A/N: For the lovely Ash.
i.
"Good afternoon, Madam Bones," he says, a grin on his lips he approaches. "Has anyone told you that you look particularly radiant today?"
Amelia tries to keep a straight, serious face, but her lips twitch into a smile. "Is that how you catch so many criminals, Dawlish?" she asks, folding her arms over her chest. "You flatter them into submission?"
Her response only seems to make him bolder. His grin broadens until she fears it might split his face. "Why? Is it working?"
"I have a hearing to attend, John," she says impatiently. "Move along."
"I'm not going to quit trying, you know," he says, giving a small bow before moving past her.
ii.
"You look like you need a drink," John says.
Amelia sighs, slumping forward. It's an understatement, really. After sitting through so many dark wizard trials, she's reasonably sure she could drink an entire pub dry. "I'm fine, thanks."
"You're not fooling anyone. Come on, Amelia. One drink."
She shakes her head. Tempting as it might be, she can't bring herself to accept his offer. "There's too much to do tonight."
"Tomorrow night?"
"No."
She wonders how her rejection doesn't seem to affect him. He still smiles, still remains casual and polite. Most men would have given up after three straight years of being turned down. But not John. "Some other time," he says brightly, bowing his head before heading down the corridor.
iii.
"Well," he says, leaning against her desk. "It's over. You-Know-Who is gone."
"It would seem so."
"One drink, Amelia. That's all I'm asking. What's there to lose?"
She's often asked herself that question. Where's the risk in saying yes, in giving him a chance? But, as she's done countless times before, she shakes her head. "I'm sorry, John. I don't think so."
For the first time in his pursuit, she sees his smile fall. "Right, then. I'll just be going."
iv.
"Do you believe You-Know-Who is back?" she asks.
John glances over his shoulder as though afraid someone might be listening in. Of course, as close as he is to Fudge, his paranoia is justified. "Between you and me? Yes."
Amelia shudders. She's worried about it, but, somehow, hearing it from John makes it more real. "John?"
"Yeah?"
"I think I could use that drink now."
v.
She falls into his arms, laughing and smiling. It's strange how, after only a year, John has become so warm, so familiar. "I have to go," she murmurs, kissing him gently. "Work-"
"We work in the same place," he reminds her with a soft chuckle. "We can arrive together."
"I'm not sure if that's appropriate," she says, leaning in and pecking his lips again. "Tomorrow. I'll make that pasta you like."
John holds her closer, unwilling to let go. "Tomorrow," he says, finally opening his arms and kissing the top of her head before watching her disappear out the door.
.
Tomorrow, as he sits down for his second cup of coffee, he'll hear the news, and he'll know that he'll never see Amelia waltzing into his house again.