(no subject)

[clumsy_auror]

Since Bernard returned from visiting Raph, it's been quiet in the Tonks-Wrangle flat. Anthony had a fussy night, and Sunny was grumpy about Bernard's disappearance at bedtime. Nymphadora's tired, which accounts for part of the reason she's quiet; mostly, though, she's waiting for Bernard to talk to her.

That can sometimes take a while.

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[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard is in his study, sitting crosslegged on the floor at the coffee table by the sofa, with his sketchpad.

Every so often, he tears the current drawing out, balls it up, and pitches it into the fire, then starts over.

[clumsy_auror]

Sunday afternoons are for rest, and quiet, and catching up before the start of a new work week. So Nymphadora spends her time wandering through the flat, playing with the kids, folding laundry, picking up the clutter in the living room.

And every time she passes the study, she glances through the open door, and smiles tentatively at Bernard.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

He tends to glance up, just as she looks away, his expression half-hopeful, half-anxious.

This time, they catch each other.

He bites his lip, and tries to return the smile.

It's not the most successful thing ever.

[clumsy_auror]

Biting her lip, 'Dora leans against the door frame and crosses her arms.

"Hey. Was just gonna go heat up some of the mulled cider from last night. Want some?"

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Smile's a little bit better now. It's got a fighting chance. "Sure. Wanna come sit with me?"

[clumsy_auror]

"Sure. I'll be right back."

It doesn't take her long to cobble together two mugs of cider and a plate of biscuits on a tray, which she sets down beside Bernard upon her return to the study. Then she settles herself down and rests against the couch, sipping her cider quietly.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

He smiles again and sips the cider, then leans over to kiss her cheek.

The current drawing is... a mess. Completely unworkable, even to the untrained eye. Bits and bobs sticking out, about as uneconomical as possible.

He sighs, and scribbles in the margin suddenly, looking tired. Trying to salvage something from it.

[clumsy_auror]

She'd tell him to take a break, but 'Dora knows that's no good. He needs to work off the fidgety nervousness, and this is the best way.

Content to simply be with him, Nymphadora pulls a book off the coffee table and opens it.

Her hand finds its way to his thigh.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

The equations just don't balance, no matter what he does. Either he's missing information, or he's not got the right combination, or he's an idiot.

Bernard's inclined to think it's Door Number Three, today.

He lets out another, longer sigh, and drops his pencil, rubbing his eyes with one hand, and grabbing 'Dora's steady hand with the other.

"Jesus."

[clumsy_auror]

Her fingers twine automatically with his, and she glances up. "All right, love?"

She knows he's not, but figures it's nice to ask anyway.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"No," Bernard half-laughs, dropping his free hand.

He rips the drawing out of the book and pitches it into the fire with the rest.

"Can't fucking. Think right."

[clumsy_auror]

"Everybody has a day like that," Nymphadora replies quietly, and stretches a bit before briefly resting her head on Bernard's shoulder.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Another huffed laugh, harsher this time.

"I'm an idiot, did you know?"

[clumsy_auror]

The faintest of crinkles appears between her brows.

"Wanna tell me about it?"

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Slowly, Bernard draws his knees up until he can rest his eyes agasint them, breathing long and slow. He shakes his head, then talks anyway.

"Should be in jail."

[clumsy_auror]

"You think so?" she replies quietly, looking at him fully, now. "Why?"

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"I do think so," he answers, his voice soft, almost strangled. "I-- forget. I forgot completely, what it is to need privacy like that. It didn't occur to me--"

Another breath, and he lifts his face to stare at the far wall. "I don't close myself off from her -- I did, when I was thinking of leaving in May and June, for the battle. I closed off a huge chunk. But that was deception." He rubs his eye again, that nervous gesture turned shaky, unsure. "But, see, the door's never closed, and it doesn't even occur to me--"

He breaks off, unsure how to put it.

[clumsy_auror]

This isn't something Nymphadora understands. Not in the immediate way that Bernard and Bar and Mike do, anyhow. So she's quiet, sitting beside him, and simply lifts her free hand to rest at the back of his neck.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"It didn't even occur to me that-- being alone might be. Better. What he would really want. And I pushed too hard, and then I pushed really hard, and I'm so fucking ready to pile everyone I ever loved on my fucking back that I never stopped to ask him if he wanted it."

He finally turns to look at her, his eyes dry, but haunted.

"And. And fuck, he doesn't even blame me. Said he had it coming. What the fuck do I do?"

[clumsy_auror]

Silence, for a few moments. Then Nymphadora draws a deep breath.

"I think you need to maybe say all of that to him. To help him understand that you did it out of-- out of love, and a desire to help."

She ducks her head, thinking of another night just a year ago, of Wash's lifeless body on the floor of the bar, and of Bernard accidentally interrupting the flow of Moiraine's healing by trying to steady his friend.

"And I dunno what you ought to do. Would you feel that justice would be better served by you going back to the cells?"

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"How often is justice served by imprisonment?" he murmurs, shrugging. "I mean, he knows why, and it never occured to him to be upset, and he doesn't mind. He let me out. But I understand what was trespassed upon, even if he doesn't, or won't."

He facepalms, and almost laughs. "Raph is going to gut me and string a lute out of my small intestine.

[clumsy_auror]

A light shrug. "Maybe, maybe not. He's had his own share of communication troubles with Mike. I think Raph'll understand, maybe more than anyone, how strong the desire to just try and make Mike listen can be."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"Not an issue of him listening, 'Dora." His voice trembles, his tone slightly raised. "I didn't understand how he was, how he-- I'm an only child, and I never had older brothers to knock me around, you know?"

[clumsy_auror]

Quietly, "I do know, actually. I'm an only child as well."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"He didn't really. Didn't fight that hard. And I think it's because he." Bernard struggles to express it. "He's used to being pushed around. And I shouldn't have."