(no subject)

[clumsy_auror]

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.

Comments

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

He's late, and he knows he's late, but there was some sort of enormous cock-up and he didn't even get the letter until -

He's late, yes, but he's here.

Aziraphael opens the front door for himself but knocks lightly on the doorframe of the living room. She looks so tired, poor love.

[clumsy_auror]

The witch looks up, blinking. Then she scrambles to her feet and, smiling, catches him in a hug. "Am I ever glad to see you."

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

He presses a kiss to the top of her head, dark hair hiding his own small smile.

"I've missed you, dearest."

His arms are wrapped tightly around her, but not so tight as they would be. Careful.

[clumsy_auror]

"Missed you too." Her voice wavers slightly, and she holds on tightly to Aziraphael.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

He smooths back her hair tenderly.

"Do you need tea?"

Tea is the answer to all life's problems. Or, rather, it's something faintly useful he can do, some way he can keep his hands occupied.

[clumsy_auror]

A faint, ghost of a smile tugs at 'Dora's mouth. "Yeah, all right. I'll let you get me tea."

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"That really is very gracious of you, love."

He means it, too.

"Are you up for an expedition to the kitchen or would you rather be waited on hand and foot? I'm entirely at your disposal."

[clumsy_auror]

"I think I can manage the grueling journey."

Following Aziraphael into the kitchen, she leans against the counter and watches him assemble the necessary trappings.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"You are feeling all right?"

His back is to her as he fills the kettle at the sink, his head ducked slightly.

"There's nothing I can help with at all? I don't know how far - I mean - " he shrugs, slightly. "You are all right?"

[clumsy_auror]

"Only a few weeks. Four or five, at the most," 'Dora replies quietly, answering his half-asked question. "And I'll be all right. Feeling a bit tired. Apparently my iron count's a bit low." A mirthless smile.