“What if you’re soulmate is ugly? Or racist or has hygeiene issues?” Wrinkling her nose at the thought, ideas which had plagued her since she’d first heard of the idea as she shared them with her friend. As if by giving them a voice they’d not become so serious. “I don’t want a soul-mate who abhors books or is terrible in bed. Worse, what if your soul-mate has a family? A loved one that he’s happy with and you end up wrecking so many lives?” There were too many chances to take with the potion for a shot at what her parent had. They’d found it in a party in Campden of all places. Still, she wasn’t surprised Clint didn’t believe in soul-mates; beneath the hair was a soul as pragmatic as her own, possibly even more so. He’d have made a hell of a Ravenclaw.
“Fascinating,” lips twitching as she tried and failed to keep the amusement out of her voice. “No doubt everyone on set will be more than happy to ah..tend to your ball.” If he hadn’t picked up on the reason for her buying two then there wasn’t a snowball in hells chance that Penny would spell it out to him.
He was so tactile, reaching out to touch her in a way she knew neither could just a feet away in the magical world. Back there they were surnames, neatly defined labels and her own thumb reached out to trace his, seeking out the tell tale callouses and firm muscles that summed up his profession and what he loved. “If things are that bad..I’ve the spare bed. Its a twin but the house would be practically yours ‘cos of my hours.” Dangerous, dangerous offering given what had happened the last time she’d invited him back but they were both past that, weren’t they? “Moving back home can be a pain in the butt.”