FIC: "Charming a Prince" for snapesgirl_62

[bethbethbeth]

Recipient: snapesgirl_62
Author/Artist: chazpure
Title: Charming a Prince
Rating: R
Pairings: Eileen Prince/Tobias Snape
Word Count: 16,000+
Warnings: smoking, fingering, first time, frottage
Summary: Tobias had been sent away from danger into a strange world he'd never known, where he met a most unusual girl.
Author's/Artist's Notes: For snapesgirl, who wrote, "I have this fantasy where Tobias and Eileen had a good marriage, their parents were the ones always fighting with them." That made me wonder how they might have got to that point. I hope you enjoy the result! Many thanks to my beta; any errors remaining are mine alone. And many, many thanks to bethbethbeth for running this great fest - and for her incredible patience, forbearance and understanding!

***

Charming a Prince

1940

Toby hunched his shoulders and sank deeper into the corner of the railway carriage. He'd no business going off to the country, but he'd had precious little choice in the matter. As the train left the familiar clustered grey buildings and sooty grey smokestacks of town behind and headed into the forbidding wilds, he sighed in disgust.

He'd told Mum that he wasn't about to run off to hide in a barn somewhere, just 'cause the Jerry were making noise! That was for babes as still messed their nappies, kids scared of the bogeyman, and little girls! At nearly ten, Toby was a man grown, by his own lights, and would not abide to be sent off with the Mixed Infants Evacuation! Why, Da himself had told Toby, before he'd shipped out, that he was to be man of the house now, and look after Mum! How was he to do that, from a hundred miles away?

Mum hadn't been half cross with him when he'd said as much. She'd boxed his ears, then hugged him until he couldn't breathe, crying all the while. She'd kicked up a dreadful fuss again on the platform, as she tied the silly name tag to a buttonhole on the old brown coat she'd made him wear, though it was worn through at the elbows and the sleeves rode up his forearms. She'd been sobbing as the train pulled away, not that Toby had been able to hear her over the wailing coming from his compartment. Half the little pukes were screaming for their mums, while the other half shrieked and cackled like old women at market.

Toby had shouldered his way through the carriage to a seat by a window and sat there in a self-righteous sulk, as the train took them all away into the countryside, for their own protection, whether they wanted to be protected or not.

The trip was long and dull. The noise died down after a while, as the youngest kids cried themselves to sleep and older ones ran out of excitement. Toby watched out the window for a while, as the miles sped by. They passed ploughed field after field, rows and rows of hedges and stone walls, with towns and villages growing farther and farther apart the farther North they went. Great Wallop wasn't so very Great, he decided, as the train flashed past the station sign and the tiny platform. Pinchley Bottom wasn't much to look at, either, he noted with a sniff. Cows and sheep were blobs in fields and on the hills, and after the first few dozen fields of 'em, it was hardly worth turning your head to look.

He dozed off after a while, napping fitfully as encroaching elbows jostled and careless feet trod on him in the crowded compartment.

It was nearly dusk by the time the train pulled into Piddleby-on-Blyth, and Toby was tired enough to fall in with the rest of the children as they shuffled off the train. The billeting officer, a skinny old woman in tweed, bunched them all up along the platform and led them across to the village hall to await their host families. A number of grownups were there already, looking over the evacuees and taking their pick, like Mum sorting through the marked-downs at Sainsbury's. He slid down the wall by a window and settled in to wait. It seemed ages, and half of the others had already gone before someone walked up and loomed over him. He looked up to see a stout, red-cheeked woman with flyaway grey hair peering at his name tag.

"Tobias Snape?"

He got to his feet and found himself being eyed up and down. The woman tilted her head to one side.

"Toby, is it?"

"Yes, mum."

"Ye're a mite weedy, but a bit of feedin' up and some fresh country air will put some meat on yer bones," she said, clapping him on the shoulder with one large, heavy hand. "I'm Mrs. Moulton. Have ye got yer grip?"

Toby nodded, holding tightly to the old case that had once belonged to Great Aunt Theodosia.

"Well, come along, then!" She turned and led the way. Toby fell in behind her and trudged out to a waiting pony trap. She took his case and tucked it between a sack of chicken feed and several brown-paper parcels, then swung up onto the rickety seat with practised ease. Toby scrambled up beside her. The elderly dapple-grey snorted as Mrs. Moulton took up the reins and clucked to him, then clopped amiably down the lane.

Mrs. Moulton kept up a running commentary as they drove along the narrow lane. It was dark, but the full moon cast enough light for her to point out the village church and an ancient well, and, as the road ran out into the countryside, the gates that led to various farms and homes. She didn't seem to expect him to say much, as she talked enough for both of them.

Mrs. Moulton's husband was in the Home Guard, he learned, and two of her sons were away at the War. Her youngest had a dairy farm a few miles away, and her daughter had married a Scot and moved to Aberdeen last year. Mrs. Moulton hadn't much opinion of Scots in general, so she said, but her son-in-law was a good man, well set-up and devoted to her daughter.

There were three other evacuees living with the Moultons, she told him: A young mother with her baby, and a little girl of about six, as well as several land-girls living in worker's cottages on the farm. There was plenty of room for one scrawny tyke like himself.

At last the pony swung into another lane, past a weathered sign that Toby couldn't make out. "Here we are, then!" When they got to the house, Mrs. Moulton showed him to the privy, much to his relief. When he was done, she took him into the kitchen, where a pale young woman was sitting over a cup of tea and a newspaper.

"Annie, this here's Toby; he's come to stay with us," Mrs. Moulton said, pushing him toward a chair. "Toby, this is Mrs. Wilkes. Her man's away in France."

The lady gave him a brief, sad smile and returned to her paper. Mrs. Moulton put a bowl of thick stew, a chunk of bread and a glass of milk in front of him.

"Now, tuck into that, then we'll get ye settled for the night."

The food was good, if not what Toby was used to, and he finished it quickly, making Mrs. Moulton beam with satisfaction. "Aye, that's good; that'll put colour in yer cheeks!" She patted his shoulder and led him to a small, neat bedroom.

"Here, now," she said, pulling open the top drawer of an old bureau. "There's plenty of room here for yer things. We go to sleep and get up earlier here in the country than ye're likely used to, but that's all to the good." She tousled his hair, then bent and kissed his forehead. "There's more blankets in the press," she said, "but it's been mild, and ye'll doubtless be warm enough. Sleep well, now!"

She shut the door and Toby sighed in relief. Mrs. Moulton was a bit much to take in. It was awfully quiet, now that he was alone. It was black as India ink outside the window, but the room's one lamp cast a warm glow over the bed and the few other furnishings. He put his case into the open drawer without unpacking, took off his coat and hung it over the foot-board, toed off his shoes, and sat down on the bed in his stocking feet. For a moment, he considered the pyjamas his mother had packed for him, but it seemed too much like giving in to his situation, so he pulled back the counterpane and lay down as he was. He was asleep in moments.

* * *

He should have been homesick, he told himself a few days later, but he wasn't, much. He was still a bit angry at Mum for sending him off like this, but there wasn't anything to be done about it. He was well fed and had the run of the farm during the day, where he'd helped gather eggs, been chased by an ill-tempered billy goat, and skinned his knees scrambling over rock walls. Although he was a bit lonely and bored, he really hadn't anything to complain about.

After the first week, he wandered farther afield and met a few village boys fishing at a bend of the stream. They seemed decent sorts, once he'd gotten over the frog slipped down his back and repaid the prankster, Jackie, with a handful of waterweeds in return. They tried to wind him up about any number of country matters, but he'd spent enough time around the farm by then to have a good idea when they were having him on.

After a while, Maurice produced a cricket ball and they worked up a lively game. Toby was on the far side of the stream when Jimmy Puffett hit the ball a solid crack! with the fallen branch he was using for a bat. The ball arced high through the air and Toby ran back, back, back, reaching up as high as he could...only to smack into an old stone wall and watch the ball sail over his head into the woods beyond.

"Now ye've done it, Jimmy!" Maurice cried in dismay.

Jackie let out a groan, and Jimmy dropped his branch with an expression of horror on his face.

Toby watched them, perplexed. "What's wrong?" he called.

"Dad'll have my 'ide," Maurice moaned. "He's lead bowler for our side, and that's the ball they won last year's match with! I wasn't to touch it!"

"It's just gone over the wall," Toby said. "I'll get it," he offered, turning to scale the rough stones.

"No!" Jackie shouted. The three ran through the stream and grabbed him, pulling him down from the wall before he'd reached the top.

"What are you on about?" he demanded. "I'll just slip over and get it! It came down by that big tree, right there," he added, pointing at an oak that towered above its nearest neighbours.

"That's Allington," Jimmy said in a low voice. "Ye can't go there!"

"What's Allington?"

"It's bewitched, that's what it is! The Princes have lived there since before Granddad's granddad was a boy, and they'll cut out yer liver if they catch you on their land!"

"They're unchancy folk," Maurice warned, his voice gone low and hushed. "Last time Old Mr. Prince came through t'village, Bob Smith's anvil split right in two when he walked past t'smithy!"

"And Mrs. Prince, every time she walked past our house on market day, all Mum's baking 'ud fall, until Dad finally drove iron nails over t'doors an' windows!"

The other two nodded. "No one as goes on their land lives to tell tales," Jackie said, "Dad's great-uncle Ed went a-poachin' with a friend near Allington Wood, once. His friend went past the boundary marker after a rabbit - he just vanished and was NEVER SEEN AGAIN!" He looked around, eyes wide and solemn. "When they found Great-great Uncle Ed, t'next day, his hair'd gone snow-white from shock, and never a word did he speak ever again!" Jimmy and Maurice shivered in appreciation.

"You're 'avin' me on," Toby said, scoffing. "Go on, pull the other one!" He jerked away from Maurice and scrambled up the wall, despite their continuing protests. He had just swung one leg over and was considering the best way down when there was a sudden loud hooting noise from above. Maurice, Jimmy and Jackie all shrieked. There was a swooping sound and more yelping; Toby, settling himself athwart the wall, turned back to see them scrambling back up the riverbank and running away as fast as they could go.

"Silly nancies," he grumbled. He turned back to survey the mysterious Allington lands beyond the wall. There was a narrow slope covered in long grass running from the wall up to the edge of the woods. He could see a broken twig on the giant oak where the ball had gone through its branches. It didn't seem very far into the woods, and if the village boys were waiting just beyond the riverbank for him to come running back in a fright, they could keep on waiting. And if they really were that frightened of whatever lay beyond the wall, he'd every chance to show them up by fetching back the errant ball.

He twisted around and dropped down to the ground. Nothing happened. There was another faint hooting sound in the distance, but nothing the least alarming. He listened for footsteps, in case Jimmy, Jackie and Maurice were coming back, but heard nothing.

The slope was steeper than he'd thought, and the trees taller and darker than they'd seemed from the top of the wall, but Toby went into the woods regardless. It was cool and dim, with a damp green smell that wasn't like the riverbank or mown hay or anything else he'd known. He looked around for the huge oak tree, but most of the trees were oaks, and close by they all seemed huge. He turned to look back the way he'd come and was a little alarmed at how far away the bright gap in the trees seemed.

Still, he'd come this far, and he wasn't about to go back without that ball. He tried to reckon the line he'd taken from the wall and headed the way he thought the ball had gone. He had to get through a few tight spots where young trees were tightly crowded together, and climbed over a fair few giant roots of towering oaks. His footsteps were the loudest noise around; the soft sounds of birds and insects and the breeze soughing through the branches were mere whispers, and a faint trickle of water came from somewhere ahead of him.

He almost tripped over another root, caught himself on the bole of another great oak, and grinned when he spotted the red ball lodged at the base of another tree just beyond it. He tucked it in his pocket and turned to go when he caught a glimpse of motion in the shadows beyond. He pushed past a tangled bush for a closer look.

The ground sloped down from the back of the oak, into a little hollow with a pond in its centre. Someone was down there - a small figure in a green smock, wading beside some large rocks. Long black hair tied back with twine and thin, pale arms held out carefully, just above the water, the figure moved very slowly through the water, face down, watching the water's surface. Suddenly, one hand flashed down into the water and came up with a dripping thrashing...frog? It must be a frog, Toby thought, though it was the biggest one he'd ever seen!

"Blimey, what a corker!" he shouted in admiration.

The figure started in surprise and turned toward him, still holding the thrashing frog. He noticed in surprise that it was a girl! She was a bit younger than him, even, and she held the squirming creature without the slightest bit of reluctance or disgust.

He made his way down into the hollow, as she watched him warily.

"'E's huge," Toby said, marvelling, when he got to the marshy edge of the pond. The frog was still trying to escape, but the little girl held him tight, her fingers digging in around his neck, which had an odd sort of frill around it.

She tilted her head, looking at him. "I don't know ye," she said. "What're ye doin' here?"

"I 'ad to get the ball we'd lost," Toby explained, pulling it out of his pocket to show her. "I came over the wall."

"Ye'd best go back," she said. "Muggles don't belong here."

"Who's Muggles? I'm Toby," he said.

She wasn't very pretty, he decided. She was very skinny and paler even than him, and her nose was very long and pointed. But she had very nice hair, and her eyes were huge and black. Toby decided she looked a little like the Changeling Child in the fairy tale book Mum used to read to him.

They stood and stared at each other for a bit, then the great frog gave another huge kick and made a hissing noise. Toby looked at it in surprise. The girl grimaced and shook it, squeezing its neck hard, until it flopped in her hand.

"I never caught one that big," Toby admitted, "but I did catch a great long grass-snake last week! Long as your arm!" He forbore to mention that it was the only snake he'd ever caught, or that he'd never caught any frogs at all.

She regarded him for another long moment, then slowly smiled. It made her whole face light up. "Ye like him?" she asked, holding out the frog out for inspection.

Toby waded into the pond, wincing just a bit as the cold water flooded his shoes, and leaned in to admire her catch properly. The frog had angry-looking golden eyes, a warty sort of ruff around its neck, and two pointy bumps on its head that almost looked like horns. It was at least a foot long, head to wickedly-clawed toes. "'E's a beauty," he said. "I never knew frogs grew so big!"

"It's a grindlylow," she announced, seeming pleased at his comment. Toby took that to be a local name for a really big frog.

She sloshed over to the rocks and pulled an old wooden bucket up from the dark water beside them. Toby followed her and watched as she undid a worn catch and flipped open a heavy metal mesh lid, then plunked the frog down into the bucket, quickly slammed the lid back down and fastened it again. The frog leapt up, hissing, and bashed its head against the mesh. Toby jumped back in surprise.

"He's not happy," she said, grinning at him, "but he'll be well enough in here." She lowered the bucket back into the water, then sat on the rock, dangling her feet in the water. Toby splashed over and climbed up on the mossy green rocks to sit beside her.

"What's your name?"

"Eileen Prince."

"Tobias Snape," he offered, holding out his hand.

She put her thin, cold hand in his and shook it.

Toby felt his pockets and fished out the packet of bread and butter done up in waxed paper that Mrs. Moulton had given him that morning. He unwrapped it and handed Eileen half. "It's almost tea-time," he said, peering through the canopy of branches over them, trying to reckon the height of the sun.

Eileen cocked her head to one side again, as if she were trying to puzzle him out, then took the bread, nodding thanks. After a bite or two, she leaned down and pulled up a dark brown clay jug from beside the bucket. She drew the cork and passed him the bottle. Toby smelled something slightly spicy and sweet. He took a cautious sip, then, when the flavour had filled his mouth, a longer swallow.

"Mm! That's nice!" he said, handing the bottle back to her.

She drank, recorked it and put it back in the pond. "Mum made it fresh yesterday," she said. "Pumpkin juice's m'favourite."

Toby had never heard of drinking pumpkin juice before, but there were odder things in the country, and it certainly tasted wonderful, so he didn't question her.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, then she smiled at him. "I've got gathering to do. D'ye want to come?"

Toby couldn't have said why, but it seemed the best idea in the world. They slipped off the rocks and back into the pond. Eileen took his hand again and tugged him toward the tall grasses in the marshy patch.

"There, d'ye see?" she pointed at a twisty sort of grass with light purplish spots along it. "That's knotgrass. Ye just pluck it up, like so," she said, taking the stalk with one hand and pulling it up by the roots. The long corkscrew blade seemed to twist in her grasp, but she held onto it and reached for another.

Toby watched for a moment, then started pulling up the same sort of grass. In a few minutes, they each had more than they could hold in their hands. Eileen led him to drier ground and spread their harvest out on a flat stone. Toby watched in fascination as the grasses rolled back and forth on their own, until they'd twisted themselves into a loose rope.

Eileen produced a canvas bag from behind a fallen log and stowed the grasses in it. She slung it over one shoulder and led Toby deeper into the woods.

He wasn't sure why he kept following her. She was just a girl, after all, and a scrawny one at that, but something about the way she'd handled that corking great frog, and the way those enormous black eyes had looked at him...following her and doing what she wanted to do just seemed...right.

They picked some berries that Eileen warned him not to taste and others with which they both stuffed their mouths, giggling at the purple stains on their lips and tongues. They gathered leaves, picked mushrooms (though Toby was dubious about them - Mum had always said toadstools were poison!), and they plucked sharp-smelling green herbs growing from beside an old rowan tree.

Eileen's canvas sack was nearly full when she pointed to some grey-green foliage high in the branches of a nearby oak. "That's silver mistletoe," she said, "And well grown, too!" She went to the tree and reached up, but the lowest branches were well beyond her grasp, and the trunk was too broad for her to get a good hold. "Give us a hand up?" she asked.

Toby obligingly made a cradle of his hands and held them out for her foot. She weighed next to nothing, and he boosted her high without much effort at all. She scrambled onto the thick branch and climbed like a squirrel, high up into the tree. In short order, she had reached the mistletoe and begun breaking off bits and dropping them to the ground.

Toby watched, idly tossing the cricket ball in the air and catching it, when a flicker of motion in the branches caught his eye. A brown squirrel, he thought at first...but it didn't move like a squirrel; it scuttled...and it had beady red eyes, and long, thin arms with what looked like long sharp claws at their ends. It suddenly dashed toward Eileen--

Toby moved without thinking; he hurled the cricket ball with all his might, catching the thing dead centre and knocking it off the branch, just as Eileen cried out and threw up her hands to ward it off. She wavered on the branch, then slipped backward and fell. Toby rushed forward and caught her, falling to the ground and rolling to soften the landing.

When they came to rest against a fallen limb, he caught her by the shoulders and turned her around to see her face. "Are you hurt?"

She blinked at him. "No, I-- I'm fine," she said, pushing back and sitting up. "Just knocked t'wind out of me." She got to her feet, looking around.

"What was that?" Toby asked. "It looked like... I don't know what it was, but it looked nasty!"

Eileen had spotted the cricket ball resting at the base of another oak tree. She walked over, Toby following her, and looked down at it. The brown thing lay beside it, clearly dead.

Toby shuddered. It was...very queer. It had skin like tree bark, and its long, spindly arms were like twigs, with thorn-like pincers at their ends. Its legs were much the same, with thorny toes projecting from stubby twig feet.

"Bowtruckle," Eileen said quietly. "They live in the trees, and they don't like bein' disturbed." She picked up the cricket ball and handed it back to him, then, to his surprise, she picked up the dead thing and carried it back to its tree. She laid it in a depression at the base of the tree and covered it with fallen leaves. "He'll rest better there," she explained. "I didn't think to check," she said sadly. "If I'd known he was there, a handful of woodlice would've kept him happy."

Toby began to feel like a murderer.

Eileen turned her great dark eyes to him. "Thank ye, Tobias Snape," she said solemnly. "They're fierce when roused, and they can put yer eyes out with those pincers," she said. "It's none too short a fall, either," she added, looking up at the mistletoe. "Thank ye for savin' me."

Toby felt like a hero.

She gathered the fallen mistletoe into her sack and led him back to the pond. Toby was startled to see that the soft, dappled light filtering through the trees was nearly gone. "It's getting late," he said. "I should be getting back." He looked at the trees ringing the hollow, trying to remember which way he had come, and trying very hard not to panic at the gathering dusk.

Eileen retrieved the bucket and jug from the pond and placed them by a fallen log, settling the sack beside them. "It's not far," she said. "I can show ye."

She took his hand again and led him up the slope, through the trees, and along shadowed, twisty paths that looked like nothing Toby remembered, until suddenly the woods thinned and he could see the grassy slope and stone wall beyond it in the fading evening light.

Eileen stopped at the edge of the woods. Toby started toward the wall, then turned back. "I...will you be 'ere again tomorrow?" he asked.

She tilted her head at him again. "Why?"

"I could come back," he said. "I'll bring sandwiches, and we can pick some more berries, if you want. Or catch frogs..." he trailed off, suddenly embarrassed at how eager he was to spend more time with her.

"I've enough berries," she said doubtfully, "and the grindlylows will be hiding..." She suddenly smiled, "but we could try to catch a kappa! There's a deeper pool I know, and I'm sure I've seen them swimming there!"

Toby had no idea what a kappa might be, but it sounded like a fine plan. "I'll bring sandwiches, and biscuits, too!" His mum had sent him a small tin of chocolate digestives, and he didn't mind sharing them.

Eileen smiled. He waved and hurried to the wall as the sun went down. When he looked back from the top, she was gone.

* * *

They didn't catch a kappa the next day, or the day after that, although they had a great deal of fun trying.

Toby gave the cricket ball back to Maurice when he went into the village with Mrs. Moulton on Market Day, and just grinned at Maurice's dumbstruck expression. He didn't wait around to answer any questions. He had thought it would be brilliant to tell Maurice and the others about his adventures in the supposedly scary and forbidden Allington Woods, but now that he saw Maurice again, it didn't seem like such a good notion.

Playing with Eileen in the woods was more fun.

They spent days fishing in the still, black pools Eileen showed him, deep in the heart of the woods. The elusive kappa never did turn up, but they netted some kind of large newt-thing, green with purple blotches, which seemed to please Eileen just as well.

She was more talkative after the first day, and smiled more. She asked him all sorts of questions about himself and simple, silly things like cars and wireless. She was sober when he said his Da was away at the war and said her uncles were off fighting on the Continent, too.

She didn't talk much about her family. He gathered she had a mother and father and grandfather at home, and at least two brothers, but that was mostly guesswork. She didn't mention her brothers' names or whether they were older or younger, whether she liked them or thought them plaguey annoyances.

Toby didn't much care. They had wonderful times, wading in the big pond, fishing, climbing trees, picking ripe plums and raspberries, and playing all sorts of made-up games with sticks and stones. Eileen could get more skips out of a flat stone than he ever managed, and she had a way of flicking pebbles just so, to make them splatter mud or splash water at him.

He brought bread and butter, jam sandwiches or bread and cheese for them to share, every day. Every evening, Mrs. Moulton patted his cheek and said the country air was doing him a world of good, putting colour in his face and filling him out. She never asked where he went every day, just handed him a thick packet of sandwiches in waxed paper every morning after breakfast and tousled his hair as he went out of the back door.

He and Eileen were picking early blackberries, their fingers and lips all stained with the sweet purple juice, when they heard the loud noise of a large something crashing through the underbrush. Eileen looked alarmed and motioned Toby away from the berry patch. They crept back into the shelter of a low-hanging willow and waited, holding their breaths.

The sounds grew nearer, and suddenly there was a roar, "EILEEN!"

Toby looked at Eileen, but her face was set in a frown and her lips pressed tight.

"EILEEN, COME YE OUT O'THAT, RIGHT NOW, D'YE HEAR?"

Eileen shook her head and bit her lip. She pulled Toby backward, closer to the trunk of the willow, and motioned him to be silent.

Peering through the leaves, Toby saw a tall, angry youth burst into the clearing beside the blackberry bramble. His black hair was as long as Eileen's, but loose about his shoulders, and he was wearing the oddest clothes! He had black boots on and grey trousers, but he wore some kind of very loose coat over it all that was fancier than Mum's best dressing gown and put Toby in mind of the Vicar's embroidered vestments. And his hat! It was something like the nightcap Mr. Moulton wore to bed, but made of heavy green velvet, with shining spangles sewn on!

The angry boy stood in the clearing, his face like a thundercloud. He put his hands on his hips and looked around the clearing, scowling. "Eileen, I'll not play games! Come out here! Bert an' I've the train to catch, an' no time for your foolishness!" He reached into a pocket of his strange coat and pulled out a short length of dowelling, polished like one of the spindles on Mrs. Moulton's dining room chairs. Holding it like an electric torch, he moved it about, pointing it at bushes and trees.

Toby suppressed a giggle. Eileen hushed him, but the older boy turned toward them immediately. "I heard that! Come out o'that right now, missy!"

Eileen made a stubborn face and crept backward, edging around the willow's trunk. Toby scooted back to follow her, keeping his eyes on the boy.

The boy's eyes narrowed. He called out a word in some foreign language and flicked the spindle at the willow tree.

There was a blinding flash of light, and the branches concealing them exploded!

Toby yelped in alarm and grabbed Eileen's arm to run, but she wouldn't budge. Instead, she stood up and stepped in front of him.

"Ye just stop that, Emmett! Leave us be!" she yelled at the angry youth.

"Ye come home this instant, Eileen Prince, or I'll hex ye into next week!"

"Ye and what six wizards, Emmett Prince?" she demanded, her fists balled at her sides.

Toby put his hand on her shoulder, and Emmett seemed to see him for the first time.

"So, this is what ye've been up to - playin' wi' Muggle trash? Dad'll have yer ears! As for t'Muggle, I'll sort 'im out right sharp!" Emmett gave a nasty smile and pointed the chair spindle at Toby.

Eileen threw up her hands and screamed, "EXPELLIARMUS!"

Emmett was knocked backward, arms and legs flailing, and his chair spindle flew through the air.

Eileen grabbed Toby's hand. "RUN!"

They pelted through the clearing and into the woods, taking paths Toby had come to know very well. He thought she was heading back to the grindlylow pond, but she skirted it and made straight for the path leading out of the woods, back to the grassy verge and the stone wall.

When they came to the edge of the woods, Eileen didn't even pause. She flew down the slope to the wall. "Quick, get over!"

Toby scrambled up and reached down to give her a hand up, but she just looked at him sadly.

"Good-bye, Toby," she said. "I'll miss ye."

"Come on!" he said "We can get back to Moulton's barn; 'e won't find us there!"

She shook her head. "I've got to go back. It'll only be worse for ye if he has to chase me." She paused, then stretched up and took his hand, pressing something hard and smooth into it.

"Good-bye!" She turned and ran back into the woods.

Toby heard Emmett's roar in the distance and swung his legs over the wall. He dropped down on the far side and ran like the wind, back to Moulton's farm.

* * *

He went back to the wall the next day, just as usual. He went to scale over, as he always did, when a wave of nausea nearly doubled him in two. He sat down on the grass and waited for it to pass, but as soon as he touched the wall again, the feeling returned.

He chewed a few blades of grass, spat, and tried the wall again. His stomach complained, but he managed to climb up despite it. He sat atop the wall to catch his breath and let his rebellious insides quiet down, then looked around in dismay.

The woods were gone!

There was an empty field, full of weeds and stones, with a couple of scraggly goats chewing on nettles, but not a trace of the grassy slope or the vast stretch of trees, or even the great oak he'd first marked when the cricket ball had gone over the wall, weeks ago!

Toby rubbed his eyes and stared, but it was all gone.

He tried to swing his legs over the wall, only to find himself stuck fast. He couldn't move an inch forward, though he found he could move back toward the river when he tried.

He climbed back down and walked along the wall, trying again and again to climb over, with the same results. He was frustrated, angry, and perilously near to tears by tea-time, and he finally trudged back to the Moulton's in defeat.

Mrs. Moulton was in the kitchen, rolling out piecrust. "Toby! Lad, ye're back early today! Is awt wrong?"

Toby sat down and shook his head glumly. How could he explain? She'd never believe him!

"Not been fightin' wi' t'village lads, have ye? No, I see - t'is yer heart that's troubled. What's her name, then, lad, eh?"

Toby looked up in surprise and found Mrs. Moulton smiling kindly at him. "Eileen," he said, hanging his head, "but she's not...not m'sweetheart or anything like that. She's just..." He gave up, not knowing how to describe what he felt.

"Eileen, is it? A pretty name," Mrs. Moulton said. "And what's the trouble with Eileen? Have ye quarrelled, then?"

"No...we were picking blackberries, and 'er brother came, and 'e was very angry," Toby said. "'E yelled a lot, and Eileen yelled back at 'im, and then...I guess 'e fell, and we ran, and when I went back this morning and looked over the wall, it's all gone!"

"Over the wall?" Mrs. Moulton pulled back in surprise. She looked out the window toward Allington for a moment, then dusted her hands on her apron and sat down beside Toby. "Lad, have ye been over the wall? Over in Allington Woods?"

"Yes! Eileen and I've been in the woods every day! It's brilliant! She knows where all the best berry patches are, and she can climb trees like a boy, and skip stones, and..." he trailed off, perplexed by the look of pity in Mrs. Moulton's eyes.

She cupped his chin in one large work-worn hand. "And now 'tis all gone, eh? Did the lass say farewell, at least?"

He nodded.

She patted his cheek. "I'm sorry, Toby, that I am. The Princes are a law unto themselves, and so they've always been, time out of mind. They keep apart and won't abide strangers in Allington. If yer little lass is Eileen Prince, 'tis best ye forget about her, if ye can."

Toby fingered the smooth skipping stone in his pocket and knew he'd never forget her, not as long as he lived.

* * *

1952

Eileen was furious. It was bad enough that she'd had screaming fights with her family over her insistence on taking her NEWTS - What's that to matter to a lass? Ye've yer OWLS; ye know yer housekeepin' charms. That's enough for any girl to marry well! - now that she had NEWTS in potions, herbology, transfiguration and arithmancy, and had several offers of apprenticeship from highly respectable witches and wizards, all her family were concerned about was that she marry, and marry "well"! They were increasingly impatient with her "dithering" over the available choices - it's been two years! Ye're not gettin' any younger! - and kept pressing her to pick out a wizard and marry him as soon as possible.

The men they were considering for her hand were appalling at best and horrifying at worst - not one of them a day under seventy years of age, or with a sickle less than a thousand Galleons a year. They were all Old Pureblood Families, as Grand-dad reminded her every single day, and most of them were so crusted in ancient traditions and questionable magic that it made her skin crawl just to be near them.

Today had been the absolute last straw. She had gone to tea in Diagon Alley with Pomona Sprout, an old school friend from Hufflepuff House, and afterwards she'd stopped into Pflaske and Drachm's for a pound of lacewing flies and a pint of pickled dragon's spleen. The younger of her brothers, Cuthbert, was apprenticed there, which normally would have been enough to make her give the shop a wide berth, but all the other apothecaries were completely out of dragon's spleen, and she had to have some for the cauldron of Befuddlement Draught she'd left on the hob to simmer.

Cuthbert had looked up when the bell chimed, as she stepped into the shop, and put on an unctuous smile. "Eileen! Come in, sister dear," he'd said. "This is Mr. Pflaske," he'd added, inclining his head to introduce the shop's proprietor.

"Enchanted to meet you, my dear young lady," Mr. Pflaske had said, bending low over her hand. He was surely at least 120 years old, with a long, scraggly white beard and bushy white eyebrows that nearly hid his tiny, beady black eyes. His ancient hand had felt like bones wrapped in parchment, and he'd nearly drooled as he'd kissed her hand, his thumb caressing her palm.

Eileen had been revolted, but took care not to show it. "How do you do, Mr. Pflaske?" She had withdrawn her hand as decorously as possible, resisting the urge to wipe it on her robe.

"Excellently well, now that I have met you, my dear," the old codger had leered.

Eileen had given a weak smile and edged closer to the door. "Cuthbert, I came in for some--"

"You're just as your brother described you, dear lady," Pflaske had said gleefully. "Cuthbert, send for my solicitor; I'll have the contract drawn up this very day!"

"Contract?" Eileen had shot a look at her brother, who was beaming at the old man.

Pflaske had come closer and drawn one desiccated finger along her cheek. "We've agreed it would be most appropriate to sign Cuthbert to a partnership, as he's shortly to be my brother-in-law--" His other hand had moved to clutch at her waist.

Eileen hadn't waited to hear the rest. She'd snatched the door open and couldn't remember much else, until she'd found herself miles away, her wand in hand, her hat missing, and her hair in complete disarray. There had been no sign of Pflaske or Cuthbert, which was as well for the both of them.

She was far too agitated to apparate home. Her apparition skills were erratic and highly dependent on her state of mind. She looked in a dark shop window, straightened her hair as best she could, and tried to get her bearings. She didn't recognise the area; she must have run or apparated clean away from Diagon Alley. There were a few shops open, but there was something odd about them.

She kept her hand on her wand, deep in the pocket of her robe, and started walking. She'd gone a block and a half when she realised what was so strange. There were very few people in sight, and not one of them was wearing robes or had a wand in evidence.

She was alone in Muggle London.

It actually gave her a bit of a thrill. Her family was so very traditional, and so contemptuous of anything Muggle, even though their lands were right up against Muggle farms and they did most of their shopping in the Muggle village. It felt quite daring to be walking down a Muggle street on her own!

She squared her shoulders and kept walking, trying to spot some familiar landmark that she could use to orient herself. She knew King's Cross Station; she'd been to St. Mungo's once, when Emmett had dragon-pox; and twice she'd been to visit some Goshawk cousins who lived in Islington. Surely she'd run across something familiar before long. And if she didn't...well, she'd probably be calm enough to try apparating again by then.

After walking through one grey street after another for what seemed like hours, she was almost prepared to admit she was lost, when she saw a clock tower in the distance that looked familiar. Surely it was King's Cross Station! She turned right at the next corner, trying to keep the tower in view, and kept heading in its general direction, as much as the streets would allow.

She thought she was making progress; the tower did seem to be getting closer, but it was taking her longer than she'd thought it would. This part of town seemed to have very few shops, though she noticed a few pubs and one small shop smelling strongly of fried fish. She rounded another corner and found herself in a cul de sac. Swearing under her breath, she checked the angle of the clock tower and prepared to retrace her steps, when she heard footsteps behind her.

"'Allo, luv," a low voice said.

"Lost our way t'choir practice, 'ave we?" another chimed in.

She turned around slowly, her hand on her wand. There were four-- no, five of them, and they looked at her the way her kneazle looked at a plump mouse. They had cut off her retreat and were grinning at her as they moved closer.

"I'm looking for the railway station," she said in a calm voice, trying to decide if she dared try apparating, or if she could hex them all fast enough to make a run for it."

"If it's a good ride y'need, we'll be 'appy to 'elp, won't we, lads?" one husky fellow said, leering at her.

"Oy, give us a kiss!" one of the others called.

"I dunno, Fred, she'd split you in two wi' that nose! What a conk!" another jibed.

Eileen's grip on her wand tightened, and she mentally ran down the list of her best, most debilitating hexes. It was a pity they were so spread out; it would be difficult to hex them all at the same time.

"Come on, then, pet--" the big fellow broke off as the roar of a motorbike filled the cul de sac.

It was a gleaming black and silver beast, Eileen noted as the vehicle itself came snarling down the road. Its rider wore boots, tight trousers, a black leather jacket, goggles and a leather cap. He gunned the engine, making her erstwhile admirers scatter, then drove through the spot where they'd been, spun the motorbike around in a tight turn and brought it to a stop just in front of her.

"What t'hell are you lot playin' at?" the rider demanded. "Leave 'er be, y'bastards."

"Ow! 'Oo knew she was your bird, eh?" the heavyset one protested.

"Oy, next time get 'er a collar!"

The motorbike rider scowled at him and flipped two fingers, then turned to look at Eileen over his shoulder. "’Op on," he said, jerking his head to indicate the back of the bike.

Eileen didn't stop to think. She tucked up her robe and swung one leg over the back of the bike, settling herself behind the rider. The gathered louts whistled and cat-called, but she ignored them, slipping one arm hesitantly around the waist of her rescuer. He patted her hand, gunned his engine again and they sped off. After all, Eileen told herself, it was far simpler to hex one man than half a dozen.

* * *

Riding a motorbike was much better than a broom, Eileen decided. Flying had always made her ill, but racing like this over twisting roads, leaning first this way, then that, and clinging to the warm, solid form of her rescuer as they swung around corners and dodged past lorries - it made her heart race with excitement. Her face hurt from grinning, but she'd never felt so alive before!

A few minutes' ride took them into a much nicer-looking part of the city. It was nearly dusk, but people were bustling about on the pavement, and the roads were full of motorbikes, automobiles and a few enormous lorries. Eileen kept a tight grip on the driver's waist, but he slowed to a much more decorous pace as they negotiated the heavier traffic. In no time at all, he pulled up in front of the building she recognised as the King's Cross Station. He cut the engine and stretched, then patted her hands where they clung to his belt.

"It's all right. 'Ere we are." He pushed his goggles up and turned to look at her.

For a moment, they stared at each other in puzzlement, then Eileen began to smile. She watched his face change as he recognised her. "I-- Eileen?"

His hair was darker than it had been, that one lovely summer so long ago, (and he'd done something rather odd to it, as it fluffed up in front and was slicked down to his head behind), but his eyes were still as blue and the smile slowly lighting up his face was the same one that had shone at her across the pond in Allington Wood. They'd both grown up, but she'd have known him by that smile at any age.

"Toby Snape," she said, "I never thought to see ye again!"

He flung one leg over the handlebars and got to his feet. "Blimey, it really is you! Eileen!" He caught her by the upper arms, swung her off of the motorbike and spun her around in a circle. "I can't believe it!" His grin threatened to split his face in two.

His joy was infectious. His hands slid down to clasp hers, and they spun about their common centre, both laughing madly. At last they slumped against the iron railing, breathless but still giddy.

"I just can't believe it," Toby said wonderingly. "D'you know, I tried to get back to see you all that year? I must 'ave hit me head that last day, because I never could find me way back afterwards. I used to think some wicked witch had locked you away, and I was going to storm the tower and rescue you." He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "Kids, eh?"

Eileen smiled. Wicked witch, indeed! "We'd a lovely time that year, didn't we? D'ye remember the...big frog?"

"The grindlebow?" Toby grinned again. "’E was a whopper!" He leaned back and shook his head, chuckling. "I'd never seen one that big before - or since, come to that! And that a girl ‘ad caught him! Amazing!" He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offered her one, which she declined, then lit his own and took a long drag. "Say...where were you ‘eaded? What time's your train?"

Eileen shrugged. "Home. I'm sure there's a train before long." She planned to apparate, of course, although her racing pulse suggested she was far from calm and focused enough at the moment.

"Do you 'ave to leave so soon? Are they expectin' you any particular time?"

"Well, no, I suppose not..."

"Then stay a bit, can't you? Come out with me!"

"Well--"

"Oh, say yes! 'Ave you seen the city? I'll show you all the sights!" His voice was wheedling, and she was suddenly certain he'd convinced any number of girls to go out with him before, but her answer meant a great deal to him.

"I'll have to be back in time for the last train," she said warningly.

"That's me girl!" he beamed. "Are y'all right in that duster? It don't look like it cuts the wind much," he said, indicating her robe.

"I'll be fine," she assured him.

He swung back onto the bike and patted the seat behind him. "'Op on, then!" He settled his goggles back in place.

Eileen climbed back on, settled herself snugly against his back and wrapped her arms around his waist.

The engine roared and they sped away.

* * *

It was definitely better than flying, Eileen decided, as they sailed along, rounding the curve past Primrose Hill. They passed darkened woods and gardens, fountains and monuments, then swung south and rode down along the Thames. Toby kept up a running commentary as they rode along, but Eileen wasn't really listening. She was lost in the thrum of the bike, the wind in her hair, the warmth of his body against hers, and the great city alive all around them.

They wound up at a small coffee bar where the sandwiches were tasty, the coffee was rich and fragrant, and the most fascinating machine in the corner lit up in all sorts of colours and played cheerful music about a mocking bird when Toby dropped a coin in its slot. And not a speck of magic in evidence!

Eileen was enchanted.

Toby talked as if he were afraid to take a breath. He rambled happily along about his motorbike, his job at a garage, his mates (who sounded a rather rough lot, Eileen thought privately), the flat he'd just rented, and his mum's incessant whinging. Eileen gathered that Toby's mum disapproved of the motorbike, the job, the friends and the flat.

When he finally seemed to feel he'd brought her up to date on everything that had happened to him in the past ten years, Toby took a long swallow of coffee and lit a cigarette. "I'm sorry," he said, "'ere I've been givin' you an earache and not given you a chance for a word in edgewise!" He waved at the waitress for more coffee. "What 'ave you been doin' with yourself all these years, Eileen?"

She waited until the coffee was poured, using the time to properly edit her reply. "I've been away at school, up in Scotland," she explained. "I left just last year."

"Scotland! I'm surprised your family would send you so far away," he said. "They kept to themselves, tucked away in Allington, so Mrs. Moulton always said."

Eileen shrugged. "It's an old family tradition. Mum and Dad are great ones for tradition," she added bitterly.

Toby nodded, blew a cloud of smoke and sighed. "Yeah, me mum's the same," he said glumly. "Da died at El Alamein, but 'e'd been a tailor before that, and 'is da before him. Mum's made up 'er mind I should do the same."

"And you'd hate it?"

"I like workin' on bikes. Wouldn't mind learnin' more about cars, or anything mechanical. I've good hands for it; I can strip down an engine and build 'er back up, make 'er purr like a kitten!" He grinned at her. "Don't think I'd manage that with a chalk and scissors!"

They both chuckled. Toby reached into his pocket and pulled out a smooth, flat stone. "D'you remember that? I've kept it with me ever since you put it into me 'and that day." He held it out for inspection. "It's been a lucky piece for me," he said. "I think it's what sent me to meet you today."

Eileen ran a finger over it - one of her old skipping stones! She smiled at him, touched at the sentiment. "I'm glad it brought you luck," she told him, "and very glad you happened by today, whether the stone brought you or not."

Toby reddened a bit and shrugged. "I used to spend a bit of time with those blokes," he admitted. "They're a rough lot."

Eileen tilted her head at him, inviting an explanation. "They were well afraid of you, it seemed t'me," she said.

Toby shrugged, clearly embarrassed. "I 'ad to give a few of them a belt up the 'ead, some time back. They steer clear of me now. I only stopped by to pick up a new lamp for the bike. I'd just replaced it when I heard that lot up to their old tricks."

Eileen looked out the cafe window and noticed the street had gone quiet and there was not a soul in sight. She jumped up. "I've got to get back!"

"What--oh, damn!" Toby swore, checking his watch. "When's the last train?"

"If we go now, I can just catch it," Eileen assured him, hurrying to the door.

* * *

Toby must have had a touch of magic about him somehow, Eileen thought. He raced the motorbike through London like a black and silver Granian with invisible wings, never pausing or slowing. Eileen felt her heart pounding and wished the ride would never end, but all too soon they were back in front of King's Cross Station.

"I'll come in with you," Toby offered, but Eileen shook her head.

"No need. It's just a step, and I've no bag," she said.

"Oh." He seemed disappointed, and fidgeted with like a small boy for a moment. "Eileen, I..."

"It's been grand, Toby," she told him, "It was wonderful seeing you again."

"Can we...can I see you again?" he asked. He caught her hand and pressed a book of matches into it. "If you're coming back to Town soon, maybe...I'd like to take you out, proper next time."

Eileen felt a warm, rather molten sensation somewhere in her lower regions. "I'd like that," she told him. She hesitated, then leaned in and kissed him very lightly on the cheek. "Thank you for rescuing me," she said. She turned and ran for the station before he had a chance to react.

A few minutes later, she was home. Her cauldron of Befuddlement Draught (sans pickled dragon's spleen, of course) was quite ruined, but Eileen hummed cheerfully as she banished the mess and scoured out the cauldron.

...welcome as the flowers on Mockingbird Hill!

* * *

Cuthbert had either the grace to be ashamed of himself or the intelligence to know that she'd sever his ears if he dared to mention the episode at Pflaske's, as he left her strictly alone.

Her parents must have decided to take a rest from husband-hunting on her behalf, as they let her well alone, too, not even mentioning her very late return that evening.

Eileen kept turning the matchbook over and over in her hands and wondering what she was going to do about it, if anything. She couldn't very well floo or owl him, and she really had no idea how to go about reaching him, other than by returning to London and looking him up at this...Mercer's Motor Repair and Garage. There was a telephone number and an address, and she couldn't make use of either one.

Or could she?

Surely if Muggles could use a telephone, she could as well!

She offered to pick up the week's shopping in the village and told her mother she'd be back before supper. Despite her mother's distaste for Muggles in general, she was very fond of chocolate digestives and admitted the tea available in Piddleby suited her better than anything available by owl-post from Wizarding suppliers.

Eileen approached the counter with her purchases rather diffidently, but Mrs. Wilkes simply smiled at her and rang them up. Eileen pulled out the matchbook and looked at the telephone box outside. It surely couldn't be difficult! She bit her lip and looked at the Post Mistress. "I wondered if ye might help me, Mrs. Wilkes? I'd like t'reach someone by this number, but I...I'm not sure how," she said.

Mrs. Wilkes looked at the matchbook and smiled, "A sweetheart in London, Eileen? How ever did you manage it?"

Eileen's eyes widened and she gripped her wand in her jumper pocket. "I--"

"Met him while you were at school, did you? I hope he's a nice boy," Mrs. Wilkes continued. "Now, you come with me, dear; it's no trouble at all."

And it truly wasn't. By some form of Muggle magic, a few coins and numbers made the machine ring and connect her to another person miles and miles away, just like the Floo, although she couldn't see who she was talking to, which was a bit odd.

Toby was surprised and delighted that she had rung him. He was even more delighted that she was going to be in Town again in a few days and insisted he would meet her at the station.

Eileen walked back home with her purchases and the little matchbook tucked into her blouse like an amulet. When her mother inevitably returned to the subject of her lamentable state of continuing spinsterhood, she simply smiled.

* * *

Ordinarily, as long as she was clean and her clothing was serviceable, Eileen did not pay much attention to her appearance. She had known since childhood that she was unattractive. She was too tall, scrawny and pale, and she had the Prince nose - an enormous proboscis that looked imposing or even distinguished on the Prince men, but made her look like she could split wood with her face. She had never minded; she'd had little interest and less time for boys in school, and very little opportunity to meet any outside of Hogwarts. But Toby...Toby was different. She gave a pleasurable shiver at the memory of their mad ride around London.

She had very little knowledge of fashion, and even less of Muggle fashion, but she had trunks full of old clothes in the attic and no small skill at Transfiguration, and she had a Muggle newspaper from Mrs. Wilkes' shop. Some of its strange, unmoving pictures showed young men dressed in leather like Toby, and others in long drape coats, narrow trousers and string ties, not terribly dissimilar from some Wizards who preferred a well-tailored coat and trousers to voluminous robes, at least for their daily working attire. There were girls in some of the pictures as well, dressed in similar long coats, with trousers or narrow skirts that looked dreadfully impractical for almost anything but standing still!

When she apparated to the station on Friday, she wore a long, dark blue coat with a darker blue velvet collar, transfigured from a frock coat that had belonged to her great-grandfather, over a white school blouse with her Aunt Lucinda's cameo at her throat, and a brocade waistcoat in silver and blue that her father had worn as a boy. Transfiguring Great-Grandfather's trousers to fit her had been a minor thing, once she'd made up her mind. They felt a bit odd, but somehow freeing, after years of managing school robes and uniforms.

Toby was waiting for her at the curb, lounging against a large, pale blue automobile. Eileen breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him, dressed just as the boys in the pictures had been. His face lit up when he saw her, and her heart jumped at the sight.


"You're gorgeous," he told her, without a hint of mockery. "Come on, 'op in!" He opened the door with a flourish.

"What happened to your motorbike?" she asked.

"It's at the garage; I borrowed this for the weekend," he admitted, with a slight flush that she found endearing.

She ran a hand admiringly over the smooth leather seat before seating herself. "It's very grand," she told him as he slid in behind the steering wheel, "but I liked the motorbike."

He grinned broadly. "Me, too," he said, "but it's a bit much in a full drape!"

* * *

The restaurant he took her to was small and filled with young couples. Some of the boys seemed to know Toby, as they nodded and grinned when they passed by.

Toby couldn't take his eyes off her and seemed to hang on her every word. He hadn't as much to say this time; he let her talk and only asked a question or two to get her started again, any time she ran out of words. She had to edit as she went, of course; he was a Muggle, after all, but the more she talked to him, the easier it became, and she found herself wanting to tell him everything and risk having to obliviate him afterwards.

She'd just finished telling him about the odious Mr. Pflaske and his horrid leer, and Toby was outraged. "Your brother wants 'is face bashed," he growled. "Is that the same one who ran me off, when we were kids?"

"No, that was Emmett; he's the eldest. This was Cuthbert. He's ambitious, but not too bright," she said.

"'E still wants 'is arse booted," Toby said wrathfully. "I'll be happy to oblige 'im, too!"

Eileen just chuckled. "That's sweet," she told him, "but you needn't. I can sort Cuthbert."

Toby grinned. "I'll just bet you could," he said. "You sorted Emmett proper, that time - 'e went arse over tea-kettle! I never could figure how you'd managed, but it was marvelous!"

They both laughed at the memory, but they were verging into dangerous territory, so Eileen shifted her focus to her strawberry malted.

When they'd finished the meal, Toby said he'd like to take her to the pally and show her off properly. Eileen had no notion what he was on about, but she wasn't ready for the evening to end, so she readily agreed.

* * *

The "pally" turned out to be a large building with a sign in coloured lights reading "Palais de Danse," and a great many automobiles and motorbikes parked outside. Light and music spilled from its doors and windows.

Toby offered his arm and escorted her inside, strutting like a gamecock. Eileen felt every eye upon her, but no one seemed inclined to point and laugh or challenge her presence. A few lads whistled, but only grinned when she turned to look at them. Toby clearly knew many of them, and quite a few of the girls as well. The number of dismayed expressions on girls' faces as she and Toby paraded past them told Eileen she'd been right before; Toby had not lacked for feminine company.

She'd never danced much, before. The few times she'd been asked to dance at a Hogwarts Ball had not prepared her for dancing like this, with Toby's hand in the small of her back holding her close enough to feel his heartbeat, and his other hand holding hers, as he led her around the floor.

There were other dances - loud, lively music that had the girls and boys jumping and spinning and gyrating in patterns Eileen could hardly track, let alone follow. She shook her head and pulled away from Toby, who just laughed and kept whirling about with the rest.

When the music changed again, though, he came back and pulled her out on the dance floor again, holding her tight as the singer crooned about someone who was unforgettable. Toby whispered in her ear, "That's you, Eileen, unforgettable."

They danced until they had to be chivvied from the hall so the band could pack up their instruments and go home. Eileen was humming as they strolled back to the gleaming car, and she rested her head on Toby's shoulder as they drove away. He slipped his arm around her shoulder and the world was perfect.

They drove for miles and miles, with the radio softly playing, until Toby turned off onto a quiet lane and took them through a park and up a small hill. He brought the car to rest where they could look out over the city lights and see the moon and stars above.

Eileen's pulse was racing. Toby's hand on her shoulder pulled her in closer, and he kissed the top of her head. His thumb was making little circles on her upper arm. "I didn't know how much I missed you," he said. "I used to wish I could write to you, if nothing else, and I always wondered where you were and what you were doing." He leaned his head against hers. "Mum was angry with me because I'd yammer on and on about you - she was sure I'd just imagined you. She wanted to 'ave the 'ead docs look at me, see if I was a nutter, y'know." He sighed. "Sometimes I was 'alf convinced meself. But 'ere you are, and you're real."

Eileen turned in his arms and reached up to cup his cheek in her hand. "I'm real," she assured him, and pulled him down for a kiss. She'd kissed Hubert Hepplethwaite after the 6th Year gobstones tournament, after all, and she liked Toby much more than she'd liked Hubert.

She'd only meant it to be a little kiss, but it had a mind of its own. Toby's lips on hers sent a thrill through her body, tingles racing down her spine and back up again. Her vision blurred, so she closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of his lips, the warm strength of his lean arm holding her close and the wonderful, wonderful scent of him - leather and peppermint and something that reminded her strongly of brewing Energizing Elixir.

She combed her fingers through his carefully arranged hair and trailed them down the back of his neck, delighting in his shiver. He kissed along her jaw and buried his face in her neck, giving her little biting kisses that made her gasp.

Her hand was on his chest, and she could feel his heart racing as fast as her own. She nuzzled his jaw and murmured, "We'd have more room in back."

He startled and she opened her eyes to see him staring at her, his eyes wide and astonished. "Eileen--"

She put a finger over his lips and pulled his tie loose, then kissed him at the base of his throat. "Yes," she told him.

He swallowed hard.

She had no idea where these notions were coming from, but she hadn't any better ones. She crawled over the seat back and settled herself comfortably. Toby followed her in an instant, and after they'd managed to shrug out of their coats, she was in his arms again - both arms! She lay back and drew up one knee, pulling him down with her, wanting to feel the solid warmth of his body against hers. His lips found hers again, and the tingles became white fire racing through her veins.

His hands ran over her, gently cupping and caressing her small breasts and stroking her hips and back. She wrapped her free leg around his and clung to him, kissing him with passion she had never known she'd possessed.

He groaned and pressed hard against her; she took advantage of the moment and ran her tongue over his open lips, flicking the tip of it against his. Those French novels Eloise Goyle had lent her must have been right, because the act made Toby's eyes roll back in his head for a moment, then he fastened his mouth on hers and sucked her tongue into his mouth. He kissed her until they were both breathless, then his fingers were on the buttons of her blouse, fumbling to undo them. She helped him get them open and her chemise pushed aside, then shivered at the feel of his lips on her throat, her collarbone, her breasts. He looked up at her for a moment, eyes dark with passion, then bent his head and sucked one nipple into his mouth, running his tongue over it and around it again and again. Eileen gasped and twined her fingers in his hair, as he moved from one breast to the other and back again, until her nipples were aching with arousal.

Through the back window, she saw a light approaching. She pressed Toby's head back to her left breast with one hand, while she felt for her wand with the other. With a quick flick and silent spell, she set the repelling and warding charms she should have done earlier. She was momentarily annoyed with herself, but then Toby's hand was on her arse, cupping her closer to him as he worried her nipples, and she had far more important things to consider.

He moved back up to kiss her mouth again, sliding his tongue in and alongside her own. He rocked his hips against hers, and she arched up into him like a kneazle in heat, her fingers digging into his back. His breath was coming in puffs and gasps as he moved faster and pressed harder against her. She heard herself moaning and calling his name and wondered briefly just what she was doing, before she abandoned any pretence of thought and let her body do as it pleased.

He licked and nipped at her neck, then bit down and began to suck at the tender flesh where her throat and shoulder met. A wave of heat rose from where his lips touched, crested and crashed over her, just as he gave a deep groan, stilled briefly and then shuddered against her.

They slumped together, sweat cooling on their skin in the chill night air. Eileen stroked his mussed hair back from his brow and held him close, suffused with a warm and tender feeling. He opened one eye and blinked at her, then smiled - a happy, contented smile with a touch of sleepiness about it.

They might have fallen asleep together like that, but suddenly Toby opened both eyes and jerked upright. "Bloody 'ell! The train! The last train's gone!"

It took Eileen a moment to realise what he was on about. "Oh, it's all right," she said, improvising, "I've an old school friend in Town; she said I could stay the night, if I liked."

Toby relaxed. "Oh! Well, that's all right, then - in fact, it's brilliant! I'll take you to your friend's now, and come pick you up tomorrow. We'll have the 'ole day together!"

Eileen smiled and tried to think of any London address she ever knew that might possibly pass as a schoolmate's residence. She finally told him to take her down Charing Cross Road, where her friend had a flat above a book shop. She could either apparate home from inside the Leaky Cauldron, or if she decided to escalate her rebellion, she could take a room and stay the night. The thought was appealing; as was spending a whole day with Toby.

* * *

In the end, she did both. She took a room at the Leaky Cauldron and set a waking charm for five in the morning. When she woke, she apparated home, gathered a change of clothes, quickly made tea and put a cauldron of porridge on the hob so it would be ready when her mother rose at six. She washed a cup and saucer and set them to drain by the kitchen sink, then apparated back to the Leaky. She slipped back into bed, thinking pleasurable thoughts about Toby's lips and hands, and was fast asleep again in moments.

She spent a wonderful day with Toby, although she hated having to dodge his questions about her friend from school or anything else that touched too closely on things she could not tell him. She hated lying to him, and the half-truths and evasions were just as bad.

Still, Toby didn't seem to mind. They went to a fun fair and he bought her a great mass of candy floss and a sack of hot peanuts. They rode the dodge 'ems, and Toby won her an enormous toy bear of purple plush by throwing a ball at stacked milk bottles. They both giggled over the win, remembering the cricket ball and the bowtruckle, and Eileen dubbed the bear Ambrosius.

They had dinner at a fish and chips shop, went for a ride through the park, and stopped off at Eileen's supposed friend's flat for her to change clothes. She had transfigured another outfit that morning and was pleased to see Toby's eyes light up when she came back out to meet him in her burgundy frock coat and hobble skirt. It was a very impractical garment, but the look on his face was worth the inconvenience.

They had supper at a cafe near the Palais, went dancing afterwards, and wound up in the back seat again, this time with Eileen's skirt hiked up around her hips and Toby's hand touching her in ways that made her see stars. She got his collar open and gave him a love bite to match the one he'd put on her neck the previous night. As she bit and sucked hard on his throat, tasting the rich, salty flavour of him, she slid her hand down to cup the hard, hot bulk of him through his trousers. Toby gasped, then groaned as she gently rubbed him.

She paused, then pulled back and looked at him. "Let's go back to yours," she said.

He blinked and took a moment to focus on her. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. And oddly enough, she found she was sure. She wanted him. Whether she wanted to keep him, she still wasn't quite sure, but she knew she wasn't about to wait for some doddering old fool her family had chosen, or some mythical perfect lover who would sweep her away on his Abraxan to a castle, where they would live happily ever after. She wanted him, Tobias Snape, a Muggle boy who worked in a garage and rode a motorbike, who had no magic at all, but who had been a brave and stalwart friend and swain for over ten years, even if they'd spent most of those years apart.

"I'm sure," she said softly. "I want to do this."

* * *

She was tingling with anticipation all the way back to Toby's flat. He had a small bachelor flat above a fish and chips shop in Wapping. There were bombed-out buildings at the far end of the street, and Eileen could smell the Thames and hear dockland sounds from the doorstep, but the flat was tidy and clean. Toby turned on the wireless and a woman's lilting voice sang of being bewitched, bothered and bewildered, as they settled onto a squashy old sofa and into each other's arms.

The music and the moment were perfect; if Eileen hadn't known better, she might have thought she was under a spell. If Toby had been bespelled, she hadn't cast it with her wand, but he was captivated nonetheless. His kisses set her aflame as his lips moved from hers, along her jaw, and fastened on her neck. Her skirt was up around her hips, and she arched her back as Toby's hand stroked up her inner thighs and caressed her quim through her soft linen drawers. She gasped as he rubbed harder, then she reached down with one shaking hand and yanked them aside herself, desperate to feel his hands on her hot, wanting flesh.

His mouth was on hers again, his tongue sliding home and flicking beneath hers as his fingers slid lightly over her pubic mound and ran teasingly along her moist slit. He pressed closer, kissing her hard, and slipped a finger inside her. Eileen keened at the intimate touch and dug her nails into his back, wrapping her legs around his and pressing into his caress.

Toby pulled back and looked at her, his eyes dark and wide with arousal. His hand stroked her gently again, then he lifted it to his mouth and sucked his wet finger clean. Eileen raised herself on her elbows as he got to his feet, then found herself lifted with strength she never would have credited him and deposited on the bed. She pulled off her crumpled chemise and rid herself of her skirt and those inconvenient drawers as he undid his braces and got out of his trousers and pants. She scooted back on the bed and waited for him.

He paused by the bed, staring at her in wonder, and she drank in the naked sight of him. She had seen boys without their clothes before - there were always a few who couldn't resist wild swimming in the lake every year - but never a man who had taken off his clothes for her alone.

He was thin and pale, but his arms and legs were well-muscled, though lean. He had a dusting of curly brown hair on his chest and leading down his belly to his groin, where it formed a springy nest around the base of his heavy red prick. She stared at it in fascination, as it stood erect, bobbing in time with his breathing. He swallowed hard and it stood higher, a bead of clear fluid welling from its tip.

She smiled and eased her thighs, holding out her arms to him. He came to her almost shyly, touching her with gentle hands before stretching out against her. Bare skin to bare skin was the most magical thing she had ever known. She wanted to touch him, taste him, feel him with every bit of her body. Her blood was rushing through her veins and throbbing in her groin.

His hands ran over her breasts and down her belly to her quim. His fingers parted her lips and slipped inside; she was dripping for him and quite mortified to hear herself whimpering for more of his touch.

"Eileen," he breathed, kissing her neck and breasts. He removed his fingers and shifted until she felt the blunt head of his prick brushing against her wet curls.

"Yes, Toby - yes, love, do it!"

He pressed in slowly and stopped when he felt the resistance of her maidenhead. She bit down on his shoulder and thrust her hips against him, piercing herself on his prick. It hurt, but she'd expected that. He jerked in surprise at her action, and looked at her in alarm. She wrapped her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer, arching against him and urging him to move. His mouth fastened on hers and he started thrusting gently, then faster and harder as she wrapped her legs around his hips and set the pace to her liking. Her pulse was pounding, and her whole body thrummed in time to their coupling.

Toby murmured her name over and over as he thrust into her. Eileen gasped and moaned and bit back louder cries, as she felt a wave of power rising from deep within her, surrounding them, building higher and higher, demanding release. She was shaking, trying to feel both passion and power at once and able to control neither of them. As Toby let out a hoarse shout and began to shudder and spend within her, the wave broke and she was wracked with spasms of pleasure. She threw back her head and cried out as she surrendered to them, losing herself in sensation.

* * *

She woke sometime much later, feeling a chill on her bare back. Toby was cuddled close against her, fast asleep. She smiled and twitched the blankets over both of them. The flesh between her legs was wet, swollen and tender, and she felt better than she could ever remember. She reached out and summoned her wand, then cast a spell to draw the blood from the linens and into one of the vials in her transfigured handbag. The blood from the breaching of a witch's maidenhead was potently magical; she would waste none of it. She draped one leg over Toby's and wrapped an arm around his waist before drifting off to sleep again.

When she woke again, she was alone in bed, but she smelled egg and chips frying and strong tea wafting through the air. She stretched and yawned pleasurably, then slipped out of bed. She wound her hair into a rope and coiled it atop her head, securing it with her wand. Wrapping the blanket around herself, she padded barefoot across the flat and found Toby standing in front of the stove, frying eggs.

He smiled at her. "Tea's waitin'," he said, waving a spatula at the table. "Eggs are almost ready, too," he added. Eileen smiled and sat at the table, pouring out tea for both of them. Toby set a steaming plate of egg and chips in front of her and sat across from her, beaming.

They were a little shy with each other over the food, smiling and blushing, but not saying much as they ate. Eileen poured more tea as Toby put the empty dishes in the sink. He drank another cup quickly and kissed her forehead as he got up.

"I've got to take the car back to the garage," he explained. "I'll be back with the bike before you know it," he added. "The loo's just through the door," he said, pointing behind her. He bent and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "Back in a jiff," he promised as he left.

Eileen sipped her tea and sat thinking pleasant thoughts. Her family was going to go absolutely mad about this, and she found herself rather looking forward to their hysteria. She was of age and a full witch in her own right; she could and would make her own choices and live her own life. Well pleased with herself, she put the cups in the sink and padded off to the loo.

The deep claw-footed bathtub looked very appealing. Eileen drew a hot bath and slipped in for a soak. She slid down until her head was submerged, then surfaced and leaned back, lounging in the hot water. Her fingers had gone all wrinkly when she heard a noise in the outer room. Toby must be back. She rose and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around herself. She was just about to open the door when she stopped to listen.

"Tobias! Tobias, where are you, luv?"

It was a woman's voice, and she sounded both concerned and annoyed. Eileen's eyes narrowed. She hadn't asked Toby about his girlfriends and he hadn't mentioned anything about them. If Toby had a girlfriend he'd thought enough of to give her a key to his flat...well, she'd soon see about that!

She drew her wand from her coiled hair, freeing it to hang loose, dripping down her back. She opened the door and stepped out to confront her rival.

A middle-aged Muggle woman was staring aghast at the rumpled bed and Eileen's discarded clothing, her mouth open and one hand pressed to her heart.

Eileen shut the door behind her, hard enough to draw the woman's attention.

She spun around. "Tobias Aloysius Snape! What 'ave you to say for yours--" She stopped in mid-screed, staring at Eileen in horror. "'Oo are you? What are you doin' 'ere?" she demanded.

"What are you doing here?" Eileen returned, standing as tall and imposing as she could manage in her bare feet and a wet towel.

"Don't you give me your sauce, you cheap tart! You get your things and get out, right sharp! And you leave my son alone!" She was bright red with fury, clenching and unclenching her fists. "If ever I catch sight of you again, I'll--" she raised her hand and stepped forward, but Eileen was ready for her.

"Petrificus Totalis!" she cried, flicking her wand at the irate woman, who froze, hand uplifted and an ugly grimace on her face. Eileen let out a small sigh of relief. She edged past the frozen woman and retrieved her clothes, casting freshening and de-wrinkling charms on them before putting them back on.

She sat on the edge of the bed and considered. She could leave the woman as she was, but that would mean explaining things to Toby. She could release the spell and obliviate or confund her, but she'd have to be quick and careful to get away without being seen, leaving no trace behind. That was a good idea, but she'd have to leave a note for Toby, and suppose the woman found and read it - or destroyed it? Perhaps she could take her downstairs as she was and then release and confund her. With a bit of luck and a touch of suggestion, Eileen could implant the notion that she'd already visited and found the flat empty. That might be the best idea of all.

She studied the frozen woman. Was she really Toby's mum? She didn't look much like him, but perhaps he took after his dad. Toby hadn't said much about her, other than some mild complaints, and he probably wouldn't be understanding if Eileen simply transfigured her into a brick and dropped her out of the window.

She decided on moving and then confunding Mrs. Snape. At least it would postpone any more confrontation for a while. She levitated the rigid form and carefully navigated her to the door. Keeping her eyes on her floating antagonist, she reached out and turned the doorknob, only to have it pulled out of her hand, as Toby opened the door from outside.

"Eileen, I'm-- Eileen? MUM?" Toby came to a halt, eyes wide as he took in the sight of his mother immobilised and floating, a foot above the floor, with Eileen pointing her wand at her..

Eileen bit her lip and lowered the woman to the floor, then pointed her wand at Toby. "Oblivi--"

"Wait!" Toby cried, throwing up his hands, "Eileen, don't!"

She let the spell die on her lips, cursing herself for a fool, but she could not withstand the pleading in his eyes. She lowered her wand.

Toby slowly put his hands down. "Eileen, luv, it's all right," he said. When she said nothing, he turned his attention to his petrified mum. He looked closely at her and shook his head. "Oh, Mum, what did you do this time?" He turned back to Eileen with a rueful smile. "She's always puttin' 'er nose in where it's not wanted," he said. "What'd she say - no, on second thought, don't tell me! Er...you can put 'er back, can't you?"

Wide-eyed, Eileen nodded slowly. "How long have ye known?" she asked him.

Toby took her hands and led her to the couch. "I just now realised...or maybe I've known since we were kids. Mum looks a bit like Emmett did back then, and you've got a little bit of dowelling, just like 'e had...I suppose the penny just dropped. I always knew you were a special one, Eileen, and everything we did together seemed magic. It's really...real, then, magic?"

"Aye," Eileen said, "it's real. We don't - that is, magic folk aren't supposed to let Mug- ah, non-magic folk know about it."

He put his arms around her and kissed her softly. "I won't tell a soul," he promised. "Now, what'll we do about Mum?"

* * *

Eileen apparated home a while later. After discussing the options with Toby, she had agreed to release his mum with her memories intact. She refused to stay and be "properly" introduced, and Toby admitted it might better for him to talk to his mum about them first. She levitated Mrs. Snape to the couch, cast the reversal spell and apparated before it had fully taken effect.

The familiar walls of her bedroom came into being around her as she arrived home. She pulled an old carpet bag from the wardrobe and spent the next half hour shrinking and packing her belongings into it. When she was done, the room was empty but for the wardrobe itself and her heavy oak bed. She made sure she had all the offers of apprenticeship tucked securely in the bag. She'd be able to take her pick, and the least of them would pay her a decent living. She steeled herself and went downstairs.

Her family were sitting in a disapproving row in the drawing room, glaring at her.

"Where have you been?" her mother demanded. "We've not seen hide nor hair of ye, and yer bed's not even been slept in! Where have you been, ye shameless girl?"

"London," she replied briefly. "I took a room at t'Leaky Cauldron."

"London!" Her father was outraged. "Ye'd no business there! Not without lettin' us know where ye were, missy!"

Her brothers nodded solemnly, and her mother folded her arms, waiting for her response.

"Da, I've left school and I'm of age. A grown witch's business is her own," she said calmly.

His normally pale face was flushing with anger. "Ye live under our roof and ye'll be obedient to our word!" he bellowed. "Now, what were ye doin' in London?"

"I've been to see a friend."

"Ye've no friends in London that ye couldn't have met here," Cuthbert challenged her. "Mr. Pflaske came to call, and ye were nowhere to be found!"

"Bert's like to lose his position over yer foolishness," Emmett agreed. "He's had to apologise for ye and tell Mr. Pflaske ye were ill!"

"I never asked to be introduced to Bert's employer, let alone to marry him," Eileen shot back, suddenly furious.

"Now, Eileen," her mother said in a soothing tone, "there's no need to take on so! Bert was just a bit over-eager is all. He didn't know there were other plans being laid."

"What plans?"

"Yer father and I have been discussing matters with the Eltheringtons of Grindalythe, and Master Hugone Eltherington has agreed to the match. He's a well-respected alchemist with twelve hundred Galleons a year," her mother said importantly. "His fifth wife died childless, only ten years back, and he's been seeking a strong young witch of good family ever since."

"His fifth wife?" Eileen asked incredulously, "What became of the first four?"

"The first died in childbed," her mother explained. "The second took a terrible fall down the cellar stairs; he tended her with his own hands, but she was a complete invalid for the rest of her days. Let me see," she paused, trying to remember. "Ah, the third - well, she hardly counts; they were married but six years, when she ran away with a blacksmith! They were found a month later, in a burned-out smithy near Tiverton - a botched transmutation spell, it was." Mum shook her head and clucked disapprovingly. "Now, the fourth...oh, aye, the fourth was a young Cornish witch. She went quite mad after the first twelve years and tried to kill him, but mercifully only succeeded in transfiguring herself into a mouse. Sadly, Master Eltherington's mother's pet kneazle caught her by the kitchen door, too quickly for anyone to save her."

Eileen stared at her mother. "Master Eltherington seems a bit hard on wives," she observed.

"He's had bad luck, poor man," Mum said, "but he's only eighty-six and ready to move on, despite his heartbreak."

Eileen felt a cold sense of purpose filling her and strengthening her resolve. "A mere lad," she observed calmly. "Well, no doubt he'll mend his broken heart in good time, but he'll have to manage it without me," she said.

"Now, Eileen," her father said sternly, "yer mother has it all arranged. The Eltheringtons have agreed; we've set the date; and ye'll do as ye're told and be grateful! Ye're a scrawny bit, but ye're a Prince, ye're healthy and strong and ye've even taken yer NEWTS, for what good they may do ye! Ye're nearly twenty; it's past time ye were wedded!"

Eileen gripped her wand tightly. "I hardly think Master Eltherington will be pleased to wed a witch who gave her maidenhead to a Muggle!" she spat. She would have laughed at the shock and horror on their faces, if she hadn't been so angry. "He'll have to find some other poor lass to torment and murder," she said. "I've found my own man, and I'll make my own life with him!" She clung to the cold, calm at her centre, visualised the taproom of the Leaky Cauldron, focused her will and apparated.

* * *

1955

Eileen tucked her parcels under one arm and opened the door to the Daily Prophet's office in Sensayshun Alley. It had been a good day, capping a good week, and she was smiling as she asked the young witch at the desk for the Family History Desk.

The past three years had been full of changes and adjustments, and there were more to come, but Eileen was happy, happier than she'd ever really expected to be. After leaving her family home, she'd apprenticed as a potions brewer and set herself up in a bedsit just outside Diagon Alley, on the Muggle side. She and Toby worked at their respective jobs during the week and had their weekends together. Now she was a fully-qualified Journeyman Brewer, and she'd be able to test for her Mastery in just a few more years. Toby had taken a better job, repairing machinery at a factory down by the docks, and he'd just been promoted to assistant engineer.

She supposed some girls would have been outraged at their arrangement; her family would undoubtedly be scandalised, if she had bothered to let them know, and Toby's mother wailed and shouted at him at least twice a month over it, but it worked well enough for her and Toby.

She was patient, and Toby was hard-working; it had taken a bit of time, but when they'd gone to dinner last night and he'd told her about the promotion, she'd known his next question and her answer without even thinking about it.

The wizard at the Family History desk was buried behind untidy stacks of parchment, but he looked up and gave her a grin. "Daily Prophet, Hatches, Matches and Dispatches Desk! How may I be of service, madam?"

She took a slip of parchment from her pocket, read it once more and handed it to him. "I'd like to place this announcement in the Prophet," she told him.

He read it briefly and nodded, then counted the words. "Marriage Announced: Eileen Prince and Tobias Snape, a Muggle." He looked up. "Bit brief, innit? No family names, date, location? No? Well, as you please, then! Seven Sickles, please."

She counted out the coins and took the receipt he wrote out for her. "When will it appear?"

"Monday's morning edition, unless you'd like special placement? Only sixteen Sickles more for the Sunday Society column."

"No, thank you. Monday morning will be fine. Good day." She nodded to him and left.

Tobias would be waiting for her, outside her flat, and she had a nice pair of chops with greens and potatoes to fix for a little celebratory supper, and a pie ready to bake for afters. She twisted the thin gold band on her finger to watch the little stone wink at her, starting up a warm tingle in her belly. She smiled, remembering Tobias kissing her and slipping it on her finger last night. It had been late, and they'd been in a nice cafe, so they'd not had time for a proper celebration after, as they'd both had to be up early this morning.

She suddenly wanted his arms around her and his body pressed tight against hers...

Cooking be damned. They could always open some tinned soup later on.

She apparated home to meet her man and celebrate properly.

* * *

End

* * *

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