7: A Half Step between Rungs Three and Four

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.

7: A Half Step between Rungs Three and Four

July 30th, 7:05 pm

“Mione, you ready yet?” It’s the fifth time he’s asked in as many minutes.

“No, Ron. If I were ready, I’d be out in the bedroom with you and you’d know it. Now shut it and let me finish.”

He grumbles for a bit on the other side of the bathroom door, but I soon hear the sound of the telly.

I know I’m taking a while to get ready, but I want tonight to be special – after all, it’s the last night of our trip to Tintagel, and the last time we’ll be able to get away for a year.

A swipe of lipstick, and I’m done. The Sleekeazy takes some time to work through my hair, but the results are worth it. The thin straps of my light-green summer frock show off the bit of tan I’ve gotten on arms and shoulders – walking along the cliffs this past week has been more sun exposure than I’ve had in years.

I open the door, hoping to make a grand entrance, but Ron’s become transfixed watching the footie and doesn’t look up.

“Ron.”

Nothing.

“Ron, I’m ready.”

“Brill.” He doesn’t turn. “Just give us a sec, will you? Man U is playing, and the lads down the pub all follow them.”

Picking up my book, I sink into an armchair. I’m considering taking it to the pub so I’ll have something to do while Ron plays darts with the locals. One week in a Muggle village and he’s already in.

I wanted him to understand the world I come from, not fit into it better than I do.

I’m being petty. Besides, we ran out of things to talk about three days ago. How can I begrudge him a few acquaintances?

I stand. “I’m heading out for a spot of air. Come and find me on the cliffs when you’re ready.”

“Sure. Sure.” He still doesn’t turn.

I Apparate to a secluded spot we’d found earlier in the week – it’s hidden from view by a rather odd-looking rock formation. A sudden gust of wind blows salt tang, toying with my hair.

So much for looking extra smart tonight.

It’s worth it. The ebb and flow of the sea provides an endless, restless backdrop of sound. Walking towards the cliff, I balance between being close enough to the brink to enjoy the vista while avoiding the crumbling edges.

It’s all so beautiful.

Untold minutes later, Ron’s shout fractures the serenity. “Mione!”

I turn to meet him, and we Apparate back to our room at the B&B. The walk to the pub is silent with him a little ahead in his eagerness.

Maybe the sex will be what’s special about tonight.

Right.

I suppress a sigh, but Ron’s even further ahead, so he probably wouldn’t have heard it anyway.

We’ve shagged nightly, so why haven’t I orgasmed lately?

I wish I knew.

~~~

July 30th, 8:05 pm

“Severus … Severus.” A sound so faint I must be imagining it.

“Severus!” Or possibly not.

After three final clockwise stirs, I cast a stasis charm on the cauldron holding my latest experiment and mount the stairs to enter my sitting room via the kitchen.

“There you are!” Tonks’s disembodied head floats in front of the small gas fire I installed last year. “I’ve been Flooing you for the past hour. I had to cast Sonorus that last time. How long were you planning to stay in your laboratory – until September?”

I can feel the upward pull of my eyebrow and do nothing to suppress its message. “You know this is the week I am attempting some rather delicate alterations to the Wolfsbane Potion.”

“But I haven’t seen you in absolute ages. It’s the weekend, and I want to do something.”

“My dear, if you remember correctly, the reason you have not seen me recently has more to do with your occupation than mine.”

“You’re right. You’re right, which is why I told Kingsley I couldn’t work a late shift with him this weekend. Please say you’ll come over.” She pauses for me to capitulate and, when I fail to do so, continues. “I know! I’ll pop ‘round Sainsbury’s and pick up some of that broccoli-stilton soup you love so much and some fresh tortelloni.”

I hesitate. The potion can be left at this stage, but I rather wanted to finish it.

Tonks decides to sweeten the offer – literally. “I’ve still got that lovely Chianti you chose last month, and I could get ice cream for afters.”

“The chocolate one …”

She laughs. “Yes, the chocolate one with the toffee sauce and Flake mixed in – your favorite.”

And it is – with a flavor far better than anything Fortescue’s has to offer. My stomach growls. I have subsisted on little more than beans on toast and Chinese take-away for the past two weeks.

She laughs again. “So which tortelloni – walnut or tomato?”

“The walnut and gorgonzola.”

“Fabulous. I’ll see you in an hour? Oh, and smarten up a bit – it’s Full Tilt at the Electric Ballroom tonight, and I want to go. Ta.”

I sigh. My appetite fades slightly. That monstrosity she refers to as a nightclub strikes me as torture one pays to endure – nothing but smoke, the press of strange bodies, and exceedingly loud music. I will watch her dance, and she will parade me in front of her Muggle friends, who always compliment my ability to ‘dress the part’ and ‘stay in character.’ The more sarcastic I am, the more they seem to like it. I have little idea as to what they are nattering on about, the pillocks.

At least the sex will be appropriately compensatory after such a sacrificial gesture on my part.

I will, of course, make sure of it.

AN: Traditionally, B&Bs in England aren’t posh – they’re even less expensive than hotels.

Throughout the 90s, Full Tilt at the Electric Ballroom was goth night – a goth night of such gothiness that anything I’ve seen in America pales. The people looked like extras from a Sisters of Mercy video and acted exceedingly haughty – they’d love Severus (and he’d hate them). The music was great, and there was lots of atmosphere.