A Change Of Pace

More people have gotten on at the last stop and have pressed rather closely to us. I am forced to inch closer to her. Her perfume wafts stronger than ever, and I fold my hands under my armpits, trying to make sure my elbow isn´t taking up too much of her space.

"You can relax, you know," she says, which only increases my discomfort. "No, seriously, I don´t mind." I wish she´d drop it already. However, I let my arms go to hang at my sides, and she tucks her left arm in my right.

I feel her snake her arm down until she is clasping my hand. I stiffen with surprise. She whispers my name and I turn to her. I can´t really read her eyes, but I have the distinct impression she is drawing me closer. My heartbeat quickens. Are we about to kiss?

No; she merely encircles me with her arms... and suddenly feeling more at ease, I do the same to her, laying my chin on her collarbone. The scent of perfume is very heady now--perhaps by now I can also detect the unique scent of her hair, her skin. She smells clean, vibrant, and very, very feminine. I relax considerably. I could hold her like this for hours, no matter if this is a crowded subway car. And she seems to be completely free of reservations.

"See?" I can just hear her whispering in my ear. `I told you. You´re all right." Her breath tickles me. Then I think I feel a different kind of tickle--she might have brushed her lips against my ear but I´m not sure. I dare to let myself go and just rest my head on her shoulder. She lets out a soft sigh.

Then comes the voice from the ceiling, "Piccadilly Circus!"

"That´s our stop," she says, abruptly pulling away from me. We get up with, it seems, a million Muggles and file out of the gap, onto the platform, up a long moving staircase (an "escalator", she calls it) that seems to go on forever, and finally out the exit.

The sky has taken on the deep, electric blue of the moment immediately after sunset. Due to the sun´s absence, a huge sign, a little taller than the buildings surrounding it, casts a dominating light on the crowd below. It is curved and bears a few names I don´t recognize.

"That´s just a big advertising marquee," she says. "Cool, isn´t it?"

"Hmm. Very interesting. However, I find it far more interesting that you would use a word like `cool´."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, you´re ever the studious one. It wouldn´t be completely far-fetched to see you looking your nose down at people who use slang."

"As if I didn´t have a better reason to look my nose down at people?" She has a big grin on her face.

"I just think you sound a lot like Potter and Weasley." Well, she should. After all, she´s been their friend longer than she´s been yours.

"Yes, I do think they kind of rubbed off on me," she says. "However, what with both of them married and Harry having a child on the way, they seem to think they ought to be more, shall we say, mature..." She snorts.

"What?"

"As you can imagine, that course of action is having some... fascinating results," she says. "I think they´re going through withdrawal symptoms, or at least growing pains." Her eyes are full of laughter, which brings an overwhelming feeling of... tenderness over me. I try to fight it down, but to no avail.

That´s the trouble with Hermione; ever since we´ve gotten close it´s been a lot more difficult to control my emotions. Stay with her too much longer and you´ll end up manic-depressive, Severus.

We stroll along, taking in the bustle of the crowd around us. I find I am contented, even though I´ve never exactly been fond of crowds. I always did like to people-watch though. And it´s nice to see that she likes it as well. Another little thing we have in common.

"Do you know it´s been over twenty years since I´ve been to this part of London?"

"Really? You didn´t even catch the theater?"

"No, although I suppose I should have. It would have been a nice diversion from the rigors of my job. I don´t know why I didn´t..."

"Just never occurred to you?" she says.

"No, I guess not."

I am embarrassed about the last time I came to London. I had acted so completely unlike myself. I had gone to Soho Square and picked up one of the girls there. At the moment I thought, this is what Sirius Black has and you don´t, it can´t hurt to get a little of it yourself, it might make you happier and less uptight.

And for a moment, I did feel freer, more powerful, more desirable. But only for a moment. Afterwards, it just seemed so... cheap. So common. No matter that I had the intelligence to prevent any accidents from occurring, it just didn´t seem right. Where was the rush of ecstasy I had expected?

So either I was hopelessly entrenched in who I was, or Black was putting on an act all along. Probably both.

We pass a group of about ten Muggles with countrified, almost nasal accents. They are ducking into the McDonald´s we are strolling by at this moment.

She rolls her eyes. "Now, that´s something I don´t get," she says. "They´re from the States. If I were an American in London, I would not be going to some place I could go to anytime. I would be trying something new."

"Well, what, exactly, is there worth eating in England?" I can´t resist smiling at her. "Not much."

"You just haven´t gotten out much, Severus. There´s all these Indian restaurants, tea rooms, Pret A Manger..."

"...which is the British equivalent of McDonald´s," I say.

"I like it though. Have you ever had their coronation chicken sandwich? Really hits the spot. Only I´m not very hungry now... I´ll take you next time when I am."

We pass by a row of shops, all closed now. We have arrived too late for much of anything except the pubs and discotheques. We pass by a small boutique and I notice a beautiful dress on the mannequin. It is long and strapless with an empire waist and a full skirt, and is the palest lavender. I find myself thinking how gorgeous that would look on her... with a silk scarf of the same color draped around her shoulders...

In the next window is a mannequin wearing a white dress and a veil. Damn. It´s a bridal boutique. No need to get that into my head.

We turn the corner and I see her look up suddenly. "Hmmm. We´d better get in before people starting queuing up, or we´ll have to wait for an hour..."

"What? Queuing up?" I look up as well. "This is Haagen-Dazs."

"Yes."

"I thought you said you weren´t hungry."

"For a meal, no. For dessert... I think I can manage."

"I don´t like ice cream."

"You´ll like it here." She takes my hand again and pulls me in. "Come on! There´s an empty table left!"

Ten minutes later, our sundaes arrive as we are sitting in comfortable chairs at a table made for only two. True to her form of making all my decisions tonight, she has also ordered for me.

"It´s a Bailey´s sundae," she says.

"You mean like the liqueur?"

"Yes. It´s delicious. At least, I think so."

"I´m skeptical of anything you call delicious," I say. "Bailey´s? What do you think I am, a drunkard?" I dip my spoon into the ice cream and take a taste. To my surprise, she is right.

"So?"

"Hmmm. I have to give this one to you, too, Miss--- Hermione, sorry."

"I thought you would," she says. She takes a bite of her sundae--similar to mine, but with coffee-flavored ice cream, I think she said. "I´m not kidding about the queuing up. The theatergoers like to come here after the shows, and the place fills up quickly, so often times you can stand outside for close to an hour."

"Only idiots would wait an hour for ice cream."

"Well, call me duncey, because I´ve committed that crime before," she says. She takes another spoonful. "Are you still considering prosecuting me?"

I consider this. "I think all kidnapping charges will be dropped. However, I may still have a case against you for stupidity and gluttony."

She laughs. "I can plea-bargain."

I dig into my sundae, eating perhaps faster than I should... definitely faster than I should, for within a minute I get a terrible headache.

"Uh oh. Eat too fast?" She is grinning.

"Let me remind you that this is your splendid idea," I say, in agony. "I told you I didn´t like ice cream."

"Just eat it slowly, like me," she says. As usual, she is right, so I press my fist to my forehead and ride the headache out. I resume eating, more carefully this time as she has instructed. It really is delicious. She has good taste.

"Have some of mine," she says, suddenly holding a spoonful very close to my lips.

"I´ll poison you with my germs and bad breath," I protest, but by now I know better than to refuse her, so I open my mouth and she slips the spoon in. I close my eyes and savor for a minute. That´s what her mouth tastes like right now... What can I do but the same? I hand a spoonful of my own dessert to her, and after she swallows she says, "That tastes even better than before." I open my eyes... and I swallow, too, but for a different reason.

She has a strange, dreamy look in her eyes as she takes a rather large spoonful, and some of it dribbles out the side of her mouth. Her tongue comes out to lick her lip, and then to lick her spoon. Her licks are so smooth, soft, and... sensual. I´m glad she´s not one of those women who picks at her food, who never orders dessert, who obsessively counts calories.

Pull yourself together, Severus. Eat your ice cream and stop checking her out.