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Pansy hated men. She hated their knowing eyes, their smirking mouths. She hated that she struggled in conversation with them. Listen to me! she wanted to scream. Instead, she giggled and allowed them to talk over her.
She especially hated her soon to be ex-husband. Sod him and the women he’d fucked behind her back. Sod him for being happy without her. She hoped his prick fell off.
The Knight Bus smelled like dirty socks. Most of the other occupants were old. She couldn’t take all their snoring, their hot breath murmuring. It’s a geriatric home, she thought. She stumbled up to the seating area, which was dark with only a few lamps flickering softly.
There was a man in a chintz chair at the front, but she ignored him and chose a spot in the back. He startled at the sound of her footsteps, and gazed over the top of his chair at her.
It was Harry Potter.
Fuck, fuck. She picked up a gossip rag to hide her face.
For a minute or two, he didn’t move. She almost relaxed.
He stood and approached her. “I think we know each other.”
“You’re mistaken,” she said, not taking her eyes off the magazine.
“May I sit down?”
“It’s your choice.”
He nabbed the chair next to her. He stared out the window at the midnight drizzle. “You look like you need a drink.”
“I don’t drink anymore.”
“Oh? Why not?”
She peeked over her magazine at him and almost flinched. Fuck, his eyes. She tried to speak, but her lipstick felt like glue.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to intrude.”
She set down the magazine. Her hands trembled. Don’t look at your shoes.
“The bus is a bore at this time of night,” he said.
“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t drink because I can’t control myself.”
“I understand.” He smiled. “What’s your destination?”
“Scotland. I have relatives there.” She licked her lips. “What about you?”
He frowned. “I’m not sure. Sometimes I ride the bus to get away.”
“To get away from what?” Surely Harry Potter didn’t have problems?
Laughing, he said, “Oh, loads of things. Work is quite stressful. You must’ve heard about my divorce.”
“No, I missed it. You’ve separated from Weasley?”
“Yes, unfortunately. I worry about the children.”
She fiddled with one of her rings. “We tried to have children, but it never happened.”
“Are you married, too?”
“Technically.” She snorted and attempted to swallow down her bitterness. He was looking at her quite intensely. “I - I caught him cheating.”
“Shit,” he breathed. “That’s awful.”
She didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. They were in their thirties, worn out from the distant war, but he still looked good. The bastard. He had faint laugh lines at his eyes, around his mouth. His face was thinner than she remembered, though it made him appear distinguished, not ill.
Exhaustion rarely looked good on women.
He touched her sleeve. “These robes are quite nice. I heard you were fashionable.”
“I am fashionable. These robes were magically tailored by the best seamstress in Britain.”
He touched her exposed knee. “They fit you like a glove.”
She frowned at him. “Are you interested in fashion?”
“No, I’m just trying to flirt.” He flushed.
She loved it when she made men uncomfortable. She smirked. “Oh? What makes you want to flirt with me?”
He hesitated. “All that’s coming to mind are your tits.”
She laughed and glanced down at her exposed cleavage. “Yes, they are quite nice.” She looked back up at him with interest. “I had no idea you had good taste in women.”
“What should I find attractive in women?”
“Hmm, let me think.” She tapped her polished nail on her chin, pretending to mull it over. “You should fancy dark-haired women.”
“Of course.”
“They must have good tits.”
“That’s already been established. Go on.”
“They . . . should be strong, independent. They should give you a run for your money.”
He exhaled quietly. “I think strong women are very sexy.”
“You must love watching the Harpies, then.”
He grimaced. “I used to.”
“Oh, come on! Your ex-wife doesn’t make up the entire team!”
“I know, it’s just that I haven’t been into the sporty type recently.”
“Shame.” She fiddled with her ring again. She felt his eyes on her.
“Do you work? I think I remember hearing you had a job as a journalist.”
“Oh, that was short-lived. Writing is only a hobby.”
“What will you do now that you’ve left your husband?”
“Merlin! What a question.”
“Sorry,” he said, sheepish. “Sometimes I can be rude without meaning it.”
“You’ve apologized to me a lot in this conversation.” She raised an eyebrow.
“I guess I feel like I’m bothering you.”
“You’re not bothering me.” She let herself really look at him. His robes were wrinkled, his trainers scuffed. His hair was as crazy as ever, and his eyes . . . well, they took her breath away. He had a vulnerability to him that made her want to wrap him up in a blanket and spoon-feed him hot soup.
She closed her eyes. Merlin, she was pathetic. She hated that he made her feel this way. Nobody looked at her and saw vulnerability. Nobody wanted to protect her, to make her feel valued.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asked.
“Why is life so easy for you?”
He frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You. Harry Potter. Everyone adores you. It’s so easy to be a man.”
“I don’t think it’s easy,” he said carefully.
“That’s because you don’t know any differently!” She thought bitterly about her husband and his infidelity. Men constantly stole from her. If it wasn’t her heart, her emotional stability, it was her confidence, her power.
He was quiet for a moment. “I understand what you’re trying to say. I just don’t want you to think that life is easy for me.”
“Merlin.” She covered her eyes. “If Harry Potter isn’t happy, then I’m doomed.”
“I’m more than just that name, you know.” He sounded hurt. “I’m human just like you.”
She laughed. “You killed the most evil wizard in history.”
“When I was seventeen. That was a long time ago.”
“So? It’s still a fact.”
“I’m a different person now. I barely remember what it was like to be that boy.”
“Why are you sad? We can exchange sob stories.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“Only a little.” She smiled kindly. “Please tell me.”
He stared out the window again, the midnight blue shadowing his tired face. “I’m lonely.”
“Don’t you have mates?”
“Yeah, but they aren’t divorced and their children like them.”
“Why don’t your children like you?”
“Because my fame haunts them. They will never be known for their own accomplishments. They will only be known as my children.”
She shook her head. “Yes, that sounds quite difficult.”
“I try to understand their resentment. Truly, I do. But, at the end of the day, it’s not my fault who I am. I wasn’t given a choice, either.”
She waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she took a deep breath and said, “I’m sad because I know I will never love myself.”
He stared at her. “But . . . you’re gorgeous.”
She flapped her hand at him. “It has nothing to do with looks. I just despise myself. I always have. Sometimes I think I’m too weak. Sometimes I think I’m too strong. I hate when I’m loud, and I hate when I’m quiet. I hate my body even though I know it’s perfectly acceptable. I hate my nose even though I know no one gives a shit.” She took another deep breath. “I’m tired of beating myself up.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I’m sure your husband cheating on you didn’t help.”
“No, it didn’t, but if I’m being honest with myself, truly honest, I know that no man, no relationship, will ever be able to fix me.”
“Relationships don’t work like that.”
“No, they don’t.”
They didn’t speak for a few minutes. She itched to pick up the magazine again, to hide behind it. He stared out the window.
“I guess this is a bad time to ask you to have dinner with me.”
She squinted at him. “Are you asking me out, Potter?”
He smiled at her. “Yeah.”
“Okay, but I have one request.”
“Yes, you can pick the restaurant.”
“No, no.” She smirked. “I want you to kiss me.”
“Right now?” He looked around worriedly. They were still alone.
“Yes. Right now.”
He stood and helped her from her chair.
“Put your arms around me,” she muttered.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She had to tilt her head to properly look at him.
“Well, go on.”
He kissed her softly. She pressed closer and deepened the kiss. Their tongues brushed, and she tasted his saliva. She wanted to put her hand down his trousers.
He broke the kiss to grin at her. Some of her lipstick smeared his lips. “Was it good enough for dinner?”
“Yes, but kiss me again just to make sure.”