Chapter 1
+++
She was a Muggle again.
Not that she had been a true Muggle to begin with, the woman mused as she looked out the window of her parlor at the cool fall day. As a child, she had felt the small sparks of magic flashing within her, tickling her mind with an unanswered question: Am I different? Why? As she neared the summer of her eleventh birthday, the enchantments roiling through her veins began to pulse with a rhythm that disturbed her sleep and caused interesting accidents during her waking hours. That was when a Hogwarts professor came for a visit and solved the mystery. Professor Severus Snape sat on her mother's flowered sofa in a black Muggle suit that even the pre-teen girl could recognize as both expensive and stylish, sipping a glass of water and giving the family an overview of Hogwarts, the magical community and a condensed history of her new people. It was a relief, really, to finally understand the embers that were popping through her and to know that she would soon learn to harness this newfound power.
When the war ended nearly seven years later and the Muggles defeated Voldemort - making the whole charade of the magical world null and useless -- she was again relieved. No more hiding her magic. The two worlds that she precariously straddled were going to finally come together. Magical and Muggle England as one. She was exceedingly relieved. Relieved, that is, until the decrees began to filter down. Reminiscent of Professor Umbridge's fifth-year missives, Parliament slowly used decree after decree to dismantle the magical world. Most wands were confiscated, unless they were needed for work and research purposes that ostensibly benefited Muggle society. The Ministry's own underage-magic-use, detection technology was used to monitor all witches and wizards in the country. The Weasley's took Harry and a few of their orphaned classmates and fled to America within the first few days after Voldemort died. America was one of the few countries left that was happy to take in Magical citizens -- Arthur knew the end was coming in Britain.
She thought they all knew, if they were to be honest with themselves. She had, however, chosen to stay in England. She wanted to be close to her family, especially after she had lost so much. Her wand was now entwined with several that had belonged to her friends and was wrapped around her wrist as a bracelet. Thus far, no one had asked for it or looked for it. She assumed it was thought lost in the battle. It was comforting to have it around her wrist - and equally as comforting to have pieces of Neville, Snape and the Patil twins there. She didn't feel quite so alone in this Muggle world.
Because try as she might, she would never be a Muggle again. Oh, she had the lovely semi-detached, three bedroom house, with a lovely lounge, a stiffly formal dining room, elegant master bedroom and a small yet spectacular rear garden that would put the Muggle "Ground Force" team to shame. She wore the Muggle designer clothes with the right labels with the appropriate, tasteful jewelry. She drove an immaculately clean new car. She carried the right handbag and ate at the right restaurants. But it was all a game: A game of survival. No matter how many decrees were set down, no matter how many years it had been since she had muttered a spell or transfigured an object - and no matter how hard she tried to look and act "normal," she simply wasn't a Muggle. She was a witch.
And that was why she was standing, looking out her parlor window on a cool fall day instead of getting out and enjoying the fine weather. Her eyes drifted from their contemplation of the cloudless sky to land on the man meticulously arranging box after box into the boot of his immaculate car. She was a witch and that is why he was leaving.
The woman sighed. She didn't blame him, really. They had married two years after the war, during a time that she now called her "I'm a Muggle, dammit" phase. They had met in a chemistry class at university and Jeff had immediately asked her to join him that Friday for dinner and a film. She liked him - hell, if she were to be honest - she loved him. But, Jeff was a Muggle and she was a witch and in today's world it just wasn't destined to work no matter how hard they both had tried. And she recognized that her attitude toward life wasn't helping the situation, either. She had been disheartened with her career prospects since she finished her studies at Oxford and realized she would truly never be a Potions Mistress as she had planned. She had become depressed when her husband had caught her using wandless magic one evening to clean up the remains of an exploded pressure cooker in the kitchen and he had berated her for risking jail and their reputations in order to avoid "work." And she had spent a week in near catatonic stupor when she and Jeff saw her six-month-old daughter, Elizabeth, levitate a toy from a tidy cabinet in the lounge to where she lay on her Teletubbies blanket in front of the telly; and Jeff had broken down at the thought of his offspring being "one of them" and therefore open to bigotry and persecution. She didn't blame him. Not anymore. In fact, she loved him despite it all, which is why she was crying while she stood at the window watching him drive away. She leaned her forehead against the cool glass, shifted her sleeping daughter in her arms and wept.
A soft "plop" behind her nearly an hour later brought her out of her distressed stupor. She turned to see a tall, thin man leaning against the archway between the lounge and dining room. Hands in the pockets of his Muggle jeans and wearing a Muggle football jersey, he looked entirely, well, Muggle. She knew differently, however. After all, Severus Snape was the wizard leading the underground railroad of sorts that was assisting witches and wizards on their way to magic-friendly countries like America and Italy. He was the man who discovered how to block any detection of wandless magic so that the wizarding community - what was left of it, that is - wouldn't be left entirely helpless in the Muggle world. He had also become a friend over the years, as she secretly met with him - first to plan the rebirth of a secret magical community in England and then, when that idea was proven to be hopeless, to help plan the mass exodus from their homeland. He was as Muggle as she was, she thought, snorting. She finally met his intense, worried gaze with her own watery eyes.
"I take it that Mr. Harrison has left," he said. She simply nodded. "I am sorry, Hermione. But, perhaps, in the end, it will be for the best."
"Don't, Severus," she said. "Don't start telling me that there are more fish in the ocean and I'll find someone else. Right now, I don't want anyone else. I still love Jeff. I just want to be miserable for a while."
She quirked a half-smile at him, which he returned.
"I thought you might like some time alone," he said. "I asked your mother this morning if she would watch Lizzie tonight for you. She'll be by to get her in a bit and planned to keep her overnight, if that is all right. Would you like some time alone? Hermione?"
Easing the still-sleeping child from her arms and into a nearby pile of pillows, Hermione shook her head.
"I'm not sure I want to be alone," she said. "Would you think I was being childish if I said I wished Harry and Ron were here? I'd give almost anything to be back at Hogwarts drinking smuggled-in Firewhisky and playing Exploding Snap in the Common Room again."
He laughed and shook his head, walking over to Lizzie's pillow pile and kneeling next to her. He stroked her soft forehead and smiled when she grasped his hand in her sleep.
"No, it's not childish," he said softly. "I wish I were sitting in Dumbledore's office sometimes, drinking overly-sweet tea and being lectured to about my lack of social skills."
"Well, that is one advantage to the past few years," she said, sitting next to her daughter and friend.
"What is?"
"When you had to acclimate to the Muggle world, you had to learn to be civil," she said, shrugging. He mock-glared at her. "Well, it's the truth and you know it."
"So," he finally said, after they had sat worshipping her daughter for a few more moments. "If you don't want to be alone tonight, I could go with you. Make sure you eat some food with your alcohol. Clean up after you throw up said alcohol. Make sure you get home in one piece."
"Wouldn't Sophia be upset?" she asked.
"I don't think so," he replied. "I told her that Jeff was moving out today and she said she'd find something to do with the girls. Honestly, Hermione, I don't think she'd notice if I moved out myself, we're not getting along as well as I would like."
"I am sorry, I didn't know," she began, startled. He interrupted her with a raised hand: "I didn't want to bother you, you are going through enough. I haven't told you until now that we were having problems, because I knew that you would worry."
She sat contemplating her friend for a moment.
"I thought you two were trying to have a baby," she said.
"We were."
"And? What?"
"And we decided it wasn't a good idea to bring a magical child into the world right now, that's what," he said, picking up Lizzie and standing. Wordlessly, he carried her to her room, changed her diaper and replaced her little dress with pajamas. Hermione followed him and watched. Lizzie had awoken during her quick change and was now cooing at Severus and attempting to grab his nose.
"I'm not sure whether to be insulted by your last comment or to feel sorry for you," she said.
"It wasn't an insult, Hermione," he said. "Your mother should be here soon, do you want me to pack Lizzie's bag?"
She sat in the room's rocker and nodded, summoning the bag and necessities to his side. He packed the bag and then placed it and the seven-month-old girl on the floor with some toys.
"I don't want to raise a child in England while conditions are like this for wizards, Hermione," he said. "I'm not judging you and Jeff, but it wasn't the right thing for us."
"And most likely the source of your marital problems?" queried Hermione, softly.
"Yes."
The doorbell rang, they gathered up Lizzie and her accoutrements, and headed downstairs. Hermione's mother gave her a firm hug and swift, whispered pep talk before shaking Severus' hand. Lizzie was then kissed and cuddled by both before being deposited into her grandmother's eager arms. The door shut and the pair of friends were left staring at the peep hole.
"Well, shall we?" said Severus, finally. Hermione nodded and moved to get her coat but first waved her hand at her attire. She was suddenly out of her sloppy workout clothes and dressed in denim and a sleek fitting and low- cut top. Severus quirked an eyebrow at her and sent a teasing whistle her way.
"Very funny, Severus," she said, secretly pleased.
"You definitely got your figure back," he said, blushing a bit. "I wasn't sure you would when you were in hospital after Lizzie."
She glared.
"Sorry, but it's the truth," he said, helping her with her retrieved coat. "Your stomach was still huge and you were all squishy. And if you could have seen your ankles yet, you would have been appalled. But, you seem to have gotten your figure back. It *was* supposed to be a compliment, you know."
"Nursing," she said, briskly, picking up her purse and rifling for keys.
"What?" he said, confused, as he locked the door and put a wandless ward on it.
"I'm breastfeeding, nursing, Severus," she said. "It sucks the weight right off of you."
"I'm sure that is more than I wanted to know," he said, taking her hands and Apparating them away to a pub where the jazz was playing softly and a table by the fireplace was calling to them. They walked over, sat down and ordered some fried, greasy food with their first round of drinks. Severus chuckled and pointed out two young men already checking out Hermione's amply displayed assets in the dim firelight of their corner.
"You appear to have admirers, my dear," he murmured to her. She looked and then laughed.
"Well, *I* don't, but it's safe to say my chest does," she laughed. "Another side effect of nursing, I'm afraid. As soon as I'm done, I'll be left with saggy, post-nursing, mommy-boobs."
"Again, I'm sure that is more than I wanted to know," he said, grimacing, as the waitress set down their first round and appetizers. "You *were* my student at one point, you know."
"Don't remind me," she said, throwing back her first shot of the night. "I may just run out of the pub, screaming."
The odd couple laughed together and tucked in to their meal. In less than an hour, the pair was full of greasy food and beginning to feel much better about their lots in life. After a trip to the ladies room, Hermione was stopped and propositioned by a young man who obviously thought she was at the pub getting drunk with her dear old Dad. Severus' eyes narrowed dangerously at the young man after she returned to the table and gleefully told him about that part of the conversation. Hermione just giggled and ordered another round from the waitress and they sunk into a comfortable and rather drunken silence for a few moments.
"Maybe I should take him up on it," she suddenly said.
"Take who up on what?" Severus slurred, wondering exactly how many shots he had consumed already.
"That kid," she said, gesturing towards the young man with her beer glass, sloshing quite a bit onto the floor in the process. "He asked me to go home with him. Maybe I need to get laid. What do you think?"
"I think you would regret it in the morning," he said, attempting to be a bit more sober. "Perhaps I should take you home."
"Nope," she said, toying with a leftover celery stick. "I want to get over Jeff, what better way than to shag the nearest man?"
Severus snorted into his beer. "Hey, I'm the nearest man, don't look at me."
She narrowed her eyes and studied him. "Why not?"
"Well, for starters Hermione, I'm married. And, we are friends. I'd like to stay friends after tonight. Then there's the little project we're working on with the American and Italian governments. Not to mention the fact that I'm married."
"You said that already."
"I know. I just wanted to emphasize it. Your tits are clouding the issue a bit for me, I have to admit. But, I'm married. That's it. Besides, shagging the nearest man isn't going to take the pain away. You have to work through it," he said.
"Yeah, but I'd feel better tonight," she slurred. "Please, Severus?"
The waitress chose that moment to drop by their table. He looked up at her. "I think we'd like our bill, if you please, miss."
It wasn't much time before the illegally-Apparating pair was standing in Hermione's lounge, both swaying slightly from the alcohol and the fast journey. Hermione looked up at Severus with a pout. He groaned and waited for whatever she was going to say. He wasn't sure what was coming, but he was sure he wouldn't like it.
"Don't you find me attractive?"
'Shit,' he thought.
"Of course I do, Hermione," he said carefully. "But we're both drunk right now. And no matter how much I would love to stay the night, it just isn't the right thing to do."
"You want to stay?" she said, instantly moving to his side and placing a hand on his hip.
'Shit, shit,' he thought blearily.
"Well, I -" he stammered, wishing for a potion to sober him up and another to calm other parts of him down. "It wouldn't be fair to either of us, or to Sophie."
"I didn't ask that," she said. "I asked if you wanted to stay."
He looked at her dazed for a moment before answering, honestly, "yes."
She kissed him then. And it wasn't until the sun coming through the lounge windows awoke them both the next morning that they realized the magnitude of what they had done.
tbc
+++
She was a Muggle again.
Not that she had been a true Muggle to begin with, the woman mused as she looked out the window of her parlor at the cool fall day. As a child, she had felt the small sparks of magic flashing within her, tickling her mind with an unanswered question: Am I different? Why? As she neared the summer of her eleventh birthday, the enchantments roiling through her veins began to pulse with a rhythm that disturbed her sleep and caused interesting accidents during her waking hours. That was when a Hogwarts professor came for a visit and solved the mystery. Professor Severus Snape sat on her mother's flowered sofa in a black Muggle suit that even the pre-teen girl could recognize as both expensive and stylish, sipping a glass of water and giving the family an overview of Hogwarts, the magical community and a condensed history of her new people. It was a relief, really, to finally understand the embers that were popping through her and to know that she would soon learn to harness this newfound power.
When the war ended nearly seven years later and the Muggles defeated Voldemort - making the whole charade of the magical world null and useless -- she was again relieved. No more hiding her magic. The two worlds that she precariously straddled were going to finally come together. Magical and Muggle England as one. She was exceedingly relieved. Relieved, that is, until the decrees began to filter down. Reminiscent of Professor Umbridge's fifth-year missives, Parliament slowly used decree after decree to dismantle the magical world. Most wands were confiscated, unless they were needed for work and research purposes that ostensibly benefited Muggle society. The Ministry's own underage-magic-use, detection technology was used to monitor all witches and wizards in the country. The Weasley's took Harry and a few of their orphaned classmates and fled to America within the first few days after Voldemort died. America was one of the few countries left that was happy to take in Magical citizens -- Arthur knew the end was coming in Britain.
She thought they all knew, if they were to be honest with themselves. She had, however, chosen to stay in England. She wanted to be close to her family, especially after she had lost so much. Her wand was now entwined with several that had belonged to her friends and was wrapped around her wrist as a bracelet. Thus far, no one had asked for it or looked for it. She assumed it was thought lost in the battle. It was comforting to have it around her wrist - and equally as comforting to have pieces of Neville, Snape and the Patil twins there. She didn't feel quite so alone in this Muggle world.
Because try as she might, she would never be a Muggle again. Oh, she had the lovely semi-detached, three bedroom house, with a lovely lounge, a stiffly formal dining room, elegant master bedroom and a small yet spectacular rear garden that would put the Muggle "Ground Force" team to shame. She wore the Muggle designer clothes with the right labels with the appropriate, tasteful jewelry. She drove an immaculately clean new car. She carried the right handbag and ate at the right restaurants. But it was all a game: A game of survival. No matter how many decrees were set down, no matter how many years it had been since she had muttered a spell or transfigured an object - and no matter how hard she tried to look and act "normal," she simply wasn't a Muggle. She was a witch.
And that was why she was standing, looking out her parlor window on a cool fall day instead of getting out and enjoying the fine weather. Her eyes drifted from their contemplation of the cloudless sky to land on the man meticulously arranging box after box into the boot of his immaculate car. She was a witch and that is why he was leaving.
The woman sighed. She didn't blame him, really. They had married two years after the war, during a time that she now called her "I'm a Muggle, dammit" phase. They had met in a chemistry class at university and Jeff had immediately asked her to join him that Friday for dinner and a film. She liked him - hell, if she were to be honest - she loved him. But, Jeff was a Muggle and she was a witch and in today's world it just wasn't destined to work no matter how hard they both had tried. And she recognized that her attitude toward life wasn't helping the situation, either. She had been disheartened with her career prospects since she finished her studies at Oxford and realized she would truly never be a Potions Mistress as she had planned. She had become depressed when her husband had caught her using wandless magic one evening to clean up the remains of an exploded pressure cooker in the kitchen and he had berated her for risking jail and their reputations in order to avoid "work." And she had spent a week in near catatonic stupor when she and Jeff saw her six-month-old daughter, Elizabeth, levitate a toy from a tidy cabinet in the lounge to where she lay on her Teletubbies blanket in front of the telly; and Jeff had broken down at the thought of his offspring being "one of them" and therefore open to bigotry and persecution. She didn't blame him. Not anymore. In fact, she loved him despite it all, which is why she was crying while she stood at the window watching him drive away. She leaned her forehead against the cool glass, shifted her sleeping daughter in her arms and wept.
A soft "plop" behind her nearly an hour later brought her out of her distressed stupor. She turned to see a tall, thin man leaning against the archway between the lounge and dining room. Hands in the pockets of his Muggle jeans and wearing a Muggle football jersey, he looked entirely, well, Muggle. She knew differently, however. After all, Severus Snape was the wizard leading the underground railroad of sorts that was assisting witches and wizards on their way to magic-friendly countries like America and Italy. He was the man who discovered how to block any detection of wandless magic so that the wizarding community - what was left of it, that is - wouldn't be left entirely helpless in the Muggle world. He had also become a friend over the years, as she secretly met with him - first to plan the rebirth of a secret magical community in England and then, when that idea was proven to be hopeless, to help plan the mass exodus from their homeland. He was as Muggle as she was, she thought, snorting. She finally met his intense, worried gaze with her own watery eyes.
"I take it that Mr. Harrison has left," he said. She simply nodded. "I am sorry, Hermione. But, perhaps, in the end, it will be for the best."
"Don't, Severus," she said. "Don't start telling me that there are more fish in the ocean and I'll find someone else. Right now, I don't want anyone else. I still love Jeff. I just want to be miserable for a while."
She quirked a half-smile at him, which he returned.
"I thought you might like some time alone," he said. "I asked your mother this morning if she would watch Lizzie tonight for you. She'll be by to get her in a bit and planned to keep her overnight, if that is all right. Would you like some time alone? Hermione?"
Easing the still-sleeping child from her arms and into a nearby pile of pillows, Hermione shook her head.
"I'm not sure I want to be alone," she said. "Would you think I was being childish if I said I wished Harry and Ron were here? I'd give almost anything to be back at Hogwarts drinking smuggled-in Firewhisky and playing Exploding Snap in the Common Room again."
He laughed and shook his head, walking over to Lizzie's pillow pile and kneeling next to her. He stroked her soft forehead and smiled when she grasped his hand in her sleep.
"No, it's not childish," he said softly. "I wish I were sitting in Dumbledore's office sometimes, drinking overly-sweet tea and being lectured to about my lack of social skills."
"Well, that is one advantage to the past few years," she said, sitting next to her daughter and friend.
"What is?"
"When you had to acclimate to the Muggle world, you had to learn to be civil," she said, shrugging. He mock-glared at her. "Well, it's the truth and you know it."
"So," he finally said, after they had sat worshipping her daughter for a few more moments. "If you don't want to be alone tonight, I could go with you. Make sure you eat some food with your alcohol. Clean up after you throw up said alcohol. Make sure you get home in one piece."
"Wouldn't Sophia be upset?" she asked.
"I don't think so," he replied. "I told her that Jeff was moving out today and she said she'd find something to do with the girls. Honestly, Hermione, I don't think she'd notice if I moved out myself, we're not getting along as well as I would like."
"I am sorry, I didn't know," she began, startled. He interrupted her with a raised hand: "I didn't want to bother you, you are going through enough. I haven't told you until now that we were having problems, because I knew that you would worry."
She sat contemplating her friend for a moment.
"I thought you two were trying to have a baby," she said.
"We were."
"And? What?"
"And we decided it wasn't a good idea to bring a magical child into the world right now, that's what," he said, picking up Lizzie and standing. Wordlessly, he carried her to her room, changed her diaper and replaced her little dress with pajamas. Hermione followed him and watched. Lizzie had awoken during her quick change and was now cooing at Severus and attempting to grab his nose.
"I'm not sure whether to be insulted by your last comment or to feel sorry for you," she said.
"It wasn't an insult, Hermione," he said. "Your mother should be here soon, do you want me to pack Lizzie's bag?"
She sat in the room's rocker and nodded, summoning the bag and necessities to his side. He packed the bag and then placed it and the seven-month-old girl on the floor with some toys.
"I don't want to raise a child in England while conditions are like this for wizards, Hermione," he said. "I'm not judging you and Jeff, but it wasn't the right thing for us."
"And most likely the source of your marital problems?" queried Hermione, softly.
"Yes."
The doorbell rang, they gathered up Lizzie and her accoutrements, and headed downstairs. Hermione's mother gave her a firm hug and swift, whispered pep talk before shaking Severus' hand. Lizzie was then kissed and cuddled by both before being deposited into her grandmother's eager arms. The door shut and the pair of friends were left staring at the peep hole.
"Well, shall we?" said Severus, finally. Hermione nodded and moved to get her coat but first waved her hand at her attire. She was suddenly out of her sloppy workout clothes and dressed in denim and a sleek fitting and low- cut top. Severus quirked an eyebrow at her and sent a teasing whistle her way.
"Very funny, Severus," she said, secretly pleased.
"You definitely got your figure back," he said, blushing a bit. "I wasn't sure you would when you were in hospital after Lizzie."
She glared.
"Sorry, but it's the truth," he said, helping her with her retrieved coat. "Your stomach was still huge and you were all squishy. And if you could have seen your ankles yet, you would have been appalled. But, you seem to have gotten your figure back. It *was* supposed to be a compliment, you know."
"Nursing," she said, briskly, picking up her purse and rifling for keys.
"What?" he said, confused, as he locked the door and put a wandless ward on it.
"I'm breastfeeding, nursing, Severus," she said. "It sucks the weight right off of you."
"I'm sure that is more than I wanted to know," he said, taking her hands and Apparating them away to a pub where the jazz was playing softly and a table by the fireplace was calling to them. They walked over, sat down and ordered some fried, greasy food with their first round of drinks. Severus chuckled and pointed out two young men already checking out Hermione's amply displayed assets in the dim firelight of their corner.
"You appear to have admirers, my dear," he murmured to her. She looked and then laughed.
"Well, *I* don't, but it's safe to say my chest does," she laughed. "Another side effect of nursing, I'm afraid. As soon as I'm done, I'll be left with saggy, post-nursing, mommy-boobs."
"Again, I'm sure that is more than I wanted to know," he said, grimacing, as the waitress set down their first round and appetizers. "You *were* my student at one point, you know."
"Don't remind me," she said, throwing back her first shot of the night. "I may just run out of the pub, screaming."
The odd couple laughed together and tucked in to their meal. In less than an hour, the pair was full of greasy food and beginning to feel much better about their lots in life. After a trip to the ladies room, Hermione was stopped and propositioned by a young man who obviously thought she was at the pub getting drunk with her dear old Dad. Severus' eyes narrowed dangerously at the young man after she returned to the table and gleefully told him about that part of the conversation. Hermione just giggled and ordered another round from the waitress and they sunk into a comfortable and rather drunken silence for a few moments.
"Maybe I should take him up on it," she suddenly said.
"Take who up on what?" Severus slurred, wondering exactly how many shots he had consumed already.
"That kid," she said, gesturing towards the young man with her beer glass, sloshing quite a bit onto the floor in the process. "He asked me to go home with him. Maybe I need to get laid. What do you think?"
"I think you would regret it in the morning," he said, attempting to be a bit more sober. "Perhaps I should take you home."
"Nope," she said, toying with a leftover celery stick. "I want to get over Jeff, what better way than to shag the nearest man?"
Severus snorted into his beer. "Hey, I'm the nearest man, don't look at me."
She narrowed her eyes and studied him. "Why not?"
"Well, for starters Hermione, I'm married. And, we are friends. I'd like to stay friends after tonight. Then there's the little project we're working on with the American and Italian governments. Not to mention the fact that I'm married."
"You said that already."
"I know. I just wanted to emphasize it. Your tits are clouding the issue a bit for me, I have to admit. But, I'm married. That's it. Besides, shagging the nearest man isn't going to take the pain away. You have to work through it," he said.
"Yeah, but I'd feel better tonight," she slurred. "Please, Severus?"
The waitress chose that moment to drop by their table. He looked up at her. "I think we'd like our bill, if you please, miss."
It wasn't much time before the illegally-Apparating pair was standing in Hermione's lounge, both swaying slightly from the alcohol and the fast journey. Hermione looked up at Severus with a pout. He groaned and waited for whatever she was going to say. He wasn't sure what was coming, but he was sure he wouldn't like it.
"Don't you find me attractive?"
'Shit,' he thought.
"Of course I do, Hermione," he said carefully. "But we're both drunk right now. And no matter how much I would love to stay the night, it just isn't the right thing to do."
"You want to stay?" she said, instantly moving to his side and placing a hand on his hip.
'Shit, shit,' he thought blearily.
"Well, I -" he stammered, wishing for a potion to sober him up and another to calm other parts of him down. "It wouldn't be fair to either of us, or to Sophie."
"I didn't ask that," she said. "I asked if you wanted to stay."
He looked at her dazed for a moment before answering, honestly, "yes."
She kissed him then. And it wasn't until the sun coming through the lounge windows awoke them both the next morning that they realized the magnitude of what they had done.
tbc
