Past Present

The morning of Valentine's Day arrived sunny enough, wetter and warmer than most of January. Cold dread squeezed at Harry's stomach all through breakfast, as he watched various students receive Valentines in the owl post and wondered if he should have gotten something for Cho. He was a little relieved when Hermione received no owl at breakfast, despite the fact that Viktor wasn't eating with them.

"Where's Viktor got to, then?" Ron asked.

"Taking care of something before he leaves. We're just going to meet when we get ready to go," Hermione said coolly.

"Letting Viktor off with a warning for not sending you something?" Ron asked mischievously.

"Honestly, Ron! We're spending the whole day together! No need for those silly singing Valentine cards and a ten-pound box of chocolates!" Hermione scolded. But Harry couldn't help but notice that she looked awfully pleased when Viktor came into the Great Hall from the lawn and discreetly presented her with a nice box of truffles. She only protested weakly, "I've just barely finished the first box," before they left for the tower to go get her cloak. Harry felt like kicking himself for not thinking of getting something for Cho earlier.

When he spotted Cho leaving the Great Hall, after all but the latest risers were done with breakfast, Harry forced himself to get up and move to the line where Filch was checking off the students who were allowed to go. On the walk to Hogsmeade, he felt awkward and gawky, as though his hands and feet were far too big for his body, and he searched for something to talk about to fill the awkward silence. He thought he could even hear the pounding of his heart in his ears, that he would fly apart into a million pieces if he didn't open his mouth and put some noise into that void. "Potter and Chang!" screeched Pansy Parkinson, when she spotted them together. "Can't say as I like your taste, at least Diggory was good looking!" she called, dissolving into laughter. They ignored her and kept walking. Luckily, they landed on Quidditch, and the subject kept them occupied for the entire walk to Hogsmeade. At one point, during their talk about the World Cup the previous year, he looked around hopefully for some glimpse of Viktor and Hermione, but they had almost certainly left quite a bit ahead of he and Cho. Harry doubted Viktor would be any more eager to take up the conversational slack than he was, anyway. They spent the entire morning simply wandering the streets and shops, and Harry couldn't have answered anyone who asked what they talked about on pain of death.

Near noon, the cold rain started, and Cho ventured tentatively, "Um...d'you want to get a coffee?"

"Yeah, all right," Harry agreed, "Where?"

Cho recommended Madam Puddifoot's, a small, cramped tea shop that Harry had never visited. Everything inside seemed to be festooned with frills and bows and cherubs were flitting about here and there, dumping pink confetti over all the occupants.

"Cute, isn't it?" Cho said happily. Harry was reminded unpleasantly of a cross between Pepto Bismol and an explosion in a bridal shop, but he only nodded instead. They took the last empty table, right next to Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, who was holding hands with a very pretty blonde girl. Harry felt more and more uncomfortable by the minute, wondering if Cho expected him to hold her hand. He was more discomfited when he realized that all the tables were for couples.

Madam Puddifoot, an extremely stout woman with a shiny black bun, squeezed between the two tables with great difficulty, and took their orders for coffee. By the time she returned, Roger and the girl were kissing over the sugar bowl. Harry fervently wished they wouldn't, as he felt it was setting a precedent he would have trouble living up to. He tried staring out the window, but it was so steamy, he could see nothing. To delay looking across the table, or at Roger and his date, he stared at the ceiling for a moment, receiving a face full of confetti from their hovering cherub. Brushing a hand over his face, he settled for staring fixedly at a point just past Cho's shoulder, toward the corner table. It seemed the couple in the corner was just about as fond of the confetti as he was, since their cherub was determinedly throwing handfuls of it at what appeared to be an invisible shielding bubble. None of it was going anywhere near the couple hunkered down at the table. They seemed to be hiding under the charm like most people outside had been hunkered under umbrellas to shield from the cold rain. At least he assumed it was a couple. All he could see from here was the back of a dark, male head. Harry smiled in spite of himself. Cho gave a tentative smile back and his mouth went dry.

Cho finally mentioned Umbridge, and they spent a happy few minutes abusing her and talking about what a horror she was, but soon the subject was exhausted, and Harry was back to staring silently at the couple in the corner, wishing Roger Davies and his date would stop making those slurping noises and come up for air. Digging, searching for something to say, he stared that much harder, willing himself to come up with something fascinating or witty to say. Why couldn't he be pithy and well read and come up with something to talk about?

"I came here last year with Cedric," Cho said softly.

"Oh," Harry said, once again tearing his eyes off the back of the dark head in the corner and back to Cho. She seemed to be expecting more, but Harry could come up with nothing else.

"Did he... well, I've been meaning to ask you for ages, did he mention me at all? Before he died?" Cho's voice seemed high and strained. Harry's insides went ice cold. That was the last thing he wanted to talk about, least of all with Cho.

"Err... no, um, not really. There, uh, there wasn't really time. It all happened so quick..." Harry stammered. To his horror, her eyes were all sparkly again, and she looked ready to cry. He forced himself to stare over her shoulder again, at the cherub futilely throwing handful after handful of confetti at the couple in the corner who obviously didn't want it anywhere near them or their coffee cups. They seemed to be the only other couple in the shop that wasn't currently following Roger Davies and his blonde companion's lead, snogging or giggling at one another like mad and holding hands. In fact, they seemed to be carrying on a sensible conversation instead. Harry wondered idly how Roger and his friend were able to breathe at all.

Harry turned his attention back to the corner and made himself scrutinize little details, like the fact that the boy was easily a head taller than the boy directly behind him. That his gray cloak was damp and so long it pooled on the floor behind him, around the legs of the chair it was hanging on. That he kept rotating the cup in front of him by the rim, with the tips of his long fingers. That he had casually planted one large, booted foot out in the aisle, as though only one long leg would fit comfortably under what Madam Puddifoot no doubt thought was sweet, dainty, and intimate table. Harry felt a nagging interest in them flitting around at the back of his head, that he couldn't quite shake. Suddenly every detail seemed important. Maybe if he stared hard enough, he could count the number of threads woven into that boy's robes...

"It's just that I thought maybe... maybe you needed to talk about it," she said, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin. "I just wondered if...if he had been better at defense..."

Greatly relieved that Cho hadn't tried to make Cedric's death out to be any fault of his, Harry said, "Not really. I mean... he was really good at it... he made it to the middle of the maze, didn't he? It's ... it's just that if You-Know-Who wants you dead... there's not much you can do..." He trailed off helplessly, but was gratified to see that she seemed to be trying to clean up her wet face with her frilly napkin. His eyes shifted back over to the couple in the corner, the girl, whom he now caught a glimpse of, was talking animatedly to the boy across the table, leaning across to touch his hand, which now rested in the middle of the table, to emphasize a point. He would watch them a bit and give Cho time to compose herself before looking back.

"You wouldn't like to talk about it? What happened?" Cho insisted.

Harry squinted through his glasses at the table in the corner. He had caught a glimpse of the girl, but it couldn't be... they were supposed to be eating an early lunch by now, he thought. "No, no I don't need to talk about it. I mean, I have talked about it some, with Hermione and... and... Let's talk about something else. Did you get to see much Quidditch over the holidays?" Harry asked, desperate now to change the subject.

When the dark headed boy in the corner accidentally nudged his napkin off the table with an elbow and turned slightly to the side, leaning a bit and snatching it with astonishing speed before the napkin was even close to hitting the floor, Harry no longer doubted he recognized them. That had been Viktor's sharp profile, and that was Hermione in the corner, her normally bushy hair pulled back into a neat plait that had kept him from recognizing her right away. Harry felt himself break into a stupid, relieved grin as Madam Puddifoot approached their table in the corner. Count on the two of them to be practical and decidedly unromantic about confetti-tossing cherubs hovering over their coffee cups. Maybe he could excuse himself to go say hello and beg them to let he and Cho come along wherever they were going next. He was feeling desperate. He was heartened somewhat when Hermione spotted him and gave him a little wave while smiling broadly. He hardly realized that Cho had said something to him. "Hermione," he breathed in his relief. She would be sure to know what to do. He would ask her what he was doing wrong, what he should be doing, he had been a fool not to ask earlier, he...

"What!?" Cho's voice came cold and sharp from across the table.

"Huh?" Harry said, turning back to Cho.

"I said, is there someone you would rather be here with? Obviously there is!" Cho said in a huff, whirling in her chair. Harry was confused, then slightly relieved. When Cho saw that Hermione was sitting with Viktor, surely she couldn't think he was flirting with Hermione, could she? To his absolute horror, though, when he followed her gaze, Viktor was nowhere to be seen. Hermione gave another cheerful little wave, and another broad grin, and Cho whirled back on him. "I see! So you can talk about Cedric with Hermione Granger, but not me!" she hissed, tears streaming down her cheeks, "Well, I hope you're happy!" She pushed her chair back hard, chair legs scraping noisily on the floorboards.

"It's not like that," Harry insisted, but Cho threw her frilly napkin at him.

"I suppose you like her!" she shouted. Roger Davies and his girlfriend actually pried themselves apart to stare.

"W-well, of c-course I like her, she's my friend...." Harry stuttered.

"And you think she's pretty as well, I suppose!" Cho yelled, planting her hands on her hips. She was getting louder all the time.

"I don't think she's ugly..." Harry floundered.

"Go ahead! Flirt with her! I hope Viktor Krum bashes your face in! And good luck to him at it, too! I thought you of all people would understand! That I need to talk about it! You were with him when he died! You think you're too good for the rest of us! Famous Harry Potter!" Harry sat there, stunned, listening to the bell on the door tinkle forlornly as it shut. Everyone in the place seemed to be staring at him. Looking back to the corner, he saw Hermione frozen, her mouth a small "O" of surprise, and Viktor crawling from underneath the narrow table, pausing in the middle of handing Madam Puddifoot her quill. Harry couldn't quite force himself to move, either. Or to shut his eyes on the scene. It was mostly a bizarre tableau of faces, in neat pairs, goggling at him, like he had just grown an extra head.

Rising from the floor, Viktor grabbed his cloak off the chair back, handed some money to the stunned looking proprietress, and he and Hermione walked briskly toward Harry's table, the two of them simultaneously stunning the determined cherub that tried to follow them up the aisle with the casual air of people who did this sort of thing every day. Harry would have laughed at the absurdity of it all, he thought, staring at the tabletop, if only he could make himself move. He roused a little when Viktor leaned over, put a large hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. "Come on, Harry. You can tell me outside why on earth I am supposed to be bashing your face in," Viktor said softly near his ear. Numbly, Harry rose and accompanied the two of them out, Viktor shooting one goggling couple such a stern look that they both splashed themselves with coffee in their haste to act casual and disinterested.

"The check," Harry squeaked, pausing, but Viktor just grabbed his shoulder and steered him the rest of the way out the door.

"I took care of it, I am sure," Viktor murmured once they were outside. "Now, what was that all about?" he asked gently. The rain was really pelting down now, stinging Harry's cheeks and his neck, streaking his glasses, but suddenly he didn't care.

"That was all about me being a berk! A weirdo! An idiot! A gibbering twit! She thinks I like you!" Harry shrieked, feeling hysterical, whirling on a surprised Hermione. "She thinks I was flirting with you! What the hell were you both doing in there anyway? I thought you two were going to lunch!"

"Well, that's just silly. You don't like me. And they overbooked at the cafe on account of the holiday. We can't get in until late. Well, they would have bumped us up the list, if we had asked, I think, but we didn't think it was fair. They said to come back late, we should be able to get in," Hermione said calmly.

"And what the hell were you doing under the table when she looked? She thought I was waving at your girlfriend! The whole tea shop thinks I was waving at your girlfriend! They probably think you came out here to snap my neck and bury me for looking at her cross eyed!" Harry couldn't stop himself shouting. Right now he hated them both for not stopping him making a fool of himself. For not telling him exactly what to do. He wanted to bite and kick and scratch something, he was so angry at himself. He half wished Viktor would bash his face in. He wanted them to scream and shout with him, give him something to be angry at.

"Retrieving a dropped quill," Viktor replied in maddeningly calm fashion.

"So it didn't go well..." Hermione began again, in a likewise even tone, as though addressing someone obviously stark raving mad and possibly dangerous. "It was only your first..."

"Didn't go well? Didn't go well?! That is the bleeding understatement of the century! It's like saying Napoleon's trip to Russia was a bit nippy! Or the Great Wall of China was a weekend remodeling project! Or that Voldemort is not so nice! Didn't go well! Didn't go well? Hermione, it was a disaster! And it's all your stupid fault for smiling and waving at me!" Harry shouted. Hermione's face crumpled slightly before she bit her lip and recomposed herself. Harry was ashamed of himself immediately, but his anger outstripped his shame for a moment.

Viktor raised a hand, and for a split second, Harry flinched, expecting a blow for hurting Hermione's feelings with what he had said, for screaming at her and nearly making her cry, but instead, Viktor lightly brushed the rain dampened hair off of Harry's forehead with his long fingers. It was an oddly tender and unexpected gesture, and Harry was reminded uncomfortably of Anya's cool white hand on his forehead back in the summer. Now his cheeks burned with shame, instead of anger. "We could both talk to her. Explain," Viktor offered quietly, dropping his hand back to his side. Harry felt all the anger drain from him, leaving him weirdly limp.

He stared at the ground, then forced himself to answer. "No. No. It was never right anyway. Only reason she agreed to come was to talk about Cedric," Harry mumbled, surprising even himself. He hadn't known he was about to say that. He had expected to hear his own voice begging for the two of them to go find Cho and explain. The squeezing panic in his stomach eased. He felt strangely lighter, dismissing the possibility of explaining to Cho.

"Come eat, then. No point starving yourself. Should be able to get in by now," Viktor said.

"Some Valentine's date for you two. What a fifth wheel," Harry said bitterly.

"Frankly, I think I've had about all the 'romance' I can stand," Hermione said sourly, looking back at Madam Puddifoot's. "They have decent coffee, but can you believe that dreadful pink confetti?" she asked Viktor.

"And the frilly napkins? The cherubs?" Viktor countered. They could have been discussing a pit of snakes and lizards from their tone of voice.

"Oh, come on Harry. We can eat just as well with you there. It's not like you're keeping us from doing anything. It's not as though we're inviting you along on our honeymoon," Hermione scolded, then ducked her head when she realized what she had said. Harry was quite sure that she had turned several shades of pink by the time she raised her head.

"Besides, I need some more help celebrating. You can raise a toast to anything that gives Umbridge indigestion, right? I would go round up Neville and Ginny and Ron and ... what was her name? Hannah Abbott? I would go round them up if I knew where they were and that they hadn't eaten yet. I suppose I could go to the post office and owl, if need be. We left Hagrid at The Three Broomsticks. We could go by and collect him," Viktor said, putting an arm around Hermione's shoulders and setting off up the sidewalk.

"And what exactly is it that's giving Umbridge indigestion?" Harry asked without much real interest, shuffling along beside them.

"Oh, I got an owl earlier. Here," Viktor answered noncommittally.

"So?" Harry countered.

"Oh, Harry, don't you remember?" Hermione prompted. "Three weeks at the latest?"

"Viktor... you heard back? From your exam?" Harry asked, remembering.

"Even Umbridge has to refer to me as Professor from now on. She would sooner eat that horrible hat she wore in here, but she has to do it," Viktor replied, grin spreading across his face. "Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge said so. Look, we will go by and get Hagrid, you see if you can get all those people I mentioned, and we will go back to the cafe. Tell them I will pay."

"But why all of them?" Harry asked.

"Neville was the most complicated logic problem I ever handled in school, Ginny is Hermione's friend, you and Ron I think would be obvious, and unless Ron has made the colossal mistake of waving at another pretty girl, I assume Hannah Abbott is still with him. And if it were not for Hagrid, I would not be in any shape to do much of anything. I guess I owe Dumbledore and Pomfrey something as well, since they are not here. And Hagrid took care of Ivan and Natasha when I could not. I owe him a lunch. Besides, Hagrid promised to buy me a drink when I graduated. Not one of those bucket sized tankards, I hope, but I am collecting. I would feed Fred and George, but I saw them earlier with what looked like a ton of empty chocolate frog wrappers and these huge sandwiches and two girls, so I doubt they want either lunch or company," Viktor explained. "Give you twenty-five minutes, round them up however you like and then you can come to the inn and get the three of us."

"Oh, all right," Harry said reluctantly, scuffing a foot and setting off toward the post office.

"Why twenty-five minutes? He could do it in five," Hermione asked, after they rounded the corner.

"Gives him twenty to pout, stomp, kick, whatever it takes to get over it and get it out of his system," Viktor replied.

"Get over what exactly?"

"Being embarrassed. Being mad at everything and everybody. Picking the wrong girl or the wrong time, or both. Whatever it was."

"I still say she's nice. She's just confused. And a little insecure," Hermione said firmly.

"We all are. And I did not say she was not nice. Let us just say apparently she jumps to conclusions. And has a violent streak. Shame on her for hoping I would bash Harry's face in. Like you could not do it yourself," Viktor said in mock indignation.

"You! Good grief, Harry and Ron are both quite dense when it comes to girls. You should have heard them last year, going on and on about how they didn't want to get stuck with 'trolls' as dates for the Yule Ball. You would think the only thing that matters to them is looks. As long as she looks alright, she can have the personality and intellect of a bed post. Cho is pretty enough, I don't know much about her otherwise. Nice enough, I suppose. I mean, all Harry had to do was tell her she looked pretty and build her up some. Talk her up a bit and tell her he didn't like me, go on and on about how hideous I am and how bushy my hair is, all that rot. Harry and Ron think I'm one of the guys, I just happen to sleep in a different dorm anyway. Besides, you have to remember she lost her boyfriend last year. She's probably feeling guilty for liking Harry. And a bit lost. She may want to find out from Harry what Cedric thought of her and..."

"Is there some sort of secret handbook you females get that we do not know about? With all this in it? And why do so many girls haff to be treated like they are the only pretty girl on the planet? Besides, she should remember Harry is the one who had to watch him die. And haul what was left of him back. Plenty of blame to go around if you ask me. But by any standard, that did not go well. Haff a little patience. Harry and Ron will get over that, some day. You can only live on marshmallows so long," Viktor said.

"Suppose you have a point. But how did marshmallows suddenly come into it?" Hermione asked.

"I probably should not tell you this close to lunch, but to make a long story short, there was this boy in our dorm our first year there who was homesick, so he more or less refused to eat anything at school but these marshmallows his parents kept sending him. Ate them by the kilo. You can only keep that up so long before you end up hideously sick. I will skip the details, but about a week in, he got so sick, it immediately became the stuff of school legend. I saw it, and I still do not believe it. Cured him of ever eating marshmallows again. I used to tell Alexei the same thing. You could only live on those girls who were all air and sugar so long before you haff to haff some real substance," Viktor said, shaking his head.

"How long did it take you then?" Hermione said mischievously.

"I never liked marshmallows, remember? It took Alexei practically being hit over the head for seven years by both me and Elena, but he eventually decided he didn't like marshmallows either," Viktor replied emphatically.

"Two more years of this, then? Is that what it's going to take before they grow up?" Hermione said with a sigh.

"No, I get the feeling Harry might have just caught on. I bet Ron's not as slow as Alexei either. Frankly, I think Alexei was deliberately slow," he added, opening the door to the inn.

"How do you know Cho is a marshmallow?" Hermione asked.

"I do not. But Harry treated her like one. I tried to talk him into talking to her first. But does he listen to the one piece of advice I can offer? No. I tried to get him to talk to you. Did he? No. Harry is a quick study. I bet he will not make those mistakes again. I bet he picks more wisely next time. And bothers using his mouth. And his head," Viktor said, folding both of their cloaks over his arm.

"Hermione! Viktor! C'mon over 'ere! What're the two o' ye doin' back in 'ere anyway?" Hagrid called soon after they had made it inside.

"Actually, I came to find out if you had eaten lunch yet. And you owe me something," Viktor said.

"Nope. I 'aven' eaten yet. Jus' abou' to order somethin'. An' wha' exac'ly do I owe ye?" Hagrid asked puzzled.

"If you can hold on another fifteen minutes or so, come to lunch with us over at the cafe. And you owe me a drink," Viktor said with a grin.

Hagrid broke into a broad smile as it dawned on him. "Ye heard!" he bellowed, jumping up and grabbing Viktor in an embrace, pounding him on the back. "I'm so proud!" Even as solid as Viktor was, he swayed a bit when Hagrid let go. Hermione had to suppress a giggle when she remembered Hagrid lecturing Harry about going off into the woods with 'ruddy Krum'. "Wha' woul' ye like?"

"I think a butterbeer would be fine. To be honest, most anything stronger puts me under the table. I am a total lightweight. Alexei thought it was funny that one shot of vodka could put me out," Viktor said, pulling Hermione's chair out. "Of course, when he drank, he called that a shot," Viktor added, holding his finger and thumb a good four inches apart.

"And what'll our Hermione have?" Hagrid asked.

"Oh, I'll pass for now, thanks," she replied. "We just came from Madam Puddifoot's anyway."

While Harry wasn't exactly lively during the celebration lunch, he did seem considerably less cloudy than he had earlier. He even joined in almost as much as he would have otherwise by the time they had finished lunch and moved on to dessert. By the return to Hogwarts that evening, Hermione thought he looked more resigned, maybe even relieved.

"Thank you for lunch. And the coffee. Even if it did get us yelled at," Hermione said softly in the hall outside Viktor's door. "And for the emergency Harry extraction. I know that wasn't what you planned to do today, feeding a whole mess of Gryffindors and watching Harry pitch a fit. You think she would ever want to go out again?"

"Either that or let him explode. We did the exact same thing we planned, there were just a lot more people at the table. Getting coffee was a little more excitement than I needed, but no one can accuse the two of us of being dull, exactly. And how would I know what she wants? You are the one with the handbook, remember? Maybe...if she gets past Harry being the last one to see Cedric alive. If she gets past him being The Boy Who Lived. And maybe if Harry stops seeing her as this impossibly perfect girl. They need to realize there is a real person on the other end, imperfections, scars, war wounds and all. She cannot expect him to forget that there are any other females in the world, especially one of his best friends, and spend all his time building her up about what a cute, perfect little thing she is and how every other girl is hideous compared to her."

"Girls need to hear that sort of thing," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"Exactly. Little girls do. Real women do not need to hear others torn down to build themselves up. I do not recall you complaining or tossing any napkins my way when I described Elena as being beautiful," Viktor said, raising his eyebrows.

"She's your friend. Of course you would think she's beautiful," Hermione countered.

"So Cho should haff no problem when Harry does not find you hideous. Or because you wave at him. Or smile at him," Viktor argued.

"Says the man who cornered Harry last year and asked if there was anything between us," Hermione said with a smirk.

"You did talk about him an awful lot. I couldn't exactly ask you, now could I? Not particularly gentlemanly to ask a girl if she has more than friendly feelings for that boy she talks about all the time. Besides, I thought maybe you just were not telling me because you thought it might hurt my feelings. You seemed terribly careful not to trample my feelings. You even tried to find something positive about haffing to eat with Malfoy. Probably would haff asked anyway, though, if I had known you better. Anyway, do not think I blame the whole thing on her, either. He cannot expect her to forget someone she cared for just because he would rather forget about it. I imagine she wonders what happened. Maybe she thinks she loved Diggory. Maybe she did. Widows at least get some sympathy. Do you see anyone giving her any credit for her loss? At the very least, she lost a friend, Hermione. I understand somewhat why she would want to talk about it, but frankly, I understand Harry's position better. Because I haff been there. And by the way, I do not ever want to hear you use the word 'hideous' to describe yourself from now on, much less encourage Harry to describe you that way," Viktor scolded.

"For someone who doesn't know anything about girls, you sure do seem to have all the answers about them," Hermione said.

"No. I wish I did. But I know what it is like to not want to talk about something. No one can force it out of you until you are ready. And what it is like to be mad at most of the world," Viktor added.

"Grieving. Guilt," Hermione offered.

"And growing pains. Harry has carried a lot on some pretty narrow shoulders so far. Finding out a girl he liked is not as perfect as he imagined should be fairly minor in the long run," Viktor said, gathering up her hands in his own.

"He thought she was the right one, though," she said with a touch of disappointment in her voice.

"The right one will be patient enough. Took me a lot of years to spill it, Hermione. I had to haff the right person to tell. Maybe Cho is not the right person for Harry. Maybe it is just not the right time. Who knows?" he said with a small shrug.

"Who knows," Hermione echoed. They stood for a long moment in the silence and shadows of the hall before he inclined his head to hers, his right hand spread and braced between her shoulder blades, left curled around her hip as they kissed goodnight. Wordlessly he escorted her back to the corner of the hall containing the Fat Lady and the entrance to the common room. Though they parted at the corner, he stood and watched until she had climbed through the portrait hole, still feeling the warmth of his hand on her back.