(no subject)

[clumsy_auror]

*The sound of the front door opening echoes through the Tonks-Wrangle flat, followed shortly by someone humming to herself. Plunk goes her bag on the floor, thunk as she drops a pile of books and papers on the coffee table.*

Bernard? I'm back!

Comments

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

...You just compared our child to, like, housekeeping.

Or a Spanish galleon.

[clumsy_auror]

*Nymphadora lays a smack on his...*

Arse.

But yeah, everything's good. I've put on four pounds. Our strawberry isn't so much a strawberry anymore.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

So, what is it? Like... a kumquat?

[clumsy_auror]

...Or a rather large kiwi.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

...You slept with a Maori tribesman?

[clumsy_auror]

Still am, actually. Keep him in the linen closet.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Oh, so that's who folded all that laundry!

I'll leave some starch in there later. See what he can do about my shirts.

[clumsy_auror]

*Nymphadora kisses his cheek and goes to flop on the couch, picking up one of the books on the coffee table.*

Aren't outlaws supposed to be, like, all rumpled and dusty and stuff?

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

I'm not living in the woods this second, am I?

[clumsy_auror]

*an innocent look*

Oh, is it circumstantial, then? I thought it was all about the aura of being an outlaw. Beyond time and place.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*Bernard flops onto the couch bodily, his head landing in her lap.*

You know, I've never had a woman complain about my shirts being unwrinkled.

They're usually too busy taking them off to notice, however.

[clumsy_auror]

Oh, I'm not complaining, mind. More like teasing the living daylights out of you.

*Nymphadora leans over and kisses him firmly for a moment before straightening back up and opening her book.*

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*Bernard lets his eyes slip closed, one arm sliding around her back to hold her close.*

[clumsy_auror]

*Nymphadora settles into her reading, every once in a while folding the corner of a page over carefully or scrawling something in the margins with her quill.*

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*Bernard's thumb begins to draw lazy circles on her lower back, and with his other hand, he lifts the hem of her shirt so he can press a kiss to her stomach.*

[clumsy_auror]

*She grins and peeks around her book at him.*

So what d'you think of...

*she flips back a few pages*

...Oliver?

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*Bernard's thick today.*

Dunno anyone named Oliver.

[clumsy_auror]

*she snickers*

Well, that's the whole point, isn't it? You could.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*He blinks.*

Augh.

Dickens ruined that name for all time.

[clumsy_auror]

Hmm. Shame.

*A scratch with her quill. Oliver's out of the running.*

Norah?

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

What, like that singer you like? Erk.

[clumsy_auror]

Oh, come on. She's lovely. Excellent snogging music, you must admit.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

No, I really mustn't.

She's soulless and blank. It's like Shirley Temple trying to sing 'Respect'.

[clumsy_auror]

*Nymphadora heaves a sigh and scratches out Norah.*

Fine.

...You ever read Charlotte's Web?

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

If you say Wilbur, you're dead to me.