A/N: I know it's been an awfully long time, hasn't it? I'm sorry, but I guess all the fire had gone out of the story, but its back now and so am I. School has started once again, but there's only one more chapter to go so for those that are still interested, I won't keep you long. As always I must thank all of you for the reviews. Please let me know what you think. And enjoy.
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Love is the world's infinite mutability; lies, hatred,
Murder even, are all knit up in it; it is the inevitable
Blossoming of its opposites, a magnificent rose
Smelling faintly of blood. A dream which makes the world
Seem…an illusion.
-excerpt taken from Pierre Corneille's The Illusion, (Adapted by: Tony Kushner)
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As it turned out, lunch wasn't a complete bust. There was that awkward silence once they had taken their seats. Then the tension filled munching of cold sandwiches followed by audible swallows and interrupted by periods of gulping cold beverages. But once that was out the way, Neville retold his story of how he once had a mad wrestle with a magnolia, and that broke the ice. They were now stepping out onto the pavement, each wondering what to next, all dreading going back to their respected jobs.
Then a woman with bushy hair walked by.
Harry was momentarily stunned into silence as his eyes followed the figure across the street. There was a shout. "Julia!" The bushy head turned revealing a very lovely and unfamiliar face. Harry inwardly sighed and let out a breath he had not realized he'd held. Then he turned, meaning to go back to his friends' conversation and a woman collided into his chest.
She let out a small surprised, 'Oh!" and stumbled backwards a few steps from the impact; her bags falling onto the pavement. Harry immediately stooped to help her pick up her things and she thanked him with a smile. He blinked when he finally had a good look at her and his throat dried in recognition. Her eyes were brown. The Woman straightened and adjusted her purse on her shoulder. Harry swallowed and slowly raised his arm to hand the Woman a bag he had picked up. She took it from his stiff fingers. "Thanks," she said to him. Harry slowly rose, towering over her; he didn't say a word.
"Sorry," she said with cheeks mildly flushed and flashed him another sheepish grin, holding him with her gaze. "Rather clumsy of me."
He wanted to say something. He wanted to brush it off and act calm, suave, debonair. He wanted to flash her one of his charming smiles and say, "Don't worry about it." So Harry opened his mouth and then his throat, the little bastard, decided to close up. He managed a small croak. Well that was attractive. Harry snapped his mouth shut, and nodded vigorously. What was wrong with him? He watched her smile slightly falter, but her eyes danced with amusement. Then without another word she stepped around him and continued on her way.
"Don't worry about it," Harry murmured to her retreating back that disappeared into the crowd. He was an idiot.
"You're an idiot," Ron said, eerily voicing his thoughts.
Harry briefly shut his eyes and refrained from pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation. He did though manage to give his best friend a rather fantastic grimace in response.
"Did you get her number, mate?" Justin asked.
"Nah, she was a muggle. Harry doesn't do muggles, do ya, Harry?" Dean teased.
Harry rubbed the back of his neck and gave his friend a scowl. "Sod off."
"Right, well when you ladies finish flirting you reckon we could stop by Fred and George's shop? I've gotta drop off something of theirs," said Ron. They made their way down the street and Harry threw one last glance over his shoulder. Well, out of sight out of mind right? Oh, he begged to differ.
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Work was hell. Harry took off his glasses and placed them on the table for a moment as he rubbed his eyes. Rain water poured in a steady stream down the window of the café. Outside the steady pull of traffic occupied the streets with the many people roaming the shops for company. He smothered a yawn with his hand.
"You look like you need a pick me up," Rosie said with one hand on her hip.
Harry rubbed his head, "God, I need more than a pick me up, Rosie. You don't happen to have anything stronger, do you?"
Rosie shook her head, amusement glinting in her eyes. "Nah, 'fraid not. If you wanted that kind of drink you should have gone to Tom's," she said, clearly referring to the Leaky Cauldron which was not that far off.
Harry shook his head. "This was closer." He also didn't want to mention the animosity that came with the place. Rosie looked at him for a moment then nodded as if in understanding.
"I'll get you your usual, dear." With that she clicked away, leaving Harry to once again stare out the window.
The bell chimed and immediately his gaze went to the newly admitted customer. But it was only the old man that often glared in his direction whenever Harry was being especially annoying. "Evening," the man nodded at Harry before taking his customary seat with a wince and a sigh. Harry nodded back in greeting with a tight lipped smile. He scratched the back of his neck and looked miserably at the empty seat two tables away from him and to his right.
At once Rosie was at his side and Harry brightened. His gaze trained on the sea green mug in her hand. "Here you go love," she out loud slightly leaning forward and placing it on the table. Then she said in a quiet voice, "I put a spot of firewhiskey and butterbeer in it. Won't taste the same but it'll give you that little kick."
Harry looked up at her with an awed expression. Then he picked up the mug and hesitantly brought it to his lips. A dash of fire, a bubble of warmth and a shot of caffeine slid down his throat with one swallow. Harry nearly gasped for air and he raised his eyes to meet hers.
"Marry me," he rasped.
Rosie laughed. "You're five years too late, darling. Thanks for the offer though," she said with a friendly pat on his hand. A faint blush tinged her cheeks. Then she was gone.
Time went by and Harry ordered another cup then another. He chatted with the old man whom he came to know as Ian for a bit. The he ordered another cup. Slowly the café began to empty and lightening lit the sky. Ian took his leave and Harry once again took to the window; his thumb toying with the empty cup. Rosie was cleaning the tables.
"She's not coming in anytime soon, you know."
"What?" Harry said, startled from his thoughts, but Rosie didn't answer and continued with her work, turning up the chairs. Harry gazed at her calculatingly
"What makes you think that I don't come in here for the coffee?"
"Trust me, sweetheart. If you only came in here for the coffee, I'd know."
Harry laughed. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"
"And you're getting defensive. Now, we're closing up. She should be in here next week if not tomorrow. And don't expect me to tell you her name. I'd think being the man you are you'd have already gotten it a long time ago instead of wasting your time just staring." She sounded an awful lot like Ron.
A slow smile crept over his face. "I don't stare," he said. "and I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you."
"Oh, it's all the more exciting for me than it is for you, trust me. You are Harry Potter after all," she teased.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh god, spare me." He got up and left some notes on the table. "I'll be back for the coffee tomorrow," he said on his way to the door.
"I told you, she'll be here next week."
"Sod off, Rosie."
"A while ago you wanted to marry me."
"I take it back." he said over his shoulder and her laughter followed him out the door.
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A jingle of keys in the lock and Harry was home. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the rack along the wall. The he padded into the kitchen to make himself something to eat.
Much later, sitting in his chair, he swallowed the last of his bite and put down the paper. He drummed his hands on the table in agitation then stood and decided to do the dishes.
Oh! I'm sorry! She says and he hands her the bags that had fallen from her grasp. Her eyes were brown.
Harry blinked.
The water was running.
He shut off the tap, dried his hands and let out a breath. Thanks, she said to him and he rose but didn't say a word. Harry grit his teeth. He needed to do something. He stepped out into his living room and straightened out a pillow.
Okay. Now what? Sorry, she said with flushed cheeks. Harry groaned. Out of sight, out of mind. Come on, Potter. Out of sight, out of mind. Unbidden, the Woman's smiling face appears behind his eyes. He paces. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. Harry turned on some music and paced some more.
"Stupid," he muttered and he stuffed his hands in his pockets. He paused and slowly pulled a scrap of parchment out. He stared at the address printed out in curvy writing. He stared at it for a long time before scrubbing a hand over his mouth and rubbing the back of his neck. Gritting his teeth, Harry strode to the cupboard and took out the jar of floo powder. Shaking his head at the insanity of his actions, knowing that he'd regret it in the morning, Harry stepped into the flames. He licked his lips. He could just stay home. He could just pull himself out of the fireplace, dust himself off and go to bed, but then he'd see Her behind shut eyes. He needed to forget her and if this didn't work, then nothing would.
Slowly, dully Harry spoke and the flames took him away.
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He was buzzed. Slightly, but it was enough. She on the other hand was nearly sober. They had gone out for drinks. Harry supplied the bill and of course the late night suite at his place. They had gotten to his home by broom and throughout the ride Allison was shrieking and laughing and holding him tightly with sweaty palms. Harry only chuckled and often hissed at her to be quiet. And when she had decided to place kisses along his neck, Harry decided to ignore the awful twinge in his stomach.
Not much later, they were at his door. "Wait." Muttered whispers and giggles sounded amongst the jingling of keys. "Wait, Alley. Don't- Christ. I've gotta get the damned door open first."
The door burst open and they stumble through, hands clutching at each other. Her purse and his keys fall unceremoniously to the floor, and in his haste he pushes her up against the door and lifts her. She automatically wraps her legs around him and clutches at him fiercely, nails digging into his skin and scraping deep furrows along his now bare back. He tore his mouth from hers and brought his attention to her neck. Her hands grasp his hair and pulls. He hears a faint whisper of "Hurry" and he grimaces as the face of the Woman shimmers behind his shut eyes. And suddenly it's Her legs that are pulling him close, Her sweet lips taking his own, and Her delicate hands tracing the planes of his back with a gentle caress. Her hips rose and her back arched, exposing her pale throat.
She says his name. He nearly moans in despair and brought a hand to her waist, his other braced against the door. . He wanted to say Her name. She gasped. He wanted to shout it in the empty room. Her lips parted. He could see her, and he could feel her, and her taste filled his senses. But he couldn't say her name. God, all he wanted was to say her sodding name. But he didn't even have that.
Pleasure and pain. Pain and pleasure. The two went hand in hand and drove Harry to the point of despair that tore at his insides with a savage lust. With each heaving shuddering breath, his mind struggled to draw a name from her body. But it was no use. Then for one shining moment his lips managed to taste the word: Granger, but it was lost in Alison's small cry as she crushed her mouth to his in a sultry kiss that was meant to inflame him. Yet it only went to further ignite the disgust that was slowly building in his chest.
He was a coward. A bloody spineless coward that used one woman to get another out of his head. Surely Alley didn't mind. From the sound of it and most assuredly from the feel of it, she didn't mind one bit. But Harry minded. He minded far too much for his taste, and soon it became unbearable to keep his eyes shut and cling to the fruitless illusion that was the nameless Woman. But he was close. Oh, he was so bloody close.
Swearing, Harry pulled away from her, letting her feet drop to the ground.
"Wha-What?" Alison said in a daze and her eyes went from glassy to set and she blinked furiously. Her chest rose and fell with each breath. "Honey, what's wrong?"
Having secured his belt once more, chest heaving and slick with sweat, Harry shook his head and ran a shaking hand through his hair.
"Why'd you stop?" Alley said, pulling her skirt back down. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders making her look very alluring. Harry gritted his teeth. What he needed was peace. And a maybe a knife in his heart.
"Sorry," he said. "This… I can't do this. Sorry."
"You can't…what?" she said, her voice taking on a dangerous tone.
Harry ignored her and crossed to his cupboard. Taking a handful of floo power in his hand, he went and tossed it in his fireplace. Green flames roared and danced in the hearth.
"There. It'll take you straight home. I'm sorry about this Alley but I can't just-"
Her cheeks flamed in righteous anger. "You were just," she said.
He took her wrist gently yet firmly in his grasp and pulled her to the fireplace. "Goodnight, Allison," Harry said in a clipped tone.
Allison stood in the flames, arms crossed over her chest. "Harry Potter, if you believe for one second that I will ever-"
"Hogsmead Village, flat 24," Harry shouted into the fireplace for her before sticking his head back out just in time to see a very angry Allison engulfed in green flames. Then she was gone.
Harry stood there, staring at the empty fireplace. He muttered a spell and his door locked. He sighed heavily and trudged to the living room. He stared out the window for a long moment, the pale glint of the moon falling across his hard features. Then he threw himself on the sofa.
Through his eyes, the Woman smiled back at him looking quite satisfied.
"Damnit." he muttered.
