Edric smiled fondly at the image of Mrs. Harding that popped into his head. Though she was nearly old enough to be February's grandmother, she was old enough to be a mother to him (albeit a young one) and frequently acted as such. The scones, the muffins, the cookies - she'd always been kind to him since the pig-maid incident.
"I hope she knows how fond if her I am," he said, his chest shaking with silent laughter. "I might be heartbroken if she doesn't follow us wherever we go. It just wouldn't be the same." It would mean finding a housekeeper when the time came, and one who would understand the way they did things (which, in plain terms, was unconventional. And besides, how would he survive without her cookies?)
"I don't own you, Febs," he said. He'd been jealous before, and he liked to think of her as his, but even though he had a nasty habit of trying to tell her what to do (or rather what not to do), he didn't control her every move. "If you want to go, then go. You're a woman; woman go to parties, balls." If she didn't go to balls, what would she do? He'd already made it clear that he disliked the idea of her getting a real job...
A deep sigh slipped through his lips at the feeling of her lips on his jaw. The temptation to roll over and hover over her was strong, but he resisted - for now, instead pulling her closer with the arm that laid idly across her waist.
"You know I wouldn't say no," he murmured. Though the frequency of their sleepovers had increased since he'd put a ring on her finger, the amount of time they actually got to spend together - wide awake and not exhausted from the day's events - was usually limited. And then, by the time they'd woken up and were refreshed from a good night's sleep, she had to apparate home to avoid being caught. "That's a power you have over me."
"I hope she knows how fond if her I am," he said, his chest shaking with silent laughter. "I might be heartbroken if she doesn't follow us wherever we go. It just wouldn't be the same." It would mean finding a housekeeper when the time came, and one who would understand the way they did things (which, in plain terms, was unconventional. And besides, how would he survive without her cookies?)
"I don't own you, Febs," he said. He'd been jealous before, and he liked to think of her as his, but even though he had a nasty habit of trying to tell her what to do (or rather what not to do), he didn't control her every move. "If you want to go, then go. You're a woman; woman go to parties, balls." If she didn't go to balls, what would she do? He'd already made it clear that he disliked the idea of her getting a real job...
A deep sigh slipped through his lips at the feeling of her lips on his jaw. The temptation to roll over and hover over her was strong, but he resisted - for now, instead pulling her closer with the arm that laid idly across her waist.
"You know I wouldn't say no," he murmured. Though the frequency of their sleepovers had increased since he'd put a ring on her finger, the amount of time they actually got to spend together - wide awake and not exhausted from the day's events - was usually limited. And then, by the time they'd woken up and were refreshed from a good night's sleep, she had to apparate home to avoid being caught. "That's a power you have over me."
— set by MJ! —