Business

He's always liked that Cho Chang has long legs.

She has them crossed now, the slit in her skirt cut to show them off. A glass of wine is perched between her fingers. Her head cocks to the side when she smiles, her laugh loud and infectious.

It's been years since he last saw her and he's amazed by how different and how very much the same she is.

She touches his hand when he speaks, her foot rubbing against his leg. He sucks in the attention, somehow needing to prove he's no longer the awkward and fumbling teenage boy he once was.

The only thing they'll both admit is that they're here on "business."

"My, but the mystery is sexy," she says. And her lips quirk.

What a coincidence it is to run into each other after so many years. What an unlikely meeting.

How are you?

Good.

Where are you living now?

Oh, all over. France, Italy, Spain... I've always had a passion for language and culture.

Are you seeing anyone?

No.

You?

No one serious.

The wine flows and they talk, really talk, unlike the bastardized attempts at conversation when he was fifteen and uncertain.

"So, Potter," she says, pushing a long black strand of hair behind her ear. "How many?"

He almost asks "what" before catching himself. Her chin rises slightly, her smile encouraging. So he leans forward, content to play her game.

"You tell me."

"Well, there was the redhead, obviously," she says, quirking a brow. "And then I heard the most delicious rumours--"

"The papers go on about me," he says. "Most of it is false."

"The brunette in Auror training?"

He shifts. "Okay, that one was true."

"The blonde you picked up in--"

"I didn't 'pick her up,' we already knew each other and, besides, it wasn't like that." Harry pauses, fiddling with the rim of his wine glass. "We went to Hogwarts together--though I don't think you'd have noticed her. She wasn't someone you'd typically associate with."

Cho raises her wine glass, giving him an appraising look. "You've grown up, you know. Sounds like things were serious."

"They might have been."

"What happened?"

He shrugs. "My job doesn't allow me to be around much. I don't think it was the right time--maybe it wasn't the right lifestyle. I dunno. But we're still friends."

"Mmm," she says. "Hermione?"

Harry deliberately pours them more wine, keeping his face impassive. "We're friends."

"Friends?"

"Yes."

"So you've never--"

"No."

"Okay," she says. She clinks their glasses together. "Cheers."

He waits a moment. "Your turn."

Cho pretends to think. "There was Michael, of course, back at Hogwarts. And afterwards... let's see... there was Peter, worked at the Ministry, terribly dull, Howard--far too attached to home, and Jean, French, had a shoe fetish, Charlie Weasley--"

Harry chokes. "I'm sorry?"

"Good two months of my life," Cho says, shrugging. "Sandy, worked in Enforcement of Such and Such, Carl, loud but rich, and Thomas, editor of the Prophet. He was my last."

Harry stares. "That's--those--Í mean, you've..."

She doesn't blink. "I'm a very successful woman. I've marketed two new lines of clothing in the last few years. When I see something I want, I go after it." She pauses and holds his gaze. "And I always get it."

Harry feels heat crawl up his neck. He fights an urge to loosen his collar. Even after all these years, she can still make him feel completely stupid, like he's blindly following his hormones.

"Let's get out of here," she murmurs.

She doesn't need to wait for an answer.

***

When he wakes the next morning, it's with a thick tongue and a pounding headache. He stumbles into the bathroom, memories of the night flitting through his mind and making him grin.

She's left him a note on the bathroom mirror.

Think of me in the shower.

-C

She scrawled the message in red lipstick. Face aflame, he rushes to wipe it away with a tissue, mortified by the idea of the maid discovering it.

After he's dressed, he goes down to the hotel restaurant in search of coffee.

He finds Cho sitting demurely in the corner, coffee mug in one hand and a danish in the other. She's scanning the morning's Daily Prophet, nibbling lightly at her pastry. He watches her, wondering if she's putting on a show for his sake.

He takes the seat across from her and she doesn't acknowledge him. She's perfectly made up for the day, her clothing sophisticated, her expression determined. She turns the paper's pages, the movements brisk and he can see she's reading the business section.

This--he realizes--this is where they end. She has too much history with him--he's too likely to push for an emotional connection.

He feels a twinge of disappointment.

He looks at her, so cool and business-like. She must know she's drawing the gazes of other men. He wonders if that pleases her.

Somehow, he doubts it.

"Do you still think about Cedric?" he whispers.

She doesn't lift her eyes, but her tongue flicks out to wet her lips.

"Every day."

"I'm so sorry for that, Cho," he says. And he means it. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you out when you needed it."

"That's alright," she says, looking up at him. "You had enough on your mind at the time. Besides, you were fifteen. It's a good thing we all grow up. Eventually."

He slides his hand forward until it touches her wrist. "Me and you? I reckon this could be something. If you'll let me in."

She studies him for a long time and he can tell she wants to.

"I really like you, Harry," she says.

He draws his hand back. "But you're not ready."

"No," she murmurs. "I'm not."

They stare at each other and she stands. She bends down to kiss his cheek.

"When I am," she says in his ear. "I'll come and find you."

He waits for her to straighten. "I won't wait around for you."

She turns to blow him a kiss over her shoulder.

"I wouldn't expect you to."