June 22nd, 1888 - an abandoned garden of Bartonburg, late evening
Edric Umbridge

We were golden, we were fire, we were magic
Yeah, and they all knew our names all over town
We had it made in the middle of the madness
We were neon in a grey crowd
Yeah, we wrote our own story
Legends - Kelsea Ballerini

February only felt a little guilty about managing to persuade Edric to try for their original meeting this evening. It was dark, between the fog and the unnatural darkness, it was downright eerie, even though every light on the street had been lit. Fortunately with a determined mindset, Febby pushed through the fog as quietly as she could. Becoming a professional at sneaking out of her own home was a terrible thing, but she hardly felt sorry about that now.

Each footstep that brought her closer to the garden after turning on the final alley had her heart rate soaring higher in anticipation. Febs pulled the shawl over her shoulders tighter as she managed to find the gate among the hedges and slipped in quietly. It was hard to shake the feeling that she'd been followed, but nobody in their right mind would be out in this at this time of night. She shouldn't even be out like this, but the temptation was too high. The man had gotten her an owl today, she needed to see him.

The garden itself was almost pitch black, the only light coming from a light lit at the far end of the alley and even that was minimal. Everything was oddly still and calm, which lulled Febby into feeling the same, even though she should have been on high alert. She must have arrived first as she didn't see Edric anywhere near the gate, so she pushed on a little, running her fingers over the ivy-covered wall nearby. Febs had to wonder just what this place looked like without fog blanketed over it or what it had looked like when people still lived in this little section of town.

It was these thoughts that distracted her enough not to hear him approach her from behind and by the time she realized it was too late not to be startled. "Merlin's beard, you scared me." She breathed out as she started to turn around.

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After a day of trading a series of raunchy letters with Miss February Lynch, it was impossible not to see her. She'd gotten him all riled up with her teasing and taunting; he was going to get revenge. (Except he wasn't quite sure what that would entail at the moment, but he knew it would be exactly what she'd been hoping for—so "revenge" was probably not the proper word. Damn her an her extraordinary ability to play at his weaknesses.)

He'd left work a little snappy that evening for a variety of factors, but with every step closer to the garden he could feel the stress-induced tightness in his chest being replaced with fluttering. He didn't know when she was supposed to be there, but expected he'd wait at least an hour or so before going home.

Except he didn't need to wait, because she was right there.

He resisted the urge to tackle her right then and there (he assumed she'd probably be a bit upset to have the wind knocked out of her by a fully-trained auror), so instead walked towards her until she'd noticed him.

Then, all bets were off.

He took the time to offer a light chuckle and nod in acknowledgement, but then swiftly wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him, but didn't kiss her—not yet.

"Part one of revenge, I presume," he murmured, cocking a taunting brow.

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— set by MJ! —

As if her entire body wasn't already tense, having the living daylights scared out of her was not helping. She supposed she did deserve it, just a little. Febby bit her lip as she faced him, the dim light of the garden making it hard to see, but she was fairly certain that one, seeing would not be very necessary soon and two, she could imagine that smug smile without actually having to see it.

"Revenge? Whatever for?" Febby asked innocently as she snaked her arms around his neck, body naturally arching toward his as he pulled her in. She was itching to get her fingers in his hair, or anywhere really, but was trying not to just jump him straight away. It was admittedly very hard, willpower was apparently not her forte where he was concerned. A sly grin curled the corners of her lips upward as she looked at him slowly, trying to continue the feigned innocence.

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He didn't think he'd ever met such a tease before; though, admittedly, that might have been because his experience was limited to single nights in whores' beds. (Even then, in situations with few boundaries and little reluctance, not enough tension had ever been built up to stir these sort of feelings.)

He was determined not to give into her games right away. He would fight her on it—for now.

"Mmm, you're right," he said, his hands moving around her waist, hips, and back in an attempt to distract her. She had her hands around his neck now, making his attempts to tease her oh-so-difficult. "Perhaps revenge is too harsh of a word." He leaned down, but, instead of pressing his lips to hers, let them trace her jawline.

He hummed lightly against her skin. "No, retaliation fits much better."

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— set by MJ! —

Letting her lashes flutter closed, Febs rolled her head to the side a little, leaving a little more leeway for him. Giving in to the temptation to run her fingers through his hair, she would save giving it a tug for later, but after all of her nonsense today, to finally have him at her fingertips meant she was going to soak up as much as she could in the little time they had together.

"Retaliation, Her breath caught in her throat as he went straight for her jaw. I have no idea," Another sharp inhale. "What I could have done to earn such treatment..." This was not going to be easy. He was clearly going to make her work for this, after all of those teasing letters today.

Febby sighed softly, nearly wishing she'd had the forethought to forgo her corset after dinner, but rather thought that might have been presumptuous of her even given the circumstances. It would have been much easier however, to enjoy the feeling of his hands pressing into her body without that obnoxiously thick layer of clothing in the way.

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Snickering at her comments was not the way to be seductive, so a good portion of his attention was not on her, but rather his own actions and body language. She was obviously much better at teasing and flirting than he was, but he didn't consider himself completely inept. Based on her sighs and her faltering eloquence (ha!), he could tell he was having a strong effect on her. There was something very empowering about having this sort of control—voluntary control, not the same sort of control he had when dealing with suspects—and he couldn't get enough of it.

"No idea, hm?" he murmured before letting his teeth graze her pulse point. (She'd played dirty the last time they were like this, and he'd been itching to do the same since.) "I didn't know this—" He gently bit down on her neck, making an example out of it. "—could make you forget so quickly. I'll remember that."

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— set by MJ! —

Damn it, damn it! He was certainly retaliating and doing it well.

"Not a clue." Febby shook her head, trying to keep up her pretenses, but as she felt his teeth graze along her pulse, her fingers tightened in his hair and a little whimper escaped her lips. She'd given him too long to think about this, their rapid exchange of letters leaving too much time to plot his revenge. "Please do." She managed after anther moment, body pressing forward toward his as if there was any room left to go.

Honestly she was completely fine with letting him run the show, but if he was working for a slow build, it was agonizingly slow and she could feel the anticipation bubbling up. He knew exactly what he was doing, had accused her of the same not a few hours ago but she was too drunk on him to care.

Fortunately for her, two could easily play this game and slowly she reached up to remove the few pins holding her hair up. Soft brown tresses fell in long waves as she shook it out before letting her hands wander, up his arms, over his strong shoulders and back into his hair where they'd started.

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Edric couldn't help but let out a chuckle as she whimpered in the midst of her attempt to get out a coherent reply. He'd never seen her look this vulnerable—not in this way—and he was loving it. Unfortunately, his control over the situation would begin wearing soon enough; the sudden hair falling down across her shoulders prompted him to pull back slightly, if only to catch a glance. And fuck, was she beautiful.

His expression probably said as much in that moment, but he quickly caught himself. Rather than let her take advantage of the situation, he reached down and grabbed her leg (a difficulty with all the petticoats and skirt) and attempted to hook it around his own leg so he could wedge himself between her.

This was a battle of control as much as it was battle for release—and he was going to win.

"Is this close to what happened in your dream?" he breathed into her ear after a moment.

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— set by MJ! —

Whatever momentary control she thought she gained was just as quickly lost. Between that look on his face and his hand on her leg, Febby lost the desire to even have control at this point. He could have it and run with it for all she cared. It came down to a level of trust that had so far gone unspoken, and sometimes the boundaries were pushed, but the line had yet to be crossed.  

Fighting with her own skirts was a daily battle and through her clouded judgement she realized she would probably have an easier time with them than he would. Sliding one hand down his chest, down his side and over his hip, she reached down a little and casually pulled the bulk of the skirts up a little and back out of the way. Who knew how long it would last for though, as she wasn't terribly steady (for more than one reason).

His question had her chuckling, a breathless little laugh as she leaned back just enough to look at him. "Not exactly," She bit her lip, thinking back to how she'd woken up this morning heart racing, cheeks flushed, that dull ache of longing that radiated from her fingertips to her toes. It wasn't entirely unlike how she felt in this very moment. But since he'd asked, maybe she wasn't completely ready to give up control of the situation altogether. "It involved far less clothes," Nimble fingers searched for the closure of his robes as she nipped lightly at his jaw. "A big comfy bed," This time she pressed a kiss a little lower on his neck. "And lots of tangled limbs."

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   Edric Umbridge

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He struggled to keep her balanced in the position, one hand grappling her bare leg while the other moved to the small of her back to hold her against him, but her response—

Well- Well shit.

There are many things he could have expected, many tricks that she could pull, but none of them included such a frank admission. She'd dreamt, plain and simple, and without any question, about them fucking. If there expression on his face didn't show that he'd been caught off guard, his body's sudden decision to freeze up—with the exception of his mouth, which formed a little 'o' shape as he begun to process her words—should have done it. That, combined with the little nips and kisses, was enough to force an unintentional, frustrated whimper from his own lips.

"You tell me that, but dare come here in a corset," he managed to get out after a moment, the hand on her back pressing against the hard-as-bone garment through her dress' chemise. It was... definitely a situation. She'd told him last time that she had no intention of losing her virtue in the middle of an abandoned garden—yet here they were, on the verge of succumbing to the sexual tension while battling for leverage over each other.

Though she'd put his hand on her bare, he didn't want to be so presumptuous by trying to remove any piece of clothing. (Having her freeze up and lecturing sort of killed the mood, so he'd rather avoid crossing that line if he could.) Thus, he was once again at the mercy of her action—and similarly, her inaction.

Would it be impossible to get her to the wall from here? Where the fuck was the wall?

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— set by MJ! —

Sometimes it was just something little too easy to leave him awestruck. Of course she'd been fairly blunt about what she'd dreamt about-and that was more or less it, her subconscious skirting around the fact that she didn't exactly know what it felt like, but she had woken up breathless just the same.

Grinning, almost triumphantly, she chuckled at the look on his face. "You asked, I thought it was pretty obvious without detail." Febby wanted to use his shock to her advantage, but that feeling of his hand on her leg was much better in real life than in her dream and she was thoroughly distracted.

Realizing she had control of the moment, Febs wavered on what to do. Her dream had been pretty vivid, but it really was nothing compared to the feeling of right now, all that sexual tension building in search of the right kind of release. "Clearly I wasn't thinking," She said of her corset, still highly amused by his current state. Getting it off now involved removing other layers first and that was just from a practicality standpoint, nevermind actually finding skin underneath until they were all gone. If only magic worked, then it would be incredibly easy.

Instead Febs used one hand to slide his hand back down her leg so she could stand up properly. The wall had been right around here somewhere, she'd just had her hand on it a moment ago. Sliding her hands to the front of his robes, she dragged him in for a searing kiss, pulling him with her as she backed up towards the wall. She was a couple of steps off, but she felt her back connect eventually. At least that would provide a little leverage (it was also quickly becoming A Thing for them) should they need it. Febs wasn't sure yet, but nothing was really out off the realm of possibility today.

That accomplished, she felt far more steady on her feet (until the next time he made her go weak in the knees) and hitched up her skirts to put her leg exactly where it had been, using it to pull him closer.

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He didn't have a response to her words, which was... terrifying, especially having been witty enough to silence her moment ago. She was winning now, but he wasn't sure if that was a bad thing anymore.

He allowed her to pull him into the kiss without resistance, groaning against her lips at her roughness. He could feel them backing up somewhere, and though his auror instincts told him to always watch where he was going, there was absolutely no way he could be arsed to pull back. It didn't take very long, though; a moment later they were against the wall, and Febs had once again hitched up her skirts and was using her leg to tug him closer.

Fuck.

While one hand remained on her hip, the one opposite her hitched-up leg adventured under her skirt in search of anything—skin, more clothes, something to distract her, something to drive her mad. He wasn't sure yet, but he also wasn't sure where she was taking this. (Apparently to the garden wall at the moment.)

He pulled back from the kiss reluctantly, intent on being the responsible one this time (if only to save himself from a wounded pride and her wrath). His gaze bore into hers as he leaned forward to press their foreheads together. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice husky and full of pent-up desire. He knew all too well where the clasps on his own robes were, and could likely find a way to do this—but only if she truly wanted to.

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Febby was quite pleased with herself, both for managing to take control again and for getting here in the first place. She would slowly lose the reigns however, if he continued the way he was. She gasped quietly against his lips as his hand found bare skin. Despite the layers of fabric in the way, once they were up and mostly out of the way there wasn't much left.

When he pulled back, she was dizzy with desire, chest heaving from the effort as her breath came in ragged gasps. She framed his face with her hands gently as he rested his forehead against hers, blue eyes meeting his in the dark. There was that question again and she felt her heart swell in affection because she knew it came from a place of concern. He was always concerned in one way or another, even now and it hit her inexplicably hard.

Brushing her thumb over his cheek, she tried to find the right words. Febs had no grand ideas about how this was supposed to go, though any proper young lady would say in her marital bed, that was clearly not the situation here, not even close. Would she be able to stop this time? Did she want to? It was inevitable really and putting off the inevitable never worked well for her. "I want to enjoy the moment." She whispered honestly, the words she wanted on the tip of her tongue. There were a lot of thing she wanted in this very moment and she nearly said some of them aloud, but instead managed to try and set the boundaries they both needed.

"I'll stop you if I want to stop," Because she honestly didn't know if she would, but if she did, "Please just don't be mad at me if I do." That would likely crush her and start a fight.

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She wanted to enjoy the moment. That seemed like a simple enough request—except it wasn't, not with how worrisome Edric could be. She wanted to enjoy the moment, but what about tomorrow? What about next week? Next month? Was she going to treat him like an expendable partner and abandoned him once she'd had her way?

Did she... really care? About him? Most of her references to not being able to get him out of her mind referred to the kisses they'd shared instead of him as a person. Love was definitely a silly word to describe their relationship—at least right now—but that didn't mean he wasn't emotionally-attached to her in any way.

He pushed those thoughts out of his head, rationalizing that she would be the ruined one of she decided to abandoned him after this. The vicious thought was enough to revitalize the passion that had been momentarily dulled by insecurities; he looked her in the eyes, offered an understanding nod, and then swooped down for a kiss.

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— set by MJ! —

Waiting for his answer was agonizing. Was it hesitation? Did he disagree? Whatever it was, it was enough to have her second guessing herself. Maybe, despite her best efforts, she hadn't articulated what she meant. She opened her mouth to try add something, anything, but swallowed whatever it was she had thought of when he nodded. Was that it? He agreed that was a good plan or he would just follow along because that's what she'd said?

Indecision flooded her system, even as he kissed her, she was distracted thinking. They were impulsive, this was impulsive, there was no hesitation, hadn't been and now it hung over her head and she didn't like it one bit. Damn her big mouth.

"We don't have to," She mumbled after leaning back to catch her breath. Something was off, maybe it was her, maybe she was reading too much into it, but she couldn't ignore it. Maybe she was just second guessing everything now. It was a bad decision, but one she'd been fully ready to make up until a moment ago, and she thought he'd been on the same page.

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Something was off, and he knew it. He'd taken too much time, and now she was hesitating, too. She'd pulled back and an look of expression found its way onto his face.

"What makes you think I don't want to?" he replied, raising a brow. His hand, still under her skirt, felt around until he managed to find her thigh, though he was certain her chemise was still preventing skin-on-skin contact. He leaned down and nipped at the lobe of her ear, his desire to avoid conversation still persisting. Conversation always led to arguments, she was already getting riled up; the only way to distract her was through pleasure.

"Do you not want to?" he murmured in her ear, though waited little time for a response before moving his lips down to her neck. All he could do was wait for a reaction or a lack thereof.

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— set by MJ! —