milliways_bar | (no subject)

Current Mood: determined

(no subject)

*In the doorway, Crowley and a small blonde woman appear. She's holding tightly to his hand, but as soon as she's taken a seat in a booth he bows his head slightly, grinning, and heads to the bar. She watches him, chewing her lip thoughtfully*

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He's all right. We're going to meet this week and go through some of the files on the Italian Quidditch team together.

*He nods and glances at the table.*

Huh.

Is that Blonde on Blonde?

Oh! I nearly forgot. Yeah, it is.

*she hands the stack of CDs to him; all of Dylan's classic albums are there, including those released after 1974 that Bernard would have missed*

I had Crowley pick those up today. Just thought you might, um, be getting a bit tired of my music.

*she bites her lip and waits for his reaction, looking suddenly shy*

*His mouth drops open, and he slowly shuffles through the discs. When he finally looks up at her, he's flushed and grinning.*

Thanks.

*He puts them down carefully and leans forward to kiss her, hard.*

*She gasps, surprised, but almost immediately relaxes into the kiss. After several moments, she pulls away a few inches, grinning broadly*

You're very welcome.

I love you.

*He looks almost too happy for it to be just about the CDs.*

I love you, too.

*she beams back at him*

...Although I still maintain that sooner or later, the Weird Sisters will win you over completely. And U2.

Maybe.

Well, I like U2's earlier stuff. But they get all boring.

*Nymphadora puts a hand to her forehead, adopting a shocked look*

Blasphemy. Sure, the early stuff's amazing, but how can you ignore the beauty that is All That You Can't Leave Behind?

Philistine.

Yes. It's very pretty elevator music.

*very gravely*

I don't think I can be with a man who doesn't swoon with me over their brilliance.

*He's Stricken With Woe.*

Guess it's over, then.

We had a good run.

*she sighs heavily*

I knew it wasn't meant to be when you wouldn't let me put my official Adam Clayton Fanclub linens on the bed.

*He starts to reply, then stops, rather speechless.*

...God, that's terrifying.

*Tonks cackles*

*Glancing down at the sleeping Sunny, Bernard quickly stops Nymphadora's mouth with a kiss.*

*Still grinning, she kisses him back, her hand sliding up to the back of his neck and holding him close for a long moment*

Don't worry. She'd sleep through a hurricane.

I know. We got lucky there.

*He smiles at her, cupping her cheek for a moment, the weight of the ring (http://www.livejournal.com/community/milliways_bar/3292489.html?thread=129376841#t129376841) pressing against his leg.*

We sure did. She's a brilliant little thing, altogether.

*She grins back at him*

She is.

*Sitting there at the table with all four of them, laughing and just talking and sharing their days, while Sunny sleeps contentedly on, he's suddenly almost bowled over by a sense of rightness.

Of family.

It's inexpressible, really, so he does what he can. He leans forward to press a kiss to Sunny's baby-soft cheek, and then lifts his head and presses another soft kiss to Nymphadora's lips, lingering.*

*she kisses him back for a long moment and then lets her cheek slide against his; she murmurs in his ear*

So lucky.

*He nods, unable to really speak, and puts his arm around them both.*

*she settles against him, and then laughs softly*

Bit overwhelming, sometimes.

*He laughs, turning his head to kiss her cheek*

You're telling me. If someone'd told me in December what I'd have in February...

Well, frankly, I think I would have broken their nose for getting my hopes up.

I'm -- not sure what I would've done.

But I'd bet that passing out would have come into play at some point.

*she grins, brushing her nose against his cheek*