Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K.R.
Author's notes: Many thanks to my beta Shygui. He makes me a much better writer than I am.
46
Harry strode through the hotel lobby towards the entrance. As soon as he had passed through the revolving doors and out onto the magical part of Broadway, he shrugged out of his robes, slid his wand out of its holster and shrunk the robes with a silent spell until they were small enough to fit into the pocket of the trousers of his grey Muggle summer suit.
He raised his hand, rubbed his face, and a tired sigh escaped his lips. The last couple of days had been strenuous; he had spent most of his awake time in meetings where he had to watch his step so as not to make a blunder. His partners on the other side of the table watched eagle eyed and waited for any sign of his incompetence. In spite of his youth and inexperience he had done well, at least he thought so; Cyrus had seemed to be pleased when he'd called him at his hotel in Rome about his last meeting before he had to meet the ambassador, who had dragged him to that damned cocktail party.
It had been one of those social events he just had to suffer through, he'd got used to that after five years of living among the magical and Muggle upper class. The ambassador was from a prominent neutral Pureblood family that had a hereditary seat on the Wizengamot, and he needed their vote for the new faction in the Wizengamot he had been forming with Cyrus, Kingsley and Neville's help ever since the Wizengamot granted him a hereditary seat two years ago. He'd made good headway with the man - until Ginny had butted into their conversation.
Merlin damn her bad timing; the ambassador had excused himself soon afterwards, and left the party with friends while Ginny still was hogging him, and there was no polite way to get away from her without raising attention. He still hadn't Daphne's skill to extricate himself from unwanted conversations with grace.
He stepped into the entrance hall of Magical New York City Hall, which was integrated in a side wing of New York City Hall, and the connection between the magical and the Muggle parts of the city, and hailed a cab as soon as he was on the Muggle part of Broadway.
He leaned back in the seat, his brows furrowed. He had no eyes for the spectacle of New York at night while the cab crept towards his hotel. The unexpected meeting with Ginny had shaken him up more than he liked to admit, even to himself.
At first, when she suggested to have dinner together, he'd been afraid she'd attempt to make another move on him. Even though Ginny hadn't been in England for five years, she'd been omnipresent in The Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly, and had gained a reputation of a femme fatale ever since her latest divorce. The memory of their last encounter in the garden of The Burrow also made him wary of her intentions.
Almost five years had passed since then, he'd become older and more cynical, and over the last years he'd wondered if Ginny's tears and her indignation about his suspicion of her relationship with her agent had been an act to throw him off the scent. Accusing him to have slept with Hermione, of all people, had been a master stroke on Ginny's part, he'd fallen for the bait hook, line and sinker.
Not that he spent his nights sleepless about that question. He suppressed a snort. He'd better things to do when he was in his bed and not sleeping, Daphne saw to that.
A small smile flickered across his face. Daphne had become the most important person in his life, and Ginny had faded into the background of history. Whatever she had done or not hadn't the power to hurt him anymore.
However, it had been impossible for him to snub her; the Potters and the Weasleys were too close for that, not to mention that he still thought of her as a friend, although a distant one, and had fond memories of their time together.
Well, at least his fears had turned to be unfounded. She'd kept her distance and behaved like the old friends they were, even though it was plain to see that she still suffered from the repercussions of their forced break up.
Without Cyrus' meddling, Ginny never would have left England, and they would most likely be married by now.
But would they have been happy? That was debatable. Damn, Arthur had been spot on; Ginny was rather superficial and had no interest at all in the things that drove him these days. If she'd once read the headlines of The Daily Prophet and the international newspapers during the last two years, she would have known he did more than just sit through the Wizengamot meetings, as she had implied he did, and wouldn't have asked him these silly questions.
He'd become the driving force of a new party at the Wizengamot that wanted to reform their society at a sensible pace, without overthrowing everything magical people had grown up with and held dear. They wanted to persuade the wizarding world that change was necessary, not patronise it, as Dumbledore had done, and like many of the Light Faction still did today. That meant advertising their ideas whenever possible, and he was their poster boy, a role he had taken on willingly. Thanks to Daphne's coaching he'd learned how to carry himself with confidence whenever he had to make a public appearance, not to mention that she was what Kingsley called their secret weapon. The Pureblood old farts were putty in her hands as soon as she smiled at them. Together, they were an unstoppable team.
No, Ginny would have been the wrong life partner for him, given what he'd found out during these last five years. The feelings they'd had for each other as young adults most likely wouldn't have survived the demands the last five years had made on him, and especially not the time since he'd taken a seat on the Wizengamot, and they'd be utterly miserable by now. The decision to stay with Daphne when she'd offered him divorce a few weeks after their wedding was most likely the smartest decision he'd ever made.
Besides the decision to go for the Horcruxes instead of the Hollows, it had also been the only carefully considered decision of his life. Both had turned out brilliant. He snorted. Another reminder that he should think before rushing in. As if five years of living with a former Slytherin had not yet cured him of that bad habit and brought out his Slytherin traits.
The cab reached the hotel, he paid the driver, and strolled through the lobby towards the elevator, his brows still furrowed in thought. As soon as he'd reached his suite, he shrugged out of his jacket and loosened his tie, flung both over the back of the chair in front of him, and went to the small bar in the elegant living room. He poured himself a scotch and slumped down on the comfortable sofa. His eyes stared at the nightly skyline of New York in front of the floor to ceiling windows of his suite, but his brain didn't register the stunning view.
He sighed. Even after all these years Ginny, it seemed, had yet to deal with the repercussions of Cyrus' meddling in their lives. While nowadays he had to agree that his interference had been for the best - though he'd never admit that into Cyrus' face - that probably couldn't be said for Ginny. Cyrus interference had her thrown into a spin, and it seemed she'd never regained her footing, and had made some bad choices in her life because of that.
He swirled the scotch in the glass in his hand. He'd never wanted that to happen to her, he'd wanted to see her happy. His stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. It hadn't been easy to see the sadness in her eyes, however, he refused to feel responsible for that. It took two to make a marriage work, and it also took two to make a marriage fail, this much he'd learned over the last five years. Instead of hanging on to the past and dreaming about what might have been, Ginny would be well advised to get a grip on herself and ask herself where she might have gone wrong.
Maybe he should've told her just that, but when he saw the sadness in her eyes, he hadn't had the heart for it. A rueful smile appeared on his face. "Chickened out" was the more accurate word for his decision to keep his mouth shut.
He stopped swirling the glass in his hand, took a sip, and looked at his wristwatch. Pity, it was already too late to call Daphne; it was in the middle of the night in London, and she'd be sound asleep. He'd call her at headquarters first thing when he woke up in the morning.
He emptied his glass, rose, stretched and yawned, and went over to the bedroom to get his much needed and well deserved rest.
A sunbeam that found its way through a slit in the drawn curtains before his bedroom window woke him up the next morning. He sneezed, sat up in the bed, and looked at the clock on the nightstand. Past nine a.m. already; he'd slept longer than he'd intended; apparently he'd been even more knackered than he'd thought. Oh well, contrary to what he'd told Ginny he didn't have any meetings today. It had been a necessary little white lie to keep her away. He'd scheduled everything that way, so he'd have a day for himself and could do some shopping for his wife in New York.
He smiled; their fifth wedding anniversary was approaching, and he'd planned on a surprise for Daphne. The poor girl had never got a proper wedding present from him, had had a nightmare of a honeymoon, and hadn't complained about it once. It was about time for him to make up for that, show her how much he appreciated that she was always there for him and showed him how much she cared for him.
Harry leaned over, picked up his Blackberry from the nightstand where he had put it the previous night before he went to bed, and pressed the familiar buttons for Daphne's mobile.
She answered almost immediately. 'Harry!'
'Good morning, gorgeous,' he said with a broad grin.
'I didn't count on you calling this early. Don't you have any meetings today?' There was a smile in her voice.
'Nope, I'm free until I have to catch my plane this evening. I took great pains to schedule my meetings that way; I wanted to see a little more of New York than conference rooms only. Don't tell Cyrus, he'd have kittens.'
She laughed. 'Father wouldn't mind, I'm sure. He was full of praise about you when he called me this morning.'
'You're taking the mickey, aren't you? Cyrus "Pokerface" Greengrass and full of praise; that's a good one, Daph.'
'Well, actually he said you exceeded his expectations.'
Harry let out a low whistle. 'I take everything back. That's high praise, indeed.'
They both laughed. Daphne was the first to sober.
'You know that he loves you like a son and is proud of you, Harry.'
'Yeah.' He sighed. 'Let's not go there, darling. You know I'm happy for you that you made your peace with your father, after the way he treated you when we got married. But don't expect me ever to become best friends with him. He's my boss, and I respect his expertise, and I'll behave civil towards him because he's your father and you love him, and I don't want you to have to choose between us, but that's about all I can stomach.'
'I know.' Her voice sounded very small, and he didn't have to see her face to know that she'd assumed a stony face, a mask she wore to let nobody see that she was hurt.
'I'm sorry, darling.'
She let out a small sigh. 'There's no need, Harry. Merlin knows Father gave you every reason to hate him.' She took a deep breath, and when she talked again, her voice sounded normal. 'When's your plane scheduled to arrive at Heathrow?'
'About seven a.m. Don't worry to pick me up, I'll Apparate home from there.'
'And break the Statute of Secrecy while doing so.'
He almost could see her rolling her eyes at him, and suppressed a snort.
'Really, Harry, you should know better than that. Ever since Nine-Eleven the Muggles have gone crazy about security. There are cameras and guards everywhere at the airports, and Merlin knows what else. Don't blow your cover, and act like a good Muggle; I'll pick you up and have Kreacher prepare a full English breakfast for when we're home.'
'Sounds lovely. Alright, you'll have it your way.' He chuckled. 'Merlin, had I known what a harridan you'll become, I would've thought twice about accepting Cyrus' offer.'
'Harry James Potter, you are impossible!' She huffed, but there was also amusement in her voice.
'Yeah, but that's exactly the way you want me. Bye, darling, see you tomorrow morning, I miss you.'
'Bye, honey, I miss you too.'
Harry ended the call, but a broad smile stayed on his face while he got ready for the day and had a leisurely breakfast. Afterwards, he checked out of the hotel, looked for a quiet corner and shrunk his luggage to have his hands free for a day in New York. With his trunk in his pocket, he strode to his first destination of the day: Tiffany's. Daphne loved jewelry, and he loved to see her beaming face whenever he gave her a new piece.
It struck him halfway between the hotel and the famous jeweller, and he almost stopped in his tracks. He hadn't told Daphne about Ginny and his dinner with her. His stomach gave a slight quiver. Ginny was the only taboo between Daphne and him; they'd never mentioned her except for that day during their honeymoon when Daphne warned him to be discreet if he wanted to continue seeing Ginny.
To be honest, he had no idea how he should bring up Ginny in any conversation with Daphne. A phone call would've been the worst time ever, anyway, they wouldn't have been able to see each other's faces, which could have led to misunderstandings. No, it was better he'd tell her as soon as he was home.
The plane arrived on time at Heathrow the next morning, however, the journey to the gate seemed to take at least as much time as the flight. Another felt eternity later he'd claimed his baggage and left customs.
As soon as he passed the gate, a petite blonde whirlwind in a flowered, rather short summer dress hurled herself at him. He let go of the handle of his trolley case and caught his wife in his arms. Her face glowed, and she looked up at him with a wide smile and beaming eyes.
'Harry!'
A warm glow ignited in his heart and spread out in his chest. He pulled her closer, inhaled the spicy fragrance that was so typical Daphne, and kissed her.
She flung her arms around his neck and responded to his kiss with an enthusiasm that matched his.
'I take it that you missed me terribly,' he said when he finally raised his head.
'No more than you obviously missed me,' she replied, and linked arms with him.
He gave her another peck on her pink lips, just for good measure. 'It was weird not having you around, you know. We've done everything together ever since we married, and were hardly separated more than a couple of hours.' He slipped his arm out of hers and put it around her shoulder. 'I really could have used your input during the meetings; I was out of my depth more than once. Besides that, it was damned boring and lonesome without you.'
'I'm happy to hear that.' She slid her arm around his waist and almost purred by his side.
'Wretched woman! I should've known you'd gloat about my misery.'
They laughed and walked out of the terminal towards the parking lot.
Both he and Daphne had got their driver's licence during their first year at university; they shared a lot of courses with the Muggle students, and it would have caused suspicion if a young couple of their means didn't own at least one car. Cyrus almost had had a heart attack when Harry had bought an Audi TT roadster for Daphne and himself to drive to university each morning, but had to admit it was a sensible move to keep their cover in the Muggle world.
Harry loved driving the speedy small car, but after the long night flight with only little sleep he was content to let Daphne take the seat behind the wheel. A little more than one hour later she drove the car into the garage of Grimmauld Place number twelve that was in the converted stables at the rear of the block.
They had moved to Grimmauld Place as soon as they had finished their last exam in May; Cyrus' argument that he wanted to have them near him during their education was no longer valid. They'd both started as executive assistants the day after, a job where they had to work hand in hand with Cyrus, and he would see them each day, anyway.
Together they walked through the long, narrow garden to the sunken patio at the back of the house. From there, a door led into the family room and the kitchen beyond.
It was a beautiful morning, and the breakfast table was already set for them on the patio.
'I'd like to have a shower first,' Harry said, and Daphne nodded. While he walked up to the master bedroom on the second floor, Daphne went into the kitchen to tell Kreacher to wait until Harry was finished. About fifteen minutes later he walked out on the patio. Daphne already sat at the breakfast table and waited for him. He dropped a kiss on her head, sat down beside her, and let his gaze wander over Daphne's lovingly maintained beds of Flutterby bushes, intermingled with Rainbow Roses and lavender.
During the last five years, together they had renovated and furnished the former gloomy Black residence to become a home for their future family. Daphne had taken special delight in remodelling the overgrown garden. He couldn't recount the many hours he had spent shovelling dragon manure on the flower beds under her direction, but the result was worth it. Even Neville had looked at Daphne's garden with respectful envy at their official housewarming party a couple of weeks ago.
Though, Grimmauld Place had already become their secret retreat before that; whenever they felt the need to escape Cyrus' watchful eyes they'd spent their weekends here.
He let out a content sigh. 'Home at last.'
Daphne bent towards him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 'It was about time, too. The house was awfully quiet without you.'
'What's on the agenda for this weekend?' he asked while she poured him a cup of tea.
She didn't look at him, but bit her lips and took the time to pour herself a cup before she answered. 'Father sent Matty while you were in the shower. He wants to talk to you this morning and asked us to meet him at The Rectory after breakfast.'
Harry made a face. 'Well, I should've expected that.' He shrugged, picked up his cutlery, took a bite, chewed and swallowed. 'Anything else?'
A smile crossed her face, and she nodded. 'You'll like this one, I'm sure. Fleur and Bill asked us to dinner tonight. Hermione, Lisa, Ron and Justin will also be there.'
'Brilliant!' His lips curved into a broad smile.
While they ate their breakfast, they talked about inconsequential things. He'd have to tell everything about his meetings in Tokyo and New York as soon as they met Cyrus, anyway, so there was no need to tell it twice. It was nice to sit in the sunshine with Daphne and unwind from the stressful days that were behind him and forget about the ones in front of him.
Harry took the last bite of his eggs, wiped his mouth with his napkin and drained his teacup. Daphne had finished her meal before him. He looked at her. 'Shall we go and meet your father now? I'd like to get it over with, so that we'll have the rest of the weekend to ourselves.'
She nodded, and rose from her chair. Harry followed suit.
'Apparition or by car?' he asked.
'Apparition,' Daphne said, and took his arm. 'I don't want to waste hours on the road we could spend in more pleasant ways.'
He wriggled his eyebrows at her. 'That sounds rather intriguing, Mrs Potter. Do you have something special in mind?'
She grinned up at him. 'You'll have to wait until we get home. Now, get going, or you'll never find out.'
'Your wish is my command, my lady.'
The next moment they stood on the Apparition point of The Rectory.
They found Cyrus, Isabella and Tori on the terrace at the back of the house. The terrace was the formal counterpart to the secluded patio in front of the breakfast room. It looked over the park and the lake, and was surrounded by beds of rambling roses. Imitations of ancient amphoras with colourful flowers planted in them adorned the corners of the spacious terrace.
'Daphne, Harry!' Isabella's face lit up when she saw them. She rose from her upholstered sunchair and greeted both of them with a warm hug. 'You know, I miss not having you living next door anymore.'
A small pang of pain jolted through Harry's chest. Isabella had always been nice to him and gone out of her way to make him feel welcomed and at home at The Rectory. Though a very strict and traditionalist woman, who set great store by good breeding - though not necessarily Pureblood descent - and even greater store by good manners, she cared deeply for her two daughters. Even though Tori needed her constant care more than ever and was her secret favourite, there was no doubt she loved Daphne and missed her. Would Daphne have moved out of the family estate if it weren't for him?
He looked at his wife who bent over Tori's chair, an arm around Tori's frail shoulders. Her health had deteriorated slowly, but steadily ever since Daphne's and his wedding. He'd last seen her about ten days ago, shortly before he had left for Tokyo, and she seemed to have weakened even more within this short time. A cold hand gripped around his heart. How much longer would Tori still be with them?
Daphne turned to Isabella and gave her mother a tight hug. 'You know why we moved to the house on Grimmauld Place, Mother. I always thought you couldn't wait for your first grandchild to run around? Well, The Coach House surely is too small for a family.'
Isabella gave her a wistful smile. 'I know, Daphne, and I understand, still, a mother is allowed to miss her daughter.'
They greeted Cyrus, and he didn't waste much time to excuse them from his wife and his younger daughter and lead them to his tiny study. The room hadn't changed at all ever since Harry's first visit there.
Harry held out one of the uncomfortable visitor chairs for his wife, gave Cyrus a challenging look and slipped out his wand to cast Cushioning Charms on both wooden chairs. That had become a tradition whenever he visited Cyrus' study.
From behind his desk Cyrus let out one of his slow, rumbling laughs. 'As long as you cancel the spell before you leave, you can cast as many Cushioning Charms as you want, Harry.'
Daphne sat down and looked from her father to her husband, a broad grin on her face. 'Thank you, honey, it's very comfortable. I wonder why nobody before you thought of casting a Cushioning Charm on these uncomfortable chairs.'
'Maybe because they aren't as practical as I am?' Harry asked, his eyes widened in fake innocence, and sat down beside her.
Cyrus snorted. 'Hardly. I'd rather say they don't have your cheek, son.'
Harry crossed his legs and grinned at him. 'What can I say? Even though I live in a snake pit, I'm still a Gryffindor.'
Cyrus harrumphed to that, however, the look he gave Harry was rather lenient and betrayed his pride of Harry.
Harry lowered his gaze. His stomach knotted itself together, and he rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. Daphne was right, Cyrus was proud of him and loved him like the son he never had. However, he couldn't find it in himself to love the man back, not after what he'd done to him, and not even for Daphne's sake.
'Back to business,' Cyrus announced, and Harry trained his attention on informing Cyrus and Daphne about his meetings, and all the little details he hadn't had the time to talk about at the phone, and after that listened to Cyrus' account of his visits to Paris and Rome.
Their meeting took the rest of the morning. 'You've done much better than I expected, Harry,' Cyrus finally said and got to his feet. 'I think Fleamont and James would be as proud of you today as I am.'
'And as I am,' Daphne said, and gave Harry a kiss on the cheek.
Harry's heart made a salto, and warmth crept into his cheeks. He stiffened; he didn't love Cyrus, damn, he barely tolerated the man for Daphne's sake, so why made him his rare praise that proud?
He took Daphne's hand, bent towards her, and returned the kiss. 'Thank you, darling.'
She gave him a brief glance from under her eyelashes, as if she was waiting for something more, but when he got to his feet and held his hand out to her, she let out a small sigh, took his hand and also got up.
'You'll stay for lunch?' Cyrus asked over his shoulder, already leading the way out of his study.
Daphne gave Harry a questioning look.
'Of course,' he hurried to say. If he couldn't find it in himself to become best buddies with Cyrus, he at least could make sure Daphne had as much time with her family as possible.
He was rewarded with another peck on the cheek from his wife, and a blinding smile that promised more as soon as they were alone.
When they reached the cosy breakfast room, Isabella and Tori were already waiting for them.
They sat down, and Matty served the soup.
'How was your meeting with Tony, Harry?' Isabella asked, and dipped her spoon into her bowl.
Tony was Anthony Brocklehurst, the Ambassador of Magical Britain in the USA, and a distant relative of Isabella.
Harry paused spooning his soup and smiled at his mother in law. 'Splendid. He told me to give you his love, and he took me to a cocktail party.'
'I bet you had the time of your life there,' Tori said with a straight face.
That had everyone laughing. His lack of enthusiasm for any type of social gatherings outside of his small circle of friends was a never ending subject of amusement for his in-laws, especially Tori.
He shot her a broad grin. 'You know me, Tori, I was the heart of the party.'
Even Cyrus laughed out loud at that.
Harry bit his lips, his mouth dry all of a sudden. This was the perfect opening to tell Daphne that he ran into Ginny at the cocktail party and had dinner with her afterwards to catch up. However, how would she take that? Ginny was still an unmentionable topic between them, what if Daphne reacted angrily when she was faced with the facts?
Their agreement never to fight in public still was valid, and it also included fights in front of her family, especially Cyrus. True, they hardly ever fought, but it happened once in a while, and they'd both managed to keep it between themselves. If he told her here and now, and she got angry, that would be a breach of their agreement, and she would resent that, maybe even more than his dinner with Ginny. No, he'd better wait until they were back home and talk to her then.
They stayed with Daphne's family for the afternoon. Harry and Daphne chatted and laughed with Tori, and the fun of the afternoon brought a rosy glow to the younger girl's pale cheeks. Harry suppressed a sigh. For how much longer would they be able to enjoy Tori's company like this? Should he suggest they move back in so that Daphne and Astoria could spend time together before it was too late? Tori's time was finite whilst he and Daphne in theory had a lifetime together.
Daphne was very quiet when he walked her to the Apparition point and Apparated her home to get ready for their dinner at Shell Cottage. They were already running late, so he Apparated them straight to their bedroom.
The moment they arrived, Daphne made a turn towards the bathroom, her eyes downcast, but he held her back and pulled her in his arms.
'I know you're scared out of your mind for your little sister, darling. Remember, whatever happens, you're not alone in this.' He dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.
She flung her arms around him and buried her head at his chest. Her shoulders shook. All he could do was caressing her back in soothing circles and let her have a cry on his shoulder, though he had to bite his lips to prevent himself from crying and venting at the unfairness of Tori's life.
He had to wait a long time until she raised her head and looked at him with bloodshot, puffy eyes. 'Thank you, honey; I needed that.'
'Anytime, darling,' he said and gave her a small kiss.
Daphne extricated herself from his arms; her gaze fell on the old-fashioned, mechanical brass alarm clock on his bedside table, and she let out a small shriek. 'Merlin, Harry, we have to get ready, or we'll be inexcusably late!'
She sprinted towards the bathroom. The next moment he heard the shower running. He followed her into the spacious marble bath attached to the master bedroom at a much slower pace. There'd be more than enough time for him to shave before she'd come out of the shower and it was his turn, this much he had learned in the five years of their marriage.
Today, however, she surprised him. He was not yet finished when the glass door of the shower opened and Daphne darted past him towards the walk-in closet. She didn't bother neither with her bathrobe nor with a towel to cover herself.
He whistled. 'Nice birthday suit, dear, although I would say that it's a bit risque for dinner.'
'Shut up, Potter.' The reply was muffled and slightly panicked.
Ugh, that sounded like an imminent wardrobe crisis, something to stay as far away from as possible. He grinned and stepped under the shower.
Five minutes later he joined her in the closet, still towelling his hair.
She stood in front of the mirror in jeans and bra, and alternated holding two blouses against her chest.
'Take the one with the long sleeves,' he said, and put on a pair of jeans. 'Fleur will most likely have dinner outside, and you know how cold the wind can get on that cliff at night, even in summer.'
'You're right,' she said, and slipped into the sleeveless blouse.
Harry rolled his eyes, but kept his mouth shut.
Daphne pouted at him. 'Don't give me that look. I'll take a warm cardigan with me. Besides, I'm a witch and I can cast a Warming Charm on myself anytime I need to.' She vanished into the bathroom.
'Says she who is pants at Warming Charms,' Harry said to her retreating back, though in a low voice.
'I heard that!' his wife said from the bathroom. 'If everything fails, I still have you with me. Your Warming Charms are the best.'
Harry closed the last button of his shirt and slipped into a pair of comfortable loafers. He walked towards the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe.
Daphne had applied some lipstick and mascara, and now brushed her hair for a last time. When he appeared in the doorframe, she blew him a small kiss. Her cheeks were a trifle pinker than usual. Had she also to think of that Christmas he'd placed a Warming Charm on her for the first time? Most likely.
Something had changed between them on that day, he couldn't put his fingers on it, but it had nothing to do with becoming physical with each other for the first time. Daphne had already been a close friend before that, but ever since that day he knew for certain there was nobody in this world he could rely on like on her, not even Ron and Hermione.
Funny enough, they'd never talked about it, though the way she looked at him and acted around him told him she felt the same. Maybe there were some things you didn't have to talk about, it was enough to know them and to feel them.
Daphne had finished brushing her hair and turned towards him. 'How do I look?'
'Gorgeous, sensational, beautiful as always, darling' he said, stepped towards her and slid his arms around her waist.
She laughed, put her arms around his neck, and gave him a small kiss. 'Flatterer. You know that you're biased, don't you?'
'Says who?' he asked, and bent down to give her a proper kiss, but she planted the palms of her hands on his chest and pushed him away gently.
'No, no, no, not this time, mister, A, you're not stealing all my lipgloss, B, you'll get me all rumpled and mess my hair up and C, if you start I'm not going to want to stop and we don't have time for that. We were supposed to be at Shell Cottage twenty minutes ago.'
'Argh!'
She slipped out of his embrace and gave him a smile over her shoulder that was full of promise and made his knees weak. Why again were they supposed to be at Shell Cottage tonight?
Daphne left him no time to dwell on that thought. She picked up her cardigan and her purse and grabbed his arm. 'I'm ready. What about you?'
With a last low growl he grabbed for his jacket, and then Apparated them to Shell Cottage.
t.b.c.
