II

Disclaimer: Inspired by the work of JK Rowling. I claim no ownership.

A/N: Part two of three. This segment was inspired by the [pre]Smut, Hermione's Bad Day, Back From the Dead, and Elf-Made Wine challenges at the gs100.

*

They spent almost four hours in Starbucks, him telling his story, her listening, him answering her interrogative questions… feet brushing against each other under the table, her licking her lips, his eyes piercing…

He’d nearly convinced her of his innocence when he’d offered to take her to dinner.

They’d gone back to her hotel – a wizarding one – so she could change.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she said, kicking her shoes off before darting into the bedroom.

Sure enough, he’d turned around, breathing in sharply at the sight of her, clad only in a tight tank and tiny knickers.

They hadn’t made it to dinner.

*

He’d been gone when she woke up the next morning.

Serves me right, Hermione thought, letting him seduce me with pretty explanations before taking me to bed. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Angry with herself – again – she rose from the chair, walking to the kitchen. She had a bit of a walk. Her flat was large – too large for her. Too large for one person.

She poured herself a glass of elf-made wine, trying to banish thoughts of that night. They’d had sex twice and had spent most of the night talking about the war, talking about each other’s lives. He’d been remarkably open and unguarded.

That was my first clue, she thought miserably, downing her glass in one gulp.

She poured another.

*

“What am I coming to?” she asked aloud after she’d sipped from her second glass. She rested her palms on the counter, taking a deep breath in. It’d been a year since Severus… since Shanghai. She’d come back to England, as Remus had recalled her barely twenty-four hours after Severus’ departure. She’d bought the flat in Glasgow, eager to stay away from the Order, who were largely based in London. She’d avoided embarrassing questions and had delved into research. She read and reviewed scholarly articles for various wizarding publications. It didn’t require her going to a nine-to-five job. It did, however, allow her to wallow in self-pity.

Which, for the first time in her life, had been exactly the thing Hermione Granger felt like doing.

*

As she returned to her chair with a newly-filled glass, she remembered the thing that had started this frenetic tale spin…

The letter.

That blasted letter.

She reached down and picked it up from where it lay, discarded on the floor in upset.

Hermione,

Tonks

*

Part III coming soon!