Special delivery for kamerreon Title: Not That Girl Anymore Author/Artist: Recipient's LJ name:kamerreon Pairing(s): Harry Potter/Romilda Vane Rating: NC-17 Summary Harry finds Romilda isn't at all how he remembered her. Word Count: ~ 11,284 Warnings/Content: EWE Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter Author's/Artist's notes: Thanks to Uncle C for his help as usual in turning my rambles in to something readable, and also for letting me use your idea.
Looking at the door and then back up at the clock, George shifted nervously as he leaned up against the counter. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had been closed for an hour or so, but while he had dismissed most of the staff for the evening, he was waiting for his most important investor. Even though he had been told time and time again that he needn't trouble consulting him on anything, George still made it a priority to involve him.
Glancing back at the door, he saw Ron peeking outside. "Is he coming?" Drawing his head back inside, Ron shook it in the negative. "You told him to come, right?" George asked gruffly, more from nerves than anything.
"Of course!" Ron snapped back. "He's just running a few minutes behind."
Ignoring his younger brother as he went back to sweeping, George glanced back at the clock and wondered if it wasn't broken. What's there to be nervous about old boy? She's a numbers witch and will be a real benefit to our bottom line. It also means I don't have to worry about the books as much anymore. I can concentrate on innovations instead of inventory.
Just as he was working on convincing himself for perhaps the ninth time, the chime above the door rang out and George's head snapped towards the door. "Harry!" he greeted a little too enthusiastically.
Looking at him oddly as he walked inside, Harry rolled his eyes when Ron just shrugged in response.
"Hey mate," Ron greeted as he rested the broom against a display shelf.
"So what's so important that you had to drag me to Diagon at this hour?" Harry asked.
"Yeah," George answered, biding for time. "We've hired a new worker for the back office."
Harry gave the two Weasleys an irritated look. "You called me here to tell me you've hired a new employee?"
"Yes," George answered weakly. "But not just any employee. Because she's going to be dealing with the books, I wanted to introduce you."
"You know I don't care about that, George. As long as they're doing a proper job, and you're not getting screwed over, you can hire whomever you want. It's your business; you don't owe me anything, much less an explanation."
George just waved that aside. "Nonsense. My brother and I will always be indebted to you. Besides, you're family. But this time, it's not really that I hired someone, but whom."
"Fine," Harry said, patience wearing a little thin. "Who did you hire?"
George motioned for Harry to follow and went up a flight of stairs. Not meeting Harry's eyes, Ron quickly followed. Shaking his head, Harry eventually brought up the rear as they headed upstairs.
"Ron suggested we introduce you before we make the job permanent," George said over his shoulder.
"No I didn't!" Ron countered. "I just said we should tell him about her."
"Enough. It's been a long day. What's going on?"
George and Ron glanced at each other, before Ron answered. "We hired someone you might have a problem with. You don't exactly see eye to eye with her... well, at least you didn't back in school."
"But she's perfect. Has a real head for numbers and it only took her a couple of hours what used to take me days to get done. With her around, it's a lot less work for me and I can concentrate on what matters," George added.
"Creating mayhem?" Ron asked sarcastically.
Swatting his brother upside the head, George continued. "She's already found us a way to save some Galleons by finding a couple of cheaper and better suppliers, along with plugging a few holes where we've been leaking money for whatever reason."
"That's fine, but again, why am I here? It sounds like you've got everything under control. Who cares if I had or have a problem with whoever it is? I'm barely here anyway, and if anything I'm a silent partner so it doesn't matter what I think.” Harry chuckled a little bit. "Besides, it's not like you hired Pansy Parkinson." The Weasley brothers glanced at each other before laughing nervously. Harry glared at the pair. "Tell me you didn't hire Parkinson?"
"No, never," Ron said, waving his hands back and forth. "We'd never do something that stupid without consulting you before we did it."
Having enough, Harry bounded up the few remaining steps and onto the third floor. The building had three floors and a basement workshop. The two lower floors were the shop, while the top floor was used as storage and a makeshift office. Hearing footsteps behind him, Harry headed for the first door.
Opening the door and walking inside the office, he expected to see the familiar sight of the cluttered desk and books and scrolls everywhere except on the shelves where they should be. Instead, the office was still a bit messy but it appeared as if someone had made some progress in its organization.
"Evening, Mister Potter," a voice greeted. It was a voice that Harry recognized but couldn't quite place. "Or do you prefer your proper title of Deputy Director?"
Staring at the woman standing before the bookshelf, open book in one hand and quill poised in the other, he felt like he had seen her before. Even if he hadn't been trained as an Auror, the man in him would have quickly memorized her appearance, from the way her dark pants hugged her hips to the way her sweater stretched across her breasts. From its low cut hinting at the depths of her cleavage to the way her dark curls framed her features.
"Harry," George said, stepping around him so he could do a proper introduction of Weasley Wizard Wheezes' newest employee.
At the sound of her giggle, Harry's memory instantly clicked and he knew who the woman standing before him was. "Romilda Vane," he said aloud. Normally he would've thought of all the annoying memories of her chasing him during his sixth year. Instead though, he briefly wondered how the annoying little girl had grown into an attractive woman.
~*~
As she worked her way about the room, Romilda kept an eye out for her target. She knew he would be here, but she also knew he would be very elusive as she probably wasn't the only person who was looking for him. She knew from a reliable source that he would be here. The Ministry's New Year's Gala was too high-profile for someone of his stature to not at least be seen attending. The trick was, though, that he didn't stay long; just long enough for his presence to be noticed and then he would leave. I have to catch him before he takes off.
After having several bad successive relationships, Romilda had determined that her next relationship would just be fun and casual. No expectations and nothing serious. He had never crossed her mind when she originally thought this all up. But when the option presented itself, the job at the Weasley's shop, she decided to seize the opportunity.
This time, however, she wasn't going to repeat the same mistakes. She had to balance her aggressive nature with being a bit more laid back so not to scare him off again. He liked strong women, but he would never give any thought to an obsessive fan. That's what she had had trouble understanding the first time. Harry the Hero and Harry Potter were two vastly different men, and she wasn't even sure if the former even existed any longer.
As a group of people shifted about slightly, she spotted Harry grudgingly entertaining a group of young witches. Or rather, from what it appeared, he was politely listening to them babble on and on about something while he simply nodded with a forced smile. Oh the burdens of fame. I guess you even have to be polite to the dumbest of airheads, Romilda thought as she headed towards them. Her plan was simple: stay just close enough to overhear, but not to be involved, and wait for the moment of opportunity.
Nearing them, and with a calculating eye, Romilda gave him the once-over. Harry's dress robes had more of a Muggle quality to them, looking similar to a Muggle suit, and she had to admit that the dark purple was a color he looked quite good in. I wonder if that vest is as soft as it looks?
Her daydreams were violently interrupted by the high pitched squeals of the witches as they complimented Harry on something stupid or boasted about themselves. Anyone with half a wit could tell from Harry's body language that he was looking for an opportunity to leave, but the witches seemed blissfully oblivious.
Hearing a particularly conceited comment, Romilda couldn't hold back anymore and a giggle escaped her lips. So this is what we were like back then?
As if they were of one mind, the group of witches turned their heads in unison to glare at Romilda. Biting back another fit of giggles, Romilda tried to give them a simple smile. Though it was hard as she made eye contact with a curious Harry.
"Excuse me," the tallest blonde snapped at her, obviously the leader of the pack. She had been doing most of the babbling, and her dress was far too provocative for the Ministry event. Not to mention the girl looks like she put her makeup on in the dark, and way too much of it too.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt," Romilda politely explained. "I just remembered something amusing. Please continue with your deep conversation. I'm sure Harry here is deeply interested." With a playful smirk towards Harry, she lifted a glass of wine from a passing House Elf's tray and sipped at it.
With a collective huff and flip of hair, the horde of witches returned their attention to Harry. The blonde seemed to be talking even louder now, now aware of Romilda's presence. Maybe if she goes an octave or two higher only dogs will hear her, she mused sarcastically to herself.
Seeing that every time Harry tried to take his leave, the blonde would simply hold him and insist that he couldn't just yet, Romilda began to take pity on the man. Feeling a little mischievous, Romilda waited until another House Elf was just about to pass before slipping her foot in between the House Elf's feet, tripping him. As the elf stumbled forward, the tray of appetizers he had been carrying flew forward and the food splattered over the witches. As they all screamed and cursed at being soiled, Romilda slipped back into the crowd and quickly trailed Harry who had wisely used the distraction as a means of escape.
Trailing Harry out of the party, Romilda quickly caught up to him just before he was about to step in a Floo-powdered fire. Grabbing his elbow, she tugged him away from the fireplace. "Before you go," she said as he glanced back at her.
"What is it, Romilda?" Harry asked quietly, tired from the evening and just wanting to go home. As he waited for her to explain herself, he found himself admiring how the sleeveless blue dress seemed to hug every bit of her just right. If she had looked this good back then, maybe I would've eaten those damn Cauldrons.
"My father got tickets for the England match at the World Cup stadium at the end of the month, but he can't use them. He offered them to me, but they're a pair and I'm not a big enough fan to go by myself. Would you be interested?"
~*~
As the stadium slowly emptied around them, Harry leaned back and admired the view from the luxury box. It had been a good match, during which he often found himself daydreaming about he being the one on the pitch and chasing the Snitch. He found a purpose in his work as an Auror, but he couldn't help but wonder what if he had kept playing Quidditch. It wasn't as if he hadn't had the opportunity. A few teams had approached him, but he had turned them down and entered the Auror Corps.
He wasn't sure why he had agreed to come. He more than likely could've easily gotten tickets if he had wanted, position did have a few privileges that he did enjoy from time to time. But this had been a case of impulse before thinking it to death.
A soft giggle brought Harry back to the present. Turning his head slightly, he gazed at Romilda who was leaning against the edge of the box window before him. He was still amused at the outfit she was wearing, wondering how she could possibly be warm even with the box's warming charm. To him it looked like one big fluffy sweater that she was wearing as a dress with thick dark tights and heeled boots that came up to her knees.
Bloody hell, she looks fantastic, Harry thought to himself as he let his gaze wander about her again. He might not have the best of memories of when they were in school together, but that was hardly going to prevent himself from admiring an attractive witch.
"You almost looked relaxed for a change," Romilda told him.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, only causing Romilda to giggle again at him. For some reason, the sound of it didn't put him on edge has it had all those years ago.
"You've always been wound so tightly. I mean I understood it back then, but now... your life's not so bad. Maybe it's because you don't know how to have fun?" she teased.
"I have fun." Harry lamely tried to defend himself, sounding more like a six year old than the almost thirty he was nearing.
"Playing hide and seek with dangerous wizards is not most people's idea of fun. Besides, aren't you behind a desk now? I'm talking about going out and having a few drinks, raising hell with your mates, doing stuff any normal twenty-something would do."
Harry just rolled his eyes. "That's kind of hard to do when your every step is watched by hundreds."
"Don't let that be a handicap. I'm not talking about making an arse of yourself, but going out and letting loose every once in awhile. You know the saying 'all work and no play'."
"So if I'm such a stick in the mud, why did I agree to come?" he asked sarcastically.
Playfully brushing some hair over her shoulder, she smirked. "Because who could resist my charms?" When Harry started laughing, she couldn't help but grin at him and it gave her a bit more confidence. For as bold and confident as she was, Harry made her a bit nervous. She was a spoiled daddy's girl, having gotten everything that she had every wanted. Except one thing, and that had taken her down a peg or two. So with this chance, she was being unusually cautious and taking her time.
"Should we go?" Romilda asked hesitantly. As much as she didn't want to, most of the crowd had departed so leaving would theoretically be easier. When Harry stood up, Romilda did as well and, grabbing her heavy cloak, she was about to throw it over her shoulders before he took it out of her hands. With a surprised and curious look, Romilda watched him open up her cloak and hold it for her to put on. "Who knew you were such a gentleman?" she joked as she turned her back to him and slipped her arms in as he pulled it up to her shoulders.
Harry chuckled. "Don't let it get out, don't want to ruin my reputation as a tightass," he shot back before leading them out of the box.
"You know when someone treats, you should return the favor," Romilda said casually as they descended the steps towards the stadium exit.
"Trying to get a free meal?"
"No," she said, shaking her head. "It's just good manners. You of all people should be aware of Wizarding customs. Wouldn't want to insult anyone."
"Why would he start now?" a voice interrupted. When the pair turned towards the source, a middle aged woman stepped out from the shadows. "Harry here isn't exactly know for his tact and diplomacy."
"Rita," Harry greeted coldly. "I thought I smelled something."
Rita laughed and dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "Oh Harry. Don't lie, you would miss it. By the way, they know you're here and they're waiting outside," she told Harry. "But given... our special relationship, I thought you might give me the scoop on your new girlfriend."
"Would it matter?" Harry asked.
As Romilda stood quietly by Harry's side, she listened to the exchange. She knew who Rita Skeeter was, and that she had a knack of getting in-depth personal pieces. But she had no idea that her and Harry were, well, she wasn't sure what they were. Acquaintances, maybe. If Harry's reaction was any indication, he didn't like her very much.
Rita gave the couple a sweet smile as she stroked the plume of her large, bright green quill, the Quick-Quotes Quill having been scribbling nonstop since Rita stepped forward. "It might... but I'll still run my story."
"Then, no comment," Harry replied. Then surprising both witches, Harry reached out and, wrapping an arm around Romilda's waist, pulled her close and led her away.
In a stage whisper, Romilda asked, "Isn't this just adding more fuel to the fire?" As they neared the exit, she heard the large group of reporters before she saw them.
"It's going to get printed anyway, might as well as have some fun at their expense," he replied before the pair were suddenly surrounded and bombarded by questions and blinded by flashes of cameras. It's time for the magic.
~*~
"You think you're really clever, don't you?"
As he finished buttoning his dress shirt, Harry glanced in the mirror above his dresser and watched as an irritated Hermione paced about his bedroom with a rolled up copy of the Daily Prophet in her fist.
"At times," Harry cheekily replied, turning to face his best friend. When the story had first broken last weekend, it had been chaos. The Ministry had been flooded with requests for interviews with Harry, and the Weasleys' shop had been hounded by reporters outside all week just waiting for one of them to appear. It also didn't help that Harry seemed to be fanning the flames. Here we go. Hermione's got the lecture look again.
"Do you understand the term 'Old Blood'?" Hermione began.
Harry nodded as he picked up his wand from the dresser top. "A family who's had too much influence for far too long."
"Yeah well, no matter how much reform we do it's always going to play a part. That's who the Vanes are, Old Blood, and very important contributors to Kingsley's administration. Augustus Vane isn't going to be too happy to find out that you're using his granddaughter as a pawn in your little fight with the media."
"I've already sorted things out with him," Harry replied as he summoned his belt from where it was buried in the closet.
"Yes, by making him believe you're courting her!" Hermione exclaimed. "Romilda? Do you not remember what she tried to do in sixth year? How do you know this isn't some kind of trap that she's luring you into? Of all the people you could be involved with, Romilda Vane?"
He quickly shook off the memory of the drama with Ron eating the spiked chocolates and then drinking the poisoned mead. "She's not that little brat anymore. Besides, it could be worse. What if I told you I was shagging Pansy instead?" he told her sarcastically, and then snickered at the death glare she gave him. I wonder if that's more about the stupid joke or the idea of me sleeping with Pug Face? Knowing her, probably both. "Look Hermione, I appreciate the concern and I know you're just looking out but I have this under control. Me and Romilda have it all worked out. We go out a few times, get a few photographs, and then we'll decide to break up because we don't want to get married. Don't give me that look, I know how this works," he spoke while looping the belt in to his trousers.
"What happens when everything unravels?"
"It won't."
"Harry," Hermione continued to lecture. "When as anything we've done ever gone to plan?"
"Come on, it's not like I have some madman after me anymore. Romilda knows what's going on and she doesn't have a problem with it. It's two, maybe three simple dates. Nothing bad is going to happen."
"You still don't understand politics," Hermione told him while shaking her head in frustration.
"I'll be careful," Harry said as he finished getting ready. "Besides, how much trouble can I get into over dinner?"
~*~
"You don't have to do this." Romilda whispered to him. Harry glanced up at her from his plate with a questioning look, and she smiled.
Courting was certainly different than dating. When they had agreed to dinner as their first fake date, Harry hadn't expected a family dinner. The rules were explained fairly quickly to him, and Romilda's grandfather had insisted that they be chaperoned at all times. So their date ended up being dinner together with Augustus Vane at his home.
In his lifetime Harry had had some, for lack of a better word, interesting family dinners. But this one certainly ranked right up there. Eating in this spacious dining room, at a long and elegant wooden table, Harry and Romilda sat across from each other at one end with her Grandfather at the head of the table at the other end. Even with the discerning eye of Augustus watching them, Romilda had revealed that if they kept their voices low, they could talk with each other freely. The key was to not overuse it or her grandfather would become suspicious.
"It's sweet that you're trying to protect my reputation," Romilda explained to him. "But you don't have to put yourself out like this. I can handle him. His bark is a lot worse than his bite."
"But it is my responsibility. I dragged you into this mess without even asking, so it's the least I can do to make sure you get out of it with minimal injury."
Romilda giggled, and then cautiously glanced up the table at her grandfather. "You make it sound like it's some kind of brawl. Like if we're not careful, the boogeyman is going to jump out of the shadows."
Harry smirked. "You've never met Rita," he joked. "It can't be too bad anyway. Instead of being stuck in the office, I get to spend some time with a beautiful woman," he whispered to her. As discreet as he tried to be, his vision kept falling to her breasts and how the dress she wore held them in such a tantalizing way right before his eyes.
"I'm learning so much about you," she said a little louder, so her grandfather would hear. Purposely leaning forward, aware of Harry's line of sight the whole time, "Who knew you were such a charmer? Or perhaps you've just gotten better at lying?" The second question was whispered to only Harry.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Harry questioned back. "Should I stop then?"
"No," Romilda answered with a flirtatious smile.
From his vantage point at the head of the table, Augustus watched the young couple's interactions intently. He had deep reservations of allowing his youngest granddaughter to be courted by this man. It seemed like danger always lurked around the young man, and he worried about Romilda being hurt. But he also knew that there was very little use in arguing with her. Being the youngest, she had been spoiled by the family and had grown into a very confident, strong-minded, and willful young woman. Like with most things, Augustus half-heartedly hoped her passing attraction to this man would simply fade. If it didn't, well, he would have to cross that bridge when it came.
After the meal, coffee was being served when Augustus excused himself. As her grandfather left, Romilda silently looked about the room. With him gone, they were able to talk more openly, but she didn't not believe that they weren't being observed in some fashion or another.
Returning her gaze to Harry, she watched as he discreetly touched the frame of his glasses with his wand. The trick was that his wand was hidden inside his sleeve and with the tip hidden in his palm. Realizing she was watching, Harry gave her a small shrug and grin.
"A little trick Hermione and I developed," he said softly. "It's similar to a detection spell in that it allows me to see if any magic is nearby. Things like weaker Invisibility Cloaks, defensive wards-"
"Listening devices," Romilda finished, and she smirked when he nodded. Glancing around for a moment, she played with her cup as she wondered how to put her next question. "Harry, are you doing anything next weekend?" Romilda asked after the House Elf who had delivered the coffee disappeared.
"Planning our second date already?"
"Kind of," Romilda said. "I have some business to attend to, and I was wondering if you'd come with me. I need someone with your expertise."
"Why, and what sort of business? I'm rubbish with numbers, and I really don't have any sense for business stuff."
"It wouldn't be proper for me to visit this establishment alone. It wouldn't look right for me to be seen alone, so I need someone watching my back, as it were," Romilda explained. She watched as the smile fell from Harry's face, and the stern expression of an Auror return.
"That expertise," Harry said. "What sort of business are we talking about?"
"I'd like to keep that discreet for the moment," she told him. At seeing his worried expression, she continued. "It's nothing illegal or truly dangerous per se. I did some bookkeeping and tax preparation for them, and I need to deliver the documents. I'd do it myself, but I'd just feel more comfortable with you tagging along."
"And it's not illegal?" Harry asked, wondering just what Romilda was involved with. When she shook her head no, he sighed but reluctantly agreed to accompany her.
"Excellent," Romilda said, practically beaming now. "Friday at eight and dress casual. The less attention we attract the better... for both of us." Next time I'm shopping, I should pick him up a hat to hide his scar. A bowler? A cap? No, a fedora, she thought.
"What?" Harry asked, noticing her staring at him with an almost dreamy expression.
"Nothing," she lied, and had to fight a fit of giggles as she began to fantasize about Harry as a private detective from the early 1900s. This is going to be fun.
~*~
As Ron led him away from the Leaky Cauldron, he really wasn't listening to what his best mate was talking about. With it being an unusually warm February afternoon, Harry had decided to walk with Ron back to the shop and enjoy some fresh air instead of rushing back to his office. It also gave him some time to think.
Since dinner a few nights ago, in his down time he kept finding his thoughts revolving around Romilda. At first it was curiosity about what her errand was this weekend, but quickly he began thinking about just her. While he was quite easily attracted to her physically, it was the other things that amused him and kept him intrigued.
She had a very sharp sense of humor, easily bantering back and forth with him about the stupidest of topics. Then there was her intelligence. He had never seen anyone, except maybe Hermione and Padma, take in so much detail and just so easily organize it and make sense of it all. It hadn't taken long for him to be impressed with her accounting skills. George was right, she does have a head for numbers.
"I can't believe you," Ron's voice rang out. Harry's attention quickly shifted over to his friend who was looking at him in a mix of annoyance and amusement. "Really? Of all the witches, you fancy Romilda Vane. Do you have any idea what you're doing?"
"You sound like your wife," Harry fired back. "So what if I do?"
Ron snickered at him. "You get like this every time you fall for some new bird. You get this stupid look on your face. You act funny too; more polite. It's sickening," Ron teased. "Do you remember what she tried to do?"
"That was how many years ago? Besides, she's... not so annoying now. She's not the little girl we remember from Hogwarts."
"I'm sure," Ron said sarcastically. "So tell me, are you really courting her? Or are you just playing the good boy and protector again." Ron frowned for a moment. "You've got to stop trying to protect everyone."
Harry glanced around and shrugged. "It's my fault to begin with. Besides, it's given me a chance to spend some time with someone I would've easily just blown off. She's still Romilda, but... I don't know, she's just not how I remembered."
"Puberty will do that," Ron joked as he spotted a display in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies. Quickly maneuvering over to ogle the display, Harry just watched him walk over.
"Why am I friends with you?" Harry called after him.
Not missing a beat, "Because I'm the only one crazy enough to keep up with you."
Harry smirked and shook his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of curly dark hair and turned towards it. For a brief moment, he saw Romilda weave through the crowd with a shopping bag in hand, most likely heading back to the Weasleys' store. He watched for a few minutes more until she was out of his sight. An odd feeling passed over him, and he wanted to chase after her and spend just a moment.
"Pathetic, really," Ron whispered to him. "You're like a firstie with a school yard crush. Disgusting, mate."
Shaking his head as he tried to clear the cluttered thoughts, Harry shoved Ron`s shoulder. "Come on," he said. "Some of us actually have jobs we have to get back to."
Walking into the shop, Ron quickly began shouting at George while Harry spotted Romilda leaning against the counter. Drawn over to her, Harry quietly stood next to her and just watched as she read the pages of the ledger while biting her thumb.
When she reached across the counter towards a bottle of ink, Harry slowly pushed it further and further out of her reach. He bit his tongue to stop him from laughing as her forehead crinkled in annoyance. Finally looking up, she jumped in surprise to see Harry standing over her.
"How long have you been there?" she asked breathless from the shock, while at the same time pushing something out of sight behind the counter with her foot.
Chuckling, but not saying anything about whatever he saw her hide, "Long enough for you to have noticed me. What's got you so captivated that you won't give me any attention?"
Romilda snorted under her breath, very unladylike and Harry found himself grinning. "Accounts receivable don't match," she answered and then launched into a five minute explanation which left Harry absolutely lost.
"Wow," he exclaimed. "I should have you look over my books."
"Surprised you haven't already," Ron spoke up in passing.
As Harry scowled, Romilda blushed a little and quickly turned away. "Stupid git," Harry mumbled under his breath.
"You'll have to excuse my brother," George said as he came up on the other side of the counter. "The brainless don't have a romantic bone in their body. If I say so myself, you two make quite the couple. I was just telling Romilda here the other day, you two should have supper with us. Angelina would love to see you, and she promises not to fight with you either," he finished with a laugh.
"Thanks George," Harry began, “but . . .”
"We're not really ready to go out with other couples," Romilda finished, and the two looked at each other for a moment.
George snickered at them. "Take it from me, darling," he said to Romilda, putting on an atrocious accent. "The boy here is smitten. There's a lot of ladies that'd love to tie the Hero down. You just might have the inside track at the moment."
"I'd like to see them try," Romilda muttered under her breath just before George finished. Harry glanced at her for a moment. "I just mean that Harry's got some pretty high standards," she tried to joke to avoid the embarrassment, but the blush was threatening to reappear. "You should've seen these girls at the holiday ball. Everything practically hanging out, and Harry here didn't even bother with a second look."
"I gave you a second look," Harry teased without thinking. As the words registered in his mind, he grew a bit embarrassed.
George snickered in amusement, while Romilda quickly looked away. "As much as I'm enjoying this, I have customers to attend to."
As George left, Romilda gather the ledger up in her arms. "I should get back to work."
"Of course. We're still on for Friday?" Harry asked.
Romilda gave him a shy smile and nodded. "I'll owe you one. George. Director Potter."
As Romilda turned away and walked up the steps, Harry watched her walk away; cursing the way her robe obstructed the view of her backside. Realizing what the he was staring, he quickly looked away and hoped no one had saw him. I'm usually not attracted to just a pretty face. But... there's something more there. Something interesting.
~*~
At the appointed time, Romilda entered the Leaky Cauldron and, brushing off some light snow that had begun to fall, she gazed about to look for her partner that night. She knew she should approach this professionally; it was a job, of course and she really wanted to succeed. But she also couldn't help but be amused at the thought of where she was going with him tonight. He's either going to be all in or blow a fuse. Either way, it should be an interesting evening. I wonder if Ariel will be there? She'd make him relax.
Checking the time again as she wandered about the Leaky's main room, she began to wonder if he was running late. At the bar, she had just walked past a man sitting on one of the stools and almost jumped when he called her name.
Turning around, she scrutinized the man as he turned towards her and then her eyes went wide as she realized she was staring at Harry's face.
"Harry?" Giving her a smirk, he rolled his eyes at her. Realizing she looked a fool, she quickly sat down next to him. "Sorry. You just... look... so different."
"Thanks," he said dryly. "I think."
"No, that's not what I mean. You look good," she tried to apologize. Real good. "You just don't look like you."
"That's kind of the point," Harry told her. It was true; his wild hair was tame and cut short, his usual full circle framed glasses were replaced by a pair with almost no frames and more of a slim rectangle shape to the lens, and his clothes were a lot more fashionable than what he usually wore after hours. "Something tells me whatever you're up to that needs backup, it doesn't exactly need to have the spotlight that seems to follow Harry Potter."
Romilda agreed. "And here all I bought was a hat for you to hide your scar," she lamely said as she pulled a tweed cap out of her magic handbag. Inspecting it for a moment to make sure it hadn't been damaged, she reached up and put it on Harry's head, pulling the brim down over his face.
She giggled at him as he swatted away her hands and pushed the hat back up out of his face. As he settled it into a comfortable position, Romilda found herself fantasizing again. The hat suited him well, especially with the new look he was currently sporting.
"Still there?" Harry teased at her blank expression, and then laughed softly as she blushed scarlet at being caught staring. "So are we ready? Or is there something else that needs to be done first?"
"Nothing. I'm ready," Romilda announced standing up. "I think we should go with what you were thinking earlier."
"What?"
"That it's probably best to not draw attention to the fact you're Harry Potter," she explained. "I'll call you-"
"Perkins," Harry told her before she could come up with anything.
"Perkins?" She wondered how he came up with that so quickly.
He just shrugged, "Binns used to call me that. Probably still thinks it's my name."
"Fine," Romilda agreed reluctantly, not happy that he had spoiled her fun. "James Perkins," she told him with a smug smile that she got to pick his first name. "I always liked that first name James." Harry simply shook his head as he gather his coat and followed her out into the chilly London evening.
A few minutes after leaving the Leaky, Harry and Romilda Apparated to a deserted and secluded spot of Soho Square. "Interesting clientele you keep? Something tells me we're not here to catch a show," Harry said quietly as they tried to leave their landing spot undetected.
"Not necessarily, but a job is a job." She led the pair out on to the sidewalk, and quietly slipped into the evening's building foot-traffic. "Stay close," she ordered and led the way out of the square.
Pulling his cap further down, Harry fell in step with her while slipping his right hand in to his trouser pocket and lightly fingering the hilt of his wand. While he wasn't seriously expecting a fight, Romilda had said they should be cautious, and in his life it was always a good idea to be prepared.
She led them a few blocks past some interesting shops and into what almost resembled a residential area. There were a few shops scattered about, but it mostly seemed like homes. Stopping in front of one, Romilda walked up the steps and faced the door.
As Harry cautiously followed her to the doorstep, he listened to her having a conversation with the doorknocker. Inventive. Kind of like the Ravenclaw Common Room.
"What's the password, Sweetie?" an annoyed, gruff voice asked Romilda.
"Red Ruby Racer," she answered. At the knocker's annoyed sigh, the sounds of locks coming undone could be heard. Romilda quickly opened the door and ushered Harry inside.
Just beyond the door, Harry instinctively reached for his wand as two large men advanced towards them. It was only Romilda holding his arm at the last second that stopped him.
"Mr. Rousseau is expecting me. Vane, Romilda Vane. I'm to return his books."
As the two men glared at them, Harry returned the stare, ready to defend himself if needed. Something seemed off and, as the two men turned and grumbled to each other, Harry lightly touched the bow of his glasses and whispered, "Aperio."
Struggling to keep his poker face, Harry was surprised to find himself staring at two ogres apparently under some kind of concealment spells to make them appear human. Leaning towards Romilda, "Where exactly have you taken us?"
Romilda gave him a sly smile. "You haven't seen anything yet."
Then, as if on cue, a tall slender woman appeared before them. Harry had to clamp his jaw shut to keep from drooling. The woman's figure was unbelievable with long blonde hair flowing over her shoulders. Her business dress was extremely short, showcasing a pair of finely toned legs in a pair of dark heels, and her vest strained to contain her ample breasts.
Elbowing Harry in the ribs, Romilda tried not to giggle as the woman greeted them. "I'm Sylvania, the club's hostess. Mr. Rousseau is in his booth in the main room, and requested I escort you."
Sylvania turned towards the two doormen, and spoke to them in French. As she did, Romilda turned to Harry. "Even if we weren't on business, I doubt Rousseau would make us pay the cover. I've kept too much of his profits in his pockets."
As Romilda talked, Sylvania turned back to them and motioned for them to follow her. Harry began to feel an all too familiar pressure in his head. "Veela," Harry whispered.
Romilda smiled smugly. "Another reason why I chose you. It may be annoying to you, but you don't go too gobsmacked when you see one."
After checking their coats, just as they were about to leave the hallway, they could hear the sounds of a heavy bass pounding. "Sounds loud," Harry said. "Are you going to actually be able to accomplish anything?"
"Enough. It's going to be dark enough for no one to really notice your scar, but I say we keep it between us," Romilda said as they followed Sylvania in to the room at the end of the small hallway.
The sight Harry was greeted to surprised him again. It seemed as if the remainder of the first floor of this building was just one big open room. Near where they walked in, Harry saw a full bar with patrons lined up. Through most of the room was tables of varying sizes, and also a few chairs and couches sat alone. But it was the stages where Harry's attention quickly fell.
There was one large stage in the middle of the far wall and in both corners, two smaller stages connecting it by a walkway. On one of the corner stages, he saw what looked like an indoor lake had been created. Seated around the edge of the water were what at first glance looked like three topless mermaids singing to the crowd as they seductively posed about. Removing his hat, as Harry took another look about, he ran a hand through his hair and vigorously scratched the back of his head as he tried to take everything in.
As their song ended, a booming voice announced. "Give it up! That was Acantha, Cyrene, and Melia! Don't worry men, their enticing siren songs will be back a little later. Remember to ask now regarding private shows with one, two, or all three of our lovely sirens. Coming up next, the alluring vampiress herself, Ivonna. In the meantime, why not ask one of our several beautiful, magnificent, and rare entertainers over for a drink, and if you're really enjoying yourself and one of them has really caught your eye, ask about our private rooms for a more intimate one-on-one."
"It's kind of neat," Romilda's voice whispered in his ear. "That pool is magically connected to a large salt water tank downstairs in the changing area. So they can move freely back and forth inbetween performances. There's also a room upstairs that they turned in a large pool. For a couple of gallons, you can sit in the water and let them give you one hell of a lapdance."
Harry's head whipped around on her just in time to see that they were taking a step up onto a small platform. "Ogres, Veela, Sirens, and now Vampires," Harry hissed. "Just where the hell are we?"
"Romilda!" a heavily French accented voice called out. Both turned to see a small, balding, and pudgy man leap from a couch and come towards them as they stepped up.
Glancing around quickly, Harry saw this was the only elevated area in the room and gave an excellent view of the everything.
"Mr. Rousseau, how are you?" Romilda asked politely, as she bent down to allow the man to kiss both her cheeks. Harry also thought that it gave him an excellent look down her shirt as well. "This is... my associate for the evening, Mr. Perkins. James Perkins."
"James," Mr. Rousseau exclaimed, grasping Harry's hand in both of his. "Welcome to the Ménagerie Mystique. This is your first visit, no?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Come join me, both of you," Mr. Rousseau tugged Harry back towards his couch and gently guided Romilda towards it as well. "Syl, have some more glasses and a new bottle brought up to us." Sylvania nodded before turning and strutting back towards the bar.
While the couches out on the floor were simple cloth with two seats, Mr. Rousseau's was leather and in the shape of a U with a large glass table positioned in the middle. "Sit, sit, please," he insisted as he flopped back down in to his seat.
Romilda tugged Harry to the other side and sat next to Rousseau. As she handed the large leather ledger to him and they chatted, Harry's eyes began scanning around them. There were too many noises and sights to be taken in, and he couldn't focus on anything for more than a few seconds before something else captured his attention.
Looking up at a nearby column, he focused on a small lantern hanging from it. There were numerous similar lanterns hanging about the place, providing just enough light for the customers aside from the stage lighting. As a scantily-clad waitress passed, Harry noticed how her white blouse had a glow about it and it appeared to shimmer. "What are those?" he wondered under his breath as he glanced back at the nearest lantern.
"Fairies," a soft, melodic voiced answered. Harry spun around in his seat as he felt fingertips brush the back of his neck. Looking up and behind, he saw a curvy brunette saunter past and around the end of the couch. "There's a fairy in each one providing light, and its effects... well, you've seen its effects," she purred softly with a seductive smile.
Harry swallowed hard and tried not to stare. The brunette had on a dark green bustier that enhanced her petite breasts, a short skirt of the same color that really didn't hide very much, with low heeled shoes. But what attracted his attention most was the large pair of silvery butterfly wings that emerged from her bare back and seemed to glitter as well.
"Ah, there's my fairy," Mr. Rousseau said. "Come Rebecca, join us. These are some very important guests. Ms. Vane and Mr. Perkins."
"Mr. Perkins," Rebecca drawled, eying him objectively. "He doesn't speak much, does he?" she teased as she watched Harry shifted nervously in his seat.
Romilda snickered at Harry, but still scooted closer to him, almost possessively as the other woman eyed him hungrily. "I think you may have broken him. It's his first time in such a place."
"A virgin? Well, what better way, then?" Rebecca said as she sat next to Mr. Rousseau and curled up in her boss' side. "Perhaps a little later, you'll let me be your first time?" she proposed as Sylvania returned with a few more glasses and poured champagne in all of them.
Harry's throat was dry and quickly took the glass offered, and gulped it only to end up in a coughing fit. Romilda patted his leg as she took a small sip. "We're not staying long," she told them, looking directly at Rebecca.
As Sylvania sat down on Mr. Rousseau's other side and mimicked Rebecca's position with her boss, he wrapped his arms around their waists. "Pity," he told them. "You should return when we don't have business to attend to."
While Romilda and Mr. Rousseau returned to the matter at hand, Harry tried hard to keep his gaze on anything other than Sylvania or Rebecca, as it seemed both had taken an interest in him. Unsure whether it was genuine or business, it made him uneasy. He had never been comfortable when women showed blatant interest in him because he was never sure where it came from. Where they interested in the man or the legend?
It didn't help with the way the two were dressed, or moved, or simple sat there. It seemed like everything they did was to attract him to one of them. Unfortunately, whenever he tried to look away, there was something else that made him look twice. He still remembered the way the girl with purple hair soared about the room with what looked like threstal wings on her back and barely anything else.
Glancing at Romilda, his imagination instantly created an image of her dressed in a similar outfit to Rebecca's. Quickly shifting his gaze to the floor before his imagination could take things any further, he started to find his seat suddenly uncomfortable, Harry took a deep breath. What've I gotten myself in to?
Roughly an hour later, with his attention fully engrossed by Rebecca, his eyes following her fingers as she mischievously trailed them along the exposed inside curve of her breast, Harry's body jerked in reaction to Romilda squeezing his knee. His head quickly turned to her and he must've had an annoyed look, because her lips curled up in to a small smirk.
"It's time to go," she told him, humor evident in her voice.
Once outside, Harry took a deep breath as the cool night air did little to cool him off. "Enjoy yourself?" she asked as they started back towards their Apparition point.
"It was... an experience." Harry smirked as Romilda giggled. "It's still pretty early," Harry said checking the time with his pocket watch. "Hungry?"
Smiling up at him, "I could have a bite."
Harry's imagination quickly pictured Romilda in the Vampiress sheer black mini dress that she had briefly worn earlier. Shaking his head, he tried to get rid of that image before it got started, but it was too late.
Romilda laughed at his far-off expression. "What? Can't get your mind off the girls?" she teased. "I thought for sure you'd take Rebecca up on her offer, but you seemed to pay more attention to Sylvania. Guess you like blondes more than brunettes, eh?" She then stepped in front of Harry, slipped a hand to the back of his neck, and while lowering herself drew a her other hand down his chest. "You liked seeing the girls dance about, didn't you?" she joked as she released him. Turning to resume walking, she squeaked in surprise as she felt Harry grab her and pull her back against him.
"You're having a good laugh, aren't you?" Startled, unsure if Harry was mad or joking, she remained quiet. "Now, it's my time to play," he growled into her ear.
Romilda tried to speak but was suddenly overwhelmed by the pressing feeling of a sudden Apparition. When her world stopped spinning, she found herself still secure in Harry's arms but now standing on the front stoop of a home. "Scared?" Harry's voice whispered in her ear, more gentle now. He laughed when she shook her head, feeling the vibrations bouncing through her. "Then why is your heart pounding?"
"I'm not scared," Romilda lied. She was, but not sure anymore why. She knew he wasn't going to do anything, only grabbed her like that to spook her, but being held tightly in Harry's arms was something else. Feeling Harry's breath tickle her ear, she became aware of her body stirring as her mind found itself focusing on her arse pressed tightly to Harry's groin. "Where are we?" she asked, trying to distract herself.
Harry turned them around. "12 Grimmauld Place. Sort of like a second home for me now. When I want to get away, but not leave town, I come here."
"Oh," she mumbled as Harry's face slowly drifted from her ear, down her neck and to her shoulder. Raising her hands, she lightly rested them on his wrists, unsure of what her next move should be.
"There's a small diner a few blocks away, if you'd rather go there?" he asked as he felt her touch.
He's giving me an out, she thought to herself, which was quickly followed by, An out from what? You're assuming a lot! Why would Harry be interested in that!
"How about we stay here?" she answered, trying to make her voice sound calm and not betray the nervousness or arousal that was building inside of her. She wanted to appear calm and collected; a confident woman and not the little girl she felt like inside.
"You sure?" he asked, his mouth brushing her ear. Romilda simply grunted and nodded her head once. "Nervous?" he joked.
"No," Romilda barely managed to get out as Harry held her tighter.
"Then why are you still shaking?" he teased with a small chuckle.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to force her body to stop quivering. "It's cold out here," she replied, not sure how completely truthful she was. Especially as she practically whimpered at the feeling of Harry's lips lightly brushing her neck.
"Then I'll just have to warm you up," he told her as he unwrapped his arms and settled his hands on her waist. Slowly he slid his hands around the front and deliberately took his time as he began to unhook the button of her pants.
"Harry!" Romilda shouted breathlessly, a hint of panic in her voice. She was certainly caught off guard by his bold act, but she was also finding herself becoming excited. "We're outside. Everyone can see us." She silently cursed at him when she felt the his laughter vibrating through her.
"You always liked to put on a show," Harry said as he kissed her neck again, earning him another whimper. "But no one else can see or hear us," he told her. "I told you this was a place I like to come to hide away. It's protected under a Fidelius Charm. Almost no one knows this place even exists. The neighborhood pretty much thinks it's one of those goofy government errors. No one can see us... or hear us." He finished just as her button came undone, and as he playfully slipped his fingers inside the waistband, Romilda jerked backwards and into Harry's chest at the contact of his cold fingers with her warm stomach.
Her breath coming in ragged short bursts, Romilda grabbed Harry's wrist as his hand began tracing patterns in the soft skin of her hips and stomach. "So what are you going to do when I pay you back for this?" she asked, biting back a moan as his fingers slipped further downward and his hand slipped inside her pants.
"Enjoy it," he answered before kissing the corner of her mouth.
Having enough of the teasing, Romilda's head turned suddenly and she quickly pressed her mouth to his. As the kiss deepened, tongues brushing back and forth, Romilda moaned into his mouth as Harry's hand began to rub her through her knickers. At his touch, her leg kicked up and her heel backward, crashing against the door. Trying to regain her balance, she hooked her foot backwards around Harry's leg. This also gave Harry's more room to roam inside her pants.
She was so focused on Harry's hand between her legs that she was surprised at the second sudden cold touch as his other hand moved underneath her blouse and upwards to cup her breast. Both hands seemed to work in unison towards the one goal of driving her insane. His one hand had settled between her legs and was now rubbing her slit, slowly building in intensity. The other cupping her breast as he gently massaged it while pressing his thumb against the sensitive nipple underneath the bra.
"Bastard," Romilda growled as her hips began to rock against his hand and grind against his hips. Her mouth still fighting his as the kissing grew more intense and more sloppily as they were both distracted. Harder, damn it!
"Perhaps," was the only reply he gave as he felt the dampness growing in her knickers. "But you're enjoying every minute of it."
With her body practically aching at this point, Romilda jammed her own hand inside her pants as Harry's fingers slipped underneath her knickers and began rubbing her slit. After a few passes, she pushed Harry's fingers inside of her and began to work a pace to reach her orgasm. Her pants barely clinging to her hips, the button and fly now completely undone, she began rocking slightly. At the same time, her other hand flew up to the breast that was missing Harry's attentions and began rubbing and tugging it from outside her shirt.
Even though it was late at night, a few people had passed along the street. But they never knew about the display happening at the footstep of 12 Grimmauld Place as Romilda urged Harry to pick up his pace.
A wicked grin grew on his face as Romilda began making noises, her body building towards her release and her body was tugging harder and harder on his fingers inside her. After a few more strokes, Romilda gave a strangled cry and her knees buckled. Simply reacting, Harry tightened his hold on her body and helped keep her standing on wobbly legs. He could feel her continue to slowly grind against him as she rode out the aftereffects of her orgasm in his arms.
"Romilda." Getting no answer, Harry gently tried again as he set her back on her feet.
"Hmm?" she whispered dreamily as she leaned back against his chest.
"You do know it's only polite to reciprocate," he teased her, using her own words from a few weeks ago. As he deliberately pulled his hand free from her knickers, Romilda grabbed his wrist with her hand and stuck his fingers in her mouth as she licked and sucked them clean. Harry groaned as she did so, and her hips brushed his erection which had slowly been demanding more and more that it get some attention as well.
Drawing Harry's fingers slowly out of her mouth, she rested the back of her head against his shoulder and looked up at him. "And what would you be expecting in return?" she teased, bringing her hand away from her breast and grabbing Harry's groin, giving it a light squeeze. He's ready to go now. But not here, no. He's going to pay for this. I'm going to make him work for it, and we're going to go nice and slow. With a seductive smile she gave it another squeeze to make Harry groan again, relishing the noise she was making him make.
"Tease," Harry said hoarsely as he roughly grabbed her hips.
"I'm never one to be beholden to someone else," she teased as she turned around in his arms, keeping her hold on his erection through his pants. "So what say you and I go inside and take a tour of the place... starting with the bedroom."
~*~
For a moment, Romilda was puzzled as to where she was waking up but quickly remembered the previous night. Glancing over her shoulder at the man sleeping next to her, she had to bite her lip to stop from giggling and waking him. Rolling onto her back, she stretched her arms above her head and watched him sleep. She had no idea that Harry was capable of anything that he had done last night. She had almost assumed that he would've been a bit naive when it came to really being with a woman, but he knew exactly what he was doing. From fingering her to an incredible orgasm outside on the front steps to shagging her to a couple more inside the master bedroom before they both collapsed due to exhaustion.
He's definitely been taught a thing or two. But the better question is, by whom?
As she lay there, she suddenly became aware of the time. Grandfather! Sitting up quickly, she remembered that she was supposed to be meeting her grandfather for breakfast. Glancing at the clock, she only had five minutes to get home to meet him and he was never late. Panicking, she scanned the room for her clothes, seeing only her pants and jacket tossed about the floor.
"Blast," Romilda swore under her breath as she threw her legs over the edge of the bed. But just as she was pushing off the bed to stand up, a hand clamped down on her arm and tugged her backwards. With a surprised shriek, she crashed back on to the bed and was tackled by Harry, who pinned her down.
"Going somewhere?" he taunted. "So rude. You want to be accused of having such bad manners?"
Temporarily distracted by the feeling of Harry's erection rubbing against her inner thigh, she could barely remember why she was rushing out of bed. "I forgot about breakfast," she said, trying to ignore the touch of his lips across her shoulder. "Have to... ugh... meet Grandfather... mmhmm... he'll throw a fit... yes... if I'm... I'm," she stammered as he started to kiss down her chest.
"Guess he'll just be disappointed then, and you'll have to reschedule," he told her before nuzzling her breasts.
"Ugh," was the only reply she could give as she grabbed the back of his head and fell flat on to the bed. "Damn you Potter." She grinned at feeling Harry laugh against her chest. This was another thing she wasn't used to; him showing an actual personality aside from the just-business attitude he usually projected. She had never heard him laugh so much aside from yesterday.
As Harry was kissing and sucking the sensitive skin between her breasts, she completely forgot about her grandfather and breakfast and instead reached down to run her fingers across her slit as her arousal grew. When Harry suddenly stopped, a needy whine passed her lips and felt Harry's cock press against her hand rubbing her slit. Pulling his face up to her so she could kiss him, she wrapped her hand around his cock and began stroking up and down while her thumb massaged the tip.
Stroking him, she realized the rush Harry had felt last night when he was in control. Slightly tightening her grip, she felt him begin bucking slightly against her hand. With her own body crying for attention, she lifted her hips and, as best she could, poised his cock in front of her slit. When he grabbed her hips, she let go of his cock, and barely had time to brace herself as Harry practically slid inside her.
Harry smirked proudly as Romilda's head fell back on to the pillows and a soft moan slipped past her lips. As he slowly pulled back from her, he heard her whine under breath as she bit her lip. Spurred on by the noises she was making, Harry thrust forward again with a little more strength causing Romilda to grab his arms, giving her a bit more leverage as her hips bucked upward against his. As he continued shifting back and forth, she grew louder and her grip on his arms tightened as she eventually wrapped her legs tightly around his waist.
Unable to hold back any longer, Harry gave a few strong, quick thrusts into her before grasping her and holding himself against her on the last one. With a loud grunt at the impact of his cock fully inside her pussy, Harry came hard as he gasped for breath. A second or two later, Romilda rolled her hips and found her own orgasm which caused her to thrash around a bit. Grabbing the pillow underneath her head, she turned her head and bit it as she screamed.
His collapsing atop her rendered her a bit breathless, but she quickly recovered and let her legs fall down his waist and behind his thighs. Rubbing a foot up and down his leg, she giggled softly as Harry tried to pick himself up for another go. But exhaustion proved too much as he barely got a few inches off of her.
"All right Harry," she said breathlessly while stroking his hair. "Who taught you?"
Snickering, he gazed into her eyes after resting his head on her shoulder. "Taught me what?"
"Sex. No matter the innocent way you portray yourself, you have... a seasoned hand to a woman's body."
"I don't kiss and tell."
Romilda huffed in annoyance. "Well, then I'll just have to figure it out myself. Weasley seems like she'd be a nymph in bed. That red hair and athletic body are definitely a turn-on." She giggled as she felt Harry's cock twitch in response against the inside of her thigh. "I see you agree.
"But then there's Padma. While very pretty, she's a bit more uptight than her sister. But I think she must've been like you, in that appearances can be deceiving. I bet she was some kind of naughty librarian. When her hair came down, as it were, you two probably got up to all kinds of naughty things, didn't you?"
"We had some fun," Harry mumbled, his eyes slowly drooping as he fought to stay awake.
"But there's something I wonder about. A year or so ago, there was a rumor about you and... well, the future Mrs. Malfoy."
Harry groaned, but this time in annoyance. "No comment."
"Come on, Harry," she pleaded and felt Harry smile against her shoulder.
"Let's just say,” His tired yawn interrupted him. "That Malfoy was spending a little too much time paying attention to an old flame," he slowly continued, his voice growing weak and his words starting to slur together.
"Parkinson," Romilda spoke up.
"And young Ms. Greengrass was a little miffed and wanted a taste of revenge," he told her, nuzzling her shoulder.
Romilda laughed out loud. "And what better way than by shagging his biggest rival."
"Again, no comment. By the way, that doesn't leave this room. Understand?" he said, lifting his head to look at her face.
Looking him deep in the eyes, she nibbled his lips. "I don't kiss and tell. So... umm, what about us?" she asked, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. "Are we still courting, dating, or just bed buddies?"
"Since I don't usually have casual sex, I think the last one is out."
"So you still want to go on with the whole courting thing?"
Shifting his weight, he slid off of her and on his side next to her. "How about we enjoy the morning?" he said, barely awake now. "And we have a talk, a real talk over breakfast."
"Enjoy the morning?" Romilda kidded. "You're barely awake at the... scratch that, you're asleep." She giggled again as Harry grunted and waved a lazy hand about dismissively. Rolling on to her side, she watched him fall back asleep as his breathing slowled down and his mouth slipped open just a bit. A small smile grew on her face as she watched him.
Well, there's no way I'm going to meet Grandfather now, she thought turning on her own side away from Harry. Might as well as enjoy this big warm bed. Shifting backwards, she curled up against Harry's chest and sighed softly. Reaching back and underneath her, she grabbed his hands and wrapped them around herself. She grinned wickedly as Harry tightened his arms around her and pulled her firmly against his chest. Just before sleep over came her, We'll certainly talk Harry. Have a nice long chat over breakfast... eventually.