Disclaimer: I obviously own none of the rights to the Harry Potter universe or the cover image, but the plot is mine

"I couldn't give a flying fig is he was king of the whole damned realm!"

"Well since you mention it…"

.

.

His words are left hanging in the air.

I freeze the moment before I barrel out the inn door. He can't possibly be serious. But then I've already gone this far… I spin around to face him.

He is only a few steps away and I can see the glimmer of amusement and victory in his eyes. His lips quirk and he raises one finely arched eyebrow, inviting my curiosity… and my wrath.

"He's the prince." Lavender sighs from next to me not taking her eyes from him. He cuts a dashing figure in the morning light. His otherworldly light hair, sharp cheekbones, a long, muscled body… stop. If I have just insulted him, he's less likely to kiss me with those cupid's bow lips and more likely to have me charged with treason.

"One of many lords, I can assure you, I just happen to be closer to the throne than most." He doesn't look away from me and I am caught in his gaze, too mesmerized to notice he is creeping closer.

Should I curtsy? Kiss him? Slap him? I am torn between all three.

"Perhaps we can speak privately?" He says, reading the indecision on my face.

My anger fizzles temporarily and I am so tempted to reach out and take his inviting hand. But what kind of Pandora's box will it open? I am not fool enough to think that taking his hand, especially with so many villagers watching, will not change the life I lead.

Still, this is the adventure I have only read about in books, the real change I have been craving. Before I can second guess myself, I reach for his hand. The skin is surprisingly calloused and warm, his hand envelopes mine with a subtle squeeze.

"For your discretion." He says in a low voice to Lavender, catching her gaze and pressing a coin into her palm. He shepherds me out the door with the press of his body. He steps in forward leading me, my hand still tucked into his. I can see his head swivel and assess the quiet morning street. I can see Mrs. Fletcher at the end of the street feeding the chickens in her yard and the baker's wares have perfumed the air with their fresh yeasty smell.

I have become uncharacteristically meek after my decision and follow behind as he pulls me towards the stable. He gives the stable boy one scathing look which sends the child scrambling out of sight. He pulls be into the warmth of the stable and past several horse withers. The stable is clean but the thick animal smell envelopes my senses.

He turns then, and assesses me. I am slightly disheveled from our quick departure and the deep breaths have pushed my breasts high in Lavender's borrowed gown. To his credit, his gaze only lingers a moment before he turns to look into my eyes.

"I meant no offense, I was not prepared to encounter such an enigma when I entered Potters' room. Although I admit I did wish to see you again, you… enchant me."

My heart stutters for a moment, unused to such bluntness and certainly not this kind of open admiration.

His words strike a chord with me. I can't help feeling a little like an outcast again. I am tired of being an oddity. The townsfolk have long since accepted my help and presence over the years but I do not delude myself into thinking that I am entirely welcome. My position as midwife has provided entry into their lives but Minerva and I will always be 'other'.

"Little doe?" His words pull me from my musings.

"Little - ?" I am confused by the endearment and the softness of his tone.

"Your eyes, they are so wide and deep, like a little doe." His body sways towards me and the spell of our closeness is contagious. His gaze his heady. Hungry.

I flush under his heated gaze but stay firm. "You do not know me – not a moment ago you thought my intelligence a novelty!" I begin, my anger returning and my body retreating, my hands still caught lightly in his grasp.

"But I want to know you!"

"I do not care what you want!" A lie.

There is a fine blush of frustration across his cheeks and his brow furrows.

"Please," the word looks unfamiliar to him. "Please give me a moment of your time, if only to thank you for saving my man." His face softens recalling the events which started our acquaintance.

"But you've already paid me – Pucey left me a purse." Translation: you owe me nothing.

"Potter is … he is one of my closest … friends. A purse is a small price to pay for his continued irritation in my life." I huff a laugh at him, softening.

His molten eyes spark and his smile widens. He flicks his gaze to my lips and my tongue unconsciously darts out to dampen my lips. What is this heady madness?

"Meet me," he rushes, "meet me in a week. I need more of you, your wit, your intoxicating, infuriating mind. I have to return to the… to my home. But I want to see you again."

"Yes," the word is a whispered rush on my breath before I've given it any thought.

His face brightens and then in the same moment he is kissing me, pulling me flush against him. His hands slide down my torso, one rests against my waist and the older clutches quickly at my backside, pulling me somehow closer to him.

I feel the heated press of his hands through my clothes and something harder through my skirts. I clutch at his shoulders and the rush of our heated words and this illicit and intoxicating feeling is too much. I pull back and feel the lingering tingle of his lips against mine. I am panting to catch my breath and torn between impropriety and the temptation of throwing myself back into his arms.

His hair is mussed, pupils blown wide and lips swelling from my assault – did I do that? "You are a revelation," he laughs, bending towards me again and swinging me around with the momentum of his lunge.

Something deep inside me calls for more.

Happy New Year! Yikes - time flies! I'm working on a loose plot for this before infilling, please review or submit something you'd like to see included (I'll do my best!) xo