~~~~~
Part 6
~~~~~
"Hermione, snap out of it!" Ginny hissed.
Her attention drawn back from her memories of the first time she'd seen Harrys' 'snitch', Hermione glanced over and smiled slightly at her friend's worried expression.
Ginny relaxed; she could wait until later to get the story of just how her friend knew that Harry sported such a unique method of identification, but for the moment… "He's obviously here looking for you," she whispered, "and furthermore, he thinks he's in disguise. I'm not 100% sure what his game is, but right now you have the advantage. Here's what you do…"
~~~~~
Harry looked around in exasperation. So far he'd fended off three friendly overtures, two blatant offers, and most frightening of all, one marriage proposal, and still he hadn't located Hermione. How many drop-dead gorgeous, bushy-haired, buck-naked women could there be on this beach?
He was about to keep moving when a flash of red hair caught his attention. Glancing over, he spotted Hermione's coworkers, Grace and Marcy, staring at him with naked lust in their eyes. To the far left, sitting with her back braced against a beach chair, was the source of the flash of red hair, Ginny Weasley, with far more Ginny on display than Harry could ever remember seeing, and that included their brief attempt at dating after they both were out of Hogwarts.
His gaze shifted to the fourth person of the group, the one seated next to his friend's sister (right, Harry, remember that, sister) and all thought of the other women left his conscious mind. She was tanned, she was glorious, she had a mass of wavy brown hair that picked up copper highlights in the bright sunshine…oh, damn.
She wasn't naked.
The emerald green bikini she was wearing covered next to nothing, and left next to nothing to the imagination, but that was enough to make Harry nervous. There was a world of difference between being nearly naked and being completely naked. Harry had steeled himself to approach his friend when they were both on even footing in the nudity department, but how was he supposed to walk up to her now? What would she think of her best friend walking up to her with his John Thomas waving in the breeze?
Speaking of breezes, a freshening bit of wind tossed a lock of blond hair across his eyes, and Harry suddenly relaxed. He'd forgotten the Tactile Chain he was wearing, and that as far as Hermione knew, he was just another stranger on the beach. He could go back to his room, take off the chain, put on some trunks and return, and no one would be the wiser. Crisis solved!
But so long as he was in disguise, he had to at least say hello, as boldly as possible. His pranking heritage demanded that he see her reaction as a very naked (and he admitted with a refreshing lack of false modesty, very well endowed) stranger made a pass at her.
As nonchalantly as he could manage, he approached the four women, ignoring the frankly hungry looks of two of them and the oddly amused expression of the third, focusing his attention on the fourth person, namely Hermione.
"Och, why are four such lovely lasses as yuirselves alone this foine day?" he asked in a very bad Scottish accent (contrary to popular belief, it is very hard for a Brit to fake a Scottish accent; you generally have to be American to carry it off). "Surely there must be some braw, strapping lads aboot to take care of you?"
"Oh, no, we're quite alone," Ginny piped up before Grace or Marcy could react to the obvious pick-up attempt. "Grace, Marcy and I," she said, gesturing to the two prone girls licking their lips, "are meeting some boys, but that's not until much later," she added, deliberately leaving Hermione's name out of the list, an omission Harry immediately pounced upon.
"Well, an it sounds as if yuir friends are weel taken care of, perhaps yew might fancy a dip in the ocean?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at Hermione and secretly looking forward to whatever devastating putdown his friend would use on the annoying twit he was portraying.
Unfortunately, he couldn't see the evil gleam in her eyes behind her dark glasses. "Sure!" she chirped, enjoying the stunned expression that appeared on Harry's face, not to mention Grace's and Marcy's. She ignored Ginny's smothered chuckle as she bounced to her feet. "Just give me a sec," she asked, and turned to the snickering redhead. "Gin, can you watch my things? I don't want to get them all wet." With two swift tugs and a delicious wriggle, the emerald bikini joined her sunglasses on the beach chair.
His stunned expression turned to one that was decidedly poleaxed as she jogged towards the waterline, a process that did delightful things to her body. After a second he shook himself out of his trance and ran after her, splashing into the surf just as she dove headfirst into a low curler. Harry looked around anxiously until she porpoised out of the water, throwing her head back and arching her body like a tautly drawn bow, Her thick hair casting a spray of water that caught the sunlight and refracted it into a rainbow of sparkles. He stared as the seawater sheeted across her breasts, at the rivulets and miniature falls that formed as it cascaded around and over her erect nipples. "Lord, you're beautiful," he breathed; not realizing his voice was loud enough for her to hear him speak.
Hermione shivered as a feeling like electricity coursed through her, her skin tingling as she realized the power she held over her friend, the one she hoped and prayed would soon be so much more. They were waist deep in the ocean, the swells gently rocking them, as she moved closer to him. She smiled up into his glassy-eyed stare as she laid her hands on his chest, and then stood up on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the lips. "You don't look so bad yourself…Harry," she whispered before ducking away from the embrace he'd tried to give her.
This time Harry didn't allow his shock to freeze him, and she yipped as his arms snaked around her and pulled her close. "Hermione? You knew it was me?"
"Yes, Harry, I knew; I recognized you almost at once," she replied, holding herself still in his arms as the waves washed around them.
"But how?" he asked with amazement. "The Tactile Chains are flawless; I should know, I had to sign off on all the Galleons that were spent testing them."
She buried her face against his chest, and he could feel the heat of her blush against his skin. "It's a very effective charm, Harry," she admitted, "but it doesn't provide much of a disguise if someone can spot you because of certain…unique characteristics." When he didn't reply she clarified, "I recognized your birthmark; no wonder you're so good at catching the Snitch, you caught it before you were born!"
Now it was Harry's turn to blush furiously; he'd forgotten about the damned thing. Suddenly something occurred to him. "Hermione, how is it that you know about my birthmark? More importantly, how long have you known?"
"Since before Seventh year," she admitted. She smiled at his shocked expression. "I promise to explain later, but right now I think we need to…um…have a talk?" She looked up into his face with a hopeful expression and he nodded.
"You're right, we do, about a lot of things; some of it things I should have said a long time ago." He frowned slightly. "I don't think I fancy having that conversation while standing on a public beach. Besides," he smirked, "much longer like this and I won't be capable of coherent thought…"
She blushed a bit as she realized that she could feel the reason for his distraction pressing against her stomach like a cat begging to be stroked. "Do you want to meet back at my room?" she asked to take her mind off of petting things.
Harry shook his head. "I have a room as well; that way we won't have to worry about your friends disturbing us. Why don't you head back and I'll meet you in the lobby in a few minutes."
Hermione frowned. "Why don't you just come with me?"
"Because, Mione, I'm not about to get out of the water until I get control of my 'problem'," he replied, nudging her to prove his point. "And after that little stunt with your bikini, imagining Snape in a tutu may not be able to do the job."
She faked a gagging noise. "Harry, that's disgusting! Why would you…oh, I get it," she nodded, finally catching on. She considered for a minute. "If that's not enough, you could try imagine Snape and Malfoy reenacting the balcony scene from 'Romeo and Juliet'," she suggested helpfully, and he shuddered.
"Oh, thanks a lot, I may be scarred for life." He released her from his embrace as she laughed and splashed away from him.
"See you soon," she called back over her shoulder as she walked up the beach, her lack of clothing no longer a concern.
~~~~~
Narcissa looked up as her assistant barged into her office, a worried look on her face. "Trouble?" she asked.
Celeste hesitated, and then nodded. The only thing her employer hated more than bad new was an employee who held off relaying bad news. People who did that had a tendency to experience the effects of extremely unpleasant and difficult to reverse curses. "We just received a report from St. Tropez; our operatives tracked Potter to the resort, and then lost him. Not surprising if the tracking charm is on his robes, as he's hardly going to be wearing those to the beach. Problem one, no one's seen him on the beach, and he's rather hard to miss. Problem two, and this is the real pisser; the operative watching Granger says she was just picked up by some blond beach bum, and has gone back to his hotel room in a bathrobe and nothing else, as far as she could tell."
"Damnit," Narcissa muttered. She was vaguely disappointed in Hermione's behavior, and more than a bit chuffed to see her plan starting to fall apart. "I'm going myself," she decided. "Get me the Apparation coordinates, and arrange for one of our operatives to meet me when I arrive. I'll want an up-to-the-minute briefing as soon as I get there."
~~~~~
Harry pushed the door to his room closed with a soft click, and then cast locking and silencing charms with his wand. He wasn't entirely sure where this was going to lead, but whatever happened he didn't want any interruptions. He took the charmed necklace off and dropped it on the dresser, feeling his features rapidly returning to normal, his eyesight taking on its familiar blurriness as his hair morphed back to its usual spiky black locks.
Hermione stood by the window looking out at the ocean, the knee length burgundy terrycloth robe wrapped warmly around her. She heard Harry moving across the room towards her, and turned to face him. "So…"
"So…" Harry replied intelligently. They stood, staring into each other's eyes, and suddenly Hermione felt a wave of irritation wash over her as she realized just how familiar the whole situation was. Childhood friends, exotic locale, unresolved feelings, it was all right out of the pages of one of those trashy romance novels she was addicted to. All it needed was for him to say-
"Hermione, there's something I need to tell you…"
'Oh, good grief,' she thought to herself, and held up her hand, cutting him off in mid-declaration. "Harry, don't, all right? Just…don't." She sighed at the hurt look on his face, shaking her head. "I mean, honestly, Harry, how much more cliché can we get here? Heaving bosoms and chiseled pecs, one step short of naked in a bedroom? All you have to do is put that charm back on and grow out that long, wavy blond hair again, and we could pose for the cover of Gilderoy Lockheart's next bodice ripper!"
Harry's hurt look was replaced by one of irritation. "It's not like that, Hermione, there's more going on than you're aware of; that's why I couldn't wait until you returned from vacation to talk to you."
"Oh, wait, let me guess, all the things that have been happening, Ron and Luna, Feyd, that little tramp wearing your shirt-"
"I didn't give it to her, she just took it," Harry said defensively, and she shook her head.
"Whatever, Harry! I suppose you're going to tell me that it was all part of some huge, convoluted, nefarious plot to get us to finally notice each other!" She waited for him to get embarrassed and deny it, but he just stared at her expressionlessly. "Harry? This is the point where you're supposed to call me a hysterical fool…Harry?" He just kept staring at her, and she finally figured out why. "Oh, My, GOD," she moaned, collapsing on the couch, her head in her hands. "This can not be happening!"
Harry sat down next to her and draped one arm around her shoulders, holding her close as she relaxed against him. "Well, oddly enough, aside from the 'nefarious' bit, you're probably not too far off." He chuckled at her disbelieving stare, and then outlined everything he'd learned to date, including Ron's revelations about Luna's knowledge of 'The Plan'.
When he finished she eyed him skeptically. "And you actually believe all this…this…"
"'Codswallop?'" Harry offered helpfully.
"For lack of a better term, yes," Hermione agreed, and he shrugged.
"It fits the facts; after all, nothing that happened was actually threatening to either of us. Annoying, even embarassing, but not threatening. Hardly the activities of a Dark cabal bent on our demise…"
"True," she admitted grudgingly, and then sighed. "I just suppose it's hard to imagine Luna being mixed up with a bunch of Knockturn Alley hooligans; it's so out of character for her…"
"Hmmm, well, I think perhaps something Ron said might shed a little light on that." At Hermione's questioning look he continued, "He said that Luna told him that she didn't make a move until her 'sister' gave her the go-ahead, and that until then she'd contented herself with just, um, 'pining after Ronald from afar' was the phrase I believe she used." He laughed at the queasy expression that flitted across Hermione's face. "The point is, Luna is an only child, a fact that didn't occur to me until later. So if the sister she was referring to wasn't her blood kin, then she might very well have been-"
Hermione gasped. "The Ravenclaw Sisterhood! Of course they would have helped her, they make most Muggle sororities look like knitting circles." She frowned a bit. "I don't know why they'd be allied with wizards from Knockturn Alley, though."
"Ah, that's where my brilliant deductive powers come in to play," Harry grinned, laughing as Hermione stuck her tongue out at him. "Also the little matter of being the head of the Unspeakables, which gives me access to all sorts of intelligence. What very few people are aware of is that a large percentage of successful Wizarding businessmen have Ravenclaw wives, those that weren't Ravenclaws themselves. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that the same holds true among the movers and shakers in Knockturn Alley."
"And Ravenclaws would certainly, even if not officially members of the Sisterhood, stick together," Hermione marveled, and then chuckled. "Well, that makes me feel a bit better. I shudder to think what might have happened if a bunch of grey-haired Dark wizards were the ones in charge of manipulating our love lives." She paused for a minute. "Speaking of which…" she sighed. "I guess we do need to talk, don't we?"
"Can I go first?" Harry asked, interrupting her. She began to feel the telltale butterflies fluttering in her stomach, and nodded.
Instead of immediately speaking, he stood and paced back and forth, finally ending beside the fireplace, his profile turned towards her as he stared into space. "I think it's always been there," he said at last. "I'm absolutely sure it was after that night in the girl's bathroom when we faced the troll, and then you actually lied to McGonagall to take the blame, but it may have started even earlier. I know it sounds trite, but I think it happened the moment I saw you on the train, when you were looking for Neville's toad.
"Of course, I had no bloody clue what it was for the longest time. Boys aren't supposed to, you know, and growing up with Vernon, Petunia and Dudley left me even less prepared than most to understand what I was feeling. Thank Merlin I had a year with my parents before Riddle murdered them; I might not have any conscious memories, but somewhere down inside I must have some recollection of what it was like to feel love."
He ignored Hermione's slight gasp and kept talking. "Little things added up; you coming along when we went after the Philosopher's Stone, seeing you lying in the hospital wing after the Basilisk had petrified you, you helping me to save Buckbeak and Sirius…and then when Crouch slipped my name into the Goblet of Fire, and everyone else, even Ron, thought I'd done it, you believed me."
He finally looked at her, and her heart skipped as he smiled. "That was when I first figured out I didn't think of you as just a friend," he said softly. "And then Victor asked you to the Ball, and you came down those stairs looking so damned beautiful, I think I went a little crazy. At least I hope I did, because it would help explain what a complete prat I was the following year."
He held up a hand before she could object. "Please, Hermione, don't try and deny it, I've had too much time to think about it since then. Sure, there were a lot of other things going on, but I contributed more than my fair share to the mix. And what snapped me out of it, even more than losing Sirius as awful as that was, was almost losing you."
Harry glanced over and caught a glimpse of the stunned expression on Hermione's face, the suspicious glistening of her eyes, but he couldn't think about that too much, not if he wanted to get through this. "You probably remember the first few weeks of that summer better than I do. I know I was still in shock when I returned to Privet Drive, and the Order had put such a fright into my aunt and uncle that they left me strictly alone. That all changed the week before my birthday. I realized two things; first, that I was in love with you, and second, that I had to hide it from everyone, even you. Anything else would have just been too dangerous."
All the emotions of that time came surging back, and for a moment he couldn't speak as he wrestled them back under control. "That summer, and the year that followed…that had to be the single hardest time of my life. I know that I hurt you and Ron when I became so distant, but I had to Hermione, I just…had to. I needed you so much, and I knew that if I let you in at all, I wouldn't be able to hide anything from you. So instead I dove into preparing myself to meet Riddle.
"I don't have to tell you what happened next; I pushed you away as carefully as I could, hard enough to make you keep your distance, but not so hard that you would suspect my real motives. I wasn't lying when I said I was too busy for trips to Hogsmeade, or to worry about Quidditch, or anything that might distract me from getting ready. I was actually glad when you and Ron became a couple; it distanced you from me and made both of you less of a target, and anything that made you safer was fine by me…"
Hermione's mind was racing as Harry finally told her the truth about their last two years at Hogwarts; the WHOLE truth, not just the carefully edited version that he had apparently fabricated for the sole purpose of protecting her. As he outlined the steps he'd taken, the façade of indifference he'd assumed, the secret training he'd undergone, and she found herself becoming more and more furious with him. How dare he? How DARE he make decisions about their lives without consulting her? How any times did she have to prove herself before he got it through his thick, male chauvinistic head that he did not have the right to make such choices on his own? How could he claim to love her, and then do something like this?
Harry's monologue had moved on to describing their seventh year, and as he talked, she saw the guilt on his face as he confessed what he'd done. She suddenly realized that he'd known exactly how she would feel about his behavior, and he'd gone ahead anyway, not because he didn't care about her feelings but because he couldn't do anything else and still be Harry Potter. Faced with a choice between (as he saw it) being selfish and risking her life, or doing everything in his power to keep her safe even if she ended up hating him for it, he'd opted for her safety. He'd let her go because he couldn't lose her, and in the twisted logic of Harry's life, it made perfect sense.
That still didn't mean she wasn't going to flay him alive when it came her turn to talk…
~~~~~
Despite his outwardly calm appearance, Harry was well aware that he had an extremely brassed off Hermione on his hands. He'd both expected and dreaded just that situation, and had been ever since he realized he'd actually survived his final confrontation with Riddle. He'd never admitted it to anyone, but one of the things that had made it possible to accept the likelihood that he and Voldemort would take each other out was that it meant he wouldn't have to explain his actions to her. Yet here he was, just as he'd always feared, confessing to the one thing guaranteed to infuriate her; treating her as less than an equal. Inwardly he sighed and vowed that, if he lived through the next few minutes, to make a votary offering at the Temple of Eris in Diagon Alley; it probably wouldn't help, but getting the Goddess of Chaos to intervene with her brother Murphy couldn't hurt, either.
He didn't realize he's stopped talking until Hermione prompted him. "So that covers everything up through graduation. You never did tell me exactly what happened when you faced Riddle afterwards."
Harry grimaced; he'd been dreading revealing this last bit most of all. "There's not that much more to tell, Hermione; you already know most of it. The Scroll of Thoth, the summoning of Osiris, Voldemort's ka being banished forever, all of that. I even remember you visiting me at St. Mungos when I was recuperating…"
"Yes, and I remember you chasing me off and telling me not to bother you!" she replied hotly. "Then you disappeared for a year, a whole year without a single letter! If Dumbledore hadn't sworn to me that you were all right I would have gone mad!"
Harry sighed. "I know; I'd say I'm sorry again, but how often can I do that before it sounds meaningless to you?"
"You're not even close."
"All right then. I-am-sorry. I'm sorry I lied to you, I'm sorry I kept you ignorant of what was happening, I'm sorry I never told you my true feelings…but I'm not sorry you're safe. I will never be sorry for that."
"Better," she replied. "So where were you?"
"After the first week I was transferred to a convalescent home, where I spent the next six months rebuilding my magical strength." At her shocked expression he shrugged. "Riding on Ra's Sun Barge and having your ka weighed on the Scales of Judgement really takes it out of you.
"After that, I took the Auror's tests, and then entered the Unspeakables' training system. Six months later I graduated. I did look you up then, you'll remember, but by then you and Ron were firmly together, and I didn't want to get in the way. The rest you know, except, perhaps, for this; I love you, Hermione."
Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, peripherally aware of Harry seated nervously at the table waiting for her reaction. So many conflicting feelings were running through her right now, humiliation that she hadn't realized what he was doing all those years, annoyance that he'd kept so much from her, and anger for the way he kept making decisions that affected both their lives without consulting her. Underlying it all was the new realization of just how much she loved him, but if anything, loving him and knowing he loved her in return just made so much of it worse. For love without trust was nothing more than a weed with shallow roots, doomed to wither at the first frost. Something like that. Whatever.
Finally she spoke. "I love you, too, Harry." she said, and watched as his eyes brightened with relief. Her next words came as a shock. "The maddening thing is, I think I have been all along; I just never allowed myself to become aware of it. I was the bushy-haired bookworm, Plain Jane Granger, and you were Harry Potter. Why would you even notice me? Besides, I saw how uncomfortable Ginny's crush made you our second year, and I decided right then I would never do anything to make you regret your friendship with me. Looking back, I can see now that I didn't think of you as just a friend, but I'd done such a good job of convincing myself nothing like that was possible, I wasn't even consciously aware of my real feelings. Part of me is still waiting to wake up and discover this is all just a dream, and that you didn't just tell me something I now know I've always wanted to hear.
"However," she continued, "if you can't set aside this hero complex of yours where we're concerned, if you can't stop charging off and making decisions that affect both of us-BOTH of us, Harry! -then I don't think loving each other is going to be enough." She saw the stricken look on his features and sighed. "I know you meant well, you always mean well, but sometimes good intentions aren't enough. Just because you're the most powerful wizard in the world doesn't mean you have any more say in our relationship than I have."
Harry fastened on her last words like a drowning man. "A relationship? Is that what we have now, Hermione?"
She smiled shyly. "I think we may have the start of one Harry; we're both awfully strong-willed, it's going to take a lot of work, but yes, I think we just might."
He nodded, relieved. For a terrible moment he'd been afraid she was going to reject him outright, but if she was willing to give him a chance… "We'll take it as slow as you want, Hermione; I've waited too long for this to bollix it up now." He rose to his feet and turned towards the door. "Let me escort you back to your room; maybe we could talk some more over dinner?"
She looked at his back, dumfounded. He really was an incredible idiot where women were concerned. Well, at least she thought she knew one quick way to give him a clue what the correct behavior was at a moment like this. "Harry?"
He turned around and stared. Hermione stood next to the bed, her eyes burning, her robe pooled on the floor around her feet. Her feet were braced slightly apart, her hands rubbing nervously down her bare hips. She was biting her lower lip, and the expression on her face could only be described as wanton. Any lingering doubts he had about her intentions were driven out by her next words.
"Screw dinner; what I want isn't on the menu..."
~~~~~
Narcissa checked the note in her hands and frowned. She'd made it to the hotel in record time, but was at a bit of a loss as to her next actions. Her operatives still hadn't seen Potter, and had lost track of Granger when she returned to the hotel. She wasn't with her friends or in her room, or in any of the public areas of the establishment. So either she'd left the hotel entirely without being spotted (unlikely), or she was in one of the rooms with the piece of blond beefcake she'd met (unfortunately likely).
Needless to say, that didn't bode well for The Plan, but failure was not something she readily accepted, and desperate times called for desperate measures. Which was why she was at that moment standing outside the door to Harry Potter's rooms, intending to explain everything to him in a last-ditch effort to keep The Plan in motion. Unfortunately, Harry was not responding to her repeated knocks, and a surreptitious charm had revealed the silencing and locking charms on the door. No doubt he was catching a few winks before tracking down Granger, but if he waited that long, it might be too late.
With a small moue of annoyance she slipped her wand out of its holster and made ready to break the charms on the door. Before she could utter the first words of the spell, a voice spoke in her ear. "I really would advise against that."
Narcissa whirled, her wand at the ready, to see a lined face with salt-and-pepper hair appear from under the hood of an invisibility cloak. The face was oddly familiar, but it wasn't until she'd mentally subtracted its careworn signs of age that she recognized it. "Remus? Remus Lupin?"
He smiled as he slipped the rest of the cloak off his shoulders. "Hello, Narcissa. It's good to see you looking so well."
"Thank you," she replied, feeling oddly self-conscious. "I'd say the same, but you'd know I was lying," she replied wryly. When news of his affliction finally became public knowledge, Narcissa had castigated herself for missing the signs during their school days. Now, decades later, the toll his lycanthropy was taking on him was even more visible.
He laughed softly, taking no offense at her honesty, which he found strangely refreshing. "Ever the diplomat; good to see that marriage hasn't slowed you down."
"I pride myself that whenever Chronos comes calling, I scratch his eyes out before kicking him in the family jewels," she said with a touch of hauteur. "Now, was there a specific reason you stopped me from speaking to Mr. Potter? I assure you, it is concerning a matter of great interest to him."
"I sincerely doubt that anything you might say would be of much interest to him at the moment," Remus chuckled, cocking his head in an attitude of listening. He suddenly blushed furiously. "And at the moment, I don't believe he and Hermione would appreciate any…ah…interruptions…"
For the first time in years Narcissa was surprised into an openmouthed expression of surprise. 'Of course,' she thought as her mouth snapped shut, 'his enhanced senses can hear though the charm. Wait a minute, did he just say what I thought he said?' She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, Remus, but it sounded like you said…"
"Harry and Hermione, as if you didn't know," he added. "Thank you, by the way."
Narcissa saw no point in denying it; Remus had been one of the sharpest of the Gryffindors of his day, and she'd heard nothing to indicate that time or circumstances had dulled his wits. Her eyes narrowed in thought. "The beach bum was Harry?"
"Ah, so that's what brought you here," he smiled, and then flushed a bit as his ears twitched. "Would you care to continue this conversation over a drink in the bar? I really would rather not stand hear and listen to…" he gestured towards the door.
Narcissa's eyes widened as a faint sound made it through the silencing charm. Merlin, if she could hear them past the spell- "Say no more, I quite agree. We can talk over old times, and reminisce about missed opportunities…" Linking her arm through his, they wandered off to renew an old acquaintance, while behind them two lovers explored a new reality.
~~~~~