June 18th, 1888 — Bartonburg, Hogsmeade

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Of everything he'd expected to happen on June 18th, received a stack of letters from Miss Lynch—most unkind, and some of which contained admissions of her feelings—had not been atop that list when he woke up. It hadn't helped that he'd spent last night in the arms of a whore who he'd hoped would help him forget about Miss Lynch, but who only managed to do the opposite by pointing out he'd been moaning "February" in the throes of pleasure.

It hadn't made things any better that he'd already been in Hogsmeade—specifically Pennyworth, following reports of crimes that the  constabulary hadn't been able to cope with—when the Lynch's unfriendly owl dropped the pile on him. He'd found his way into a designated resting spot, opened the letters, and then found himself in a grump (and admittedly a little horny) mood for the rest of the evening.

Insufferable woman, sending him letters with lines like "I had to drown out the feeling of your lips on mine with whiskey last night" and "you can't tell me that kiss didn't mean something" that only served to remind her that the kisses had meant something. It was a lie to call it love, but to say he didn't care was even more of a lie.

He'd continued directing the forces in the area as expected, though the many faces of Miss Lynch—the flushed, the smirking, the angry, and the hurt—continuing to find their way to the front of his mind as the minutes took by. Her letters had arrived not but an hour prior when it was finally time to return home, but rather than accompanying the rest of the team, however, he acted on impulse—stupid, stupid impulse—and went to Bartonburg instead.

It was a poor decision; he'd already known that when he started seeing the cozy town-homes that were indicative of his location. The situation became ever more dire, however, when he collided with a body through the fog.

And it was her.

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— set by MJ! —

Febs had regretted sending those letters the instant the owl had left the window, but it was too late to call  her father's uncooperative owl back by the time she'd flung herself at the window to do so. She'd watched it disappear into the fog and the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach nearly dropped her to her knees.

She had to get out.

Being cooped up in her house at a time like this was absolutely unbearable. With no way to distract herself from all these feelings and memories it was hard to think of anything else and it only served to frustrate her. Putting her feelings down in words hadn't helped, all it had done was piss her off to the point where she'd actually sent them. They'd been cruel at points and far too honest, but in the end she wasn't sure she regretted sending them. She was a painfully blunt person, so maybe this was for the better.

Still, she couldn't sit there any longer. The fog could be damned, Febby scooped up her wand (though it was useless in the fog) and slipped out the back door. They all assumed she was sleeping off some kind of illness anyway. It would be a little while before they noticed she was gone and maybe she'd be back before then. Febs knew her neighborhood, knew the streets and where to go, a walk to clear her head would help. If only she could get out one of their old brooms and go flying, that would really do the trick.

With long purposeful strides, she ate up  the length of her street easily and turned onto the more main strip only to crash into something unexpected and solid. She stumbled, and almost fell back, grabbing ahold of the person's arms to prevent herself from actually falling. After she regained her balance, she looked to see who it was, only to find a frustratingly familiar face looking down at her.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Was all she could breath out as she automatically let go of him and stepped back. It took all of  her will power not to take a swing at him.

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Fucking February Lynch.

He was torn on how to react himself, but she certainly seemed unhappy to see him. It made sense, given her letters, but he was sure there was underlying subtext in her letters that meant she was missing him.... right?

"Miss- February," he choked, unsure of what the proper thing to say was. Did he apologize? Did he want to apologize? Snogging her senselessly was probably not an option in their current position, despite the feelings of overwhelming lust that hadn't faded. " I can still feel your hands on my back, your breath on my lips; the possessive way you pulled me in", she'd written, obviously insinuating that she'd wanted him in that moment.

But her letters had said other things. He'd hurt her. She was pissed. She thought he was a coward.

And to some degree, he was.

He held out his arms—not all the way, but just enough to show her that he didn't want her to flee. There were so many things he just couldn't put into writing, so many things she wouldn't understand unless she watched him explain them—and fortunately, the fog made it so nobody could watch them.

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— set by MJ! —

Seriously of all the people who would also be crazy enough to walk around in this fog, why in the name of Merlin's beard did she have to run right into him- literally!

"No," Just no, she didn't want to hear it.

She wondered if he'd gotten her letters already, but her father's owl had already returned, so she knew the answer was likely yes. What had she been thinking? She could have been halfway to over this by now if she had just kept everything to herself.

"I'm not doing this, not here." She refused to fight with him in the middle of the street. No uncertain use of her first name or open arms would get her to do this right now.

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His intentions were to explain, but whether that involved yelling or not, she was right—the streets were no place for this. He took a deep breath, trying to control the emotions that were threatening to come out in one spiel.

"We need to talk, though; you can't run from me. Not without magic," he reminded. "You choose the place, but now is the time. I got your letters." He pulled them from his pocket.

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— set by MJ! —

So he had gotten the letters, well there was one uncertainty confirmed.

Febby nearly snorted. Run from him. What a childish thing to say. She didn't want to run from him, but she not fucking having this discussion here. "Don't be ridiculous, I don't have to go anywhere with you." Febs highly doubted he was going to make a scene or force her to go anywhere, but honestly this was the last thing she wanted to deal with right now.

"Where in the name of Merlin's beard do you suggest we go, even if I did?" February found herself asking without thinking, plugging on after she'd started. "It's not like my house is empty. We're in the middle of this fucking fog and magic is useless as you so observantly pointed out." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm; she was exasperated and all she wanted to do was punch him and go home.

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The absence of the fog might have made everything easier, but he knew it would come with its own complications. She could just apparate away—but at the same time, he might have been able to get her somewhere else, somewhere more private in the moment. He just hoped the Ministry figured out this fucking mess soon.

"I obviously can't make you; I'm not in the looking for a kidnapping charge at the time," he retorted, remembering back to when she'd done the same to him. "You can't just send things like that and not talk, though—not without giving me a chance to explain. I know some auror stakeout spots we can go."

Fuck her and fuck the emotions she made him feel.

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   February Umbridge

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— set by MJ! —

"I shouldn't have sent them. Just forget I did, it would probably be a whole hell of a lot easier for both of us." That was a flat out lie, at least for her. She wasn't going to pretend that this would be easy for her to just walk away from, but she had to.

Right?

No, there really wasn't anything he could say that would change how she felt right now; he'd made his opinion of her abundantly clear.

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Edric sighed. "Forgetting is not my forte," he said, taking a hesitant step towards her. "Not with you."

Being so sappy or even this sensitive wasn't in his nature, but he couldn't just ignore the letters she'd sent. Not with all the accusations she'd sent him, and not with the admissions of her pain. He was too protective—and unfortunately, that protection now extended to protecting her from his own goddamn stupidity.

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Honestly.

Febs let out a long huff of frustration. Why was he making this so hard? "I really don't think there's anything you can say that would absolve any of this." She closed her eyes and sighed; he'd stepped toward her in that moment and her first instinct was to step back, but she held her ground, refusing to let him take charge.  

"Edric," His first name still felt foreign on her lips. "Please don't make me do this, we need to both just walk away." It was a quiet request, blue eyes concentrated on his as she held up her hands to wave the proverbial white flag.

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He took another step towards her, ignoring her pleas. His willingness to walk away, according to her letters, was one of his faults; he wasn't prepared to do the same again—not if it meant giving up any chance of seeing her again, and not if it meant giving up what he assumed was one of his only opportunities to offer an explanation.

"Do you think I can just walk away? After all that?" he breathed, fighting back the urge to grab her wrist or something. "After calling me stubborn, selfish, cowardly, careless. After telling me you cried," he murmured just loud enough for her to hear. He took another hesitant step forward.

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February absolutely refused to let him dictate this, but with every step closer, the desire to flee grew more and more urgent. She knew if he got too close all he had to do was touch her and she'd crumble. Seeing in this godforsaken fog was  impossible, but the closer he got, the harder it was to argue with him.

Tipping her chin upward in defiance, Febby tried to keep her expression cold, wrapping her arms around her middle simply for something to hold on to. "Not here, please." She pleaded quietly. Not in the middle of the street; she could feel the tears rising as he mentioned them and she flat out refused to cry in front of him, let alone in what would normally be considered public.

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This was a February he hadn't seen before, and it scared him. She was supposed to be snappy, witty, and even angry; she usually had an open stance, not a closed-off, protective one. He instinctively took a step forward and placed his hands on the sides of her upper arms, though did make any attempt to get closer—not yet.

"Please," he murmured again. "Just let me... Just let me make it better." Being an auror meant making a lot of situations better, but usually those situations didn't involve a girl he cared about, neither did they involved situations he'd been the one to cause. He hated that she could do this to him.

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Fuck.

She'd known if he'd touched her that she'd be sunk. Just the feeling of his hands on her arms brought back memories of the other night and made her breath hitch in reaction. Febs wanted to be mad, to yell and fight about it, but she just didn't have it in her. Maybe she'd gotten most of it out in the letters, maybe that had been what she'd needed; but she shouldn't have sent them.

Watching him now, standing there asking to try and make it better, she just didn't know how to stick to her guns. He was so unlike himself- or what she thought she knew him to be, and that had her resolve slipping away. "Fine," She sighed. "I'll give you a few minutes, somewhere else." He'd mentioned something about places the aurors had been using to keep an eye on the area; it wasn't ideal, but it was better than out in the open streets- even in the fog.

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Good, she'd given in. (Or was that good? Would it have been a better sign if she'd given in?)

He let out a breath of relief, dropping on of his hands while allowing the other to trail down to her wrist, which he carefully grasped so he could lead her in the direction. He'd passed some notable landmarks nearby; he knew how to get to where they were going. He remained silent the entire time they walked, wishing to give her—nor anyone else who might not be visible through the fog a reason to eavesdrop on their interaction.

They finally arrived. The auror stakeout station was settled in-between two long-abandoned Bartonburg homes on the street which had remained so due to intense ghoul activity in the attics (at least according to his former superiors had told him). The hedge near the gate had a very obscured, very narrow opening that allowed them to walk through, which led to a garden that was completely obscured from public view.

He released her hand, taking a few steps away from her to give her space.

"No one will find us here. It's abandoned," he explained, motioning to the (albeit foggy) garden area around them before continuing on with the real reason he'd brought her here.

"I didn't mean what I said, and I didn't mean what I... did." No, that wasn't specific enough; that could mean anything. "I regret running off—for leaving you after all that."

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The first thing that Febs noticed was that he'd taken her by the wrist (again, hadn't he learned?) instead of the hand. It bothered her more than she would admit. It felt unnatural, not to mention they had bad history with that; not a good start to this.

Febs remained silent and very observant about where and how he was taking her. She paid attention to each turn and the things she could see so that if she needed to leave she could get out without getting lost. As hesitant as she was to come, she did trust him enough to follow along, but that didn't mean she would do so blindly.

She hadn't been sure what to expect, but an abandoned garden between two empty buildings was not it. Still standing in the ashy fog was not helping the situation, but she supposed she couldn't be picky right now. At least it was private. Febs carefully stationed herself near the entrance in case it became too much and she needed to leave. He didn't mean it, he regretted it." She wanted to believe him, but what she didn't hear was an apology or a real explanation. She raised her eyebrows as if to say, and? because she didn't trust her voice yet.

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