Scarlet Woman

Mrs. Weasley set the brandies on the table. She had put on a fluffy cream dressing gown, which flew behind her when she walked. She looked warm and cosy, and I automatically wanted her to hold me like a mother would.

"Ron doesn't talk about you much," she observed in a gentle Devonshire slur. I gave her the same apologetic smile I had given Ginny earlier.

"There's not much to talk about," I said, taking a cautious sip of the brandy. It was potent stuff; stinging the back of my throat and I was trying with all my might not to spit it out.

"You have a lovely house, Mrs. Weasley," I offered, setting the brandy back on the table.

She smiled, stroking her armchair lovingly. Then her eyes darted to the newspaper, which lay open upon the table. I saw a change in her face; her eyes seemed to be burning.

"Would you like a drink, Neville?"

I blinked.

"Er, Mrs. Weasley, I've already got a drink."

She looked quite confused for a second. Then she laughed girlishly.

"Why, so you have. I may be losing it in my old age."

"You're not old, Mrs. Weasley." I actually had no idea how old she was. The lines on her face didn't give it away; they were kind lines, creases from years of laughter. She cocked her head to one side, and her lips parted into a curious smile.

"Do you really think so?" She looked into my eyes. Her eyes drew me to her. They were so young. At times they looked wide and vulnerable, but now they were sparkling mischievously. She padded across to me in her husband's corduroy slippers and sat on the arm of my chair. The heat coming from her was intense.

"Would you say I was an...", she paused for breath. I watched her impressive chest rise and fall. "... attractive woman?"

No, I wouldn't. This was the godly Ginny's mother. Her mother! She could be three times my age!

I made a kind of choking noise in my throat. My cheeks were burning, and I knew that I had gone beyond traffic-light-red.

Mrs. Weasley nodded slowly, and began to get up. I breathed an internal sigh of relief. I opened my mouth, about to excuse myself. However, before I got the chance to make my grand exit, she had managed to lunge herself at me, her voluptuous body pressing against mine. She pulled me into a deep kiss, so deep that I could barely remove myself As she stuck her tongue in my mouth, I could only think of Gran's appalled face. In my head, Gran was omnipresent and whenever I did something I shouldn't be doing, she would glare down at me with the ultimate disapproval.

I finally managed to pull myself away.

"Mrs. Weasley!" I gasped. "You- I- er- we- you.. You!" Once again, my vocabulary had flew out of the window.

She leant back on the arm of the chair, stroking my hair. Despite my trying not to, I liked it. It was nice to be touched with such affection. Once again, I was reminded of the mother figure that was missing.

"Oh, Neville," she sighed, now twisting little strands of my hair around her stubby finger. "What am I going to do with myself?"

I coughed and turned away, having a very good idea of what Mrs. Weasley had in mind. She took off her husband's slippers, examined them and then lay them on the floor.

"You see, when you get to this age, " she began, "you get awfully lonely. You start to want to be young again. "

She trailed off, and an uncomfortable silence followed. She lined her husband's slippers up neatly and looked straight into my eyes, taking me by surprise.

"Would you like to go to bed?"

At first, I was confused. Perhaps I looked tired or something. I hoped she didn't think she was boring me.. Then I looked at her face, and it dawned on me. Her eyes were glittering like diamonds now, her milky cheeks flushed. Her full, rosy lips curved into a suggestive smile.

Mrs. Weasley! And me! A bad thought, a naughty thought, a- strangely arousing thought. "Bored housewife is serviced by innocent young man." It was completely wrong, of course. But I'd been good all my life, one taste of badness couldn't hurt.

But Mrs. Weasley was a married woman. Imagine if Mr. Weasley found out, or Ron, or Ginny... Ginny! I couldn't do that to her. It would be wrong.

Wrong.

"Mrs. Weasley," I stuttered, trying to avoid eye contact. "I afraid I won't..." Damn, I could never say the word "sex" when I needed to. "I'm afraid I won't be..." What was it about me and getting tongue tied at the wrong time?

"Mrs. Weasley, I can't participate in any activities of a sexual nature with you!"

Oh dear...

Her face softened. Sbe nodded, even looking slightly embarrassed. I felt sorry for her at that moment.

"Bless you," she murmured. "At least one of us has got some morals."

She turned to the stairs. The carpet on them was threadbare, reminding me of spider's webs. She walked with her head held high and her shoulders back, like she was proud of herself. The way I wanted to be, what I desired the most in the world.

To my great surprise, I followed her into the bedroom and she turned off all the lights.