(no subject)

[clumsy_auror]

Dear Bernard,

Well, I finally have the chance to sit down and write you -- or lie down, more like, with Sunny curled up asleep next to me. Anthony's just had his eleven o'clock feeding, and is not quite ready to settle down, seemingly. I think he's not overly used to the room yet, though at least Sunny and I are here keeping him company.

We had a really nice day. Went to a quiet little meadow lost to London Above centuries ago and had a bit of a picnic and playtime. Sunny wore herself out twirling, again, and I won Mummy of the Day by spouting bubbles from my wand. I'm so talented, no?

Miss you, sweetheart. All three of us do. Hope everything's staying quiet, and I really hope this isn't for long, because I want to be with you.

If I were a good wife, I'd tell you to get a good night's sleep. But I'm not a good wife, so instead I'll tell you to write me. Now.

Yes, I'm impatient.

Love,
'Dora

Comments

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Nymphadora,

Hestia woke me up. Here I was, successfully ignoring your absence by sleeping the evening away, and you screwed it all up.

Dammit. Now I'm awake and I have to think, and you know all I can think about is how much I miss you.

I miss your skin. I miss the way it feels under my fingertips, and how it lights up when you blush, all sudden pinks bubbling forward, staining the creamy palette of your cheeks, your slender neck.

You've barely been gone a day, and I feel as if you've been gone for a month. How is that possible?

I've been staying clear of the bar, a bit. Just was in and out to the kitchens today, gauging how things were. It wasn't too bad, so far. People seem... tense. I don't know. Maybe I'm paranoid.

Maybe I'm just pissed off because I can't really do anything but ride it out.

Glad you had a nice day, though. Give Sunny a kiss and a squash for me, and threaten Anthony with dire consequences if he spits up on you. And a kiss for him as well, of course.

And a hell of a lot more than one kiss for you. You have no idea the level of trouble you're in, leaving me here to devise new methods of driving you fucking crazy.

And I'm a terrible husband, because I'd much rather you write me back rather than sleep as you should.

I love you.

--Bernard

[clumsy_auror]

Bernard,

Well, I thought I'd been having a good day, but it just got that much better when Hestia flew back in through the painting with your letter, all for me!

Sunny stirred a bit, just now -- Hestia brushed her shoulder with her feathers when she landed -- and now she's doing that funny thing where she rubs her nose in her sleep. She's so beautiful. And getting so big, I can hardly believe it. Practically a little girl, now.

How is it your letters always make me feel quite this giddy? Not to mention pretty. You make me feel pretty, Bernard, and that's no small thing. And as for what I miss... your hands, I think. The shape of them, and the way they move when you talk. Of course I'm a fan of many other uses for your hands, but somehow writing about those with our children sleeping around me makes me snicker.

--Oh, damn. Spoke to soon. Anthony's awake, now, but only slightly, and he seems content to be held in one of my arms whilst I write with the other. I think he almost laughed, today, which I'm hoping he holds off on until we get home, because I want you to hear it the first time, too. He's smiling more fully every day, I think. Getting bigger, too. He's gonna be tall, this one, but then I didn't reckon he'd escape that with our genetics.

So are you keeping a list, then, of things with which to drive me insane? I look forward to ticking everything off.

Love you.

N.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Nymphadora,

You are pretty, and always have been. I'll never forget Halloween last year, not for the obvious reason, but because while I had seen your face before, when you were hurt, it was something else entirely to carry on a conversation with you, to try to hide how looking at you was like a slap to the face and a shot of fine tequila and the sulfurous spark of a lighting match, all at once. You make me... No, that's it.

You make me.

All three of you do, but you most of all.

Sunny is getting big. Once she drops the babytalk once and for all, I'm not quite sure what I'll do with myself. Probably lock myself in the study and start devising torture methods for her future suitors. God, that'll be fun.

As for Anthony, with his coloring and probable height, I wouldn't be at all surprised if he ends up looking more like Sirius and Regulus than anyone else. Which wouldn't be a bad thing for him, to be sure.

I'll always hold out hope for a redhead in the future, though. I refuse to be outnumbered by brunettes. (Blondes don't count. They're in a class of their own.)

I wonder, should I start to keep an actual, physical list? Maybe I'll take a cue from Mike and keep it on a stack of napkins. Leave it around for hte kids to find in twenty years, leaving them irrevocably scarred.

The idea has merit.

Think I'm gonna attempt to turn in again. The bed seems pretty huge, and the pillows smell like you.

I miss you.

I love you.

--Bernard

[clumsy_auror]

Bernard,

I'll keep it short, since you're heading to sleep, and so should I.

I miss you too, and I love you, and Merlin's beard we're a couple of right saps. That's okay. I've been called far worse.

Enjoy the big bed (egad! Our daughter's a kicker!) and give Ellie a skritch for me.

Sleep well.

Nymphadora