(no subject)

[clumsy_auror]

It's been one of those days.

One of those days where the kids are cranky, and no one likes what you made for dinner, and some ruddy git in the International Affairs office whines that your letter to the Bulgarian Ministry of Magical Defense was 'poorly worded,' and your husband is whistling, for Merlin's sake.

One of those days.

So after dinner Nymphadora holes herself up in the study, a strong cup of tea at her elbow and a pile of work in front of her on the desk.

Comments

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Suddenly, the whistling veers nearer, as Bernard puts some clean laundry in the linen closet in the bathroom.

It is the very worst sort of whistling, the kind that creates an earworm not because it's an infectious version of a song you know well, but because it's a horrendously out of tune version of your very favorite song in the world.

Yes.

Bernard is whistling "Mysterious Ways."

The only way one could tell that is if one knows that song so intrinsically that one knows the exact rhythm of the notes even without hearing the tune.

Because Nymphadora is most certainly not hearing the tune.

[clumsy_auror]

Involuntarily, she winces, and thanks the good Lord that the boys aren't here to witness their masterpiece being torn to a-melodic shreds.

However.

Nymphadora is determined to be kind, and therefore refrains from throwing anything at the wall.

Work, though, is becoming increasingly difficult to focus on.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Suddenly, Bernard switches to "Yesterday" by The Beatles.

Oh no he di'in't.

[clumsy_auror]

:O!!!!

With that, Nymphadora siezes her wand and points it through the crack in the door. "Silencio."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

The whistling abruptly stops, and is immediately followed by the clatter of the laundry basket on the floor.

Bernard bursts into the study, outraged.

What the fuck?! he mouths.

[clumsy_auror]

"Hmm?" The witch lifts her head and gives her husband an innocent look. "What's that, darling? I can't hear you."

You're damn right, she can't.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Fuming, Bernard shuts the door behind him and walks up to the desk, leaning over, both hands planted on its surface.

Glaring.

[clumsy_auror]

She's looking back down at her paperwork, now, quill scratching busily over the parchment, blissfully enjoying the silence.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard waits.

Waits quite some time.

Then, when her quill pauses for a moment, he snatches her parchment away from her and holds it up very high.

[clumsy_auror]

A roll of her eyes. Muggles. "Accio parchment."

Scratch, scratch goes the quill.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Shit.

Bernard casts about for something to throw at her.

Hm.

[clumsy_auror]

Nymphadora yawns, as she works. Hmmm. She could really go for some pie.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard gives up and flops on the couch.

Ooh.

A cushion flies at Nymphadora's head with deadly speed.

[clumsy_auror]

Thwack. "Ow! Bernard!"

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

He throws up his hands and shrugs.

Your own damn fault.

[clumsy_auror]

Finally, she relents.

But not before throwing the cushion back at him.

"Finite Incantatem,"" 'Dora says sulkily.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"Geez, Nymphadora!"

[clumsy_auror]

"What? You were making noise."

As if that's the worst thing anyone could ever do.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Scoffing, "No, I wasn't! I was putting your clean clothes away, and you're welcome."

[clumsy_auror]

Her head thunks down onto the desk.

"Fine, fine. I suck. Thank you, Bernard, for taking care of the laundry."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

He rolls his eyes and stands, walking around the back of her chair to rub her shoulders. "You don't suck."

[clumsy_auror]

"Well this day does," Nymphadora grumbles, wincing as his thumbs knead the knots in her shoulders. "Sucks like a-- a-- oh bollocks, I can't even think of a good simile."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"Like an anteater on cocaine?" he suggests.

[clumsy_auror]

Her eyes actually cross, as that mental picture comes into view.

"...Thank you. Um. Right."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard snickers and bends to kiss the crown of her head.

"Let's see. What can we do to make this day suck less?"