I’m joking. Of course I trust you.
Do you, uhm, do you need anything? How do you feel? What would you like to eat tonight?
Shhh. Stop talking like that. Now, are you going to tell me how your day was or am I going to have to ask everyone in Hogsmeade what you’ve been up to?
*quickly* No, you don’t have to do that. *clears her throat* I was around. Trying to distract myself, yeah? Nothing too special. Mostly just missing you.
I know, but I’m here, and I’m okay. I promise I won’t die on you.
You can’t promise that for sure. I dunno what I’d do without you.
I got called to go, love. I had to. I’m sorry.
*sniffles and glares at him* Couldn’t you have said no? They’re dangerous, Jamie! I’ve been telling you!
Cut the right side of my face off, destroyed my left hand, suffering from internal bleeding, broke part of my right leg, had to take something for the cruciatus curse, and various bruises, scratches, and cuts everywhere. Lovely. I just got out of St. Mungo’s, but I still feel like shit. Apparently I’ll have scars for the next few weeks. How’s everyone else doing?
That’s what you bloody well get for going when you promised your wife you wouldn’t.
Sometimes James had to bring his work home with him. It was part of being an auror. Work never truly left him. Since he got home he had been in the small bedroom going over muggle disappearances and murders. There was a chance that they could have been caused by the dementia, and if that was the case the ministry had to know. The only problem was that they could also be muggles attacking other muggles. He needed to figure out which it was. James sighed, ran a hand threw his hair, and circled a shadowy figure on a photograph. The red ink stood out against the muggle newspaper’s ink. He moved the photograph to the side and circled a similar looking figure in another photograph. The two photographs were taken at opposite sides of the country, and the figure looked incredibly similar. It had to be a dementia if it was the same person.
Just as he was about to turn and grab another photograph he felt the warm and gentle touch of Nadine’s lips on his neck. A shadow of a smile appeared on his own lips. James took off his glasses and put them back in their case, “Yeah. It can. What’re we having?” The scent of the food had filled their home, but James couldn’t quite place it. He walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. The flat wasn’t large enough to have a dining room, so they put a table in the kitchen. James gave the stove half a glance and hopped up onto one of the counters to sit on. He watched Nadine a few moments before speaking, “It’s quiet.”
"We are having stuffed pork chops, with some seasoned potatoes on the side," she told him as they walked into the kitchen. When James hopped up onto one of the counters, she put her hands on his knees, using them as leverage to hoist herself up for a kiss. Like he wasn’t already too tall, now he had to go sitting on counters and leaving her on the floor.
"If it’s too quiet, you can talk to me," she offered, moving one hand to slide her fingers into his hair, standing on her tip-toes with her face still pleasantly close to that of her husband, "I’m always here to listen. Except if the only thing on your mind is how much you hate my brother or plans to murder my cat. Then I don’t want to hear that. But anything else…" She trailed off, gently tugging on a lock of his hair she had trapped between two fingers.
"Or if you don’t want to talk, I could tell you how dreadfully uncomfortable it was running into that Yeaun man at the bookstore the other day. Or how Victoire and I are planning to take you to a club and see how drunk we can get you." Nadine smiled at him, thinking of things to discuss to fill the silence. Not that it particularly bothered her, but if he had a lot on his mind… well, she could understand that. Talking about anything helped relieve the anxiety of troubling times at hand.
Finally, someone who agrees.
I think I’m a bit of an addict at times, to be honest. It’s my downfall. Doesn’t really matter what I’m shopping for - I just love it.
They can’t believe that you’re actually that perfect to the point where they think your face is lying.
This is really the only logical explanation.
I’m afraid I have no idea to what you’re referring.
Dinner was in the oven, there was no laundry to be done, Apfel was asleep and Echo was nowhere to be found. For once, there was absolutely nothing to be done around the house, and it was deathly quiet. Quiet was an adjective never used to describe the Potter household when James was home, and Nadine was fairly certain he was - unless he had snuck out or was passed out somewhere. She was on her way to check the bedroom when she saw him hunched over a pile of papers in the small guest bedroom that had been slowly turned into a study. He was just sitting there silently, documents strewn everywhere and stacks of books on the desk and floor.
After standing in the doorway for a moment, Nadine strode into the room, noticing that the case for his reading glasses lay open on a bookshelf, and put her hands on his shoulders, leaning down to press a kiss into his neck.
"Can this wait until after we’ve eaten?" she asked softly, craning her neck to get a good look at his face in the glasses he loathed so much. She didn’t know why people insisted on commenting on how much he looked like his father and grandfather in them - he really didn’t. He looked like himself.
“It’s fine,” Twynn murmured, his eyes focusing on the woman who had fallen onto him. “Nadine?” he stuttered in a low voice as he gently pushed the brunette off of his chest. “I haven’t seen you around here in a while. Although maybe that’s just my work schedule getting in the way.”
He lifted himself to his feet, using a nearby mahogany bookshelf to steady his legs. Twynn then extended an arm to Nadine, keeping his face stone like as he offered her help.
“Need a hand?” he asked, his voice stained with fake politeness.
When her vision finally cleared, she looked up to see that she had fallen right into Twynn. Fantastic. Out of everyone she could run into - quite literally, unfortunately for both people involved - it had to be Twynn. She forced a smile and took his arm to steady herself, then quickly withdrew her hand and brushed off her skirt again, looking up to flash what she hoped was a more convincing smile. Not that her distain for him was something she kept hidden, but it was always better to make an effort.
"Who, me? No, I’m fine. Just having a bit off an off day I suppose. Wouldn’t want to bother you - I’m sure you have more important things to be doing than going around rescuing damsels in distress." What was the line from that Muggle animation Kennedy had shown her? I’m a damsel, I’m in distress, I can handle this. Have a nice day. She should get that printed on a shirt for herself, Nadine supposed, reaching up to run her fingers through her hair quickly - a terrible nervous habit she had been trying to break for quite some time.
"As far as you not seeing me here, I’ve been ‘round quite often, actually. This is one of my favorite places. I’ve just been coming at weird times. I can assure you the business won’t go downhill on my account."