented him from doing such.

He was practically drowning in paperwork by mid-morning—much to his dismay—when the secretary peeked her head in to inform him that there was a woman outside wishing to see him. His brows furrowed in confusion, yet he didn't hesitate when he motioned to allow for the woman to enter.

And, Merlin, speak of the devil.

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— set by MJ! —

The amount of trouble February had been in when she finally got home after her foray into the alleys of Hogsmeade had been astronomical. Poor Lydia was still traumatized and Febs felt guilty about that, but aside from the healing bruise on her knuckles, Febs had walked away unscathed, thanks to Mr. Umbridge. Needless to say she was quite house-bound, until she had thought to put together a little basket of treats to thank Mr. Umbridge in person. That her mother had reluctantly agreed to after Febs described how his quick thinking had prevented her from getting actually hurt. She may have embellished a little, but she certainly wasn't going to say as much to Mr. Umbridge.

This time with her incredibly overprotective housekeeper, Mrs. Harding, in tow, February headed off to the ministry, a basket of homemade treats on one arm. She hadn't really ever been to the ministry before and found it to be a flurry of activity and a little overwhelming. Of course this situation in Irvingly was a pressing matter and February nearly hesitated in disturbing the busy auror's office with the intrusion, but after the secretary had greeted them, it was a little too late.

For a quick moment Febs thought Mr. Umbridge might be too busy to see him and she could simply leave the basket for him (it had a note in it just in case) but it seemed that was not the case. The secretary opened the door for her and Mrs. Harding stationed herself beside the door frame as February stepped into Mr. Umbridge's office, trying to think of a witty greeting. "I promise I only come bearing treats, no piglets or punches in sight." She cast him a coy smile and offered the basket as proof.

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Edric immediately stood upon sight of Miss Lynch, unsure of why she was here until he noticed the basket in her hand—and then, of course, came her explanation. She'd brought him treats, which was hardly usual considering the amount of people the auror office assisted on a daily basis.

"Oh?" he asked in surprise, moving around his desk. She seemed back at her witty remarks, which was enough in itself to bring a not-so-subtle smile onto his face. "Whatever for?" He'd obviously helped her and the pig-maid in the alleyway, but that was his job. He would have expected this sort of gesture if a normal civilian had gone out of their way to assist her, but an auror who'd been called to the scene? Nah.

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   February Umbridge

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— set by MJ! —

"Oh? Whatever for?"

What a...!

February narrowed her eyes at him, brows furrowed carefully. She had given him a run for his money, she knew that much and here he was acting as if he didn't even remember her. Well, two could play that game.

"Oh? Apparently I was mistaken. I'll just take these homemade cookies and go." She tucked the napkin atop the sweets in a little more securely and gave him a nod. "Must have the wrong office, sorry to bother." She added as she turned to go. Mrs. Harding was looking at her with the most incredulous look on her face, but Febby simply winked at her.

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   Edric Umbridge

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Her reaction was certainly one he wasn't expecting, and also one that quickly caused him to take a step forward.

"Oh, Miss Lynch," he called quietly, his gaze stuck on the back of her head, "if you are so eager to abandon me, please leave some cookies for the rest of the office. All the aurors and support staff have been deprived of nutrition these past few days, and I've begun to worry for their health."

Then, he added even quieter: "I do hope yours has not suffered in the days past."

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— set by MJ! —

Mrs. Harding's smile was so evident that her housekeeper had to duck her head aside for a moment. Febby had to bite her lip to prevent a full-blown grin from erupting on her own features; she'd known what she was doing. Slowly she tossed a smug smile over her shoulder and turned back to Mr. Umbridge.

"Well, if your staff could use them, I suppose I could leave them." She had brought enough to be shared, but did mean to give them directly to him. She was briefly concerned that he was referring to the mysterious situation in Irvingly and now felt a little guilty for possibly being in the way. She was admittedly thrown by his very sincere inquiry as to her own health. Though she had only met him once, and though it had been quite the adventure, Febs had rather enjoyed their more snippy, sarcastic banter immensely. Every now and then though, he threw in something genuine and she was taken aback in the best possible way.

Stepping forward she placed the basket on his desk, laying her hands gently on top of the handle briefly, leaning toward him ever so slightly, "I'm fine, really. Thank you." Before stepping back again. She was fortunate enough not to have any lasting impacts. Not so much as a nightmare from the incident, though poor Lydia could not say the same. "Been busy?" As much as she wouldn't mind a few minutes of witty banter, she also didn't want to be in the way.

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He smiled triumphantly to himself while her back was still turned, though it was immediately replaced with a more indifferent one when she turned to face him. "I shall make sure not to touch any myself, if that would please you," he baited—playfully, though, and entirely without resentment.

He then quieted for a moment. Sincerity was not a word most would use to describe him, either, but it was not a feeling he was at all incapable of. Apathy suited him best; anything else meant putting his guard down. His inquiry, however, was not one that could be abandoned with any immediacy (nor was it one he truly wanted to abandon).

"You seemed to have quickly regained your wit, I see," he acknowledged, "—which is fortunate, as this paperwork has been nothing but a bore," he commented, motioning towards the stack of files on his desk.

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— set by MJ! —

Scowling in his general direction now, Febby, tucked a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear and gave him a pronounced tut of disapproval. "I did bring them specifically for you, but you seemed to be more concerned for your fellow employee's welfare." She pointed out with pursed lips, though another smile threatened to follow right behind.

"It's never far away and certainly never gone, but thank you for your concern." She was just fine after all, in the end, Mr. Umbridge had stopped the bad guy and saved the damsel, just like a fairy tale, even if Febby was far from a princess in trouble nor did she really believe in such things.

Glancing at the stack of paperwork Mr. Umbridge indicated, she was glad she didn't have to deal with that, even though she honestly would enjoy having an occupation, she highly suspected, she wouldn't want one here. "Ahh, the true danger of being an auror; death by paperwork." She chuckled ruefully.

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Her scowl did little more than encourage him. "I might argue that I would have shared them anyhow," he said, peeking under the cloth that hid the cookies, "Too eat all all of these—well, it might see me out of commission by the end of the month," he explained, a hand on his stomach and a smile—a betrayal of a smile, given his attempt to remain emotionless—across his lips.

The reference to the paperwork made him snort. "It's ironic, given many pursue this career path to avoid an idle life. Though I admit—" He rolled up his robe's sleeve, showing the bandage wrapped around his forearm. "—they might have a reason for keeping me in today."

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   February Umbridge

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— set by MJ! —

Perhaps it had been a little more than one person could handle, but certainly his job required a level of energy cookies could certainly help with! "My goodness, taken out by cookies and paperwork, and here I thought you of a stronger constitution Mr. Umbridge." Febby teased lightly, though swallowed that thought immediately as he showed her his bandaged arm.

She sucked in a little breath, though not squeamish at the sight of injury, as she was no stranger to them herself, Febby should have realized that the possibility of his being horribly injured in his occupation was much higher than they joked about. "I see ours isn't the only adventure you've had lately. And here I thought I was special." She pouted playfully, but was, just a bit in awe of him, though she would never admit it.

"I do hope it's not too severe, you may wither away if they keep you in here for too long." Not entirely unlike Febs herself when she was stuck at events for too long sitting down and playing nice.

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Their banter had now turned playful—flirtatious, even, though Edric was too proud to admit that—and unfortunately he found himself responding without consideration of what impression he might leave upon her.

(Even if it was a good impression.)

"Now that you've discovered my weaknesses, you must promise to keep quiet. I don't need criminals pelting me with cookies and enchanted birds made of contract papers," he chuckled, removing a single cookie from the basket, and, with a teasing wiggle of his brows, took a small bite.

It seemed her efforts to bicker with him had faded as well, as her face slipped into a pout—a very pretty pout—that made swallowing his bite difficult for a moment. He did, fortunately, manage to get it down.

"I assure you I haven't been chasing piglets with other damsels," he snickered. "No, someone used a slicing spell riiiight there." He moved his finger across the bandage in the shape of the cut. "It's all fine now, I suppose. Healing magic works wonders when performed properly."

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— set by MJ! —

A knowing smile fell across Febby's features, rather pleased with how this was going. Honestly walking in, she hadn't any idea what to expect. Their adventure had started out innocent enough, though February had quickly made it a competition and before it had turned sour he had been a worth competitor. Then he had in fact turned savior much to her chagrin; Febs was still a little bitter about it.

She'd been about to make a quip about keeping his secret weakness safe, secretly pleased that the cookies were well-received, but then he called her a damsel and oh hell no.. Febby bit her lower lip thoughtfully, "As I recall I wasn't the one that got punched, not sure how many damsels do that." She tapped her lips with her fingers lightly, yellowing bruise healing across her knuckles clearly visible as she thought through it. Also, she had managed to get out of the criminal's grasp without his help. He just so happened to finish the job.

Honestly.

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He'd learned a small number of things about her since they first met days ago, and atop the list was that she didn't appreciate being treated like a damsel (or even accepting help). Her threatening tone was less shocking this time, but as he opened his mouth to tease her about it again, he noticed the yellowing bruises on her knuckles.

He slowly stepped closer to her before reaching out brushing his fingers just barely across the sleeve that touched her wrist. "It hasn't fully healed yet," he murmured. "You didn't have a healer tend to that?"

As much as getting bruised from punching him was an amusing subject, any sort of hand-to-hand combat could be dangerous if not done right. She obviously hadn't broken anything—it would have been obvious by now—but he was surprised she hadn't gotten it immediately healed. Bruises were one of the easiest injuries to rid of.

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— set by MJ! —

Mr. Umbridge was certainly going to give her whiplash. Just when she'd fully expected him to come back with a witty retort, he yanked back the reigns and caught her off guard. It was frustrating to say the least, but he was keeping her on her toes of that there was no doubt.

"I told you I was fine." She reiterated, just barely keeping the blush off her cheeks when she felt his fingertips brush along her sleeve. She quickly covered the bruise with her other hand, flustered to say the least and trying desperately not to let it show. "I was hardly top priority when the mediwizards arrived." Poor Lydia, she had taken all their attention, which was fine by Febs.

"I've had worse." She shrugged, tugging at the aforementioned sleeve, just high enough up her arm to show a short scar, but oh had it been a deep wound. Falling from a broom into a tree was not something she would recommend to anyone. "Besides, I like the proof that I actually managed to land a hit on a trained auror, for however long it lasts." She added with a flash of a grin. That had gotten too deep, too quickly and she'd do just about anything to lighten the mood again.

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His first concern was her obvious lack of care for her own safety, as evidenced when she'd decided with reckless abandon to take off into the alleys of Hogsmeade in search of her maid-piglet. The second concern was her pride, which could rival his when all things were considered—she, however, did not have the size nor strength to take on the sort of physicality she was so willing to engage in.

"An auror may not always be there, Miss Lynch," he commented. "I admire your nerve and courage, but your next opponent may be more willing to hit back." He reached up and touched his jaw in the spot where her now-bruised knuckles had landed.

Still, it didn't take much observation to recognize seriousness had no place in the conversations between them. He was far too prone to pessimism—and worse, meanness—when conversations turned serious, and that was one side of him he had no desire for any woman (except maybe Connolly) to see.

He took a cookie from the basket (and one for himself) and held it out to her. "Or maybe I'm just embarrassed that a woman smaller than myself caught me off my guard. You'll never know," he taunted.

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— set by MJ! —

It was as though he thought she went running around the side streets of Hogsmeade on a daily basis. She most certainly did not, though she could be considered reckless, February had zero intention of putting herself in such a situation ever again. Reckless did not necessarily mean stupid. "I hadn't intended to make it a habit." She assured him, tone icy.

Febby straightened up, pulled down her sleeve and stepped back to give herself some distance. She hadn't come to get scolded like a child. Even his next comment should have caused her to smirk in satisfaction, but Febs wasn't into it anymore. Going between two different extremes of conversation was too much for what should have been easy banter about cookies.

"Yes, well, I'm sure you won't let that happen again." Pity, right about now she'd enjoy that... Fortunately for February, Mrs. Harding cleared her throat and gave her charge a look to signal it was time to go. Wonderful timing.

"I do hope you enjoy those, whether you choose to share them or not. Thank you again, Mr. Umbridge. I won't take up any more of your busy day." With that Febs straightened her shoulders and moved to exit his office in a swirl of skirts.

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