A SIRIUS AFFAIR

The morning dawned on a rare cloud-free day. Hermione turned over and thought again about the terrible fight she’d had with Rufus over this day. She’d just have to make it up to him later, but she would not be swayed by anyone about today. This was their day, and until she was 190 years old, nothing would change that. Their day was the same every year, and it was a fun and relaxing way to remember Ron. Every year, on the date Ron had died, the whole Weasley family would apparate into the Burrow for the day. Harry and Hermione were always expected as well. Well, expected wasn't quite the right word, because no one ever offered invitations or owled to say what they were doing or when to arrive. Everyone just arrived; they just somehow knew what they would be doing. It started two years after Ron died, once Harry and Hermione had left Hogwarts. They had all showed up at the Burrow with the same plan: to go see the Chudley Cannons that day. Even Ginny, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley had the same idea, though they weren't necessarily Quidditch fans. Every year since then, they had all met up at the Burrow and apparated to wherever the Cannons were playing that day.

Hermione got up, showered and dressed. Harry was already up, having gone for a run earlier. He had made coffee . . . "mmmmmm some of that yummy hazelnut kind we got from Sirius," she thought as she walked into the small eating nook. She had always favored tea in the morning, but the aroma of the hazelnut blend was rapidly converting her to a coffee drinker.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and began spreading butter on some toast. "So, you had a bit of a row with Rufus yesterday?" Harry commented in an offhand tone as he set bangers and poached eggs on the table. Hermione had closed herself in her room yesterday afternoon, saying she had to cram for her exams, and she hadn’t re-appeared the rest of the day. About 8:00, Harry had taken her a plate of take-away curry from around the corner, but she hadn’t seemed in the mood for conversation so he hadn’t lingered.

"You heard us?" Hermione said, slightly embarrassed.

"Well, I think the whole block heard you, but I couldn't quite make out the subject matter," Harry offered delicately

"He wanted me to go to his gram's birthday party today. Imagine! Today!" she said, still irritated that Rufus had failed to appreciate the importance of this ritual.

"I guess there will always be people who think they should come first in your life," Harry prompted with a small smile.

Hermione changed the subject, not wanting to discuss Rufus’ jealous accusations with Harry. She picked up The Daily Prophet from the countertop where Hedwig had left it. "Hmmm. . . the Cannons are playing the Minotaurs today. Doesn't Cho Chang play for them?" She peered over her glasses at him.

"Yeah, I think I heard that," he said casually. "It should be a great match. The Cannons have an excellent starting line-up this season. What time does it start?"

Hermione didn't look up from the paper. "Er . . 1:00 in Chudley it says. What time do you want to go down to the Burrow?"

"We need to get there by at least 11:00, don't you think? Mrs. Weasley always makes something tasty for lunch, and I don't want to miss that!" he said, smacking his lips.

She laughed and agreed. "That will give me a chance to catch up with Ginny before the match starts," Hermione commented.

"Like the two of you won’t be ‘catching up’ during the match?" Harry said with a grin. Hermione didn’t reply. Harry laughed at her annoyance, but she knew he was right. She, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley would be talking throughout the match, and would in fact see very little of the action.

One of Hermione’s favourite parts of the day was being able to spend a couple of hours just chatting with Ginny and Mrs. Weasley. She didn't have many female friends, and chatting with the girls was a nice change of pace for her. And, not that Hermione was a slave to fashion, but it did give her a chance to hear about the latest trends. Ginny Weasley had been a year behind Harry and Hermione at Hogwarts. She was very smart and had an artistic streak. She had been hired as a fashion editor for Witches World in an effort to help the magazine appeal to the younger market. She was by all accounts quite successful and had a small one bedroom flat just around the corner from Harry and Hermione.

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

When they arrived at the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley had indeed been cooking all morning. No one ever expected a feast, and Fred and George spent a great deal of time every year trying to convince her that they didn't need feeding and that they could get lunch at the game. But Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t hear of it – "too expensive," she would say. They all eventually realised that cooking was one of her ways of coping with her grief.

They arrived sporadically throughout the morning. Percy, George and Ginny from London; Bill, his wife Susan and their sons Simon and Henry from Egypt; and Charlie and Fred from Russia. Charlie’s wife Maggie was recovering from the birth of their second child, Fiona, and much to Mrs. Weasley’s annoyance, he’d left their two-year old son Evan behind with Maggie and the baby. Bill and Susan’s children were, of course, unable to apparate yet, and so they had come over on a commercial flight. They hadn’t brought the children to England in a couple of years, and were planning to stay on for another two weeks as vacation. Percy’s long-time girlfriend Penelope had been unable to make it this year because of final examinations in her graduate program in potions in Edinburgh. It was always a loud, boisterous crowd when they all got together. Particularly dangerous were Fred and George, who fell right back into their twin terror routine. After they’d eaten lunch, Harry stepped into the kitchen to help Mrs. Weasley with the dishes, as he usually did. She could have waved her hand and it would be done, but this was Mrs. Weasley's way of having a few moments with Harry by herself.

"Everything going all right down in London?" she asked.

'Very well, thank you," he said politely.

"You know how much Arthur and I appreciate you and Hermione coming up here for this every year," Mrs. Weasley said, not looking directly at Harry.

"And it means alot to us to be expected," he replied softly as he rinsed a saucepan.

"How is Hermione?" she said with a sidelong glance in Harry's direction.

"She's almost done with grad school."

"Is she still seeing that herbologist? " Mrs. Weasley asked in a nonchalant tone.

"Officially, yes…but, well, after the row they had yesteday, I'm not sure how much longer that's going to last," he offered, realising too late that he sounded a bit like a gossip.

"Oh, that's too bad, " she said concentrating on the dishes. "How about you Harry . . . seeing anyone special?" she added, almost as an afterthought.

"No," he smiled ruefully. "Been a bit busy, and work takes me out of town frequently."

In the most casual tone she could muster, Mrs. Weasley continued, "You know Ginny broke up with Wesley . . . you know, the bloke she'd been seeing in London the last couple of years."

"Is that right?" Harry said blandly.

"Yes . . .," as she turned and gave him a sly smile.

"Well, that about finishes us up, eh?" he stated with a flourish of the tea towel, anxious not to prolong this conversation.

"Yes I suppose it does," she said. "Be a dear and go tell Fred and George to cut out the monkey business. We need to get a move on before we miss the game."

They managed to find 13 seats together, which was a trick in itself, just before the match got underway. Harry and Mr. Weasley volunteered to get butterbeer for everyone.

"So, how's Sirius doing, Harry?" asked Mr. Weasley as they queued up.

"Quite well actually."

"Splendid. Splendid. He must be generally avoiding other wizards as I haven’t heard any reports about him in quite awhile," said Mr. Weasley.

Yes, yes he is, for the most part," said Harry, not wanting to let on Sirius was doing some work in the wizarding world as well.

"Well, here we are," Mr. Weasley said as he paid for the butterbeer. "We’ve got the drinks. Let's go see how the game is getting on, shall we?" Mr. Weasley said.

Harry took a seat next to George, who commented that Harry had just missed a great play by Cho.

"So she’s starting?" asked Harry as he handed George a bottle of butterbeer.

"Yes. She's pretty quick too. You were a bit keen on her for awhile at Hogwarts, weren’t you?"

"Weren’t we all?" Harry said, grinning. "Besides, that was ages ago."

Thinking he was being rather covert about the subject, George offered, "You know Ginny isn't dating anyone at the moment."

"Subtlety never was your strong suit George," Harry muttered as he looked up in time to see one of the Cannon chasers score a goal.

"Just thought you should know, so you wouldn't feel awkward if she brought the subject up," George went on.

"Oh, if she brought the subject up?" Harry said incredulously.

"Whoa, look at that bludger!" George yelled.

With that, Harry shifted his attention to the game. The Cannons were up by 50 points. Harry was still in the habit of spending most of a Quidditch match searching for the snitch.

Down the row a few seats, Ginny and Hermione were engrossed in a detailed conversation of cloak styles. They never did really pay attention to the game, except to glance at the scoreboard every once in awhile.

"So they're attaching the scarves to the cloaks this year" Hermione asked

"Yes, they’re making the scarves with great colors and patterns, supposed to liven up the cloaks," Ginny added, truly in her element. "How's Rufus these days? I haven’t seen him since I ran into you two at that pub a few weeks ago."

"Fine." Hermione looked away, pretending to be interested in the scoreboard. Then, she suddenly blurted out, "Well, actually . . . we had another huge fight yesterday if you want to know the truth."

"Another fight?" Ginny asked quietly.

"Yes," Hermione sighed. "It’s always about the same thing. He just doesn't quite understand my relationship with Harry. He wasn't too keen on me coming here today either. He wanted me to go see his grandmother today. Today! Imagine!" Hermione said indignantly, feeling her temper flaring up again.

"Just exactly what is the status of your relationship with Harry?" Ginny asked slowly.

"Just as it’s always been. He's my best friend," Hermione stated firmly.

"But, Harry comes first with you?" Ginny pressed.

"Well, yes. I mean, well, no . . . not necessarily. But anyone I go out with is going to have to understand that Harry's always going to be an important part of my life."

Venturing into what appeared to be senstive territory, Ginny asked, "So, how would you feel about it if there were someone else in Harry’s life?"

"You mean how would I feel if he had a steady girlfriend? I don’t have any problem with that. Of course, he doesn’t seem to have alot of time; he’s away a lot with his job. Why? Are you interested in that role? Again?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

Ginny blushed slightly, something Hermione hadn’t seen her do in years. "Just exploring the possibilities. That’s all. Wesley and I broke off," she added.

"Oh, I didn't know that. Should I be sorry?" Hermione asked.

"No, I decided everyone had been right all along. He was a bit of a bore!" Ginny laughed.

"Well, I think you and Harry would make a great couple. I always did," Hermione said supportively, smiling at Ginny.

"Thanks. I don’t have any idea how he’d feel about that of course. But, I somehow feel we should at least give it a go and see where it leads," Ginny said, encouraged by Hermione’s response.

For some reason Hermione suddenly felt a bit disquieted by the subject of Harry’s potential love life, and she changed the subject abruptly. "Ohhhhh, did you see that hit that beater took! Ouch!"

Down at the other end of the row, Charlie had squeezed in between Harry and George. "Seen the snitch yet?" he asked. Charlie had also been a seeker on the Gryffindor House Team at Hogwarts.

Harry squinted into the sun. "No, no sign of it. Those bludgers are certainly keeping everyone alert."

"So, how are you doing down there in London?" Charlie asked.

"Just fine, thanks. How's Russia?"

"Cold, very cold," Charlie said with a shiver, but grinning. "Speaking of cold, how's Hermione?"

Harry shot him a glare. "She’s not like that at all!" he retorted fiercely without thinking, surprising even himself with the vigorousness of his response. After all, he had no idea what her temperature was in that regard.

"No need to get upset," Charlie said quickly. "So, does this mean that the status has changed in that cozy little flat you two share?"

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked, trying to soften his tone. He felt certain that George was taking in this conversation as well.

"Boy, you are dense! Have you and Hermione ever, you know….crossed the line?"

"No! We’re best friends. That’s all," Harry said flatly. "The Line," he thought to himself, "now that's an interesting way to put it." He couldn’t help glancing down the row at Hermione, who was chatting happily with Ginny and Mrs. Weasley. He smiled as she caught his eye, and then he tried to turn his attention back to the game.

Charlie coughed and decided to try and change the subject slightly. "You know Ginny’s not seeing that Wesley bloke anymore," he volunteered.

"Yes, so I've heard," Harry said rolling his eyes. "So have you Weasleys had a family meeting and decided that Ginny and I should start seeing one another?"

"No. Why? Has someone else brought this up with you?" Charlie asked innocently.

"You're the third so far."

"Well, I guess we all had the same thought….she's free, you're free, you live close to one another, right age, get on well with one other. Why not?"

"Why not indeed……well, you've given me something to think about Charlie. Isn't that the snitch over there?" he said, anxious to change the subject.

The Cannons had called a time out, and the commentator was telling the crowd about the next home game and pointing out the various messages that had come up on the scoreboard. Most of them were birthday or anniversary notices. But the commentator paused when a message came up that read "In memory of Ron." The crowd became subdued for a moment, and then the whistle blew for play to resume.

Harry decided to take that opportunity to get up and stretch his legs. He passed back behind the row of Weasleys and squeezed Hermione’s shoulder as he passed. She looked up at him and he nodded, motioning to invite her to join him if she wanted. She said something quietly to Ginny, and he gave her a hand to extricate herself from the seat. Neither of them noticed Ginny turn around and watch them as they walked off, still hand in hand. They wandered off around the stadium, not saying anything for awhile.

They paused for a moment at one end of the stadium and looked out over the surrounding countryside. Hermione looked up; Harry’s jaw was very set and he squeezed her hand more tightly but still didn’t say anything. At last he looked over at her, "Just needed to get some air," he said quietly, taking deep breaths. She didn’t bother to remind him that they were in an outdoor stadium. "Shall we head back now?" he asked and she nodded silently. The grief often seemed to hit them at different times and in different ways.

Hermione squeezed back in between Ginny and Mrs. Weasley when they returned to their seats. Mrs. Weasley was chatting amiably with Susan, while Mr. Weasley and Percy were explaining Quidditch strategies to Simon and Henry. Harry ambled back to the other end of the row. Charlie and George had disappeared to get more butterbeer, according to Bill who was sitting where Charlie had been earlier. "So, Harry, I haven’t had time to talk to you yet much. You’re in London, now?

"Yes," Harry answered, already dreading where he thought the conversation might be heading.

"Such a great city," Bill commented. "I really miss England . . . and London especially. Are you enjoying it there?"

"Why, yes. Yes, as a matter of fact I am . . . . thanks for asking," Harry said, relieved Bill’s questions didn’t concern his personal life.

"Remind me again . . . . what is it exactly that you’re doing these days?" Bill asked.

"Oh, just some investigative work. Nothing too much. Say, do you ever hear frm Fleur?" Harry asked, deflecting the questions about his job.

Bill smiled, but hardly had a chance to answer when Harry looked up and saw it. Right over Cho's left ear. It was the snitch, and the Cannon's seeker saw it too. There was a streak that almost knocked Cho off her broom, then a roar of victory as the snitch was caught and the Cannons had won the game.

As the crowd dispersed, Harry made his way to the Minotaur locker room. He hadn't seen Cho in a long time and thought he ought to be polite and say hello.

As he waited outside of the locker room, his thoughts turned to Ginny. "She is rather attractive. But she's, well, Ginny, Ron’s kid sister. There's way too much history there," he thought.

As Cho came out, she smiled, "Hi, Harry. I thought you might be here today. It's Ron's day, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Sorry about the game."

"Well, that's the way it goes. You know, we probably wouldn't have lost if you'd signed up with us. No chance we can change your mind, is there?"

Harry laughed and shook his head. "No, these days I’m only playing Quidditch for fun now and again."

"Too bad. Did you spot the snitch?"

"Charlie and I had it about two seconds before you nearly got blasted from your broom. What are you flying these days?" Harry asked.

"Just got a new Firebolt Mark III, their new model," Cho said proudly.

"Ah, I've been lusting after that one," Harry commented. They chatted about various Hogwarts classmates until Harry realised he might be holding up the Weasleys. "Listen, it was nice to see you Cho. I better head back to the group. We're going up to the Burrow for some dinner."

"Okay. Say hello to Hermione for me. And Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I’m always sorry about . . . Ron," she said quietly.

Harry just nodded and waved good-bye as he strolled back to the Weasleys and Hermione.

Back at the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley had conjured up a great dinner. Harry had the great misfortune of sitting next to Percy at dinner. Percy was as pompous as he’d always been. He went on and on about the doings of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and how he had to keep his unit in line. He kept asking Harry about his work, refusing to be put off by Harry’s evasive and vague replies. Harry wanted to tell him that he was out making the world safe for idiots like Percy.

When Harry tuned back in to the conversation, Percy was saying he was going to propose to Penelope later in the summer, for her birthday.

"How romantic," Harry commented dryly.

"Well, I try my best at everything I do," stated Percy proudly. "How about you Harry -- Any romance for the dashing Mr. Potter?"

"No, too busy Percy." He got up from the table, "If you'll excuse me, I think I need some fresh air," Harry said abruptly.

Harry went outside and was soon joined by Fred.

"Don't even start with me Fred. I know that Ginny is free and that every single member of your family is just dying for me to ask her out. You all have really coordinated this assault today, haven't you?"

Looking a bit astonished, Fred replied, "I was just going to ask if you saw that new Firebolt Mark III Cho was riding?"

"Oh," Harry said sheepishly.

He and Fred chatted about brooms for a bit, and then Hermione came out and suggested they get back to London as she still had a mountain of work to do for her exams. Harry agreed as he had tired of the inevitable direction of the Weasleys’ conversation that day. They said their goodbyes to all the Weasleys, and Harry heard Ginny promising Hermione that she would stop by their flat with some of those new scarves later in the week.

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

Once they got home, Hermione made them some tea. They were both very quiet. "Are you okay Harry?" she asked at last.

He’d been staring off at nothing. "Umm . . about as okay as I ever am on this day," he replied. "How about you?"

"It really doesn’t get any easier, does it? I mean . . . there are times when I just want to talk to him about one thing or another, and then I’m surprised when I remember that he isn’t here anymore," she trailed off. They were silent for a bit, and then Hermione said with a quavery voice, "I still miss him so badly Harry . . ." He had looked up quickly when he heard the start of tears in her voice. He leaned over and hugged her, whispering, "Don’t Herm . . ." She thought she detected a slight quaver in his voice, and she resolved to pull herself together, taking deep calming breaths against his chest until she could trust herself to speak. She drew back from him and swiped at her eyes. "We better talk about something more cheerful," she said with a weak attempt at a smile.

"I didn’t get to talk to Fred much – how is he?" she asked as Harry started helping her put away their teacups. They chatted about each of the Weasleys in turn as they tidied the kitchen. Hermione turned to him as he was putting the sugar away and stated, in a very matter of fact tone, "You know Ginny broke up with……….."

"Not You too!!!" Harry exploded. "I know!! She broke up with Wesley and everyone on God's green earth thinks I should be her next boyfriend!!! What is it with everyone? Must I have a girlfriend? Do I have to be involved with someone?! Why can't I just live my life, go on about my business, and be romantically unencumbered?"

"I seem to have touched a sore spot there -- sorry. Besides, Harry, being encumbered, as you put it, isn't all that bad," she added in an effort to make up for treading on an obviously sensitive issue.

"It didn't seem like much fun for you yesterday," Harry commented shrewdly.

"Yeah, well I'll have to try to fix that I guess," she said in a rather defeated voice.

"I’m sorry for over-reacting a bit," Harry said. "It’s just . . . . I heard about Ginny’s break-up with the Wesley bloke from almost every single one of the Weasleys. I’d had about enough for one day."

"I’m sorry for mentioning it then," Hermione said with a smile. Changing the subject, she added, "Are you going to be around this week?"

"I'm off until Sunday, and then I'll be gone for a week or so."

"Good, I'll have some peace then while you're gone to finish up my exams."

"Am I that troublesome a flatmate?" he asked with a grin.

"Oh, no! Not at all. I just thought it will be nice that you’ll be gone and you won’t have to put up with me in a bad temper all of next week while I’m cramming for exams. Oh, that reminds me, I saw that the 100 Club is having a contest tomorrow night. I thought it might be a good break for me. Interested?"

"Will that sit well with Rufus?" Harry asked, not wanting to cause anymore trouble than he already had. Though he hadn’t admitted it to Hermione, he’d heard enough of their argument from the stair landing to hear his own name mentioned more than once.

"He has to work Thursday evenings anyway. I think we ought to go Harry. It’s been ages since we won a contest. I could really use a pick up this week."

"Yeah, so could I. All right -- we should leave here about 7:30 then?"

"That sounds right." Hermione looked at the clock. "I should revise some tonight, but I think I might just turn in. I’m a bit knackered from today." She heaved a great sigh and pulled herself up from the armchair.

"I think I’m going to stay up a bit longer. Good night," he added and kissed her on the cheek quickly as she passed by. "Good night Harry," she said quietly as she headed for her room. It wasn’t until she’d extinguished the lights and gotten into bed that she let the tears she’d checked earlier flow freely.

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

It had been a rather busy evening at the Obsidian Coffee Bar when Sirius took over at 9:00. There had been one of those insufferable politically correct folk singers performing in the bar and it was still packed with a wide variety of greenpeacers and other "Save the Whale" types. Sirius hadn't much patience with these types. He'd seen enough real evil to be able to overlook a few clubbed seals. "Not that saving the whales and all wasn't important, but couldn't they work on saving the people first," he thought to himself.

As he moved through the shop making sure the customers were happy, he overheard a couple of patrons discussing the latest psychic hotline ad they'd seen on the telly. They were laughing about how ridiculous it was as Black walked past and thought to himself, "Even the muggles aren't fooled by that nonsense."

Finally there were just a few customers left in the bar. Hearing the door swing open again, he glanced up and smiled as he recognised the attractive solicitor from a few nights ago. "Well, hullo again," he said pleasantly. "You don’t have your briefcase with you this time," he added with a smile.

He was pleased when she returned his smile. "Yes, I managed to fire a salvo back at those insufferable American attorneys earlier this evening. They won’t be able to put anything back on my plate tonight." She was staring intently up at the menu board "Hmmm . . . yes, I think I’ll have a large mocha blend tonight."

"Be ready in just a moment," he said as two college-age men got up to leave. After taking care of their tab, he set about making her order. Now that those young men had left, she was the only customer. He couldn’t help stealing looks in her direction as he made the coffee. "Tidy. Definitely tidy," he thought. He poured the coffee. "You should just serve her the coffee and leave well enough alone," he told himself.

But, as he served the coffee, he couldn’t restrain himself from asking, "So, what brings you back here again so soon?" He was smirking ever so slightly.

"I suppose you think my being back here has something to do with you?" she replied coolly.

"Well, you’re not going to pretend you came out of your way just for our fabulous coffee selection, are you?" he drawled as he leaned on the counter.

"How do you know this is out of my way?" she retorted as she took a seat on the stool at the end of the counter.

"I believe you mentioned that you missed your regular Tube stop – the last time you were here that is. Just a couple of days ago, wasn’t it?" She didn’t reply but just continued to gaze at him coolly over the rim of her coffee cup.

"So . . . Ms?" he prompted.

"Hunter. Cordelia Hunter," she said smoothly.

"Ms Hunter . . . or is it Mrs.?" He was unmistakably smirking now.

"Ms.," she said shortly.

"Ms. Hunter." He grinned and leaned closer to her. "So, Ms. Hunter, are you usually the hunter or the hunted?" he asked.

"Mostly the hunted…"

"I know that feeling. . . ," he commented under his breath.

". . . I have to deal with so many unpleasant people in my line of work. It’s hard to get any peace," she went on, seemingly not having heard his comment. "I came in here for a simple cup of coffee and look what happens: I’m not here 5 minutes and you’re already chatting me up."

"I could probably be easily persuaded to do more than just try to chat you up . . .I have been indulging in some wild fantasies about you, by the way. You are the most stunning woman I have seen in a very long time, but then . . . I don't get out much."

"Me? Stunning? You really don't get out much," she laughed. "Well, I will take that as a compliment. What kind of fantasies have we been having, then?"

"Well, most of them involve various romantic liaisons and, of course, a bit of shagging," he commented dryly. He didn’t look away as she gazed steadily at him.

"Really?" she had only a tinge of shock in her voice "I can’t say as I’ve ever met a man that said that straight away. The honesty is quite refreshing." She took another sip of coffee and asked: "But, don’t you think I ought to know more than your surname Mr. Black?"

"Ian . . . Ian Black." He grinned at her as she set down her coffee cup.

"Well, Mr. Black, why don’t we start with something, I don’t know, a little less intimate than shagging straight away. What about just starting out with some pleasant conversation and then maybe progress to being friends, so long as none of the terms are violated?"

"I don't know, sounds official," Black answered with a wide grin. "Who negotiates the terms for that?"

"Well, I think we could probably come up with some mutually agreeable terms and conditions," she said with a smile.

"All right then. You first."

"How about . . . I'll come in here and talk every once in awhile, and you won't proposition me until we know each other better?"

"That's going to be tough."

"I think you’ll manage just fine." Her eyes were twinkling at him. "Condition number two – we have to be completely honest with each other."

"Well, how about if I just don't tell you anything, and then it can’t be a lie?" he said casually. "Deal?"

"Deal. Don’t you have any terms to propose?" she asked.

"I’ll save my terms for later," he answered with a smirk. "So . . . what really brings you back to this area? Miss your Tube stop again?"

She laughed. "No, once I realised I had a free evening, I rang up a friend. She suggested meeting up for a drink at that dance club a few blocks over that way," she pointed off to the west. "Oh, you know it?" she asked as he nodded.

"I’ve been over there once to see some friends in a dance contest," he said.

"That’s what’s going on over there tonight -- swing dance! We watched a few of the couples but decided the noise was too much. My friend decided to go home, and so . . . here I am."

"A swing dance contest did you say?" She nodded. "Oh, bugger," he grimaced, "I told my friend I'd try to make it down there for that. But, the clerk who normally works with me until midnight rang up and said she was ill, so I couldn’t have gotten away anyway," he sighed. "I don’t suppose you remember any of the couples you saw?"

"Well, I definitely remember one of them. They were excellent dancers . . . a nice-looking couple . . . they really connected," she commented. "I can't remember their names, but he was tall with dark hair and glasses. . . .Oh, and he had some strange mark on his forehead."

"That sounds like it could be Harry and Hermione," Black said.

"Hermione . . . yes, I believe that was the woman’s name. Odd sort of name really. One doesn’t hear it often," she said. "So . . . friends of yours, you said?"

"Well, actually he's my godson -- my best friend’s son. Hermione is Harry’s best friend."

"Looked like more than just best friends to me," she mused, smiling.

He smiled and chuckled. "Just friends . . . so they say anyway."

She looked up thoughtfully, with a bemused smile on her face. "I saw a movie once where the guy said…'a man and a woman cannot be friends because the sex always gets in the way.' Do you think that’s true?"

"Well, now I thought we’d just agreed we were going to start out as friends? I don’t think I’d have agreed to that if I’d known there might not be the prospect of shagging in the future," he countered slyly. He was again thinking she had the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen.

"Well, maybe in the next millennium. But you're going to have to be much more interesting for me to consider that possibility this year."

"Why? Bad experience in that department?"

"In the whole romance realm if you ask me. Why do you think I'm still single at 35?" she said in a rather exasperated tone.

"Should I ask, or save that for a future encounter?"

"Definitely save it for a future encounter. If there is one," she said hesitantly.

"Well, I drew you back here once . . . you could have easily gone home straight away tonight, couldn’t you?" he said, smirking again.

"I'll give you that one. Maybe I just like the looks of you and won't ever bother to really get to know you . . . that is the sticky part after all."

"Yes, it would be quite sticky to get to know me," he said rather mysteriously

"Oh really?" she seemed intrigued.

"Yes, really," he stated emphatically.

She took the last sip of coffee and stood up. "In that case I think we should leave it on that note for tonight, Mr. Black. For now, I think I’ll head home to bed. Alone," she added with a chuckle.

"That's too bad," he said as she paid him for the coffee, "So, you will be back, then?"

"I may be back. You’re far too much of a mystery to not at least consider it." And with that she left.

He cleared off her coffee cup, unable to stop thinking about her . . . her and her tantalizing eyes. He was still muttering to himself about what had come over him tonight when a group of boisterous twenty-somethings came bustling in. He sighed and resolved to put Ms. Cordelia Hunter out of his thoughts.