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[clumsy_auror]

"Last load," she announces, plunking the laundry basket down on the living room floor, "and Sunny's having juice and a snack in her Office, today, because she asked very nicely, and Anthony's asleep, finally."

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[clumsy_auror]

And at that, she lets out an audible whimper, and after a few moments deliberately pulls back.

"...I'm a bad person. I know this."

She starts extricating herself, cheeks flushed.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

He winces, and grabs her, pulling her down for once last kiss. "So am I."

[clumsy_auror]

"Mm. Well, at least we're well-matched."

A careful kiss, and then she rolls off the couch, visibly collecting herself and then picking up the laundry basket.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Another groan, very soft, and Bernard turns onto his stomach, hiding his red face in the cushion.

Foiled by children again. Foiled by the possibility of children.

Augh.

[clumsy_auror]

Biting her lip, and feeling a bit bad, Nymphadora walks down the hallway towards the bedroom.

There's no rush. None at all, really.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

No, there isn't.

Eventually, Bernard gets up, rubs his eyes tiredly, and sneak-attacks the Queen in her Office with Ellie as his accomplice. He is then recruited for a couple hours' play duty (he does a passable Captured Princess to Sunny's Kickass Pwince), until it's time to start dinner.

Roast chicken is easy.

Roast chicken is tasty.

Roast chicken is stunningly unerotic to prepare.

Clever Bernard.

[clumsy_auror]

Nymphadora helps, chopping up spinach and tomatoes for the salad whilst Anthony dozes in his sling.

"Are we out of dressing?" she asks, pulling her hair into a messy knot at the back of her head.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard nods, his hands covered in herbed butter that he's smoothing under the chicken's skin.

"You could make some. Quarter cup olive oil, quarter cup balsamic vinegar, teaspoon italian seasoning, whisk and set aside." He shrugs. It's easy.

[clumsy_auror]

"...Right." 'Dora grins suppresses an eyeroll at his ability to just rattle off recipes, of both the chemical and the edible sort, at random.

She sets to work fixing the dressing, jogging Anthony a bit when he gurgles up at her. "You're such a good helper, aren't you. Shall we add nuts to the salad? Yes?"

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard grins at the raw poultry as he sticks celery and carrots in the bird's body cavity, tying it up after. He turns to wash his hands before touching the pan.

"Did you preheat the oven?"

[clumsy_auror]

"Yep."

A kiss to his cheek, and then she carries the salad and dressing to the fridge.

"Anything else to go with?" she asks, scratching her nose and looking thoughtful.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"Hmm..." He pops the chicken in the oven and walks over to stand behind her, slipping his arms around her hips. He tickles Anthony's foot. "A starch, I think. Potatoes or sautéed parsnips and carrots?"

[clumsy_auror]

"Mmmm. Parsnips and carrots, I think. I can work on that. Anything herb-y to put with them while they cook?"

Anthony shouts quietly and kicks the heel of Bernard's hand, his own tiny fingers clutching the edge of the bright pink sling.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"Thyme, but not right away. It'll burn in the butter." He kisses the nape of her neck and catches Anthony's foot in his hand for a second, before turning to pull the plates and silverware out of the cupboard. "How long before you can have wine with dinner again?"

[clumsy_auror]

The witch sets the butter to melting in the pan, and pulls out a clean cutting board.

"I... reckon I could have a small glass of white, tonight. Anthony just ate, so. It'll be out of my system for the most part before he's hungry again."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Setting the table, "I'll uncork some when the chicken's done, then." Returning to the kitchen, he pulls the parsnips and carrots out of the crisper and starts to wash them for her. "What you want is to halve them longways, or quarter them if they're big like this one," he holds a massive parsnip up to illustrate, "but keep the pieces about three inches long so they stay firm in the butter but still cook through."

Juuuuuuuuuust smack him for pedantry. Anytime. Really.

[clumsy_auror]

A slightly fixed smile. "Honey?"

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"Hm?"

Oblivious.

[clumsy_auror]

"I think I can manage to sautee some vegetables on my own."

The man needs his own cooking show. Honest to God.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Except he'd take the cameras apart and make bombs out of them.

Mildly, "All right."

Woe betide her if they go all starchy!

[clumsy_auror]

"Go look in on Sunny. We'll be fine."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Again, mildly, "All right." He's done washing them, and sets them beside the cutting board, kissing her on the lips and zerberting Anthony's cheek as he passes by on his way out the door.

[clumsy_auror]

She watches him go and then shakes her head slightly, beginning to cut up the vegetables. "Your daddy means well," she whispers to Anthony, who looks up at the sound of her voice. "He's just a tiny bit overbearing, sometimes, when it comes to cooking."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Once in the living room, Bernard indulges in a massive eyeroll, and heads to his study, popping in to check on Sunny like Nymphadora asked.

Sunny and Hiss are in Serious Conference, however, and both turn to glare at him like he's eavesdropping when he sticks his head in.

He sighs.

"Dinner's in about two hours, kiddo."

Sunny nods, and, terrifyingly, Hiss bobs his head in what appears to be a nod as well.

Bernard escapes quickly, and disappears into his study.

[clumsy_auror]

The cooking goes quite well, for a time.

Then, when the parsnips and carrots are about half-done, she peeks in at the chicken.

Looks back at the vegetables.

Looks back at the chicken.

...Well, doesn't she feel like an idiot.

She goes back to the pan and pokes at it grumpily.

Thank Merlin for warming charms.