Hermione apparated straight home, knowing she didn't have long before Ron would be back.

'Damn, damn, damn, damn. Oh God, why did I have to do that?' She rushed up the stairs and took off her dress, pulling on jeans and a sweatshirt. 'Damn, damn. How can I have been so stupid?' She grabbed at a pile of cotton pads and began to frantically wipe off the make-up. 'Damn, damn. What am I going to do?'

'Firstly, you're going to calm down. It was a good afternoon; you'd had a glass or two of wine. He's special to you. Ok, so you lied to your husband. He thought you were at home working. WORKING!! Damn, damn.'

She rushed down the stairs and scattered parchments rapidly over the table. 'Damn, damn, now I'm all red and sweaty. Oh God. Please just be a little late tonight. Go for a beer or something.' Ron's hand on the clock moved to "Travelling". 'Damn, damn.'

'Hi honey, I'm home. Mmm, that smells good!!' It was his usual greeting; he got it from watching some old American comedy programme. Ron still thought television was amazing.

'Dinner!! Damn, damn.' She put her face in her hands. 'Calm down, for God's sake.'

'I'm in here.' She tried to make her voice as normal as possible, but it sounded horribly squeaky for some reason. 'I hadn't realised the time. I'll get dinner started.'

'Great, I'm starving. What are we having?'

'Goulash'

'Goulash?'

'It's a stew, from Bulgaria…no, not Bulgaria, Hungaria…Hungary. Not Bulgaria at all, nowhere near it.'

'Talking of Bulgarians,' Hermione stiffened instinctively. Did he know? How did he know? Who'd told him? How had he found out? Oh God. 'They're on tour over here, playing England on Saturday. I tried to get tickets but it's sold out. You'll never guess who's managing them now. Your old boyfriend. Yep, old Vicky himself!'

She let out the breath she didn't even realise she was holding.

'He's not my boyfriend. He never was. We went to one dance together, that's all. He isn't, he never was. How could you think he was? We were just friends, that's all. My boyfriend? Pah! Who'd think that?' Stop gabbling Hermione. Damn, damn.

'Ok love, calm down. So you weren't. I believe you, thousands wouldn't.' Ron wasn't quite sure what he'd done wrong. 'Fancy a glass of wine, or have you had one already? You're a bit red.'

'It's the heat from the cooker.'

'I doubt it; you haven't turned it on yet.'

Damn, damn.

-o0o-

She calmed down a little over dinner, trying to keep the conversation on very neutral, boring things. How was work? My report is really boring. Stayed in all day, didn't see a soul. That kind of thing. Things that couples who've been married for years talk about. Not people who've just cheated on their husband.

After dinner, they settled down on the sofa, Ron watching the television. It was a programme Hermione wasn't interested in, which was good because it gave her time to think.

'Ok, so I was silly. I know that, I'll admit it. It was stupid, but it was just one little incident. I've been married for twenty years, and that's the first time ever. I'm allowed one mistake, aren't I? Viktor's going back to Bulgaria soon, and I'll probably never see him again. It was just a silly little fling, me forgetting my age, that's all. Ok, I enjoyed it. Of course I did. It was much better than the first one. It was different, that's all.'

'Ron's a good husband, and a fantastic father, and my friend. I'd be stupid to throw this all away.' Her hand moved automatically to the scar on her throat. 'I nearly lost him once. He's what kept me going then, whilst she was hurting me. I was the thought of never seeing Ron again that made me hold on. I didn't think about Viktor then, it was Ron. It's always been Ron.'

She suddenly turned and kissed him ferociously. It was the sort of kiss she hadn't given him for years.

'Wow!! What was that for?'

She snuggled down in to his arm.

'For being the best comfy old cardigan I've ever had.'

'I suppose I'd better take that as a compliment.'

-o0o-

"That time" as she called it quickly became a pleasant memory, one of those that every attractive woman has tucked away. Just occasionally her fingers lightly traced across her lips, and she smiled secretly to herself. Yes, a nice memory. She wasn't just a middle aged wife and mother, she was a woman a man wanted to kiss. It was an ego boost. Then he wrote to her again.

'Dear Hermione,

I am in London one day more tomorrow. Please, I want see you again. We need talk, I think, before I return to Bulgaria.

Viktor'

Hermione paced the kitchen, chewing at her nails. Should she go? How could she? OK, let's look at this logically. First, I'm a grown woman, not a silly little girl. Second, he's going back to Bulgaria and I'll probably never see him again. He wants to talk, probably to clear the air. Third, if I want to keep him as a friend, I can't let in end like this.

Is that all? Is that why I want to see him? Just to clear the air? What if something else happens? What if I get carried away again? Poor Ron, think of him. He's important, not Viktor. I made a mistake, and now I have to pay for it. I can't see him again. I'll just write and say I'm busy, so I can't make it. Yes, that's best.

It is said you learn something new every day. That day, Hermione learnt that once an owl has been sent it cannot be accio'd back. The letter tied to its leg was very short.

'12:30? At the same place?'

-o0o-

Hermione could hardly bring herself to eat breakfast. She was edgy, and feeling slightly sick. Why wouldn't Ron hurry up and go to work? How long did it take to eat a piece of toast?

Once he had left, she spent a long time in the shower, trying to calm herself down.

'This is just so silly; I'm working myself in to a state for nothing. I'll meet him, apologise, say I have an urgent meeting and go. That would be best all round.'

Deep down, she knew it would never work. That wasn't a dress she would wear to the Ministry, and she spent a long time getting her hair just right. It would be the last time they met, she knew that. She wanted this last memory to be a good one.

They met at the same entrance. This time, there was no greeting, no cheek kisses. Viktor motioned her to the room they had used before. He did not take her arm. The table was laid, as previously, the starter already on the table. They ate in silence for a moment.

'Hermi-own-ninny' 'Viktor' They had spoken at the same time. With a small hand movement, she gestured that he should speak first.

'Hermi-own-ninny, the last time we meet, we kiss. I think maybe it was mistake. But then I think maybe not mistake. I think you want kiss me, and I want kiss you.'

Her eyes flew open. Had she given herself away so completely? 'Viktor, I think I should..'

'Please' he stopped her with a motion of his hand 'I have to say this. You are my first girlfriend, my first kiss. I think I am always little in love with you.'

He was right of course, she knew that. You always stay a little bit in love with your first love, no matter what happens. She felt the room getting smaller. She knew what must happen next. She has always known what would happen next. Known? Suspected? Hoped? Did it make a difference what word she chose?

'Hermi-own-ninny, I must say this to you. I leave for my home tomorrow. Maybe I never see you again. I have room here. Will you come to room with me?'

She looked down at the table. The weave on the cloth suddenly became very clear to her. It expanded until it filled her mind. She now had only two choices. She could go with him, or she could just go.

She also knew, with perfect clarity, that which ever she chose to do, she would regret it for the rest of her life.