clumsy_auror | (no subject)

(no subject)

Distractions are a positive thing.

Books are somewhat helpful, but her attention keeps wandering; the television or music are even less effective. Doing something with her hands is a definite improvement, so Nymphadora's sitting on the couch with a scrap of fabric, a spool of thread, a needle, and her wand in her hand. She's practicing the sewing spells Molly taught her.

As a concession to Bernard's nerves, there's a blanket tucked around her legs, and a cup of tea on the table in front of her.

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As always with her, his hands have a mind of their own, and he's soon massaging the balls of her feet slowly. It gives him something to do.

"What do you think you'd like for dinner?"

"Considering how many baked goods you've plied me with today," 'Dora murmurs, arching an eyebrow, "it'll be a miracle if I'm hungry for it at all."

He rolls his eyes, one hands smoothing up her shin and back. "I hope you're not telling me to stop baking."

He needs to bake.

"No, not at all. Just don't expect me to eat all of it."

"I don't." The overflow'll end up out on Bar.

This is all a consequence of the link with Mike. God knows Bernard blames him for all the damn baking.

He casts an eye at her needlework. "How's it going?"

"Um. All right." 'Dora hands over the fabric swatch, which features a slightly uneven but presentable row of stitches. "I'm getting better."

A smile hovers over Bernard's mouth as his fingertip traces the stuttering line of stitches. "Good." He hands it back to her, eyeing the space between her side and the back of the couch. "Mind if I lie down next to you?"

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "'Course not. Just don't let your cookies burn."

"Got the timer set." He smiles and crawls down the couch, settling his head on the bit of pillow sticking out by her ribs, his arm snaking around her. He lets out a long sigh.

"Know what the best time of the day besides bedtime is?"

Her arm automatically wraps around him, and she kisses the top of his head. "What?"

"Nnnnnnnnnnnaptime," he declares emphatically, nuzzling his nose into her side. "So quiet."

"I swear, you're actually a bear, or a-- a hedgehog, or some other thing that spends the whole winter sleeping."

There is muffled grumbling.

"'M not."

"You are. Given any opportunity at all, you'll curl up into a ball and start snoring." Gently she tugs on his ear.

"'S winter. I feel sleepy," he replies batting at her hand and catching it in his. "Don't you feel sleepy? It's cold out. Sleepmaking."

She makes a soft noise; in another existence, it would've been a laugh.

"Guess so. Just not so much 's you."

"'S why I try not to lie down in the afternoons too much. Dinner'd never got done." He yawns, his mouth opening wide. "Just sleep the day away. Week. Month. Season. Wake me when it's April."

"I'd let you, but I'd miss you too much." A pause. "Oh dear. That was horribly mushy. No, go on then, hibernate to your heart's content."

There is a pause, then Bernard lifts his head. He's grinning.

"Why would I want to hibernate? I'd miss you being mushy at me."

Her eyes crinkle just a bit as she smiles, wider than she has at any point in the last twenty-four hours or so.

"All right, then."

"All right, then," he echoes, leaning up to press his mouth to hers. He hasn't kissed her since yesterday; not by design, but because, for one reason or another, it just didn't seem like the right time.

Distance can be good. Or, rather, it can be very necessary.

It's a brief, closed-mouth kiss, and 'Dora's eyes only shutter closed for a second. The smile fades by the time Bernard pulls back, because a flash of something -- guilt? -- jolts her.

Bernard's brow furrows.

"What?"

Maybe even this wasn't the right time.

But 'Dora shakes her head, and smiles wanly at him. "Nothing. Just feel all off-kilter."

He nods, shifting up so that they're a little closer. "Yeah. Kind of to be expected."