Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

AN: Hope you enjoy! :D

Chapter 8: Well-Worn Motions

Orion tried to focus on the report in his hand but the sound of click-clacking buttons being pressed drew his eyes to the typist.

Walburga was intensely focused on her task and didn't spare him a glance in return.

It hurt to see her with her harsh words from the previous day still ringing in his ears.

He'd been shocked to find her in his office already at work. Considering his hangover and the general feeling of misery suffused through his being, he'd been tempted this morning to owl his appointments and reschedule.

But with her there...couldn't.

The 8 o'clock and 10 o'clock clients had come and gone and it was nearing lunch.

If he could scrounge some scrap of fortitude, he could ask her to accompany him to a restaurant and dismiss the other day as yet another misadventure in their disastrous courtship.

But…

Was he wasting his time pursuing her?

She didn't think much of him at all...that much was certain.

That morning, at breakfast, when he'd been sober enough to relay the full extent of their argument to his parents, their prior amusement swiftly changed to concern.

Walburga had all but spat on him—derisively dismissing his love as shallow, if not wholly false. And she'd laid out that marriage might not be in her future plans at all which effectively doomed his hopes of a having a household with her.

Arcturus shook his head slowly. "Orion...I think...you have your answer. Perhaps, it is time you renounce this quest. If she...Son, if she doesn't respect you, now...I can't see any reason you could expect her to after marriage even if you somehow convinced her to accept your hand."

Perhaps, he'd told too much, too soon...that his hurt was too palpable as he confessed how little regard she had for him.

He watched the good humor in his mother's eyes drain and her mouth grew tense with disapproval.

He wished Lucretia was there, he had a fuzzy memory that she'd argued for Walburga the previous night...that Walburga's attraction to him was proof that she felt something...something more than friendship.

He clumsily tried to bring up the point.

But neither of his parents seemed moved.

His father kept sighing.

Melania simply reiterated what she'd said the previous night but in a colder, more solemn tone. Orion finally found himself on the other end. And then she expressed her sorrow that Walburga had used him thus.

That had forced him to re-evaluate various romantic rendezvous over the years.

He hadn't thought of himself as taking advantage, he'd been dallying with like-minded thrill seekers and even then he'd always been open (hopeful) that these encounters could flower into more meaningful relationships.

They just didn't.

Somewhere along the way, he would lose interest or they did, or incompatibility would rear its head and…

And he'd find himself seeking out Walburga who always shook her head in amusement following a break up and offered to take him out for a dessert, though he'd have to "earn it" by assisting her with her list of errands.

He'd thought it all terribly infantilizing as a Fifth Year but by age twenty, he came to appreciate her steadiness. And even though he'd repeatedly had to take her scoldings...she was never miserly with her sympathy.

It was what made their current predicament all the more awkward and frustrating.

She knew her skills were helpful to his business and so she appeared. To hell with his hurting heart!

He watched Walburga finish up the report and then cross the room to him.

She came beside his chair and then leaned against the desk. "Are you still cross with me?"

It was the flippant tone that spiked fury in him.

"Yes," he growled.

She sighed and set the stack of papers in a folder. She reached over and tried to set a hand on his shoulder. She usually did that before she scolded him.

And he was in no mood for it this day.

He brushed her off.

She crossed her arms, tried to hold his furious gaze, and failed. In a rare loss of composure, she noticeably fidgeted.

"I...I...am...sorry if my words...if the delivery of my words...injured you. The suddenness...might have made me more...perhaps if I'd had more time to reflect, I could've delivered my sentiments more..." she struggled "gently?"

"..."

Her eyes sought his. "Orion…?"

He couldn't contain himself.

"You think I'm a promiscuous lover and doomed to be a feckless husband," he hissed.

She winced. "Doomed might be a little strong, dear-"

"And I'm supposed to forget this?"

She blinked rapidly and then doubled down on being firmly disapproving. "N-no but…look, you were the one who did the kiss-"

"You let me kiss-"

She wrung her hands together in exasperation. "I know! I shouldn't have!"

"Then why did you? If I'm so loathsome-"

She set her hands on his arm. "O Orion, you're not lo-"

He wrenched his arm from her grasp. "Just go-"

"What?"

He shooed her away. "Go, I've no need of your services any longer, Ms. Black."

Real hurt flashed across her features and it was such a rare and unexpected sight that his ire flagged.

Though still in a tone harder than he usually used with her, he more gently followed up with, "When you know your next career interest, tell me. I'll write you a recommendation."

She turned on her heel, her dress fanning with the movement.

"No need. So sorry to have been a waste of your time, Mr. Black" was the icy reply before she disapparated with a loud and resounding CRACK!

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It was with great reluctance, Orion agreed to a restaurant outing with his parents and sister for the evening.

Admittedly, he'd been reclusive for the better part of the month. Business helped him orient himself in what was becoming a "new" life for him.

He pulled a chair out for his sister before taking his place on his father's right side.

As a chilled bottle of pinot grigio was presented and poured, Orion reflected that his mother was cunning. It just so happened that a friend of hers was conveniently accompanied by her very attractive daughter and seated at a table near them which prompted a move to a larger table across the room to accommodate their growing party size and allow for a pleasant meeting.

Leonora Selwyn was dark haired and petite with delicate wrists and an innocent expression. And it all worked in drawing out an instinctive protectiveness in him.

Not to mention, she had a lovely speaking voice and when it was mentioned she was an up and coming opera singer, he did not wonder at it a bit.

She was younger than him and blushed if he looked too intently at her.

She shyly complimented him on his smile and flushed when he praised her dulcet voice.

He would admit he felt a draw.

Maybe this was the opportunity he'd been—

Blast!

To his mortification, Walburga and Abraxas were seated at a table nearby.

"Your Jelly Legs Jinx needs work and you know it," Abraxas stated outright.

"Yes," she nodded readjusting the sleeves of a long coat that she ought to have taken off and had checked in at the front desk, "It's been too long. I think I'll do a drill for it tonight. I, however, noticed your Episkey spell-"

"That's not a combative spell. We're speaking-"

"I know! But it's useful and there's no rule against self-healing during a match-"

"I am not going to bother with doing a drill for Episkey-"

The server collected their menus and their orders and was on his way.

She glared at her companion. "O you men always take criticism too hard. You and the others love critiquing me, but when it's my turn to dole out much needed advice...Oh no! Run for the hills. If you only wanted flattery, be honest and don't broach such topics."

"You do it wrong. There's a formula: Praise, gentle criticism, more praise."

"You don't do that with each other."

"Men don't have to do that with each other. Women have to do that with men."

"That's...ridiculous."

Malfoy sipped his goblet of wine and shrugged, "Yes. But that is how it is."

"Good Lord."

"You don't understand men."

She sighed and agreed, "I truly don't."

"I do hope you're not going to start moping again. It's good riddance, you will see."

"But it's monstrous inconvenient. I go out, I buy him handsome things, come home and remember we're not speaking. What am I to do with cologne and a money clip?" She ruffled through her purse. "And I still have one last stack of these business cards."

She set them on the table.

"Throw. Them. Away," Malfoy instructed as though speaking to a daft child. "You owe him nothing."

"But I designed them special. It was supposed to be a present. Time and expense was involved! I can't just..." She halved the stack. "Maybe Derek wouldn't mind if I left some here? I know his wife likes me, I'm a good customer, I can appeal to her if he resists."

Derek Fawley II was a longtime friend of Cygnus and Orion (having been a fellow Slytherin and dormmate of the two). His family had been in the restaurant business since the middle ages. And touches from that era were still here and there in the form of tapestries and scalloped draperies, and the name of the establishment: Knight's Stronghold.

The flying buttresses made it especially grand. Though the more modern amenities, like white tablecloths and cutlery and fine crystal chandeliers kept it from becoming some vulgar tourist trap espousing gaudy elements from a glorious history.

Balancing the Old with the New was the key.

Walburga started to stand up but Malfoy took the task upon himself.

"Oh, thank you, Brax."

"My pleasure."

He made a turn about the room and then casually tossed the business cards into the large fireplace.

"You're terrible," she deadpanned as she set the remaining cards back in her purse. "I'll never understand why you dislike him so."

"And have you asked him the same?"

Walburga pursed her lips a moment before admitting,"Actually...He was most forthcoming. He says...I really ought not to repeat it. It might worsen your relations-"

"I can take it."

"W-well, he finds you...brutal, self-serving, arrogant, and unkind."

"Is that all?"

"All that I'm willing to share."

He chuckled, "I daresay that is simply the gist?"

She colored, "There might have been more colorful phrases involved."

"Oh, I'm certain."

Walburga frowned. "I tell him you have other...more amiable qualities, but he does not believe me."

"Ah yes. And is it the same way you try to convince me of your cousin's supposed easy-going good nature...which I've never witnessed? Ever."

Orion felt his stomach flop—knowing for certain now that they were indeed discussing him.

"Orion is very sweet-tempered and genteel."

Full confirmation.

"Do you want us to go to a different venue?" Arcturus asked lowly, having discovered the reason for his son's sudden distraction.

Orion shook his head. No, he wasn't going to let them chase him off.

Malfoy scoffed, "He clearly isn't since he's cast you off."

Walburga gave her companion a withering look. "I didn't say he couldn't be moved into a dark humor. But I did the moving. I am sure we will reconcile eventually."

And Orion felt his temper rise. So she just expected him to come crawling back?

She rested her head on her hand, breaking etiquette by not only having her elbow on the table but slouching. She toyed with a curl framing her face. "It may take a few years, but if there's anything I have in abundance, it's time. And he is my dearest friend...I can wait."

His heart twisted. It wasn't...it wasn't what he wanted...but…

The sincerity in her tone...

Wistful wasn't a word he usually associated with her. But the more he thought on it...

"And what am I, if not your dearest friend?" Lucius pressed.

"My friendly rival," she quipped with a sharp smile as she straightened up.

"I suppose it's a relief to at least be an equal," he shrugged.

That was the sum of it, wasn't it? Orion thought bitterly. She clearly had tender feelings for him but…

He thought of all the silly, long outdated photos of him she clung to.

She couldn't see him on the same footing as her. In that, at least, Malfoy had always had the upper hand.

Should he have been more competitive, more argumentative, more demanding as he'd grown up? Would that have forced her to see him as something more than a pitiful tag-along to indulge when it suited her?

He lost interest in the meal and the meeting his mother had sprung on him.

He tried to remain pleasant to Leonora, block out Abraxas, and move around the fish on his plate in such a way to seem like he was eating.

And then it happened, Walburga laughed too loudly and his family and their guests took notice of her.

All the color drained out of his mother's face and Lucretia fidgeted.

She'd been largely torn between their parents' newfound condemnation of her cousin and Orion's pathetic, lingering affection. And had as of yet made no indication for whose side she was on.

"Is that Walburga Black?" Mrs. Selwyn asked.

"The one in the dueling tournament?" Leonora inquired excitedly. "I saw her match last Thursday-"

"Leonora!? You-you went to that barbaric-"

The girl flushed, "Mama…"

"One and the same," Melania answered shortly.

"O come now, you must show me," Abraxas declared, leaning back in that arrogant fashion Orion had despised when they'd been at Hogwarts. Like he was some overlord or king. "Why else am I here? Go on."

Walburga shook her head resolutely. "Not until you swear...Not until...You...You must promise...not to laugh."

Malfoy smirked, "On my honor."

Walburga raised an eyebrow. "...forgive me, but I do think I'll need something more substantive-"

Malfoy laughed, "Fine. Twenty galleons."

"Fifty."

"Thirty."

"Seventy-Five."

"O have your way, then. I'll round it to a hundred. Now, show me."

Walburga gave a long suffering sigh and then left her seat. She undid her coat and set it on her chair.

Malfoy roared with laughter.

Walburga glowered. "You see?! You see! I knew you would! Can't trust you as far as I can throw you-"

"O hush. The money is yours, I'll go by Gringotts and have it transferred but-but-go on. Give us a turn."

She did and the garment fanned dangerously. It was a sleeveless tea dress and even at a standstill it flared far above her knees. It was beige and trimmed in black that matched the department badge that was sewn on the left near the collar.

Considering the time of year, Orion no longer wondered at her having worn the coat in; she had to be freezing!

"I always wondered what the official female uniform of that department was," Malfoy stated idly. "And why it wasn't usually worn."

Walburga plucked at it in distaste. "Ridiculous, isn't it? I may just ask for the men's one and perform alterations myself. I mean, can you imagine me in the field in this?"

"Maybe it's a strategy? Mayhaps a well-timed cocktail will tempt a vampire into behaving? Or! They're going the Grecian route and plan to chain you to the cliff to stave off Cetus' wrath-"

"Thank, Brax. That sets my mind at ease."

"Perhaps, you'll fare better? Like Psyche? Offered up at the foot of the mountain?"

"Doubt it."

"I won't deny it though. I am surprised by your choice. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures...what a mouthful! That's not going to be fun for me to say when I introduce you to others. No, not where I would've placed you in the Ministry. Now, I know I keep forgetting to ask...which division?"

"Beast."

"Hmm, you ought to be transferred to the Goblin Liaison office. Goblins are always fond of you. You've an eye for metals, they respect that."

"I thought about it, but it's just...I already have so much experience with beasts and-what?"

"What?"

"You have a look."

"I don't know, I suppose I expected a cruel joke about my company right then."

She laughed appreciatively, "I...I mean, I've assisted Father with his assignments for a long time."

Malfoy stilled and Orion craned his neck for a better view.

Malfoy's tone grew cold. "Define 'assist.'"

"You know?" Walburga shrugged. "Charting and tracking, researching, supply ordering, and I do accompany Father when necessary. And good Lord, all the paperwork-"

"And your signature is on the reports?"

"Well yes, Father just can't be bothered sometimes. Most times. Better my signature than none. I mean, they send so much. If I didn't read through and select what was most important, Father would bypass it altogether. He is so stubborn. It's tiresome. I-"

"And they know you do this?"

"They don't mind my standing in as a proxy. I've already attended quite a few meetings on his behalf through the years-"

"So there's paperwork in their records with your signatures and the staff know you take on workloads-"

"Yes, why?"

"What year?"

"Beg pardon?"

"When did you start assisting?" he demanded impatiently.

"Well, I-Oh yes. I was freshly fourteen. I remember, because I had just received a very lovely bracelet from Orion and his sister for my birthday and Father said not to wear it. But I did and it got dented. O I was devastated and then I had to come up with an excuse for why I wasn't wear-"

"Walburga!"

"Hmm?"

"I will get this sorted out," he vowed.

"Wot?"

"You've sixteen years of back pay, and I'll get it." he promised with a dark look in his eye. He checked his pocket watch. "I'll go now, catch Reuben before he tries to leave early. I'll owl you to keep you abreast of the situation."

And now Malfoy got to play the hero. Orion's spirits plummeted further. Why hadn't he thought to investigate her part in her father's work?

She straightened up with alarm. "O, that's alright. It can wait, I'm sure. I'm absolutely sure of it. Abraxas! Do stay."

Orion felt a God awful pang at that. There was so much scandal there. And she didn't care. She knew who she wanted. Society's rules be damned.

Damnation! He was so jealous, he could hardly see straight-

"Please?" she begged.

The blond was already walking away.

She clasped her hands together and pressed them to her chest beseechingly. "Abraxas, stay with me!"

Orion was sure he bent the silver cutlery in his hands and he'd make it a point to reimburse Derek for the loss.

She threw a desperate hand forward and half chased him across the room. "Wait no! That's not why I asked you here-"

Orion was going to lose it. She was going to declare her love and ruin herself and Malfoy-

Orion blinked.

Malfoy didn't spare her another glance and promptly disapparated.

Walburga's shoulders sagged.

Orion felt his father rest a consoling hand on his shoulder.

Walburga stared unhappily at where her companion had disappeared. "Brax…"

Orion tried to focus on his breathing, aware that there was blood rushing angrily through his ears.

"Brax...you inconsiderate arse-"

Arcturus choked and Orion dropped the fork in his hand.

"Ma'am?" An aged waiter appeared beside Walburga looking apologetic, "I...I'm so sorry...Your first appointment is early."

"Right," she grimaced and then set a hand on her hip. "Any recommendations?"

"A scotch, maybe," he muttered.

She mulled that over and then agreed, "Yes. Yes, do that. And Cyrus?"

"Ma'am?" the server nodded.

"Do leave the bottle when you make your return."

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Walburga took a steadying breath and continued reading out her department's statement as neutrally as possible: "-thus obstructing exterminators from performing their duties which in turn endangered the inhabitants of your own village as well as the neighboring muggle town of Arlesey-"

"They were trespassing on my lands!" the man growled, jowls moving. He crooked a knobbled finger at her. "And they got what was coming to them-"

"Mr. Lowell," She held up her hand. "Please refrain from interrupting. Or I will lose my place and have to start over. From the top. I will take questions and statements after reading the report in its entirety. Now, on the date in question, you are posited as physically intervening. As in, you assaulted one member of the squad-"

The man reached across the table to touch the tips of her nails, "Got quite the claws on you, eh, Kitten?"

She withdrew her hand and felt her lip curl.

Pervert.

Damn Malfoy to the depths for abandoning her to this.

"Ya know?" Mr. Lowell licked his lips. "If you wanna see where this incident took place, I could show yeh. Personally."

Walburga stared. "I'm going to mark down that you understand the charges being levelled against you and the matter will proceed before the Wizengamot for a ruling."

The next appointment wasn't much better.

The woman was horse-faced and the more angry she got, the more her nostrils flared.

Walburga half-expected for her to rear up or kick.

It was hard to believe she'd once been a member of their prestigious line. Walburga hadn't even recognized her once-cousin. It took reading the name on the sheet of her clipboard twice before she'd realized their shared blood.

True, she'd been a good six years older than Walburga and on her last year of Hogwarts whilst Walburga was starting her first.

But she'd never felt so removed from the Blood Traitor as she did now.

There was nothing elegant left in her face let alone her manners.

And three sons? Or was it four? Did a number on her figure...she certainly didn't resemble the one oval portrait they'd spared of her for posterity.

She felt more pity than contempt at the sight of her fallen kinswoman.

Mrs. Cedrella Weasley…

Who'd once been Miss Cedrella Black…

Mrs. Weasley huffed, "I just think it's terrible that your department would keep hippogriffs in a place where children live nearby. Why, if my boys had come to harm in their rampage, I swear I would personally dismantle your department faster than you can say-"

"Madam, we have three eyewitnesses who saw your children antagonize the beasts with fireworks and magic open that padlock. You understand that makes them and yourself liable for damages caused. And had any injury occurred, again, you and yours would have been deemed wholly responsible for the-"

"How dare you accuse my angels-"

By the time she was meeting with her fifth and final appointment, she'd had far more drinks than was wise.

She had an elbow on the table and was resting her head unabashedly on her left hand as she sipped straight from the bottle of whiskey. Earlier, Mrs. Weasley had left in such a rage her ample hip bumped the table and sent the poor glass tumbling to its doom.

Walburga made do.

Mr. Thompson was a protester advocating erkling rights and he'd foisted enough flyers and pamphlets on her that Walburga could kindle a blaze.

"They have just as much right to exist as wizard and muggle kind. They're Beings! Sentient! And yet your department hunts them to near extinction and forbids them opportunities to expand into more fertile hunting ground!"

She took a swig of scotch and clucked her tongue. "And the fact that they eat children and infants makes...no nevermind to you?"

"Our numbers have swelled! We're infringing on territories that are theirs by ancestral right."

"So you're...alright with their diet preferences?"

"The Ministry is culling their numbers and you don't care! You-you-you! You're part of the problem! You're soulless!"

She'd gotten that one six times today. She made a mental note for the future to take shots each time she heard it.

"I expect so," she replied saucily. "What can I say? It was late. There was alcohol. The other witches dared me to French a dementor." She smirked and delivered in a dramatic, sultry whisper: "And I did."

There was stunned silence for a moment and then—

"Are you mocking me, madam?"

"Sir, I think your appointment has well and truly ended. It's half past twelve," a suave, familiar voice cut in. "The lady has accepted your fliers and will run them by her supervisor."

"I want her to sign my petition! And you! Erkling lives are being impacted by the tyrannical reign of-"

"The answer is a firm no...from us both, sir. Now, if you'll excuse us. The lady and I must be go-"

"I-"

Orion's voice dipped into something deeper and far less civil, "I will personally acquaint you with the door if you don't make haste and depart."

The man swore vehemently at them both but Orion's aggressive step forward sent him ambling away, more fliers leaking from his knapsack as he rushed away.

And she blinked wonderingly at that. She'd never known her mild cousin to be quite so forceful.

Well, it was awfully late. He could get tetchy when he needed rest. She most definitely did.

Though most of her ill mood had dissipated on seeing him. It was so unexpected. And-and-and good. It was good. Very good.

"Orion!" she greeted with a grin.

He gave her a strained and distracted smile, making sure her last client was well and truly away before turning completely toward her.

"How good to see you!" She shakily climbed to her feet relying on the table more than she would've liked. "I-thank you for that. Just now." She tried to straighten a few of her curls and nearly knocked off her hat. "I mean, I'm-I, er, I'm certain I'd have managed somehow but...thank you. Truly. Thanks. He was getting a bit out of hand and I-I...I didn't think you came here during the week? That you preferred Saturdays? I come during the week. I know it's a bit of a spectacle but...it is safer, I think, than meeting with them elsewhere-"

She dug around in her purse for her pocketbook.

"I've already paid your bill."

"Wot? You...O Orion, you...you shouldn't've done that. I mean, already you...I tried to owl you some time ago. A mixup. And when I came by your home your Mother, goodness! What a mood! But, you're here now."

"Come along, let's...let's get you home. I've a carriage waiting for us."

He helped her with her coat and seemed displeased that she'd foregone a cloak that evening.

Her coordination was a bit off as she left the restaurant, made her farewells to the owner and his wife only as the door was closing behind her, and descended the stairs of the entrance nearly backwards (missing one step altogether and landing well by sheer luck).

It was amusing how Orion seemed convinced that a good fall would shatter her like glass. There was a sharp inhalation from him each time she stumbled.

Goodness. He was melodramatic. A good fall and a little embarrassment would have gone a long way to sobering her up.

He finally deemed her incapable of going the last ten paces and practically carried her into the carriage.

He set her down gently and fastened his cloak about her.

She couldn't decline when there was gooseflesh on her arms and the night air had set her teeth to chattering.

It took her a while to reclaim her train of thought: "I just-I just mean, you never got around to-to fully terminating me. Your account is still transferring regular amounts to mine."

He blinked.

"I can get you the sum though," she offered.

"..."

Maybe he didn't hear her? Or she slurred that a bit?

She tried to speak more clearly, "I...I can get you-"

"...I might have a stack of papers you could type up in return for me. And we would be even."

"Good!" Her mood brightened and she laughed lightly, "Couldn't replace me so easily, hm?"

"...I see you've a uniform and are working elsewhere."

"Yes, going to congratulate me? You know, I did do well on my N.E.W.T.s, they might've been forever ago. But I did do well. My supervisors were surprised when they read my résumé."

"...do you enjoy your new surroundings?"

She ran a hand through her hair, knocking pins loose. "They're not terrible though…"

She got to chatting about how cold they kept the office where she was currently working.

"I...I think it's an initiation of some sort. A hazing as it were. But Cyg disagrees. He gave me a frumpy jumper to end it. He says it's enchanted! I...I don't know if it really is though."

Orion nodded during her various anecdotes.

And she was giving her all to tell the best ones. To be charming and interesting, the way he usually was in their previous interactions...

Because she better understood it as a skill now; being amiable.

Her three disastrous dates in the past month had taught her that the hard way.

Some were born with it as a quality, that was true, but others could improve it as a skill.

One had to work at it though.

Only, he seemed so subdued and she worried that she still wasn't very good at leading a pleasant conversation.

He couldn't still be glum over their argument?

That was ages and ages...and ages ago! Three weeks at least! The month was ending! And it had been a very hard month. Even when he'd been away at school, communication between them never ceased. They had owled constantly. To the point where they had to make use of others' owls so as not to push theirs past exhaustion.

She ran her hand up and down his forearm soothingly, perhaps instinctively acting on some of the advice from all the magazines she'd started reading.

When he asked what she was doing, she relayed that. They'd all said men liked physical contact.

He'd given her such a long stare in return she faltered and felt bidden to add, "If you don't like it, I'll stop."

"..." he sighed and surprised her by resting his head in her lap, seemingly defeated.

She ran her fingers through his hair much as she had when they were young and he'd come to her upset about various trivialities; nightmares, arguments, quidditch losses, and the like.

And all those memories soothed her, settled them back into a comfortable, familiar place.

She trailed her nails in designs against his scalp and listened to his breaths even out and become deeper.

When the carriage stopped outside her home, he murmured softly, hoarsely, "I missed you."

So many times she'd heard that over the years.

And wasn't it a delight to hear it once more?

She felt a warm airy feeling flutter through her being and there was laughter in her voice and alcohol in her blood as she quipped, "Of course you have."

She tapped her hands playfully on his shoulders, leaned over, and dropped an impish kiss on him as she'd been wont to do when she'd been a girl without a care for propriety.

Before their family had stepped in and outlined all the things that brought her joy and forbade her from them.

He sat up sharply and she flounced away—barely remembering her purse, forgetting about his cloak (which was still about her), and half-reliving chases from the past when he'd sometimes get annoyed by her affection because it made her brothers tease him and he'd try to tackle her and tickle her as punishment.

She took the porch steps two at a time and heaved open the front door.

She turned and waved farewell while he stared after in her bewilderment, standing on the carriage step as if confused on whether to follow her.

She shut the door.

And laughed to herself over his strange, almost comical, expression.

It wouldn't be until she was slipping into bed that she'd dwell more on the look he'd given her.

She giggled again.

It wasn't so odd, was it?

She'd often ended such sessions with a kiss.

She blew out her candle and pulled her covers up.

Yes, she'd often done so.

She'd tap her hands on his shoulders to signal she was finished.

There'd often be a pout or a request for five more minutes of attention. And she'd give him a chaste kiss to his forehead before unceremoniously moving her legs out from under him and laughing when he cursed her. It was just so funny hearing an adult word uttered with his childish lisp.

She giggled again.

Yes, she'd gone through all the same, well-worn motions.

Playing with his hair, touching his shoulders, leaning over and bestowing—

She gasped as she realized what she'd done differently this go around.

She'd kissed him...alright…

But she'd….kissed him...on the lips...

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