Enjoying the bright sunlight on Friday afternoon and feeling as though an enormous burden had been lifted from her shoulders, Hermione took a long walk through Hyde Park on her way home after her last examination, a particularly taxing one in her most difficult class this term – Regulation of Experimental Charms. She could have just apparated home, but it was lovely weather, and she had been so closed up for the last month with revising for her exams that she didn’t mind the walk in the least.

She sighed when she remembered that she’d made plans to go out with Rufus this evening. She did want to get out, and she was certainly anxious to spend time with him. But, he’d made arrangements for them to meet up with some of his friends from that ridiculous divination group, The Enchanted Eye, E². Hermione had absolutely no respect for this branch of magic, and it was stressful to spend time feigning even a mild interest in this subject she scorned so much. If she couldn’t spend time alone with Rufus, she’d just as soon stay home with a hot bath, a glass or two of wine, and a mindless novel. She was wondering if there wasn’t some way to get out of the plans she'd made as she climbed the four flights of stairs to their flat. "Only a small step away from muggle fortune-tellers," she was muttering to herself as she unlocked the door with a quick tap of her wand. "Where are those keys?" she thought irritably.

She was surprised to see Harry sprawled asleep on the couch. She didn’t think he was coming home until later that evening or even tomorrow. He had apparently nodded off while reading his latest Raymond Benson spy novel, as the book was propped open on his chest. His glasses had slid down his nose and his hair was disheveled. Hermione had been about to throw an afghan over him and retire to her hot bath when she saw the red mark of a partially healed cut running down one side of his face. She gasped "Oh, my!" loudly, and Harry woke with a start. On closer inspection, she could also see bruises around his nose and jawline and a smaller cut on his upper lip. "Harry! What happened to you this time?" she exclaimed, her face etched with concern as she squeezed onto the couch next to him.

He was evasive as usual and avoided her worried eyes as she began to magically mend his cuts and bruises. He closed his eyes as she murmured the charms to heal the deep cut and moved her wand along the side of his face. She then set about dissipating his bruises and the smaller cut. Catching sight of his downcast expression, she squelched her urge to launch into another discussion about the apparent dangers of his job and the risks he seemed to be taking every time he left for a long spell. "Rough week, eh?" she whispered quietly as she tapped each bruise in turn, her wand glowing with a soft orange light as it moved in semi-circles around his wounds. His eyes were still closed, and he gave a slight nod but didn’t answer.

At last she said, "Well, your face is healed now. Anything else I should know about?"

"No," he replied shortly, opening his eyes at last but still avoiding her gaze. He sat up part-way and pushed his hands through his rumpled hair. "All done with your examinations?" His voice was still sleepy and slightly hoarse.

"Yes. Just finished the last one a few hours ago," Hermione said as she stood up. She went into the kitchen and poured them both a glass of wine. She handed Harry his glass and then plopped down in the armchair, her feet propped up on the coffee table. "I must say it feels very strange to know I’m going to be leaving the academic world," she said quietly.

"So, are you sure there’s nothing higher than a doctorate?" he teased.

"Oh, shut up! I’m not so sure you’ve joined the real world either, what with all this secretiveness about your job," she said with a smile.

Harry ignored her probing remark. "And what are the latest developments in your search for gainful employment, Ms. Soon-to-be-Dr. Granger?" he said, adroitly steering the conversation away from himself.

She laughed and told him she’d been having some serious discussions with the Institute of Magical Academics until her examinations took precedence. "Now those exams are behind me, I need to get back in touch with some of the people in the Charms Department."

"Ah, the wizarding think tank of Magical Academics. That sounds exciting, that does. Um. . . and definitely a step into the real world," he said with barely suppressed laughter. She threw a cushion from the chair at him but couldn’t help laughing a bit herself.

As they sipped their wine, she caught Harry up on the week’s events. They’d received a note from George Weasley via owl post; he was organising a small party of their Hogwarts friends to meet up with Lee Jordan, who would be in London for a short stay starting next Saturday. Lee had been Fred and George’s closest friend at Hogwarts and was a commentator for the National Quidditch League. Hermione also related the latest gossip about the couple who lived on the 2^nd floor of their building. Throughout this conversation, she could tell that Harry’s spirits had sunk again. He seemed unfocused and somewhat despondent.

"Harry, why don’t we go dancing tonight?" she said impulsively. "What about Rufus?" her brain was asking. "Oh, you didn’t want to go out and be bored stupid with all the latest divination theories anyway," she answered herself inwardly.

"Dancing?" he said blankly.

"I’ve just finished my exams and well, you look like you could stand some good cheer," she replied. "We don’t have to go all the way to the 100 Club. I heard someone say that the Red Door has good swing dance tunes most nights, and it’s just a few blocks away. Let’s give it a try, shall we? It was so much fun last week! And, we could grab a bite to eat at that new Thai restaurant on Clarendon beforehand."

"Are you sure you don’t have plans with Rufus?" Harry said doubtfully.

"Positive. He’d made plans with some of those witches from his E² group for tonight." She rolled her eyes. "I told him I’d be too knackered from my exams to keep up any pretense of interest in the latest crystal balls and such."

Harry laughed. "Well, all right then. I'm not too fond of you spending a lot of time with that E² crowd anyway," he said mysteriously. But, he smiled for the first time since she’d arrived home and said he’d go shower and change clothes.

She heard the shower turn on and was just wondering the best way to break off her plans with Rufus when someone rapped on their front door. "Damn," she muttered as she glanced at her watch. "Yes, that would be Rufus."

She opened the door and stepped out into the hall. Half suspecting that this discussion might result in an argument, she wanted to minimize the chances of Harry overhearing them rowing again. Rufus greeted her with a kiss, and said, "So, do I have my girlfriend back now that your examinations are over?"

"Yes, I think you do," she said happily as his arms encircled around her, squeezing her tightly against him. Kissing him back, she half wondered if she was making a mistake in cancelling their plans. She had definitely missed seeing him as much this past month while she crammed.

"I ran into Bianca and Chloe earlier today, and they are really looking forward to seeing us again tonight," he murmured. "Are you about ready? I could wait out here if you need more time," he added hastily. Rufus rarely entered her flat when there was a chance Harry was at home.

Bianca and Chloe were about the last people she wanted to see tonight, she thought to herself. "Actually Rufus . . . I think I may skip the gathering of the Enchanted Eye crowd tonight. Harry came home today – he was injured and well . . . he seems very down. So, I was thinking since we weren’t going to be spending tonight just the two of us anyway . . . I may just go get a quick dinner with Harry and cheer him up. I am quite knackered too," she said hastily, deliberately failing to mention their dance plans, which she knew would set Rufus off. "We’ll have our romantic evening alone tomorrow after all," she added as she smiled and leaned up on tiptoe to kiss him again.

But, Rufus drew back from her embrace. "Hermione, last Saturday night you promised me that you were going to stop this!" he said angrily.

"Stop what?"

"Putting Harry first - ahead of us!"

"I’m not putting him ahead of us. Our plans tonight involve a whole group of people – not just the two of us. I won’t even be missed! It’d be another matter altogether if we had plans for a cozy romantic evening like we do for tomorrow night and I cancelled in favour of Harry. But, this is completely different."

Rufus looked as though her logic was lost on him. "This is not at all different! We’d still be together tonight . . . even if we are with a group! I guess that’s just not important to you though. It’s pretty clear who you want to spend time with once you’re free of your studies, isn’t it?" he muttered.

"Oh Rufus, that’s not true! Look . . . if you must know, I really don’t enjoy myself much with your Enchanted Eye friends. Divination . . . just isn’t my cup of tea," she said tactfully. "I was honestly wondering if you’d mind me skipping out on tonight, even before I saw how down Harry was when I got home. This has nothing to do with me choosing him over you!"

"Of course not," he rejoined sarcastically.

"Oh, so now you think I’m lying to you?!" Hermione replied in exasperation. "I’m being as honest as I know how to be Rufus! You know, I could have just told you I was knackered or didn’t feel well. I didn’t have to mention Harry at all.

"I don’t think you’re lying to me as much as you’re lying to yourself!

"And, what’s that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean!" he said, glaring furiously at the flat door.

"This is so pointless. We’ve been through this same conversation countless times already!" she hissed quietly. Hermione took a deep breath. "Look . . . if you can put your insane and groundless jealousy of Harry aside by tomorrow night, great. If not, don’t bother coming to pick me up!" With that, she turned on her heel and stormed back into the flat. Leaning back against the closed door, she heard Rufus stomping back down the stairs. She heard Harry moving about in his room, no doubt changing clothes already. Knowing her face must be flushed with anger and near tears, she made a quick dash into the bathroom.

***********************

Sirius Black was walking down Palace Court Road, deep in thought. He was walking slowly, debating with himself whether he should just scrap the evening’s plans with Cordelia. "What in the hell am I thinking? Me . . . involved with a muggle? Why did I agree to go out? You’re treading in dangerous waters, old boy," he thought to himself. "Perhaps I should ring her up and cancel," he was thinking when he suddenly realised he was in front of her building. It was a swank residential area; Black noted the number of high- end muggle automobiles parked along the street. There also appeared to be a number of college-age students, mostly American, who lived in the vicinity. Each time he’d decided to just ring her up and cancel, the image of her intensely beautiful eyes swam unbidden into the forefront of his thoughts. After several minutes of circling her block anxiously debating with himself, Black resolved to go through with the date. "You just shouldn’t see her again," he warned himself. "End the evening amiably but don’t make any plans to get together again. And Harry’s right – under no circumstances should there be any broomstick ride at the end of the evening."

She smiled when she opened the door. She was ready, and Black was relieved that they could be on their way quickly. For some reason, he felt oddly conspicuous in her neighbourhood. It had started to rain, and he held her brolly over them both as they made their way to the High Street tube stop. When they made the dinner plans earlier this week, he had told her there was a new Indian place in Shepherd’s Bush. Harry had told him about it a couple of weeks ago, and it turned out that she was delighted with this suggestion. They laughed about some of the latest tabloid stories they’d seen in the papers on the train as they changed over to the Central line at the High Street station. Black was hoping she didn’t notice he was a bit confused as they changed lines; he had still not used the Underground enough to feel completely comfortable.

They had a very agreeable dinner. They’d laughed when they realised they’d independently made the exact same dinner selections. Black was amazed by how comfortable he felt with her. He was even more amazed by how adept he became at ensuring that she remained the subject of their conversation, all the while enjoying watching her eyes, how they lit up as she talked animatedly about various subjects. She told him all about her school years and how she’d ended up working with her law firm. She launched into a rather detailed discussion of the transaction that had taken her to New York earlier in the week. He was rather pleased with himself as he managed to keep asking just the right questions to keep her engaged in this particular conversation. In fact, she seemed quite impressed with his questions.

When the waiter began to clear away their dishes, she finally sighed. "I’m terribly sorry Ian; I think I’ve completely monopolised this conversation, haven’t I? You must be so bored with me prattling on and on about this merger. Although, judging by your questions, I’d say you seem to know a fair bit about the business world. . . ."

Before she could say anything more, Black hastily assured her that he had not been bored at all. "But, we should endeavor to take your mind off your work for awhile, shouldn’t we?" he said, hoping to deflect her curiosity. "Let’s talk about one of those subjects you’re never supposed to discuss early on in a relationship." Did I really just use the word relationship? he chided himself.

"Such as?" she smiled.

"Oh, I don’t know. How about . . . politics? What do your New York friends have to say about the latest White House scandals?"

They joked about the foibles of the American political system as he paid the bill (at least he was accustomed to muggle money from his job), and they left the restaurant. He found himself asking her if she wanted to find someplace to get a drink. She agreed readily and linked her arm through his. It was still raining, more heavily than it had been earlier. As they rounded the corner, Black saw a club just ahead.

They had scarcely stepped inside when Sirius noticed a couple of familiar faces. Before he could make an excuse and get Cordelia out of the club, Hermione waved and came hurrying over. He quickly interjected, "Hermione! How great to see you. This is Cordelia Hunter. Cordelia, this is Hermione Granger." He hoped none of the panic he was feeling was noticeable in his expression or voice. Harry was still over at the bar getting drinks for he and Hermione.

"Hello Hermione," Cordelia said smiling. "I think I saw you in a swing dance contest just last week. Remember Ian? I stopped in your coffee shop that night after I left the 100 Club." Black breathed an inward sigh of relief that Cordelia had used the name Ian. Hopefully Hermione had been paying attention and wouldn’t call him Sirius.

"Why yes, Harry and I did go to the 100 Club last week!" Hermione answered. Harry had walked up with their drinks, looking curiously at Black. Sirius wondered desperately if Harry would recall their conversation about the muggle solicitor, and he tried to signal him with his expression. But Harry wasn’t looking at Black anymore. He had turned to smile at Cordelia; Hermione was introducing him and telling Harry that Cordelia had seen them dance in last week’s contest.

Much to Black’s dismay, he found that they were all pulling up chairs at a nearby table. He was still hoping to think of some excuse why they should leave at once. "Do you enjoy swing?" he heard Harry asking Cordelia.

"Yes, I do, but I'm not much for dancing. Honestly I was looking for a more quiet evening that night, which is how I ended up back at Ian’s coffee shop."

"Ah, well, we came here tonight in hopes of some good swing music. But, it seems there’s a different music genre altogether here tonight. If it hadn’t been pouring rain when we walked in, I think we’d have left," Harry said laughing.

"We’d have done no such thing!" Hermione interjected. "I tell you, this is all the rage now. I’ve been trying to get Harry to try this for months now," she added to Cordelia.

Black had only just noticed that the music was completely unfamiliar to him. "What is this?" he asked them.

"It’s country and western line dancing. . . Ian. Or, should I call you Snuffles again?" she said with a slight gleam in her eye.

"Line dancing?" he repeated as he caught Hermione's eye. He watched the dance floor with feigned attention, trying to ignore her last remark. There must have been a hundred people out there doing some very complicated looking moves.

"Yes. It comes from the States of course, but it’s been very popular over here for several years now." Hermione commented.

"So, do the two of you go dancing every week?" Cordelia asked Harry and Hermione.

"Well, we used to go quite regularly. But, we haven’t been dancing as much lately. Harry had a bad week with work, and I just finished up examinations today . . . so it seemed a good time to get out."

"Oh, what are you studying?" Cordelia asked brightly.

Black piped up, "Hermione dabbles in a little bit of everything but gets top marks in it all. Say, did the two of you win that contest that Cordelia saw you in last week?" he said quickly. "Harry and Hermione have all sorts of trophies and such from winning one contest after another."

"Actually, yes, we did win," Hermione replied.

"That’s wonderful. You were very good!" Cordelia said. "How did you get interested in swing?"

"Well, neither of us had much money when we first moved to London, especially since Hermione was in graduate school . . . We started going to some of the local clubs – we both seemed drawn to swing music. Decided to take some lessons, and once we’d mastered it, we really enjoyed it."

Hermione nodded and smiled in agreement. "We were a bit stranded here in London too when we first moved here – so the clubs were a good substitute for all our school friends. It was a bit of an adjustment from Ho. . ."

"Say, Hermione, what would that dance be called? Any idea?" Black gestured wildly at the dance floor, while still trying to catch Harry’s eye.

"I think that one is called the Schottische," Hermione said with a quizzical look at Black.

"How do you know that?" Harry asked.

"Well, you haven’t been my only dance partner you know," Hermione quipped. She wagged a finger at Harry, "You need to be watching those moves, because I’m not leaving here tonight without getting out on the dance floor." She missed him rolling his eyes. "Oh, Harry, before I forget, Ginny wants to give a joint party for my graduation and your birthday, at our place. She thinks her place is too small. I think she said July 18^th -- do you think you'll be in town on that date?"

"I could be. I'll check my schedule," he replied.

"How about you, Ian? You need to get that night off?" Hermione went on. "Oh! And Cordelia, we'd love to have you come as well. Our friend Ginny usually puts on a great party. . . ."

"Well, the transaction I'm working on should be closed by that time, and I'll need some festive cheer once it's done. . . . . I guess we'll see," she said with a smile at Hermione, glancing at Black.

Black did his best to hide his discomfort. Hermione had just put a deadline on him to either tell Cordelia the truth or call the whole thing off. He had been hoping to give the relationship a bit more time to develop before confronting that issue. He also thought back to his debate earlier in the evening whether to pursue the relationship at all. In an attempt to indicate Cordelia's status to Hermione, Black said casually, "Cordelia is a solicitor with Slaughter and May. She’s only just back from being in New York for several days." He looked pointedly at Harry who had looked up at the word "solicitor."

"Yes, I’m just now getting beyond the jet lag."

Black could tell that Hermione was about to ask why Cordelia hadn't just apparated when Harry stood up hurriedly and gave his hand to Hermione to pull her to her feet. "How about helping me get everyone another round of drinks?" He glanced back at Sirius and nodded to show he’d gotten the point.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Harry whispered, "Cordelia can't apparate! You may not have picked up on it yet, but she’s a muggle."

Hermione stopped dead. "Really! Are you sure? Is that why we're calling him Ian tonight?"

He prodded her to keep her moving towards the bar. "Yes, I’m sure. Don’t stare. When we had drinks last week, he told me there was a muggle solicitor that had dropped by his coffee shop a few times. He was wondering then whether or not to ask her out. Looks like he made his decision all right," he said with a grin.

"My goodness! A muggle," Hermione repeated.

Harry laughed at her as they waited on the drinks order. "You’re lousy at spotting muggles, you know. How is that? You grew up in a muggle household and had only muggle friends until you went to Hogwarts."

"Rubbish!" she retorted. "I don’t know it’s as much that I’m lousy at spotting them. Who’d have thought Sirius of all people would date a muggle? Honestly, I've never thought about Sirius dating at all, let alone a muggle."

They took the drinks back to the table and continued to have a "muggle-safe" conversation for awhile. Black was discomfited by the way Hermione kept grinning at him for no reason. Suddenly, she stood up – "Oh Harry, we just have to try this one. It’s so much fun!"

Grumbling a bit, Harry got up and let her pull him towards the dance floor. Sirius and Cordelia watched as Hermione began showing Harry the steps on the sidelines. "I’m glad we bumped into them," she said to Black as she sipped her drink. "Look! They’re already out there having a go at it!"

Black smiled uncertainly. "You don’t want to dance, do you?"

She laughed at his expression. "No, I promise I won’t drag you out there. A very simple waltz is about all I can handle. I’m content just to watch. My, look at them out there!" Harry and Hermione had indeed seemingly mastered the steps very quickly and appeared in high spirits as they began to circle the dance floor.

"Hermione told me once that Harry was actually quite unsure of himself on the dance floor when they were in school. She was the one who persuaded him to go out dancing when they first moved to London. Hard to believe that, watching them out there now, isn’t it?"

"It’s also hard to believe they’re just friends," she said shrewdly, watching Harry twirl Hermione expertly. "Did I glean correctly that they share a flat?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes," he smiled back. "It’s actually just a few blocks from here."

"Umm," she said.

Black just laughed. "What? You never had a close but platonic friendship?" he asked as he reached over and picked up her hand. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb for a few moments before intertwining his fingers with hers. She continued gazing into his eyes, which was having a very odd effect on him.

"Oh, er . . . yes," she said finally breaking her gaze "I’ve had several close friendships with men that were strictly platonic," she said with a small smile. "I just don’t think that relationship looks all that platonic." She turned her attention to the dance floor, where Harry and Hermione were laughing heartily as Hermione had just tripped and Harry caught her safely in his arms. Apparently the dance steps had been a bit too complicated for them as novice line dancers, and they’d ended up going the wrong direction entirely, bumping into several other twirling couples along the way.

"So, tell me about the past relationships that weren’t platonic," he said with a sardonic smile. "You hinted at a rather tragic past the first time we met."

"Ah, yes indeed. I’ve had my fair share of bad news. One bloke after another who couldn’t make a commitment to the relationship for various reasons. I seem to have had a knack for attracting that type." She seemed to be looking pointedly at Black but he didn’t say anything. He did, however, continue to squeeze her hand and smile at her.

"Umm . . . where to start? Well, I suppose my first serious relationship was my university boyfriend, Chris. We started seeing one another in our second year at Edinburgh University."

"I didn’t realise you were from Scotland," Black interrupted. He was on the verge of telling her he’d grown up in Dundee when he remembered that it was best to keep his own personal admissions to a minimum.

"Oh, I grew up here in London, but my grandparents had a farm over on the western coast – near the village of Arisaig. I always enjoyed my stays in Scotland when I was a girl, and I thought it would be lovely to attend university there."

"And did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Enjoy your university experience in Edinburgh?"

"Very much. It’s one of my favourite cities in the world. Don’t know why I came back to London now I think of it," she mused thoughtfully. "Oh, wait, yes I do. I’d forgotten all about that, but I came back here with Chris, the university boyfriend. I might still be in Edinburgh but for him I suppose."

"So, I have him to thank that you’re here," Black said as he signaled a waitress to bring them another round of drinks. "What happened with this one?"

"Well, we had a flat in Bloomsbury, near the University of London. He was doing some graduate work there for the first few years. I started my training contract with the firm soon after we moved here. It wasn’t until he finished up his graduate work that things started falling apart with us." She sighed. "He’d been telling me we’d get married just as soon as he could finish his studies and get settled in a job. Well, he finished the graduate work but became quite the layabout. He had no interest in looking for a job and even less interest in marriage or commitment. Seems he was frittering away most of his days in a neighbourhood pub with his mates."

"I assume you got rid of him!" Black said sharply.

"I wish I could say I did. I kept making excuses for him to my friends. Of course, Chris and I would have these dreadful rows all the time. But, I didn’t wise up for a long time. Let’s see. . . counting our two years in Edinburgh, we were together about seven years. I was quite the fool, I was."

"We all make mistakes in our youth," he said quietly and immediately wished he hadn’t spoken.

"Do tell -- what mishaps befell the young and reckless Ian Black?" she asked teasingly.

"Oh no! No . . .we’re talking about you, remember? You were going to tell me about this history of horrific failed romances, and I refuse to be distracted."

"Well, we will return to the subject of your youth Mr. Black at a later time then," she said in mock severity. They both laughed as the waitress brought the next round of drinks.

"So, after Chris?" he broached.

"Ah, well, foolishly I got involved with a new bloke straight away. Big mistake. Sean Collins was his name. He was a solicitor who worked with a friend of mine, and we met at some function shortly after I moved to a new flat near Hyde Park. It took me quite some time to piece together the fundamental problem with Sean."

"Which was?"

"Married. Married with three children. Took me the better part of two years to work that one out. I’m not sounding too bright, am I?" she muttered.

"Please tell me you told his wife everything once you learned the truth!" Black said vehemently.

She shook her head. "No. I thought about it quite alot. But, I just didn’t have the stones to do it. I watched her with their children a few times – out walking in a park. The children were so young and so happy. I just couldn’t bring myself to cause problems for those kids. Of course, he probably got involved with others after me, mind you. So, there’s no telling if his family is still together or not."

While Sirius and Cordelia were talking about her long line of failed relationships, Harry and Hermione were having a grand time on the dance floor. They’d picked up enough of the steps to have a good time with the various line dances. They’d danced to something Harry thought was called "The Cotton-Eye Joe," although maybe he’d misunderstood.

He had no idea exactly how long they’d been dancing when one of the band members announced that they were taking a break but putting on some CDs of American country music to keep the dancers happy until they returned. Hermione had smiled and nudged him to look over at Sirius and Cordelia, who were deep in conversation. Harry smiled and shrugged, and they tacitly decided to stay on the dance floor a bit longer in order to give them some more time to chat.

"It looks like he fancies her!" she said breathlessly.

"Seems to, yes," Harry agreed. "She’s seems great, but for him of all people to date a muggle is quite something, isn’t it?"

Suddenly the recorded music began – it was a song they could jitterbug to – something about a blue moon in someplace called Kentucky. Then, there was another swingy tune by the same woman. "Any idea who this is?" he asked Hermione as the song came to a close.

"Patsy Cline," she said airily as if this should have been obvious. Harry had long since stopped wondering how Hermione could know so many things about so many different subjects.

He just shook his head and grinned at her as he pulled her toward him. The music had changed to a slow dance. As they danced, her head was nestled close to his shoulder, and he could smell her shampoo. "Or was it perfume?" he thought as the singer crooned: "I’ve been so wrong . . . for so long . . . I didn’t know that I loved you so . . . I was wrong." He could feel Hermione’s hand pressing lightly against his back. He had a strange, but fleeting sensation in his stomach. As the song ended, Hermione looked up at him, and he might have sworn he saw a look of dazed confusion on her face. This was unusual he thought vaguely; Hermione rarely looked confused about anything. He cut his eyes away from hers -- "Had enough western dancing for one evening?" he asked lightly. "Yes, it’s getting late I’m sure," she agreed.

They stopped by to say good-night to Sirius and Cordelia, who were still engrossed in conversation. "You know I should probably be getting home myself," Cordelia murmured. "I had an early morning conference call this morning, and I think lack of sleep is catching up with me."

They waved good-bye to Harry and Hermione who were going in the opposite direction back to their flat. As they walked toward the Tube stop, Sirius asked some well-chosen questions about the merger she’d been telling him about at dinner. He had hopes he could avoid the topic shifting back to his reckless youth. But, as they came up out of the High Street station, she squeezed his hand and asked, "You know I do want to hear about your own youthful indiscretions, Mr. Black."

"Ah . . .yes. Well, it’s such a long story. We should save it for when we have more time."

She smiled and answered, "Another time sounds fine to me. But, fair warning, I shan’t forget that you have a history I’ve not yet heard. Especially now you’ve heard all my travails and woes." He smiled but didn’t answer.

They continued on toward her flat in comfortable silence. As they walked hand in hand, Sirius was having a mental ping-pong match with himself. He desperately wanted to make plans with her for another date despite his resolution from earlier in the evening. "But, you can’t go on much longer without telling her the truth," the reasonable half of his brain was saying. "Sure I can," said the amorous side. "What harm is there in just not telling her anything and moving on when things get too much? That's always how we operated before!" His reasonable side answered quickly: "You know you don’t want to hurt her. And, more importantly, you know you want more with this woman. You can’t go out with her too many more times before things are going to get dicey in a hurry. You should not see her again until you’ve resolved whether you want to tell her anything." His other side responded with, "Oh shut up! I don’t need to think about all this just yet."

They had reached the door to her building. They were still holding hands tightly, and Sirius heard himself asking her if she had plans for the next day. "I do have to work tomorrow evening, but if you’re not busy . . . .we could spend some time together during the day."

"Oh, I've never seen you in the day. That should allay my suspicions that you're a vampire or some other sort of magical creature," she joked.

He glanced up at her with a wry smile. "Well, I'm not a vampire, and although I may still be a magical creature, I am allowed to walk about in daylight. In some communities anyway. "

"Hmmmm, more mystery Mr. Black."

"Yes, well it’s a much more interesting line anyway."

As she laughed, Sirius suddenly found himself reaching over towards her and pushing several wisps of hair away from her face. He leaned down and gently pressed his lips against hers, and he felt her respond instantly. When he pulled back, they smiled at each other. He kissed her forehead and murmured, "So . . . I’ll ring you in the morning, and we can make a plan. Sound all right?"

She nodded and smiled, and he squeezed her hand before he turned back down the steps.