(no subject)

[clumsy_auror]

*Nymphadora's storing the leftovers from dinner and putting them in the fridge.

She's kind of quiet.*

Comments

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*And Bernard's scrubbing the roasting pan and rack from the pork loin.

He looks tired.*

[clumsy_auror]

*She flicks her wand at the dishes in the drainer, drying them (mostly), and begins putting things away.*

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*Bernard smiles, a little.*

Hey, you didn't break any of them.

[clumsy_auror]

*Nymphadora smiles a little, too, and kisses his cheek on her way to the cutlery drawer.*

Miracles do happen.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*He looks around exaggeratedly.*

I didn't know Aziraphael was joining us for dessert.

[clumsy_auror]

*Snickering a bit, she puts away the clean utensils and then wipes down the counter.*

I'm sure the only reason he's not is he doesn't know you made peach cobbler.

...Have we got ice cream to go with?

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

'Have we got ice cream,' she asks.

*He opens the freezer and pulls out a pint of vanilla.*

Who do you think you're dealing with, here?

[clumsy_auror]

A professional, clearly.

*She hoists herself up onto the counter and looks down at the cobbler cooling on the stove-top.

Very gingerly, she picks up a clump of the topping and eats it.

No social graces at all, at all.*

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*Belatedly, Bernard slaps the back of her hand.*

Raised in a barn. Jesus.

Would you like a bowl?

[clumsy_auror]

*thoughtfully*

No, think I'll be fine with this, thanks.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Oh, fine.

*He plops the ice cream and a bloody great spoon into her hands and hoists himself onto the opposite counter to watch.*

Less to clean later.

[clumsy_auror]

*Serenely, Nymphadora opens the ice cream and digs in, delicately placing some of the cobbler on top of her spoon before eating it.*

Ta.

...Think I'm gonna start getting weird cravings. Like. Pickles 'n things?

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*Bernard shrugs.*

Dunno.

I once knew a girl who craved anchovy and peanut butter sandwiches. But then, she was pregnant and stoned, so.

[clumsy_auror]

*horrified*

...I'm not sure which is worse, that sandwich or the part about being stoned.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Well, it was the '60s. Most people really, really didn't know what was bad for them then.

*Another shrug*

Frankly, most people my age thought pot was better for you than tobacco, and people really didn't realize how bad tobacco was yet.

So.

[clumsy_auror]

Oh yeah. I know. Different cultural mindsets and mores and whatnot. Everything means something different, depending on when and where you're from.

*Nymphadora's never read Geertz. But she'd probably like him if she did.*

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Exactly.

*He shrugs*

Jesus, I tried everything once. Didn't think twice. Didn't occur to me.

[clumsy_auror]

Hunh.

*Another contemplative mouthful of ice cream and cobbler.*

...And you don't miss that?

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

What, being coked up? While tripping?

*He snorts.*

Well.

It did make for a few very interesting blast decisions.

[clumsy_auror]

*A flicker of concern passes over her features.*

Lucky you didn't hurt yourself, love.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*He rolls his eyes.*

Please.

You forget who you're dealing with.

I fucking made my own when I had the supplies. I was fine.

[clumsy_auror]

Ah.

*Another bite.

That cobbler must be awfully interesting, for all the attention she's giving it.*

'Kay.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*His gaze is very frank, if she'd only meet it.*

I haven't set up a meth lab in the bathroom, you know.

[clumsy_auror]

Oh, no--

*She looks up at him, finally, and there's no uncertainty in her eyes.*

No, I don't think that. I know that's not a part of your life anymore.

Just... not something I know anything about, really. Not that I want to, but... I want to know you. Does that make sense?

You've just got an awful lot of experience on me. In a lot of ways.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Well.

*He pulls up his legs to sit cross-legged on the counter, his elbows on his knees.*

Does it really matter, in the end? I mean, sure, you want to know me.

But, you've got a whole range of experience I couldn't hope to live, being a muggle.