6: Rung Three - Him

Disclaimer: Not mine. No money. Special thanks go to JKR for sanctioning HP fanfic.

Gobs of thanks go to my beta Southern Witch 69 and to my Brit-picker the amazing Saracen77.

6: Rung Three – Him

June 30th, 8:05 pm

I continue to scan the crowd, zeroing in on any flash of red, but all of them fail to be her.

Just as the tenseness of my shoulders relaxes, an exuberant Tonks whirls out of Shacklebolt’s arms and into mine. I channel the momentum into a circular swirl: the skirt of her red and purple striped dress flares outwards with the movement before subsiding to rest against her legs as she comes to rest against my chest.

She laughs, her eyes shining with mischief. It is undoubtedly the most emotion she has ever displayed in my presence. The party must be going well.

Tonight’s body is tall and exceedingly thin; the cheekbones are prominent, the eyes almond shaped. Her hair matches her dress, as do her eyebrows and, I have little doubt, her pubic pelt.

How very … garish.

“There you are. I was beginning to miss my favorite snake.”

I smirk. “If that is all you miss of me, then I am sure I can Transfigure an exact replica of that portion of my anatomy. I could even charm it to mimic my typical movements.”

She laughs again. “Oh, Sev, you tease. You know it’s absolutely hours until I can get you alone. I am hosting this party, as you could have remembered this afternoon.”

Sev? She knows I detest such monikers.

How to explain this afternoon ....

My prevarication is forestalled by a vaguely familiar voice shouting my name. I turn to find Ronald Weasley advancing upon me while dragging Ms. Granger rather unceremoniously.

With her hair in a sophisticated up-do and Tonks’s revealing red Muggle dress on, she is more attractive than I remember her being.

Or is it what is under the dress that is now so attractive? Speaking of which, I wonder if she conjured new undergarments.

I fight to settle the burgeoning of my cock.

Or is she waiting for Weasley to run his hand up her thigh and –

My face twists into a sneer I fight to quell. “Mr. Weasley, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

My eyes escape my control, and I am drawn to look at her. She blushes almost brightly enough to match her gown, and I find myself amused.

Her poor choice of paramour continues. “See, it’s like this: Hermione has a headache, and it’s not only the Victory Celebration tonight, it’s also our anniversary. So help a bloke out, will you, and give us a spot of headache potion.”

A headache. My amusement increases, but I successfully school my features into what I hope is neutrality – all the better to deliver the blow. “Ah, a headache – we all know how infamous those can be.”

Her blush now matches the coloration of her gown, but the young pup latched onto her side remains oblivious to my meaning.

“I will see what I have,” I conclude and step away from Tonks to retrieve the shrunken potion vials I keep in my frock coat.

As I move down the hallway, the sound from the next room should be deafening, but my years as a spy do have their benefits. I can faintly hear two sets of footsteps following me – one a bit heavy and eager, the other lighter and hesitant. The coat racks shuffle nervously, spelled to bring to the front whomever’s garment is needed most, and appear unsure as to which of us that is.

This is perfect – I can talk to her. Alone.

I turn to address the ginger-haired menace. “Mr. Weasley, undoubtedly, you have a plethora of family members to attend to. If you would leave Ms. Granger in my hands, I promise I will strive to return her to you shortly pain free.”

He smiles, lifts his arm in what he assumes will be a comradely gesture of masculine slapping, and belatedly halts this impulse. “Thanks, Snape. Now that the war’s over, you’re an alright sort of bloke.”

“Why, Mr. Weasley, such high praise from you wipes the slate clean of the condemnations of my life.”

I am more successful in refraining from laughing than Granger, but then I have had more practice.

The arm lifted towards me descends upon her back as he attempts to ameliorate her artificial cough. Calming, he kisses her and whispers an endearment before turning away.

How sweet.

My upper lip curls in disgust.

Her sigh matches the wistful look I briefly glimpse when she again faces me. Then she sees my sneer and her features harden.

We spend an interminable amount of time glowering at each other.

Look at the flush of her cheeks, the snap of her eyes – a worthy opponent.

My patience wears. “Let us discontinue this farce. Unless, that is, Weasley’s inane Quidditch babble has truly given you a headache.”

“You leave Ron out of this. He’s a good man and doesn’t deserve such derision.”

“A good man, you say?” I step closer, and a waft of her skin’s scent passes my nose. It is subtle and natural – uniquely her – and branded upon my olfactory senses. My cock twitches to life, and suddenly I lose any noble intentions I may have had for this conversation. “Just how good is he?”

“He’s kind. He’s caring. He’s loyal. He’s –”

She is either naive or purposefully misconstruing my meaning, and I grow even more impatient. “You mistake the connotation of my words, Ms. Granger. The, shall we say, double entendre as it were.”

Emboldened by her silence, I move nearer. Her eyes are especially beautiful at this close range. “I must admit I am curious. During our little bout of mistaken identity this afternoon, you reacted like a woman in dire need of my attentions. If Weasley were as good –”

Her hand rises in a flash, and I am hard pressed to determine which impression reaches my senses more quickly: the sound of the report or the sharp sting of my cheek.

A worthy opponent indeed.

“Touché, Ms. Granger.” Nodding slightly to signal her win, I move past her to enter the toilet, which is miraculously available.

In the mirror, my eyes offer no answers.

All I see is her imprint upon my skin.

AN: Thus ends the first act (okay, it’s not a play, but the story’s structure is influenced by them). If you're curious, I'm going to begin blogging about writing 'Ladder' on my lj. Next up – an interlude chapter, then on to the second act.