Chapter 1

Draco stood in a brooding silence, gazing out across the Muggle London skyline. It was early, not even 4pm, but the sun was setting in the distance and the winter air was biting against the skin.

"Mr Malfoy? Your 4.15 is here," his assistant prompted, hovering awkwardly in the doorway to his office.

"Send them in," Malfoy replied impassively, not at all looking forward to the forthcoming conversation. He didn't usually agree to take on divorces, preferring instead to stick to criminal law, but his firm hadn't been able to pass up the opportunity to handle such a high-profile case.

He heard the click of heels on the floor and stiffened a little, finally turning to look at the woman who had entered. "You're early," he pointed out churlishly, not really knowing why it bothered him. When she rolled her eyes at his predictable reply, he took advantage to sweep his gaze over her appearance. They were both 24, now, and she had certainly aged well.

Her features had lost all of their childish roundness, leaving her sculpted and lean, something which was only further highlighted by her modest yet flattering attire. She wore a deep purple blouse that reached to her upper thighs - tight, chiffon and translucent – with a white silk camisole beneath. On her legs were figure-hugging black leggings, with 4-inch purple Mary Jane heels on her feet and a large leather handbag in the crook of her elbow. He wasn't really sure why he was so surprised with her appearance, but he hadn't expected her to look so appealing. Her hair was very short, cropped in a delicate pixie cut, and she wore a minimal amount of makeup on her tanned skin.

To his surprise, she looked every inch the confident and powerful woman that her reputation claimed she was, and yet... His brain was having trouble reconciling the attractive, calm and collected Hermione Weasley standing before him to the frizzy haired, volatile Hermione Granger of their youth.

"I thought it best to get this over and done with," she replied archly, a familiar edge to her voice, "And, if I recall, I specifically asked for a seasoned attorney, which you are not." In truth, Hermione had been pacing outside of the offices for almost half an hour, trying to summon the strength to face her childhood rival-come-divorce lawyer.

Draco bristled at her tone and squared his shoulders, gritting his teeth even as he managed a cordial reply. "Let me assure you, Miss Granger, I am fully versed in the concept of divorce."

"Yes," Hermione said, clearly amused by his internal struggle. "If memory serves, you have some personal experience in that area, don't you?"

"We're not here to discuss my private life," he retorted stiffly.

"No, we're not," she agreed, giving him an apologetic look, "We are here to dissolve my sham of a marriage." She opened her oversized handbag and produced a large file, slamming it down onto his desk and walking to the window.

"We are certainly here to try," he agreed, slipping his pointer finger under the cover of the file and gingerly opening it.

"I took the liberty of compiling it myself. Family law is one of my specialties," Hermione said over her shoulder, sighing as she admired the view from Draco's office.

He shook his head in disgust as a couple of the more prominent complaints jumped out at him from the first page. Adultery. Proof of illicit activities within the marital home. Illegitimate child conception. Desertion. Unreasonable behaviour. Draco snorted at the last one - talk about stating the obvious. "You've saved me a lot of time," he offered her, more grateful than he wanted to admit. He'd done divorces before, but they weren't much to his taste.

He sighed and shook his head again; Weasley was a fucking idiot. The file was almost an inch thick – unusual for a run of the mill divorce case – and Draco blanched when he realised that the majority of the pages showed the afore mentioned evidence of said 'illicit activities'. He winced again when, turning the page, he found the pre-nuptial agreement, with certain passages circled rather enthusiastically in red ink in typical Hermione fashion. "Does Weasley know that you're going to take him to the cleaners?"

She snorted then, and he swivelled in his chair, eying her with amusement as she shrugged. "He does now." She reached up and raked a hand through her hair. It was a lot shorter, now, a la Rosemary's Baby, and probably shorter than Draco's own. "In any case, I don't care about the money. I have my own money – probably more than he has. I just don't want to be married to him anymore."

"The terms of the pre-nuptial agreement might state that he is entitled to some of that money," Draco said cautiously, perusing through the thick file with interest.

Hermione shook her head calmly. "He is the one who cheated. He is the one who got caught. He is the one who impregnated his mistress. Believe me, that pre-nup is iron clad. I wrote it myself. He won't be getting a penny of my inheritance." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I just can't believe I'm twenty four and getting divorced."

"I still can't believe you married him in the first place."

She sighed. "Neither can I, to be honest. Don't know what I was thinking. It's funny, really... The day I married him, I was panicking. I knew then that it was a bad idea. But my parents convinced me it was last minute nerves and I went through with it. Probably didn't help that I was three months pregnant at the time." She glanced at her watch, then, and pulled a face. "That being said, we need to make this quick. I have to pick Rose up from my mum's soon."

"Are you agreeing to Weasley's request of joint custody?"

Hermione nodded. "I want supervised contact at Molly's for the time being. I'm not entirely thrilled about timesharing my child, but I'm not going to deprive Rose of her father's company just because he was a terrible husband."

Draco jotted something down on the paper in front of him. "How's she taking it?"

"She's so confused by it all," Hermione admitted softly, "She's been having nightmares. She had her first magical display the other day, you know." Hermione smiled in satisfaction as Draco also made a note of this information. "She had a tantrum and made the kettle explode."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "How old is she now, five?"

"Three and a half," Hermione corrected. "The stress of not seeing Ron as much is getting to her, I think. And every time she comes back from visiting him she is in an awful temper. I said to her, the other day, 'Now, Rose, if you don't calm down, I won't take you to the zoo tomorrow'. And do you know what she said? She put her hand on my shoulder and said 'Yes you will, mummy, because the elephants always make you smile when daddy makes you sad'. It's frightening how observant she is."

"She sounds a lot like you."

"More than I like to admit," she replied, a wry smile on her face, "It's not always a good thing. She has more of me than Ron in her, though. But she certainly has his lack of subtlety."

Draco closed the file. "You're different than you used to be." Internally, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing. He looked back with fondness on their adolescent verbal sparring – she was the only one who could constantly outwit him - and, especially after the death of Voldemort, he respected her, in spite of the waffle that his father had tried to fill his head with.

"Not by choice," Hermione murmured, sitting down in the chair across from him for the first time since entering his office. "It's just all of this. And Merlin only knows how I'm supposed to explain to a three year old that her daddy is having a baby with a woman who most definitely isn't her mummy."

"Ah, yes, I had quite forgotten Parkinson's involvement."

At the mention of her name, Hermione stiffened. "Wish I could. When I close my eyes, I see them together. On our bed, on our couch, in my fucking house; they're everywhere. I normally abhor violence, but... Let's just say that it's lucky for her that she's four months pregnant, otherwise I would have done my best to rearrange her face." She looked up at him, angry tears in her eyes. "Do you know how I found out about the affair? Rose and I were walking in Diagon Alley... You might want to write this down, by the way... We'd stopped to pick up a present for Ron's birthday, and Rose pointed to Pansy and said 'Look, mummy - daddy says that's my other mummy'. Obviously I thought she was just being silly, but then Rose said that Ron had taken her to Pansy's – and brought Pansy to our house - quite a few times, and that she'd seen them 'kissing on the mouth'. Out of the mouths of babes, eh?"

"Weasley is a dickhead," Draco stated with a careless shrug, having done what she had requested and written down how much the three year old was being affected by the divorce. "You'll be a free woman in a few weeks – try to chill out a bit. Wait until he's babysitting and go out with your mates. Get wasted, go shopping, you know; relax."

"A father should not have to babysit their own child," Hermione practically growled, "And if I find out that Parkinson has been anywhere near my daughter with her stupid fucking pureblood supremacist bullshit..." She took a calming breath, closing her eyes as she counted to ten. "Don't get me wrong, I know that she'll have to spend time with her eventually, I just don't want Rose confused any more than she already is. I'm going to make this as easy as possible on her, even if that means I eventually have to be civil to Parkinson in front of her. But you had better make damn sure that Ron won't be able to take Rose within fifty feet of that woman for at least the first three months after this divorce. Rose is a clever girl, but she's still a baby, really, and she needs time to adjust. I'm not going to see her get hurt because Ron can't keep his dick in his pants."

"Noted." Draco titled his head thoughtfully. "You look like you really need a drink, Grang- Hermi- Weasl... What the fuck am I supposed to call you?"

"Hermione is fine," she replied with a small smile, "I didn't change my name to Weasley in the first place, and I insisted that Rose have both surnames. Is it wrong that I'm glad my daughter introduces herself as Roseanne Granger?"

Draco smirked. "Let's just say that if any woman had my child and didn't give said child my surname, I wouldn't be impressed."

"Ron didn't protest overmuch," Hermione mused. She stood and picked up her bag, hiking her tote over her shoulder. "I should go now. Thursday is lasagne night at my mums and I am bloody starving."

"Should we make another appointment?"

Hermione pulled a face. "Just get me divorced. I don't care about any money or petty disputes over what belongs to whom. Just secure Rose's rights and make it so Pansy can't get near her for at least three months. I'll need you to sort out a childcare schedule for the next two years – holidays, birthdays, important events, all of it – whatever works for Ron, as long as I get every third full weekend and at least one other Friday to myself per month, and I want her to wake up at my house on alternate birthdays and Christmases. If you can do all of that, and ensure that her inheritance is guaranteed, and I will be happy. The house is in my dad's name, so Ron can't touch it, and the infidelity clause in the pre-nup means he can't access to any of my fortune anyway. He can have whatever he wants, just not the house, the cat or my books. I don't need child maintenance from him but he should contribute something, so if he does agree to pay towards his daughter's upbringing it can all go into a Gringotts account until she starts school, and then she can use it to buy treats at Hogsmeade weekends or something. I don't care."

She thought for a moment, and then continued. "I also want you to make sure that he can't take her on holiday in without my first being informed of the length and the destination at least three weeks prior, he has to agree that I am taking her to buy her first wand when she is 11 – with or without him – and he isn't to turn up anywhere where Rose is unless it is an emergency or has been agreed beforehand. I will decide what constitutes an appropriate emergency; I'm not having him taking the piss out of me. He's also not allowed to make any objections to any childcare arrangements that I make and I will swear to observe the same principle, so long as he doesn't leave Rose with someone who I don't trust."

"He might ask for full custody," Draco said gently, "Since you have such a demanding job."

Smiling dangerously, Hermione placed a manicured hand on her hip. "If he goes for full custody, you will destroy him. I'm willing to be amicable, for Rose's sake, but if he dares to make this personal, I have plenty of information about his parenting skills that would work against him. He's not a danger to Rose, but he can't cope on his own."

Draco frowned. "And that's the reason that you're insisting on supervised contact?"

"Yes. Look, you have my number. If he puts up a fight, just gently remind him that I have photographs of his indiscretions, alright? And if he shows up outside of her preschool or at my house without me agreeing to it, I reserve the right to revoke all contact until further notice. I'm not going to be intimidated by him or his bloody family."

"I thought you were friendly with the Weasley clan."

"I was," Hermione snorted, "Until I decided to divorce their son. To be honest, they're all on my side, but they can be a bit overwhelming. Rose loves spending time with Ron's family, but she always comes home hyperactive and wound up. I want to keep her visits with them to a weekly occurrence for the time being; these past few weeks she's been going to the Burrow on Monday mornings and then Molly drops her off at my mum's on Tuesday afternoon, and I'm happy with that. They're all doing their bit to help with the childcare, especially since Ron's fucking disappeared." In her voluminous handbag, Hermione's cell phone chirped, and she sighed. "I really have to go now. Thanks for today, Malfoy."

Upon seeing that her mother had entered the house, Roseanne Granger threw down her toys and ran towards her. "Mummy! You're here! I missed you. I was scared."

Hermione frowned and picked up her daughter, balancing her on her hip and ruffling her hair. Rose had been fortunate enough to receive a tamed-down version of both Ron and Hermione's hair; auburn compared to Ron's orange, gentle and loose curls as opposed to Hermione's tangled mass. She had Ron's pale colouring, but Hermione's features and grace. She was nimble and athletic, with a metabolism that thankfully matched her mammoth appetite, and shared her mother's thirst for knowledge. She had an impressive vocabulary for a three year old, could already recognise written ABC's and had a good grasp on numbers thanks to her placement in a Muggle pre-school.

"Hello, my darling," Hermione replied, her brow furrowing in concern when Rose pressed her face into her chest. "What's wrong, sweet?"

"Daddy came round," was the muffled reply, "He shouted at Nana."

Hermione stiffened, but gently lifted Rose's chin so she could look into her eyes. "Daddy was just upset because he didn't see you yesterday."

"He said bad words," Rose sniffed, "It was scary. Papa told him to go home."

"Your Papa is very smart."

Rose relaxed and wrapped her arms around Hermione's neck, smiling for the first time since Hermione had arrived. "Not as smart as you, mummy," Rose whispered, her eyelids drooping. "I didn't have a nap today. I'm sorry."

Hermione hugged her daughter to her. "That's okay. Me and you can have a nice bath and go to bed early, if that's alright with you? I'm very tired, you don't mind, do you?" Knowing her daughter as she did, Hermione was well aware that Rose would dig her heels in if told that she had to go to sleep earlier than her designated bedtime of 7pm... But she also knew that her daughter would be very agreeable to an early night if she thought it was because her mummy was tired.

"That's fine," Rose replied, with wisdom reminiscent of Hermione's mother. "But you have to make me French toast for breakfast."

"I think I can agree to that."

Rose nodded in satisfaction. "Good."

"How old is she, again?" Hermione's father asked, entering the living room, "Three, or Twenty three?"

"I'm three," Rose stated, as if he was being ridiculous. "And I get to have French toast for my breakfast, Papa," she added proudly, reaching out to her granddad. He pulled her from Hermione's arms and jerked his chin towards the kitchen, indicating that her mother wanted her.

"Do you, really?" Robert Granger replied in awe, "You lucky thing! Do you think there'll be enough for me?"

...

Now shaking with anger, Hermione approached her mother and closed the kitchen door behind her. "What happened?"

Jean turned to embrace her daughter. "He turned up here, about an hour ago, shouting his head off about how you had no rights to stop him seeing Rose."

"I haven't said he can't see her," Hermione said with a frustrated sigh, "I said that his mum has to be there when he does. You know what happened the last time I left Rose with him! He left her in the bath on her own, buggered off downstairs and fell asleep on the couch! It was lucky that I was only out of the house for ten minutes – she could have drowned! Or gone into the bathroom cabinet and taken goodness knows what! Or fell down the stairs! Or scalded herself on the hot water faucet! He can't be trusted to watch her on his own, not until she's older and less... breakable."

"I know, I know."

Hermione leaned her head back against the wall. "Did he ask to see Rose?"

Jean nodded. "Your father wouldn't let him in. Rose was half asleep, anyway, and Ron had been drinking. He threatened Robert with his wand, but then Harry appeared beside him and dragged him off down the street."

Hermione's hands twisted into claws. "He drew his wand on dad? In front of Rose?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to kill him," Hermione replied calmly, pushing up her sleeves and taking out her earrings. "And I won't use my bloody wand, either. Watch Rose for a bit longer, will you?"

"Mummy! You can't go now! Tea's nearly ready!" her daughter called with a laugh, bursting into the kitchen and clinging to Hermione's legs. "And you owe me a sickle for saying a bad word."

In spite of her current bad temper, Hermione smiled at her daughter. "How about we forget the sickle and we'll have a special tea tomorrow night, instead?"

"Can we have pasketti bolognaise?!"

"Spaghetti bolognaise," Jean corrected gently, placing a hand atop Rose's head.

"We can have whatever you want," Hermione promised her. "Mum, I'm just going to make a quick phone call whilst you dish up, alright?"

"Dinner is in ten minutes, so be quick. Rose, why don't you help your Papa tidy up the toys in the living room?"

Pouting slightly, Rose took her grandfather's hand and led him into the living room, diligently informing him of the correct way to pack away her toys in the organised way that her mummy liked.

Hermione plonked her handbag down onto the kitchen counter and rummaged around for a moment, nodding triumphantly when she managed to locate her cell phone. She stepped out into the yard, shivering in the autumn breeze, and quickly found Harry's number. He answered on the first ring.

"Hermione..."

"Don't!" she hissed, "What the fuck was he doing outside of my parent's house? He fucking terrified our child and threatened my father!" She heard shuffling in the background. "Harry Potter, so help me..."

"He got a phone call from his lawyer, who had just received a phone call from Draco Malfoy. Apparently he's not allowed to see Rose without supervision," Harry recalled with an apologetic sigh.

"He's not allowed to see Rose without supervision because he's not responsible enough to take care of a child, which he made clear today when he pointed his wand at my dad's throat!"

Harry sighed again. "He was upset."

"By all accounts, he was drunk as well," Hermione spat, "He's lucky that I'm still letting him see her at all! Turning up here and shouting the odds like he fucking owns the place – who does he think he is?!"

There was a scuffle at the other end. "Listen here, Hermione; Rosie is my daughter too, you can't stop me from seeing her! She's not a weapon!"

"I'm not stopping you from seeing her," Hermione replied, clenching her jaw, "It's not an unreasonable request to wish that my child's father be sober and coherent when visiting her! By all means, see her as much as you like, just arrange it with me first! And make sure there's someone else there! My mother, yours, I don't care! But you are not capable of looking after a toddler by yourself!"

Ron groaned. "For fuck's sake, Hermione..."

"Don't you dare and swear at me, Ronald."

"When where you going to tell me that Malfoy was your fucking divorce lawyer?!"

Hermione bristled. "Why on earth would I tell you? It doesn't matter who my attorney is, you prat! Just stay away from Rose, alright? She's scared of you, now, thanks to your little stunt today. And my parents are less than impressed with you. What happened to 'being civil and polite'?"

"Pansy thought..."

Ron didn't get to finish his statement. "I don't give a flying fuck what Pansy thinks!" Hermione shrieked, "Rose is our daughter, not Pansy's. Pansy's opinion is fucking irrelevant! And if you ever point your wand at my father again, I swear on our child that I will personally see to it that you end up in Azkaban! Do you understand me?"

Ron sighed. "Yeah, okay. Tell your dad I'm sorry. And give Rosie a cuddle from me, please. I didn't mean to scare her, honest I didn't."

"You're a mess, Ron," she said, reluctantly taking the moral high ground, "Get yourself together. You have a child to think about, and another one on the way. Rose will be at your mums on Monday if you want to see her. Do not take Pansy – Malfoy has made it perfectly clear to your mother that Pansy is not to be allowed to see Rose until I give the ok. If you do take Pansy, I'll collect Rose immediately. I don't want our daughter around her until I know you're serious about being with her. I'm not having her getting attached to someone if she's just a fling."

"Pansy and I are having a child together," Ron pointed out, and Hermione scoffed.

"Oh, yes, because an accidental pregnancy is the very definition of a committed relationship."

"Hermione..."

"Right. Sorry - it's none of my business. Anyway, the next time you see Rose, you tell her that you're sorry for upsetting her. And when your mum brings Rose here next Tuesday, I suggest you come along and apologise to my parents for your actions. My mum likes tulips – it will help your cause if you bring her some. Like it or not, you need to be on good terms with everyone connected to Rose, for her sake if for nothing else." Hermione shook her head, angry at herself for calming down. She was furious with Ron, and yet she knew she had to stay on speaking terms with him. It was difficult – especially when all she wanted to do was cut him out of her life. "If I ever find out that you've touched a drop of alcohol when you're going to see our child, I will strangle you, alright?"

"Alright," Ron ceded, "I really am sorry."

Hermione sighed. "I know. Bye."

...

"Do you want me to take you home in the car?" Robert asked quietly, watching as Hermione shrugged into her jacket.

"No, it's alright. Rose is well out of it. We're going to floo." She hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and gently picked up her daughter, rolling her eyes and smiling as Rose lolled against her. As silently as she could, Hermione kissed her parents goodbye and walked to the fireplace. She grabbed a handful of floo powder and grimaced. "Hermione Granger's House!"

Rose stirred as the two of them appeared in Hermione's living room, but Hermione managed to manoeuvre her into her bedroom and lie her down before the little girl opened a curious eye.

"Mummy?"

"Shh, darling. It's bedtime."

Rose sighed and closed her eyes again, allowing Hermione to tug off her clothes and redress her in her pyjamas without much fuss. There was a momentary stand-off between the two as Hermione persuaded her daughter to brush her teeth, but soon enough Rose snuggled down under the covers after complying to Hermione's wish. "Night night, mummy. I love you."

"I love you too, precious. Sweet dreams." Hermione pressed a kiss to her forehead and switched on the nightlight, backing out of the room and closing the door behind her.

Hermione stopped outside of the door and listened; Rose had a habit of getting out of bed and pulling out her toy box, but apparently her napless day at her Nana's had been enough to tire out the three year old, and she stayed in her bed.

Showering quickly, Hermione washed her hair, not for the first time completely at peace with her decision to cut it all off. She dried it the Muggle way, with a hairdryer, straightening it in advance so that she'd have longer with Rose in the morning before dropping her off at day care and going to work.

She pulled on her pyjamas – a tank top and shorts – and a woollen pair of knee socks. Hermione glanced at the time on her cell and sighed; it was way too early to go to bed yet. After checking on Rose again, Hermione went downstairs, closing the safety gate as she did so. Flicking on the kettle, Hermione heaved her bag onto the table and pulled out her book. Thursday night television was awful for those who didn't like soap operas, and Hermione preferred reading anyway. She was soon sitting in her living room, a random radio station on in the background as she nursed her cup of Earl Grey, book in hand.

She froze when there was a knock on her door, setting down her novel and drink. She plucked her wand from the fireplace and put the chain on the door, opening it slightly so that she could peer outside. "Hello?"

"Granger? Why are you hiding behind the door?"

She sighed. "One sec." Hermione unlatched the door and stepped aside to let him in. "What can I do for you, Malfoy?" She looked up, meeting his eyes properly, and shivered at the unexpected heat she found in his gaze.

He gaped at her for a moment, a little stunned at her appearance, and shook his head. "Er... Right. I got your message about what Weasley did at your mum's. You could stop all contact for the time being, if you wanted to, after that."

Hermione rolled her eyes and walked into the kitchen, closing the door after them. "I know. I am a lawyer, too."

"I just wanted to let you know, that's all," Draco muttered, a little defensive. He felt strangely vulnerable¸ being in her home with her dressed like that. He had never seen her with so much skin on show, and he was even more taken aback by her being completely at ease in such attire whilst around him. His gaze fell onto her exposed legs - tanned, toned, and fucking endless - and he shoved his hands in his pockets in an attempt to stop himself from wrapping those legs around his waist.

"Would you like a drink?"

Draco nodded cautiously. "Yes, thank you... What do you have?"

"Wine, water, tea, coffee, whiskey," Hermione rhymed off, raising her eyebrows expectantly. "Or there's fresh juice, but you might have to answer to Rose if you drink too much of that."

"No soda?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't like Rose to have too much sugar. She's energetic enough without it."

"Er..." Draco fought against the urge to gaze at her cleavage, "Wine, please."

"Red or white?"

"Red's fine," he muttered, running a hand through his hair and turning away from her. He took in her house; it was decorated warmly, in neutrals, with colour splash accessories, and Draco smiled as he noticed a framed photo of Rose and Hermione on one of the walls. "She looks like you."

"Nah, she's gorgeous," Hermione disagreed, "She's more like Ginny, I think. And she's got a look of my mum."

"Granger, don't be daft. She's all you. The only thing she has of Weasley's is the hair colour and the eyes." He nodded his thanks as she pressed a glass of wine into his hand. "I wasn't disturbing you, or anything, was I? I was on my way home, and thought I'd just let you know-"

Eying him with amusement, Hermione interrupted him. "No, you weren't disturbing me. It's fine... Rose is in bed, anyway. I was just reading a book."

Visibly relieved, Draco relaxed a little. "Oh. Good."

"Are we going to stand in my kitchen all night, or do you want to sit in the living room?"

"I shouldn't really stay much longer," he admitted, "I don't know why I came round in the first place. It was nothing that I couldn't say through an email."

Hermione smiled. "I appreciate the personal touch, if it makes a difference. Come on, you're here now. You might as well have one drink." She straightened, then, and bit her lip uncertainly. "Unless I'm keeping you out?"

"No, no," he replied hastily, "Nothing like that."

She led him into the living room and sat down, curling her feet up underneath her and reclaiming her cup of tea. "Draco, can I ask you a question?"

"Didn't really give me much of a choice, there, did you?" Draco smirked, relaxing a little.

"When you and Astoria got divorced... How long did it take for you to... Er..."

"Shag somebody?" he supplied. Hermione blushed, and he took this as a yes. "Two weeks. But that was because I was very drunk and wanted to feel a bit better about life. If you don't count that – because I don't - then about four months." He took a sip of his wine. "How long have you and Weasley been separated?"

Hermione bit her lip, now fully appreciating the strength of his jaw, the molten silver of his eyes, the understated muscle beneath his suit. She glanced up at him speculatively. "Four months."

R&R!