June 15th, 1888 — Hogsmeade Hospital
the morning after this thread | context

As per the orders of the hospital staff, Edric had remained in the hospital for the night to ensure the curse he'd suffered had no long-lasting effects. His night had been nearly painless—or at least he'd assumed so, given the amount of sleep-inducing potions he'd gotten after having difficulties sleeping through the night.

The morning seemed to be endless; he'd woken and slept in short intervals, never being awake longer than was necessary to reassure the healers that he wasn't dead. He'd finally awoken by mid-morning, not to a healer's voice, but to a former familiar one outside the room: Miss Lynch. Their evening together had been a tumultuous one, but he distinctly remembered sharing a tender moment with her in the minutes before she'd ultimately disappeared for the evening. Would she be in the same mindset? Or would she be grumpier today?

Only time would tell. The door swung open, and he held his breath.

@"February Lynch"

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— set by MJ! —

After last night's adventure to the hospital, all Febby wanted to do was sleep. Sleep was clearly the best way to avoid all her problems. If you weren't conscious, you couldn't worry.

Of course she'd wanted to stay at the hospital last night, but after she'd left to find a healer, Mrs. Harding had shown up to collect her. In the flurry of activity that followed, Febs couldn't argue with Mrs. H, though her housekeeper was sympathetic, her mother in the other hand, was furious. There had been quite a bit of a lecture when she'd managed to arrive home. For once, instead of arguing Febby just let her go up one side and down the other just so she could go to bed.

Of course there was nothing quite like being woken up by her mother bursting be into her room, positively screeching and waving the newspaper at her like a lunatic.

Uh oh. That was unexpected.

After another lecture, February was be promptly banned from leaving the house, unless it was with proper supervision and only for a short amount of time. Of course now that the fog had rolled into their neighborhood, there wasn't anywhere to go really...

Except she really wanted to go make sure Mr. Umbridge was alright. It irked her to no end that he'd been so incredibly stubborn about the whole thing! Febs was glad she'd trusted her instinct though and got him seen, though she didn't know the outcome after being whisked home. She supposed she could write a letter and sat down to do so after she was more awake and had gathered her thoughts. It was then that she realized if he'd seen the article and that should probably come from her... And so,she got properly dressed, laced up tight, a pretty plum-colored dress, hair pinned up nicely, the exact opposite of how she'd been last night and gone to see Mrs. Harding about how willing she would be to partake in a little white lie.
Apparently Mrs. H had a wild streak herself in her younger days and so she was pretty good at this cover up stuff. She'd gone to Rose and asked to take an extra pair of hands to the market to collect a little extra food because of the fog, she simply neglected to say which pair of hands she was borrowing.

Shortly after, with the market their main destination, Febby and Mrs. Harding were off through town, the fog thicker than Febs had anticipated as it crept through the streets and alleys. As requested, she kept her wits about her and her wand handy, but nothing befell them on their way into town. Mrs. H warned she had about twenty minutes to keep their timeline realistic as they stood outside Mr. Umbridge's hospital room. After a deep breath, Febby knocked lightly on the door and when she got no answer, pushed it open slightly to see if he was even awake.

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Edric's ears were obviously getting particularly good at picking up her voice, as moments later the door peeked open and Miss Lynch's face peeked inside the hospital room. He offered a tentative, sleepy smile—he didn't know if she was angry, concerned, or any of the emotions in between—before raising his brows expectantly.

"Come on, now," he teased, though having not spoken in the last two hours, his voice came out a little hoarse.

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— set by MJ! —

Febby's cheeks flushed slightly, though she was pleased to see him awake and apparently not in pain anymore. Pushing the door open fully, she hovered there for a moment until Mrs. Harding basically shoved her into the room with a hushed reminder of their time crunch and promptly stationed herself in the doorway.

The only reason Febs was feeling sheepish was because of the article folded up in her pocket, otherwise this wouldn't be quite so awkward she didn't think.  "I can't stay long, I'm not even supposed to be here. I just wanted to make sure you were feeling better." Febby didn't even sit in her chair from last night, placing herself at the foot of the bed, hands resting gently on the rail, one pulling distractedly at the bandage on the other.

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He quickly figured out she was neither angry nor overly-concerned, but rather more nervous. The way she sheepishly hurried into the room and the way she'd positioned herself far away from him made him think she was either hiding something from him, questioning her visit, or both.

"I'm better than last night, without a doubt," he commented, internally dreading the small-talk. It was an awkward exchange, mostly because he didn't know why it was supposed to be awkward. Had she run off last night, not because she was no longer needed, but because she'd been trying to escape him?

"I presume you got home safely last night," he continued. There was no need to ponder on his paranoia; she was back here, and that was what mattered at the current moment. "You look much better- I mean, you look—dressed." For fuck's sake, had the curse knocked all semblance of eloquence out of him?

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— set by MJ! —

Relieved to hear he was feeling better, she resisted the urge to ask what it was he'd been hit with. Speed was the name of the game right now and she thought the fact that he was well was more important.

"Yes, I apologize for leaving without saying something, I didn't want to be in the way and Mrs. Harding had come," She cast a look at her saint of a housekeeper, who simply smiled to herself. "My mother is not happy with either one of us at the moment." Fortunately Mrs. H had been with them for long enough to not face too dire of consequences, especially when Febs was the real miscreant.

She was momentarily distracted by his last comment, letting out a little derisive snort of amusement, but found it a humorous segue into the less amusing matter at hand. Slowly she pulled the article from her pocket and unfolded it. "Apparently my state of dress, or lack thereof is a hot topic this morning..." She passed it over and retreated to her spot at the end of the bed, waiting for what would likely be her third lecture of the day...

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   Edric Umbridge

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Had they ever been in a situation where their interactions hadn't led to Miss Lynch getting scolded in some way or another? (It should have been a hint by this point, but emotions were now clouding his judgment. Ugh.)

"I suppose now would be the ideal time to pen a letter to your parents," he offered with a quiet chuckle. Usually men had reasons to speak to young ladies' parents that weren't to give excuses for misbehavior. His mind had just begun to wander to those reasons when she said something that caught his attention.

"Oh?" he murmured, reaching for the paper. He cast her one questioning glance before unraveling the paper himself, which- Merlin's beard. While fortunately not the headlining article, the very next page had the words LYNCH AND UMBRIDGE'S HOSPITAL MIS-ADVENTURE printed in bold letters.

"Fuck," he breathed, his eyes scanning the text, phrases such as illicit flirtation and in a way one would expect of a married or engaged couple. He flipped through the paper hastily, looking for any article relating to the actual incident that had seen him to the hospital to the first place, and—nothing.

He was agitated, but fortunately not at her. At the moment. "Just they wait until I get my ass out of here and get down to their office," he grumbled under his breath, tossing the paper down to the opposite end of the bed.

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— set by MJ! —

Febs waited for the eruption, watched him while he read the article carefully. He swore an awful lot in front of her for somebody who was constantly worried about her reputation. Then again, it was too little too late for that, clearly. He was reading it... and nothing.

Quirking an eyebrow at him, what he finally came out with was not what she was expecting. Sighing softly, a little resigned, she shook her head slowly. "Please don't, on either front." The very last thing she wanted was for him to write to her parents or make a big scene at the Prophet offices. It wouldn't help anything.

"It'll blow over," It didn't even read that poorly for him. She was the one likely to deal with the fallout and really, she wasn't overly concerned. All her actual friend wouldn't be surprised and if anyone said anything to them, she'd give it to them straight. They could take it or leave it. Honestly, the last thing she wanted was for this to blow up because he felt like he had something to prove. "It's not worth it."

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He let out a sigh. He could make a scene, and he could try and prove his point, but her tone did little to encourage him; she seemed exhausted, if not a little upset, and an 'upset' Miss Lynch was much different from a 'pissed' Miss Lynch. (He'd already learned how to handle the latter, but the former was still a mystery to him.)

"Give it here again," he requested, unable to reach the newspaper at the foot of his bed without messing up the covers and probably the shitty patient's robe they'd put him in. "I'm more worried about you; it doesn't exactly portray you as you are." It made her out as some sort of harlot, when at worst she was a hothead.

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— set by MJ! —

Relieved and a little shocked that he didn't argue with her, Feb smiled slowly. Mostly she was just tired. Tired of being yelled at, tired of dealing with this already and it had just come out this morning. So now she was thankful he didn't push it after she requested otherwise.

Moving forward, she handed him the paper again and instead perched herself on the edge of his bed, but much further down than last night. "Doesn't it though?" She chuckled with a little shrug. "I really don't care." She really didn't. Febby would really rather live life on the edge and you know, potentially save someone's life than sit by idly because it wasn't proper.

"Just imagine what it could say if I hadn't dragged you here last night." She teased lightly, though was actually quite serious, before glancing first at the clock on the wall and at Mrs. Harding.

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He felt his chest tighten at her comment. "It does not," he protested, his brows furrowing. "You're no- no..." There was no proper word to use—harlot, whore, escort, prostitute, etc. were all too vulgar to use. "It doesn't matter; your intentions were completely noble—you likely did save my life."

Setting aside his pride to admit such a thing—especially anyone outside of his office and definitely Miss Lynch—was something he was usually reluctant to do, but it was likely the hex-gone-wrong might have had more permanent effects if she hadn't defied him by taking him to the hospital. Not to mention that he was beginning to care for her, but he wasn't ready to admit that to himself or anyone else yet. Getting attached was dangerous, seeing that this... this situation was a perfect excuse for her to cut the acquaintance and disappear forever.

(Tldr; Feelings are awful, and he should be avoiding them at all costs.)

He flashed a cheeky grin up at her finally. "You definitely would have had the last word."

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— set by MJ! —

She clearly knew she wasn't a harlot, it was an article taken somewhat out of context, but it wasn't wrong either. He knew that, she knew that and that was all that mattered really, though it was endearing to hear him defend her, even if incompletely. Now if only her mother would relax about it. "Yes, yes I would have, but you're alright and that's all that matters in the long run." This would all fade anyway. Somebody else would make a worse mistake than she had or heaven forbid some poor girl wear the wrong shade of green to a garden party.

"Nobody will be able to see what I'm wearing-  or not, soon enough anyway, the fog's moved into my neighborhood." He must have skipped the article about to get straight to their feature and now that she knew he wasn't mad at her, she could joke about the fog. "I have to go soon, I'm not supposed to be out of the house." She warned, looking at Mrs. Harding again for confirmation.

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Eyes wide, Edric's eyes flew to the front page of the paper. FOG SWALLOWS BARTONBURG, PADMORE PARK, HIGH STREET—a phrase he'd hoped he never had to read, and definitely not one he'd have to read while he was trapped in the hospital. Then, his eyes narrowed and moved towards Miss Lynch.

"You told me you wouldn't leave once the fog came," he accused. "You could have written to me instead. We don't know the effects of the fog yet; it could be dangerous."

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— set by MJ! —

Ah there was the lecture.

"Yes well, I wanted to make sure you weren't dead, and Mrs. H needed to go to the market to make sure we're stocked up, so here I am." Her time was dwindling slowly and she really didn't want to spend it fighting. "I won't be going out again any time soon." And likely neither would he, though she didn't actually know how long he'd be cooped up in here, she would worry he would try to overdo it as soon as he was out.

Rolling her shoulders to stretch out some of the fatigue, Febby knew a nap was likely on her agenda today, if her mother permitted it. Everything was by Rose's standards now. "Speaking of, I should probably be letting you rest."

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He opened his mouth to argue, but promptly shut it once he realized there was no point. Though he'd been the one accused of stubbornness over the past twelve or so hours, he knew she could be just as stubborn. Some fights were worth fighting, but one where he was in no physical (and likely mental, given that he was on who-knows-what sort of potion) state to engage in an argument.

"Just please be careful," he pressed, having no desire to be joined by Miss Lynch in a room at Hogsmeade Hospital. "I'll be getting out of here soon—even if it means running off without their knowledge," he joked, but there was truth in his words. He had work to do, especially with the fog covering much of Hogsmeade..

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— set by MJ! —

Standing up from her perch at the end of his bed, Febby felt like she'd won some sort of prize, he was being downright agreeable today. It softened her just a little bit, enough so that she didn't feel, for once, that they wasted their time arguing over something ridiculous.

She passed him a knowing smile and nodded; he'd been on her about the fog since the beginning of their adventures. "I promise." It was mostly to placate him, because she knew she would be in deep shit again today and therefore not allowed out. Gently she laid a hand on his shoulder and pressed a very quick kiss to his cheek. "You should stay and rest though." A nap was definitely in her future, he should take advantage while he could.

With that, she strode toward the door and looped arms with Mrs. H on her way out so they could get their trip to the market done.

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   Edric Umbridge

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