As always, very many thanks to Narukoibito for her helpful beta!
Chapter 2:
A few days later, it was Saturday – the day of the blind date – and Harry spent most of the day helping Sirius with a few of the dogs at his kennel. Sirius was an excellent trainer and was reasonably well known; people came from all over the West Country just to have him work with their dogs. Once or twice a year, Sirius traveled throughout the country as a trustworthy and respected judge for the dog show circuit.
"So, what are you wearing tonight, godson?" Sirius asked him as they were finishing up. Most of the owners had come to pick up their pets, but a few dogs always stayed over, and Sirius liked to make sure they were well cared for before he left.
Harry squinted at him in the sunlight. "I hadn't really thought about it. Clothes, I reckon. Don't know if I want her going all faint at the sight of me in my altogether on the first date, Sirius."
Sirius smirked at him. "Stop taking after me, or I'll get another Remus lecture about being a positive role model. Honestly, Harry, you pulled a girl who worked as a fashion designer! Cho never gave you any tips?"
Harry looked down at his clothes, frowning. "Cho was a female sports designer, Sirius. What could she advise me on, exactly? The right sports bra to wear?"
Sirius barked out a laugh and shook his head at him. "Well, I didn't want to say anything, but you are getting a little developed in the …chestal area."
"I am not! And…honestly, the chestal area? Really? You're saying I have man-breasts?"
Sirius pulled Harry over into a headlock and ruffled his hair, chuckling. "Only joking, kid. Well, this looks like a job for your old godfather to take on. Let's get you home and cleaned up, so I know what I have to work with."
"You know what you have to work with," Harry said pointedly. "You have me."
"Hope springs eternal, Harry," Sirius said, wagging his eyebrows. Harry could only roll his eyes and laugh.
"Maybe I should talk to Remus instead; he at least has a woman in his life."
Sirius laughed. "True. But we both know Remus didn't get Dora with flashy clothes. He had a stellar personality to fall back on."
Harry pursed his lips at his godfather as they climbed into his old Jeep. "Thanks a lot. This is brilliant for my pre-date morale."
"I'm only trying to loosen you up and make you laugh, kid. Come on, let's grab a bite to eat at that new curry place that opened up. What's it called again? I have the menu in the glove box. It's bright orange."
Harry peered at Sirius's stash of takeaway menus (he was famous for it, actually) and pulled out the brightest orange paper he could see.
"Er, it's called Punjab's Pearl."
"Excellent! Let's get Remus some extra spicy Tikka Masala. He'll love it."
"Um, I'm not sure Dora will later when he er…" Harry let his voice trail off and made a gesture with his hand. Sirius cackled as they turned the corner near the restaurant. He found a space right near the door and smoothly backed his Jeep into it.
"You're right, he is the only one with any kind of love life right now. But we're gonna change that, right?" Sirius said as they hopped out of the Jeep and made their way towards the restaurant. They stood outside and looked at the menu before heading inside.
"I reckon. I mean, I hope," Harry said absentmindedly.
"Don't you want to go on this date?" Sirius asked as they waited in the short queue for the counter.
Harry shrugged. "I did. Er, I do. Maybe it's just nerves. You know I haven't been on a first date with anyone, but Cho, and that was ages ago when we were fifteen."
"Yeah, staying with your secondary school sweetheart for so long does mean you're a bit out of practice."
Harry frowned. "I wasn't even any good at it then, to be honest. I don't know how I got Cho to go out with me in the first place."
Sirius cracked a smile at him. "Because all Potter men are devilishly handsome and so full of charm that the female sex can't help but fall for them. Or at least, that's what your father always said. But come to think of it he only ever pulled your mother, so he might have been having me on."
A quiet snort was heard, and Harry glanced at the woman standing in front of them in the queue. There was something about her that was vaguely familiar, and he frowned. Her hair was done up in a plait, and it was thrown haphazardly over her shoulder. But she had wrapped some sort of covering over it, making it look almost purple. Sirius continued on as though he hadn't heard a complete stranger disparaging his previous remark.
"Just relax about tonight, all joking aside. It's basically a meet and greet, and you'll be with friends. If you don't like this bird, just move on to the next one. That's what I always do. There's plenty of them out there."
Now Harry definitely heard a snort of derision and opened his mouth to say something when the queue finally moved, and it was the girl's turn to order. Harry saw her pull out what looked like a healthy list of dishes and sighed. She must be feeding an army.
Sirius was looking at him strangely. "Are you all right, Harry?"
Harry blinked at his godfather. While trying to get a glimpse of the woman's face he had moved extremely close. He forced himself to step back and gave Sirius a sheepish look.
"Sorry, I thought I knew her," Harry murmured as the woman finally finished and turned away from the counter. She hard large, dark glasses on, but Harry saw a few freckles on her face, reminding him of something he'd seen in a photograph.
"Maybe you should cancel tonight's date and go chat up Miss Mystery over there," Sirius said after they ordered.
Harry felt annoyed. "She was laughing at what you were saying to me! I thought it was rude that she was listening."
Sirius merely raised his eyebrow at him. "You could just practice on her. You know, chat her up. Brush up those skills."
Harry kept his mouth shut. He glanced at the woman as she stood off to the side, staring down at what seemed to be the same model of mobile that he had just bought for himself. She was dressed in fairly tight-fitting jeans, and Harry couldn't help but admire the view. She was short, but had long legs. At least in those jeans it appeared she did, and her arse was quite…
Harry was broken out of his reverie by a hearty laugh in his ear. He turned back to Sirius to see a knowing look on his godfather's face. Harry felt his skin heat.
"Shut it, Sirius," he muttered.
Sirius just smirked at him, and they both watched as the woman's order was called out, and she went to collect it. It took three bags just to hold all the food, but she handled it gracefully, Harry had to admit. He felt himself breathe a little easier as soon as the door closed behind her. Sirius merely lifted his eyebrows at him and remained surprisingly silent.
They drove home and then ate, with Remus noting that the Tikka Masala seemed spicier than usual. Harry shook his head at Sirius as his godfather bit back a laugh, and he went upstairs to shower. He was still thinking of the girl they'd seen in the restaurant. Who listened to other people's conversations? Sirius hadn't precisely been talking quietly, but still. Harry hoped she wasn't a reporter or some busybody. That would be just what he needed – a story about how he was a dateless wonder and didn't know how to chat up a woman.
When he came out of the shower, a garment bag was lying across his bed, and Harry shook his head. Sirius had penned a simple note to it –Wear this! Get shagged! – with a rough illustration of a large, smiling dog. Harry unzipped the bag and realized it was one of Sirius's suits, a dark green one that looked like it had now been tailored to fit him. He heard a noise from his doorway and turned around to see Sirius putting Remus into his chair, and they both looked in at him.
"When did you get this done? It looks like it'll fit great," Harry said, unzipping the garment bag a bit more.
"When you told us you were ready to start dating again. I know you have some fancy clothes in your wardrobe that you wore for publicity events and whatnot, but you never really managed to get a decent suit. That is a single-breasted and every man needs one, Harry. I have fond memories of that suit, you know."
Harry raised his eyebrow, almost afraid to ask what his godfather meant by that. Remus laughed.
"He means he wore it to your parent's wedding, Harry."
"I remember I was trying to find something that James and Lily would both like. Lily liked the cut of the suit, and James liked the color," Sirius said, coming into the room. "You're going to look fantastic in this, Harry. Go out and knock all the ladies dead."
Harry felt a swell of emotion and lay the suit back on the bed. He threw his arms around his godfather. "Thank you, Sirius. This means…this means so much to me."
Sirius hugged him back briefly and then pulled away. "Sorry I couldn't do anything about that hornet's nest you call hair, but I am but a mere mortal and can only do so much. Hope the bird likes strategically mussed hair on a bloke."
Harry laughed and shook his head. They left him alone to get ready, and Harry took the suit further out of the garment bag and hung it up on his bathroom door. He had a good feeling about tonight, suddenly. He knew the suit would bring him some sort of luck.
o-o-o-o-o
A few hours later, Harry was not only convinced that luck had utterly passed him by, but it must have also given him the two-finger salute. The evening had started off nice enough. He'd met Ron and Hermione at the Dragon, said hello to Hagrid, Romilda had arrived, and they had greeted each other. As the dinner went on, Harry felt more comfortable. Especially with Ron and Hermione there. But Romilda seemed reticent and non-talkative, which was fine to Harry - (he didn't need a woman to continually be talking all the time), but it didn't come off as shyness so much as snobbishness. Or perhaps she was just bored. Still, Harry knew she must have some personality, as Hermione didn't strike him as the type to befriend a total waste of space. But he had also noticed Hermione trying to get her friend to talk as well, so perhaps it was just nerves.
After paying their separate tabs, Ron and Hermione had asked them to come back to theirs for afters, but Romilda had claimed an early start the next day. They said goodbye to the other couple, and Harry had thought that was that. A slightly dull date that was at least spent in good company in the form of Ron and Hermione with excellent grub from Hagrid. His new chef, Norbert, was really knocking it out of the park as far as Harry was concerned.
Only when Romilda was hailing a cab did she turn to Harry, a wide, inviting smile on her face. She had winked at him and asked he'd wanted to join her for a nightcap at a club that was nearby. Her hand had lingered on his chest, moving slowly down the front of his suit. While he hadn't felt that same feeling in his chest as he had for the red-headed woman he'd watched a month ago, he felt something. So for whatever reason (and Harry knew precisely which part of his body had made the decision), he'd said yes.
And now here he was. Sitting off to the side at a loud nightclub watching his date dance with another bloke. Life was just bloody brilliant.
Sighing, Harry figured he had about 20 minutes to go until his pint was done, and Romilda had forgotten about him entirely. He was a bit surprised when she returned, looking sweaty yet energized.
"Don't you want to dance?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at him coyly.
"What happened to that other bloke you've been dancing with?"
"Oh, he went back to his date. Hermione never knew this, but I was a big fan of yours when you played football. I was dead chuffed when she suggested we meet. You looked quite fit in your footie gear, and that suit fits you perfectly. I see you've kept in shape."
Romilda leaned over until she was practically on Harry's lap, and he frowned at her. What was she playing at? Ignore him at dinner by not saying more than a few words, suddenly flirt with him, get him to go to a nightclub, dance most of the night away with some other man, and now she was crawling into his lap blathering on about his football uniform? Harry had had enough.
"I need to use the loo," he said, standing up quickly. Apparently she had not been expecting that as she suddenly pitched forward. Romilda gracefully managed to right herself and gave him a little smile.
"Hurry back. I want at least one dance with the famous Harry Potter."
Harry's stomach lurched. Oh, she was one of those. Bugger. He gave her a tired smile and then turned around, going anywhere that could hide him from Romilda Vane. He didn't care if he had to spend the next hour standing next to the toilets – Harry was done.
Harry wandered around on the other side of the club and banged his head against the wall in frustration. He would have to insist that Hermione implement some sort of screening for any further dates. And he wasn't going to date anyone who liked football or knew of him from football. Or had even once touched a football. It was the only way to be safe from what he liked to call the groupie mentality of certain women.
"Sorry, don't mean to interrupt your er, head injury tactics, but I just saw that girl you're with put something in your drink. If you go back over there, I wouldn't drink anything she's been able to touch."
Harry snapped his head around and saw a woman standing next to him. She was shorter than he was, but not by much, and had a weird sort of turban thing around her head. He frowned at it, and she mistook his look for something else.
"Right, well, enjoy your evening getting taken advantage of then. Sorry to have bothered you."
She turned to go, but Harry quickly reached out and touched her arm. Her skin felt smooth and silky, and he let his fingers linger more than he probably should have. She frowned down at his hand, and he quickly pulled it back.
"Sorry, I wasn't angry at you, I was just looking at your…" Harry paused and nodded towards her head. "Thank you for warning me. I'm not even sure what I'm doing here with her."
The woman looked him up and down, and he noticed she had a fair amount of makeup on, making her skin look like porcelain in the club lighting. Her simple black dress looked surprisingly elegant, in contrast to everyone else. The material stretched across her shoulders, which were covered by a sheer fabric that held tiny rhinestones that sparkled in the lights.
"Do you really want to get rid of her?"she finally asked, glancing at him and then looking away. He'd had the sensation of two warm brown eyes staring back at him. He was about to ask what she meant when her eyes darted behind him, and she made a face. She whispered, "Hang on tiger."
Before Harry even knew what was happening, she was kissing him, using her legs to turn him around and to push him back up against the wall. He felt her body against his – warm, breathing, intoxicating, and amazing in all the right places. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd been snogged by a complete stranger, let alone a complete stranger that had a body like hers. It took him exactly three seconds to respond, and he wrapped his arms around her, practically pulling her off the ground. He didn't know how long they kissed, but it honestly wasn't long enough to Harry. The scent of something floral hit his senses, and he sighed.
"Oh, this is a fine thing!" A shrill voice came from over the woman's shoulder, and Harry managed to somehow pull himself away from her brilliant lips and could only stare blankly at a seething Romilda Vane. The woman in Harry's arms turned around, and he sucked in a breath as she moved her hips against his.
"He's found a better opportunity, you daft cow, so get lost."
Romilda narrowed her eyes at them. "Pardon me?"
"Er, Romilda, why don't we just agree we're not meant to be and call it a night?" Harry suggested, hoping she would listen to reason.
Romilda looked as though she wanted to cause a scene, and Harry felt his stomach swoop in disappointment – he could already see the morning headlines: Former Footballer Harry Potter in Night Club Brawl! Nearby couples were starting to pay more attention.
"I took a picture with my mobile of you slipping something into this bloke's drink, so why don't you just fuck off, Romilda." The woman in his arms pushed away from him, her voice taking on a menacing sound. Harry frowned and was going to step in between them when he saw Romilda's expression change. For a brief moment, it looked like recognition. Romilda continued to look at the woman in front of him with narrowed eyes. She finally turned to him, a nasty smile on her face.
"Fine, you can have him. He's a has-been anyway, not like Thomas." Romilda raised her eyebrow at the woman, and then turned abruptly away, her hair flying out behind her. The woman who had kissed him stood there for a moment watching her leave. Harry could tell she was upset by the deep breaths of air she was taking in.
"Are you all right?" He finally asked her, pulling her out of the way of two drunks stumbling by. He was surprised by the steely look on her face. She nodded.
"I'm sorry I kissed you like that. I don't normally throw myself at unsuspecting blokes. Sorry. I owed her for something, and I thought it would make me feel better, but it hasn't. I don't reckon you want to press charges against her, do you?" She raised her mobile in her hand, and he remembered her mentioning a photo she'd taken.
"Er, well…" Harry paused, not sure of what to say. He honestly didn't want to get involved, which she seemed to sense, judging by the slump of her shoulders.
"It's fine. You're a complete stranger, and I know you don't want to get involved in this mess. I'm sorry again. But, if you change your mind..." She pulled a pen and small piece of paper out of a beaded bag she had wrapped around her wrist. After scribbling something on it, she offered the paper to him.
When he didn't move to take it, she turned to go, her shoulders dropping again. Harry suddenly reacted before he could really think his actions through. "Wait! I…what's your name, at least…I mean, I…that was some kiss." He sounded like a complete prat.
Her mouth twitched into a small smile as she gazed at him. "It was, wasn't it?" She moved closer to him and held the sides of his face with her hand. "I wish I'd met you earlier."
Before Harry could get the words 'earlier than what?' out of his mouth, she was stretching upwards slightly and kissing him again. He felt her hand dip into his breast pocket, but his senses were being filled by her, and he disregarded it. But the kiss turned out to be just a small one – her mouth only briefly touching his, and then she was gone, slipping away into the crowd. Taking her floral scent and brilliant lips with her.
He could only stare at the empty space where she had been and run his fingers against his lips in frustration.
o-o-o-o-o
The next morning, Harry groaned as his mobile went off. He growled as the cheery ring tong Sirius had switched it to blared loudly through his room and his head.
"What?" Harry barked as he rolled over, throwing an arm over his eyes to block the light coming from his window.
"Blimey, Harry, need a refresher course in phone manners?" Ron's voice cackled at him, and Harry groaned.
"Do you know what time it is?" Harry asked, lowering his voice.
Ron laughed. "Yeah, of course, but the real question is, Harry, do you? You were due for lunch about half an hour ago. Crikey, Romilda's not still there is she?"
Harry groaned again and threw the phone down on the bed. After a moment of taking in deep breaths to calm himself, Harry picked it up again.
"No, and thank God for that. You need to seriously have Hermione do background checks on these nutters, Ron. I don't even understand how your wife could be friends with her! That girl has completely lost the plot. She tried to drug me!"
"What in the…seriously? You'd better come over, and we'll talk this out. How soon can you find yourself upright?"
Harry sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Give me a few, and I'll be over. I'm actually surprised Sirius or Remus haven't been knocking on my door yet."
After a few more moments, they rang off, and Harry forced himself to sit up. He noticed a tall glass of water and a small bottle of paracetamol next to his bed. He smiled, his uncle had definitely been in to check on him. He took a long drink of the water and then threw back the tablets, hoping they'd do their magic quickly. At least the room wasn't spinning.
Harry grabbed some clothes and took a quick shower. He was making his way downstairs when he heard Sirius laughing. He came across him and Dora talking in the kitchen, both holding coffee cups.
"Oh God, please tell me there is still coffee," Harry exclaimed, brushing past them to the coffee machine. He sighed in relief as he saw there was a bit left. He quickly poured it into a cup and grabbed the creamer that was still on the counter. Harry closed his eyes as he took a long sip, experiencing the wonderful alchemy of hot water and ground coffee beans soothing his weary soul. When he finally opened his eyes again, Sirius and Dora were both silently laughing at him.
"You two wanna be alone?" Dora asked, nodding at his cup.
"Should I be worried that you're acting extremely rude and not taking one up to the lady friend I pray to God stayed the night or depressed because you didn't get a leg over?"
Harry grimaced at Sirius. "It was a first date, Sirius. A blind first date at that. No one is that smooth, and no, I don't want to hear that yes, once upon a time, you were indeed, that smooth."
Dora guffawed as Sirius looked insulted at Harry's statement. "I don't think I raised you to talk to me like this, godson."
Harry fixed his eye on his godfather. "Yes, yes, you did. And you know it."
Sirius's face broke into a wide grin. "Was the date that horrible?"
Harry sighed. "Honestly, you have no idea. But I'm off to Ron and Hermione's, they get the first crack at my tale of woe, sorry. I'll fill you lot in at dinner. You cooking, or should I expect pizza?"
"I'm cooking, so don't ruin your appetite, young man," Sirius said, laughing. "Dora, are joining us tonight? You are more than welcome."
"No, I know how you three like your close-knit male bonding time in the kitchen. Besides, I have to work. Double shift. I'll just go say goodbye to Remus." Dora smiled at Harry. "Sorry, the date didn't work out. You'll get 'em next time, and if not, between the two of us, we both know where to hide the bodies."
Harry laughed and nodded as Dora planted a small kiss on his cheek. He spent a few more moments just enjoying his coffee while Sirius started the dishwasher. "See ya later," Harry said, beginning to leave. Sirius called after him.
"Hey, I'm really sorry it didn't turn out how you wanted, Harry. But at least the suit looked good, right?"
"It did," Harry agreed. "It was actually the best part of the whole evening. Well…" Harry paused, thinking of the strange woman who had kissed him, a thought tugging at his memory. "There may have one or two other good parts, in retrospect."
"Oh?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow. "Now that sounds encouraging, Harry."
"I'll tell you later, I promise," Harry said, laughing. "If I tell you now, I'll just have to repeat it for Remus."
He heard Sirius mutter something like always the bridesmaid under his breath and smiled as he grabbed his jacket. He couldn't wait to tell Ron and Hermione about the mysterious girl who snogged first and explained later.
o-o-o-o-o
Harry and Ron were enjoying a nice lunch out on the patio of the couple's house. Hermione had asked for the details of Harry's night and then disappeared. Harry had a sinking feeling of where she had scarpered off to. He just hoped Romilda didn't suddenly feel the need to contact him about it all. Honestly, what had she been thinking?
"So this strange woman snogs you, saves you from getting taken advantage of, and then leaves you wanting more without even telling you her name?" Ron was asking, sounding incredulous.
Harry smiled. "Yeah. If it hadn't actually happened to me, I might think someone was taking the piss."
The slamming of the front door of the house caused both men to stop eating as the kitchen window next to them rattled.
"Uh oh," Ron said, putting his fork down. They both turned their heads expectedly to the open doorway as Hermione came storming through it.
"Of all the bloody cheek!" she exclaimed, throwing herself into the empty chair next to Ron. "I went over to Romilda's to fully understand what had happened last night, and she told me off! She said I should know better than to fix her up with a dud! And to sort out my family problems which I didn't understand at all! Oh, sorry, Harry, I don't think you're a dud. When I knew Romilda before she wasn't like this, but apparently she came down with footballer fever while we were away. According to the brief phone call I just had with Ginny, Romilda's working her way through most of the players out there!"
Ron patted his wife's hand, absentmindedly. "Romilda was always a bit off to me, love. You just always want to think the best of people. And to be fair, she can come off as being extremely…normal when she wants to."
Hermione looked at Ron aghast. "Why didn't you tell me this before I decided to set her up with poor Harry?"
Ron scratched the back of his neck and gave his wife a careful look. "Er, I did, actually."
Hermione's expression grew confused. "But I just thought that was you being your usual self. You never think anyone is good enough for Ginny, so I thought you felt the same way about Harry."
Harry shook his head at his friends. "It's okay, guys. Nothing happened thanks to that woman who came to my rescue. I reckon it was lucky she saw Romilda put something in my drink at the very least."
Hermione's brow furrowed. "You didn't tell me that part, Harry. What happened?"
Harry quickly filled her in, and Hermione frowned at the end of his tale. "So she didn't even give you her name? And she confronted Romilda like she knew her? How…odd."
"She was probably embarrassed she snogged me like that, to be honest. Or at least, she seemed to be. She apologized. And…" Harry paused, remembering something. "Wait! I think she may have slipped something in my pocket the second time she kissed me. Maybe she left me her phone number?"
"You should check when you get home," Ron said, turning back to his food. "Maybe the evening wasn't an entire loss."
Harry nodded, and they finished their lunch. Hermione kept apologizing to Harry about her horrible first choice of a setup, and he reassured her it was okay. As he was leaving, Hermione impulsively hugged him.
"I am sorry, Harry. Next time I will make sure it's someone I really know and not just someone from work. Although that does narrow your prospects down a bit." Hermione gave him a lopsided grin.
"It's fine, Hermione. I wasn't expecting much, to be honest. I don't think you get what you and Ron have on the first try, anyway. I was just looking for someone to hang out with and get to know a little bit."
"And someone to snog, too," Ron said, coming up behind them. "You know there's a really fit female coach at work you might like…"
"Ron, you said you worked with mostly men and old women!"
Harry snorted as Hermione glared at her husband. Ron's ears turned pink. "She's new?" he said, giving his wife an innocent look.
Harry left them to that discussion, telling them they could meet up during the week for dinner at The Dragon. He headed home feeling a bit better about everything. He reminded himself to check his suit pocket from the night before to see if the mystery woman had indeed left him her phone number.
o-o-o-o-o
That evening Harry found himself sitting in front of his computer, frowning. She hadn't left him her number, but she had left him her email. "What am I supposed to do with this?" Harry wondered out loud.
"Well, you could just write her," Remus's voice care from his bedroom doorway, and Harry guiltily looked up at his uncle.
"I'm not that good with words, I mean, I don't think I am," Harry said, frowning at the piece of paper. He'd really been hoping it was a phone number. Harry was better in person, or at least, he was on the phone. He tended to be less awkward, for one thing. Cho had always said he had a sexy voice on the phone. While the team was on away games sometimes the phone had been the only way he and Cho had kept their relationship alive. Not that it had helped them all that much in the end.
"Letter writing is a lost art, or it will be soon, I think. Your father used to write to your mother when they were separated by school or work. Lily said your father could be quite lyrical when he wanted to be."
"My Dad used to write my Mum letters?" Harry asked, a bit stunned. He'd never known this.
"When James was finishing up with his schooling, and Lily was already at home. He'd write her a couple times a week, I believe. Used to drive Sirius crazy."
"Why?"
"Probably something to do with James wasting time writing instead of going out to the pubs with him," Remus said, smirking. He nodded at the paper in Harry's hand. "Is that from the woman who kissed you?" Harry had, as promised, related the whole ordeal to his uncle and godfather at dinner. He could still hear Sirius's laughter in his head.
Now Harry felt his skin heat and gave his uncle a self-conscious grin. "Yeah. Do you think she wants me to contact her?"
"I would assume that is why she slipped it into your pocket, after all. Well, I'll you get on with it," Remus said, giving him a knowing smile.
Harry sighed and stared at the address: Redflash6 .uk
"Well, here goes nothing," Harry mumbled and opened up his mail server. After staring at a blinking cursor for far too long, he finally started writing.
Dear Redflash –
I would have written "Dear Your Name," but of course, you didn't give me your name, even though you gave me a fairly decent snog and then cruelly left me standing there, missing you and your lips. So, I reckon I'll just call you Red for now and see where that takes us.
I do hope you meant to slip this email address into my suit pocket so that I would contact you. If you didn't, then I'm sorry for bothering you. But I'm not the type of bloke (despite standing around in a nightclub on a Saturday night) that randomly gets snogged within an inch of his life by strange women, and I can't seem to let it go.
So I'm sending this in the hopes that this email does actually find you agreeable to continuing our conversation, or at the very least, we could start one since we've already done the hard part and snogged.
Sincerely,
Harry (notice how I quite easily give you my name with little to no ambiguity involved)
Harry re-read the letter twice before sighing and hitting the send button. Well, that's all there is to it, he thought. She'd either write him back, or she'd laugh and ignore him. But Harry hoped she would write. He shut down his computer, slightly frustrated. He had initially intended to go over some documents for his sports centers, but he wasn't in the mood anymore.
Harry's eyes alighted on the book Dora had given him last week and smiled. He was almost at the part where the murderer was revealed. Harry loved trying to figure out who the guilty party was. Grabbing the book and throwing himself on his bed, he figured he was owed a little reading time for himself.
o-o-o-o-o
Harry was finally going through the sport centers' paperwork when the little flag on his email box popped up, a small yet loud ding! echoing from the computer's speakers. Frowning, he adjusted the sound and then opened the email.
Dear Harry,
Yes, I did mean to give you this address so that you might contact me. I was hoping you'd noticed. Afterwards, of course, I was scandalized about how bold I'd been. As I said, I rarely, if ever, kiss strange men in nightclubs. If I am honest with myself, I have to say that I wanted you to contact me for reasons other than getting that girl into trouble.
So, here we are. I admit I was happy to see your email this morning. I am assuming this means you did not go home with her? Hopefully, you were able to get away unscathed. She is a nasty piece of work, and I strongly caution you to rethink any sort of relationship with her.
You had such a kind look about you (it must have been the glasses, I have a soft spot for men who wear glasses), and I was hoping that she'd not been able to sink her claws into you. I do prefer my men to be without claw marks and scratch-free.
Sincerely,
Red (notice how I quite easily deflected the name question and threw all sorts of new ambiguity out there at you)
Harry snorted to himself, shaking his head. He hit the reply button before he could think and started crafting his reply.
Dear Red:
I am glad that the sight of me wearing my glasses enticed you enough to be so bold (It usually has the opposite effect on members of your sex, believe it or not).
I am not involved with the person you saved me from. That was, quite auspiciously enough, our first (and last) date. Even before what happened, we were not getting along. I was actually hiding from her on the other side of the club when you approached me. (Am I impressing you yet with my complete and utter manliness? Oh, some girls get all the luck)
She had been a setup, a blind date if you will, and that is all I can say about it.
Fine, you won't tell me your name. I do admit the idea of using Red is enticing to me, as I have always had a fondness for that color. Does red refer to a preference of yours as well or is it your hair color? I have never dated a ginger, but a man can dream. ;-) And hope. And pray.
Sincerely,
Harry (who hopes that last bit was deft and pointed enough to garner a confirmation)
Harry smiled to himself and hit send, feeling a spark of happiness within him. Maybe there was something to this whole letter writing thing, after all.
o-o-o-o-o