I know that you can't hear me, but baby I need you to save me tonight

So Liam would have been her 'date,' then? The fourth ticket wouldn't have been used? That certainly made him a bit more comfortable, his shoulders relaxing just enough to relieve the tension built up in his neck. "Mills, even if we weren't - you know, this - I would've gone if you'd asked."

Or Keiran thought so, anyway. He hoped he would have found it in him to support her. Somehow, though, he wasn't sure. He was happy for her, proud of her and all the rest. But if he hadn't made it to his current position and lot in life, a bit of him would have resented her for making it when he didn't have the chance. The fact that he could now see that about himself actually spoke volumes for the Slytherin graduate. He had grown enough to know who he truly was, and perhaps their relationship would be better for it. If the same could be said for Millie, then he didn't doubt that they were at least on the right track. Whether the lines switched on them would just have to be seen as they went along.

"So of course I want to go. Especially now," he added, leaning over to drop a kiss on her head. "We can even be ridiculous and match if you want. I don't know if I ever said, but my mother made me learn to dance. I'm not perfect by any means, but if it's involved you can rest assured I won't trip over myself."

A smirk came to rest on his visage, until she started on about the match. His expression softened to one of general attention as she kept talking, wondering if she was just talking for the sake of talking or if perhaps she was subconsciously prepping herself for her show. Either way, she still managed to be charming, even though she seemed afraid of him somehow and that merely made him anxious.

"Missie, please," he started, catching one of her hands in both of his. "Just breathe, love. We don't need to do the awkward first date. We already had that. So... Please," Keiran turned, his fingers releasing her hand to brush along her jaw.

"Just breathe," he repeated, voice soft. His gaze met hers with a silent question before Keiran leaned over to kiss her. It wasn't one of those boring, chaste ex-husband type of kiss. Rather, it was a prolonged and gentle mean something encounter. It felt like what their first reconnection should have been -- a mix of testing the waters and promising an honest try. That's what he wanted to convey, at least. So while it wasn't anything like the one that had led to what had happened the previous weekend, Keiran loved it just the same.

He pulled away just enough to press a kiss between her eyebrows before leaning back against the couch and draping an arm over her shoulders. "I love you," he swore, nearly dropping his old endearment for both her and Kelly from back in those first few months. "You. Not your conversation topics or how you think you should act to force this into working. I always enjoyed our time more when you weren't trying. Rather, when you were just you and not thinking about what I expect."

He passed her a rather knowing look, the corners of his mouth lifting up a bit. Bumping his head gently against hers, Keiran decided it might be best to start up a genuine topic that they could be more openly comfortable with. "So I listened to your show all week. Ruined all of my morning appointments, but I just made everyone wait." He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "Unfortunately for you, I think I have a new morning habit."

The concept that Keiran was going to want to spend time with her again was one that Millie was going to take a little while to wrap her head around. One weekend didn’t undo fifteen years of understandable frostiness and whilst perhaps it would have been more helpful if it had done, at the same it also bore some use as it wouldn’t drop them, particularly her, back into complacency once more. Kept on tender hooks she was more likely to come to value the relationship itself much more than she ever had done when they had both had a little bit more youth on their sides.

The gala was going to be huge, not just for her career but literally gargantuan. Either their esteemed Minister and relation wanted to bankrupt the country or he wanted to go out as the Gatsby of that tenure. There were rumoured to be dozens of reporters booked in, a monarch from an unknown principality heading to London in the coming few days and the entire elite of the more esteemed members of society expected to go – and this was all in aid of giving out a few awards to people in the arts domain of the Wizarding World. Part of Millie hoped she wouldn’t be given one to avoid the exposure but she knew Theodore. If there was one thing he’d do, it was make sure everyone he loved benefited from his position somehow – which was part of the reason why so many scouts were sent regularly to Liam’s quidditch matches.

“If I’m going to be honest,” Millie said carefully, “I probably wouldn’t have said anything if any of this hadn’t happened. I mean, I always figured you were still really angry and I just went out of my way to avoid an argument. Even if I'd had the balls to ask, I don't think I would've spoken to you there anyway. It just would have been too daunting. You're quite intimidating when I don't know what you're thinking, you know.” She smiled a little despite herself before nodding to his earlier suggestion. “I don’t think I’ve danced with you since, I suppose, literally the day we got married. What with dancing and then matching it’ll save explaining to everyone what’s going on.”  

But it wouldn’t of course. The gala was important not least because of what it could do for her career but arguably more importantly it was them at and event doing all of the public relations stuff that they normally would have had to have soldiered through separately. As much as she quietly anticipated being caught up with him in the swollen crowd, his arm around her waist, his fingers drumming a bored tune across her side as they listened to a rotund member of the Wizengamot that looked scarily like a Batman villain talk about something and, more accurately, nothing, they would be admitting to their world that they were together again and if that didn’t inspire anxiety then she didn’t know what would.

Perhaps, she supposed, it was because he represented to her a time when they weren’t equals. When thinking of ‘that time’ all she could recall was the immediate aftermath of the divorce. With all of her financial and bodily autonomy back, she realised she had nothing. A few bottles of whisky later and a good lecture from her grandmother reminded her that even when married she had owned nothing of her own bar the things she’d brought with her when they’d first moved into his rooms. That, along with the additional things she’d collected by slicing off the top bits of his income, was all she’d woken up with the following morning when, hung over and irritable, she’d been forced to get her head on right and go to the Ministry and start to work her arse off. She’d done it, too, and now she had that stability – finally – which she’d not had since they had been married. Yet now, despite only really recently coming onto a steady point of time in her life when things were good, they were equals – especially in her eyes.

It took a long time, also, for Millie to acknowledge that she’d nursed a plethora of inferiority issues throughout their relationship. She knew that in part it was her youth but it was also that he made stark everything she had allowed to come undone in her life. In many ways they were opposites and that, at the time, had unconsciously grated upon her. She hadn’t envisioned doing any of the things that she had gone on to do and had they stayed married she wouldn’t have bothered because he was her safety blanket, her parachute and every other failsafe mechanism that would keep her from abject poverty and all of the terrible things that had plagued her teenage years and, in degrees, her early adult years without him, too. Without him, she’d been forced to become her own safety blanket, parachute and other failsafes.  She’d finished college, gotten her degree, made enough to get by in the Ministry meanwhile and then she found something she loved as a profession for herself. Somehow, in the midst of all that, she’d managed to have a hand in raising their children who were equal parts brilliance and evil.

Now, as they entered this fledgling relationship, they were on an even keel. If shed in the same light as him, she was no longer the brat that couldn’t hope to measure up to him when never, ever had she attempted to create a life for herself beyond a spiral that would take her downwards into disaster. Now, they had homes of their own, incomes and people who were willing to acknowledge them both for their activity. There was no dependency there, whether financially or otherwise. What would be forged was a little bit of expectation and both would come to be the other’s emotional crutch as the relationship progressed but there would be nothing truly palpable to lose. The only thing she stood to lose was him again, something she didn’t think she would ever be able to come back from if it were to happen. It was a miracle the first time. But really, the point was she was only going to lose him and that was what would scare her, not the loss of a house or a source of quick and easy money. No, it was the most important thing: him. That poisonous one-sidedness wasn't there anymore. They were equal.

When Keiran’s warm hands closed around hers, stalling the mad gesticulations of her limbs, Millie’s lips came together, stifling her mid-syllable and the complaint against the new wave of rough and ready chasers died in her mouth. She smiled a little, a shy manifestation of her awkwardness and even though he assured her that there was no need for it, she still felt like she needed to fill every silence because she truly did not know where they stood. She was sure she’d get used to it but until that happened she felt like she needed to carry the conversation – not difficult to do, really, when you were someone who made your career out of speaking to no one. Her cheeks coloured all the same and she looked at him hesitantly, wondering how he could be so calm and collected. She felt like a hurricane was squaring up to an erupting volcano inside of her.

The blonde woman’s eyelids fell a bit as she realised he was leaning closer to her. Her lips parted and she took a breath as he covered them with his own. She rose up into the kiss, her arms still held up against her chest, and then relaxed, bringing one hand out to rest over his heart as she slowly began to respond. When he dropped off and away, her lips losing the heat of his mouth around them, she gave a frustrated little whine, her lids quirking back over her bright gaze. Her shoulders came up, a silly smile taking over her as he popped a kiss between her brows and she moved back to lean against partly him and then half the couch. She was vaguely aware of his arm where it was and she couldn’t help but want to roll her eyes a little bit as it reflected again the difference in height between them. Still she didn’t mind, content to be enveloped in his embrace, overjoyed to hear his words.

She blinked up at him, poking out her tongue in response to his expression. “I’m nervous,” she admitted, laying her head back against his shoulder. “That’s all.  I don’t do dating. I was setting myself up to be a miserable, prematurely middle aged spinster so I have no clue what I’m meant to be doing and I don’t want to be presumptive so I’m scatty, instead.” She shook her head, running her hand down his chest before looping her arm around his middle. “I love you too,” she murmured, squeezing him to her before softening her hold, just enjoying the novelty, still, of being able to say that, to admit it to someone other than herself.

Scooped up in his arms, Millie would have been happy for the silence to have elapsed between them again. Her fingers had gently begun to rub idly across a stretch of skin where his shirt had ridden up and she was wonderfully comfortable just listening to his heart’s firm, consistent beat thrumming against her ear. He spoke, though, and equally she was glad for it, happy to talk with him, knowing that it was a lack of doing so that had ruined them before – well, really, had ruined her before. She would never quite accept that there was anything else involved in their divorce apart from her own folly after folly after ridiculous folly.

“Oh really?” She laughed a little. “You do know I can’t help you with traffic if you live in London, don’t you?” She smirked, tipping her head back to look at him properly. “Did you enjoy the highly stimulating eighties music and the stuff about the theatres and local bands?” She took a minute. “You’re crazy, you know. It’s a really regional station so what on earth…” She trailed off and shook her head, squeezing him again. “Thank you. It means a lot but don’t sacrifice important things to listen to me babble on for an hour.”

“And anyway,” she continued, pulling down his shirt so he didn’t get caught by any untoward draughts. “How is it so terrible for me? Have I got to say hello to you every morning now?” She smirked. “Oh, but,” Millie brought her hand up to rest just below the base of his throat. “You may be interested to know that as it’s Professor Switch week or whatever it is in about a month’s time, the station wants to do something on Transfiguration which I think will make a nice change. It’ll have the kind of quirky spin I reckon you’ve probably gotten the gist of from the show along with some sort of fun life hacks, as it were. I was wondering if I could steal you and have you all to myself before someone else does. I figured I had better ask even if only to save my skin. One of the main producers, Layla, she’s a real hard arse. Lovely, but kind of terrifying. I reckon she’d gut me if she found out I was seeing you and didn’t at least find out if you’d be willing. I’m almost convinced she would’ve made me write to you even if this wasn’t a thing which is really quite terrifying.”

Millie blinked, daunted and wondering how that would have gone had things not changed so rapidly the weekend before. She would’ve hidden and dug up a relic from somewhere, wherever the old Transfiguration experts were hiding. She hadn’t really realised how averse to seeing Keiran she’d been. Then her entire life went three-sixty again and she finally found herself back with him, comfortable in his presence, spending a whole week apprehensive but giddy about seeing him again.

“I think we’ve got a lot to thank our babies for,” she said looking up at him. “If they weren’t so weirdly Slytherin and kind of bull-headedly Gryffindorish… this wouldn’t even be an idea. I don’t think I’d ever like to give them the satisfaction of knowing how thankful I am. They’d be smug forever, as though they aren’t already and don’t know what they did.” Millie snorted, half-dismayed that their children were as bright as they were. She looked at Keiran then, lifting her gaze to his face. “Tell me you love me, again.” She murmured. “Tell me you love me as much as I am mad about you.”

"I know that," Keiran admitted, nodding along. His tone was as serious as his expression, even as he realized that he wanted her at his big event even though she wouldn't have. But it made sense, really, that she wouldn't have been comfortable asking him. He hadn't been confident about it, either. Even if she was the brave one between the two of them, Keiran's had practically been an accident. He hadn't even considered planning something like that. So yeah, he understood that. "I'll... try to be more obvious, then," he promised, trying to find something - anything - to soothe her. He wasn't kidding when he said her nerves messed him up. It made him question everything from the food to the setting to... well, himself.

Keiran wasn't oblivious to her touches - in fact he focused on them even as he spoke - but somehow they were comforting now, when years ago they would have been distracting and a perfect way to pull him from grading his papers. But, in truth, the touches now had a different sort of novelty. In her youth, Millie had been naught but a bubble of energy and always wanted some sort of activity or adventure. But then he had been reckless to some extent, forgetting the most obvious thing when it comes to bedroom activities. And that had brought about the twins and the problems from his school sure hadn't helped.

He didn't regret the school, though. And it wasn't just because of the money he made off books or the people who spoke to him simply because of it. That school had both helped others as well as pushed Keiran into his current position at the school. His determination had driven him to this point, and he would be a fool to believe that determination wouldn't grow to curl around his relationship with Millie as well. It seemed like all the parts of him just wanted to curl around her, though, because as she commented on the traffic in London, he was already inching closer and finding an excuse to wrap his spare arm around her. Honestly, though? He didn't have a real excuse, unless you consider 'he wanted to' a decent excuse. Which, really, might just have been enough.

"It's not a sacrifice to give up something you love for something that you love more," he pointed out. Yes, he was odd enough to actually enjoy his meetings and schedule. But then, he had never understood the importance of spare time. Being busy kept his mind from wandering and it was always safer for everyone that way. "And yes, you have. I very nearly called in once just to see what you would do, but I thought that might be a bit unhelpful."

Surprised though he was, Keiran was more flattered than he perhaps should have been by her questions. He wasn't so modest that he would have been confused by the request, but he also wasn't arrogant enough to assume anything like that would come up. He was pleased nonetheless, and passed Millie a bright smile. Again, though, she brought up how much she would have hated to have to see him were it not for the children having interfered. Going for a vaguely pleasant expression, he shrugged and replied, "I wouldn't mind. Just tell me when to be there."

Maybe she had just said it to make a point about the contrast between the week before and their current interaction. She did say that she was grateful, which suggested as much. Hoping he wasn't assuming too much, Keiran took that as a good sign, trying as best as he could to actually remain positive about all of the steps they had to take in order to find some ground upon which to stand. A true, genuine smile broke out across his face, though, when she turned her head to look at him properly.

"I never stopped loving you, baby girl," he told her, unable to keep back the childish and fairly ridiculous moniker for her. "I always did, even from that first lunch. Honest."

Now, it should be noted that the entire time he spoke, completing the above and then repeating those three words over and over, his fingers had started wandering. Mind, not in the pointed sort of way - no, indeed. More in the general need to feel her under his fingertips and be assured silently that she was still there and actually quite real. "I wanted you to be happy back then, Millie," Keiran explained even as his lips followed the line of her jaw. "I didn't realize at the time that I wasn't enough. But now- now I have to be, because I swear to God, if you go again I won't make it. I'll just give up and call it quits."

If placating his wife was an Olympic sport then the Hayes should have entered long ago and Keiran would have had a string of gold medals. Despite the ease with which she carried herself through life – outward ease, that is – Millie had always had an interesting bout of anxiety that seemed to rear its ugly head whenever she thought something would be too simple or she’d had it too good, particularly the latter since being on her own. Yet, Keiran always seemed to know what to say, or not say often, and so she could lose the tenseness in her frame and loll her head against him, She hugged him loosely once more and smiled into him, finding the humour in his earnestness.

“I want you to make it abundantly clear,” she teased, lifting her head. “So clear that you fly in the face of subtlety.” She laughed a little and snuggled herself in closer to him, relishing the ease with which she could do it. She needed to appreciate, herself, how unlikely this all would have been if not for the intervention of their children. Why they had chosen to do it would be an eternal mystery to her but she knew that she was glad for it. Perhaps they could tell that beyond the piteous way she, at least, led her life with her brash habit of turning down anyone that even seemed to think about asking her out and with the maintenance of her wedding ring either on her hand or on a chain around her neck, there was no getting her anyone else. It had to be Keiran.

She raised her eyebrows at his admittance and she laughed more fully. She couldn’t imagine what she would have done had he actually done so. After a few minutes of paralysing surprise she might have recovered enough professionalism to indulge him but she was almost certain she’d be too busy being bowled over to really grapple with any sort of response for him. She was oddly glad he hadn’t done. Now that she knew about it and knowing she could stand the chance she felt that if he did she’d be able to deal with it a bit better. But then now he’d said it he probably wouldn’t do it and find another way to unseat her instead.

Fifteen years ago, the face that would have held considerably less worry lines would have contorted into an expression of utter disbelief that was mired almost also with jealousy at the idea of him enjoying meetings when, as she would have seen it, he could’ve spent time with her, instead. However, time and forced growth of character had meant that Millie could not only appreciate it but given that she was usually the one who called meetings at the station, she could more than appreciate the enjoyment side out of it. Especially when it was a case of people consulting her or all of them working out how to make something better.

“I can work around you,” Millie told him, just glad that he’d agreed. “So you can pick whichever morning is going to be the least hectic and we’ll set it up. You know,” she added mischievously. “You could also tell a little white lie to whoever your number two is at the school and let me take you to breakfast after.” She smiled, already half sure where she’d show him. They’d shared that city for a myriad of reasons over the years, the majority of them being because of their children, and though she knew he’d be familiar with it she still felt like she needed to show him how she saw her most favourite place in the world.

“But don’t let me steal you away if you can’t,” she added seriously, knowing that it was selfish of her to try and keep him from Hogwarts where she was almost certain he’d be needed. “It’s just a thought.”

There would never be a greater feeling than hearing him say that again. She could feel a great warmth spread through her chest and butterflies crackle into life in her tummy. She didn’t mind the endearment, it was one she still used on their daughter. She knew she could listen to him forever. He could have told her the most ridiculous tall tale but in that tone of voice, one that said the words were just for her and for her alone, she’d always listen. But never would she love it more than when he spoke as he did then.

In the back of her mind, there was a part of Millie that acknowledged where his touches were going and all it served to do was move her closer to him. She turned her head, letting him more easily move his mouth along the line of her jaw and she lifted her hands up to his shoulders, the barest of touches of her fingers to the back of them imploring with him to come closer, to have her entirely if he so wanted to. She didn’t care what came of it but she could feel the sizzle of her skin that he left behind, as though with every kiss he was waking her sleeping body back up again, reminding it of other pleasures than those it was so used to dealing with.

“You were more enough,” she gasped, wondering why he was choosing then to have that avenue of discussion with her, she didn’t know what to concentrate on – his mouth and where it was or what was coming out of it. She supposed he would have appreciated more the latter so she endeavoured to try even if he was being dreadfully distracting to her. It was still wondrous that he made her as intoxicated as he did, still, as though not a moment in time had passed and they were still young and in love again, before things were bad. Now they were old(er) and in love still. It was just as good. In fact, she would have even hazarded a guess that fifteen years of nothing made it all much more acute, much better.

“It was me, Keiran,” she protested. “I couldn’t appreciate you. I didn’t understand so I took you for granted and I threw everything away for no damn good reason. If I could I’d do it all differently. I wouldn’t have been so quick to give up but I thought… at the time I thought I couldn’t make it better, that I’d buggered it up so thoroughly…” She sighed, leaning in to plant a kiss or two on his neck. “And I wasn’t happy because I was so bloody selfish, Keiran. I didn’t see what it meant to you with the school and I…” she sighed again. “You might think you weren’t good enough but I didn’t love you enough to see that you were. I wasn’t grown up enough. It’s not an excuse. More of a sad reality. But this time, I’m not going to give up on us. On you. I promise. I love you. More than I ever did then. You can trust me.”

"Let's be realistic about it, Millie. Would I rather spend time with grumpy professors trying to set up their offices, or escape the grounds for a few hours to see the woman I love? Hardly a difficult question."

A cheeky smile appeared, the words coming too easily for him to feel entirely comfortable with them. It should have taken him time. We're it anyone besides Millie, it would never happened - or, well. Not so fast anyway, if it did happen. He had admitted it that first dinner, after all. And there they were again, doing the same thing. If this was to be their fate every time the pair saw each other - the talking and dinner and all the rest - Keiran had a feeling he wouldn't ever find a real reason to complain. If they moved past dating, though, he couldn't be sure what would happen. Deciding not to worry after that excessively, Keiran tried to focus on her words over the other thing he found himself considering. Because basically any time Millie's lips touched his skin, Keiran was doomed.

Pulling back, he caught her chin with his fingers, steadying himself as he looked at her. "Here's what we can't do, okay? We can't play the blame game every time we see each other. If I can sit here and be open with you with my words, as well as physically, you know just as well as I do that I'm being serious. So long as you feel the same way, and you want to give this a real go, I don't think it should matter. We've said our apologies and clearly we don't even need them if we're acting like this. I don't care what you think you did or didn't do."

Finally dropping a kiss to her lips, Keiran moved over, picking up their plates and taking them to the low table he had set to the side earlier. He walked back towards her, but sat on the couch so his feet rested on the floor beside her. Bending down, his hand brushed through Millie's hair. "So, we've got until ten," he teased. "What d'you want to do? There's... Figuring how to embarrass the kids next weekend. Or turning on a bad movie and not actually watching it," Keiran winked, considering both to be completely viable options. "Anything you want."

“Woman you love, huh?” Millie wiggled her brows. “I would hope you’d prefer breakfast with her but as it is, she wouldn’t want to take you away from anything important. To be honest, I’d rather you cancelled than go on the principle of the thing and be worrying about what’s going on. I’m only saying.” She held up her hands innocently. “Trying not to be clingy and all the rest of it.”

A whine of complain left Millie’s chest when he pulled away and she blinked open her eyes as she felt his hand take hold of her face. She arched an eyebrow curiously and smiled a little. She loved how he was willing to be so easily dismissive of what had happened before. It didn’t help much to subside the guilt that was still eating away in her even after all those years but it made her feel a little bit more optimistic. The air had cleared somewhat between them and she could breathe with ease enough to nod in acquiescence. That was enough.

Millie propped her head up with her arm on the sofa as he took the plates away, her eyes idly watching him and most certainly appreciating what they beheld. Age was certainly treating Keiran well. She tried in vain to keep the leery look off of her face as he returned and she felt her cheeks warm a little as he sat down on the sofa behind her. Millie tipped her head back to look at him he began to move his fingers through her hair and she glared at him, an absurd image upside down.

“I might stay all night in nearly-middle aged rebellion,” she jested adding thoughtfully, “but they probably would’ve found my savings jar by then and the house will be full of goodness only knows what. Maybe half ten,” she smirked. “Lots of snogging probably,” she suggested, “that’ll either make them never talk to us again or we’ll never hear the end of it. I’m holding all my embarrassing one-liners for when one of them brings someone home that they’re dating. I have all of the baby pictures ready. Here’s hoping I don’t have to wait much longer before I can mortify one of them.”

“Do you want to just talk?” She asked. “I’m not sure what about but, I mean, I feel like we haven’t really talked in … okay, years but you know what I mean. It’s just easy, isn’t it? Even the mundane is kind of nice. Are the House Elves freaking out yet about all the kids being back soon?”

Keiran was truly a strange little chou, if one thought about it. Until he understood his feelings towards someone, he didn't dare express anything or even go so far as to suggest he might feel some way he didn't. The exception, of course, had always been applied when Keiran and Robin had gone out before the whole law fiasco started. But with Millie he had never considered lying to her - after all, when everything got worked out with the Ministry, he wouldn't have wanted her to stay with him if she wasn't sure. Or if he wasn't sure, either. But it had taken him by surprise just how quickly she had worked her way into his heart, as cheesy as it sounded. So although it really had become a habit, Keiran couldn't find it in him to feel strange about his endearments and the forthrightness of his comments.

He was obviously getting on in years, so he saw no point in wasting time. Millie had been given fifteen years to find someone closer to her age or someone with a personality similar to her own, just as he had. But she hadn't done so, and Keiran was fairly sure he couldn't ever convince himself to. So if he could have somehow assured her completely, Keiran would have talked about it for hours. He doubted anything could truly make her feel safe about them so soon, though, so he was more than willing to let her choose their path for the evening.

Keiran nearly asked if she had any embarrassing pictures of him, but that would be more likely to lead to uncomfortable silence or difficult conversations. Instead he grinned along and replied, "You can guarantee I will have into anyone they bring home. Especially Kelly. But only because if they're scared off, clearly they're not good enough. Or determined enough," Keiran pointed out, one elbow set on his knee to prop up his chin while the other hand passed down her arm to take up one of Millie's.

"I think so," he replied, his fingers toying with hers. "I mean, they're pretty active. No complaints of course, but I think they're more excited than anything. I can't say I understand their adoration when it comes to their work, but I certainly appreciate it."

A good-natured smile formed before Keiran's eyes moved from her hand to meet her gaze. "Sure," he laughed, "you want to talk now. But next weekend? I wouldn't count on my letting you suggest such a thing. Especially since I'm sure you're going to get all flustered, and then you'll be lucky if I let you talk to anyone after. More likely, I'll just tell Theo to take the kids home and whisk you off."

He was half kidding, of course, but he held very serious eye contact until finishing, his attention going back to her fingertips. A secret sort of smirk came over his face before he could stop it, so he attempted to cover it by dropping little kisses over the pads of each finger. He released her, though, saying, "But we can do talking if you want to. I'm a bit curious about the whole book situation Liam pointed out..."

Being able to just sit there, sans any responsibilities for that moment in time, was an amazing feeling. The pillows softened the feel of the floorboards under her bum and Millie happily tipped her head back onto the sofa beside Keiran’s legs, watching him with a lazy smile on her face. She could have curled up there and easily gone to sleep. The responsibilities she was shirking for as long as she was there were still playing at the back of her mind, however, and telling her resolutely that she couldn’t stay the night with Keiran. Though their children were mature enough to fend for themselves for a little while, Millie didn’t want to leave them on their own. Not only that but she didn’t entirely know what it would mean if she stayed. It was different bringing Keiran into her home, into her world, because he would go again but what she didn’t know was whether or not she’d want to leave when the time came. She had a feeling she wouldn’t so it was better to stay awake.

Tumbling her fingers playfully through Keiran’s, Millie listened attentively to him as he spoke to her. She smirked a little bit as the over-protective daddy began to shine through and she caught his thumb briefly before flirting her fingers away, her mind wondering after whichever poor soul decided to date their daughter. Determination and correctness did not counter in it, she didn’t think. Anyone in their right mind would be terrified and turned off of the idea of dating their daughter if Keiran decided to exert some scare tactics. She couldn’t blame anyone for getting out of there if he was in charge of directing whichever evening would result in Kelly bringing someone home. Still, she couldn’t fault him. If Kelly wasn’t going to be picky then Keiran would do it for her. The world was owed to their little girl and by hook or by crook if she didn’t ensure it for her, he would.

“Poor sod,” she raised her eyebrows, laughing as she trapped his thumb again, releasing it to twirl her fingers around his palm. “I’ll be good cop to your bad then, shall I?”

“Flustered?” Millie released Keiran’s hand and turned, straightening herself up to look at him. She brushed her hair behind her ear and looked at him pointedly. “Flustered,” she repeated again dubiously. “I don’t get flustered Mr Hayes,” she shook her head slowly, once to the right and once to the left, sliding her hands up his legs. She smirked a little, flicking her index finger at the button on his jeans before slipping her hands away, letting them drip across his inner thighs as she pulled them back towards herself. “But I bet,” she added, leaning over a little more, her dress slipping lower in the front as she raised herself up from the floor. “I could make you very flustered,” she assured him cockily as she sat herself down in his lap, sliding her legs down, bent at the knees, either side of his hips. “Quite.” She wiggled a bit under the pretence of getting comfortable. “Easily.”

Millie leaned over, attaching her lips to the juncture where his neck slid into his jaw and she sighed, rolling her hips against him as she trailed her mouth up across his jaw to his ear, catching his lobe between her teeth. When he spoke, trivial pursuits in conversation reminding her that she had elected to talk rather than abandon herself to whatever whims their bodies desired. She lifted her head from his neck and smiled a little, sitting a little more fully in his lap, quirking a playful brow at him before shrugging a half shoulder.

“Books?” She queried briefly, confusion rattling its way over her fair features before it dawned on her what exactly he was talking about. Then, in direct contrast to her words just gone, she did become flustered. Her cheeks burned a bright scarlet and the confidence that had exuded itself from every pore dissipated around her and she averted her gaze, turning her head away from him as the enflamed skin colour slid further and further southwards, disappearing between the emerald fabric that clung delicately to the swells and curves of her body. Her chest, having begun to heave with the deepening of her breath and the quickening of her heart, continued to pump up and down before her and she exhaled shyly, her lips morphing into a vague smile.

“I, um,” she began awkwardly, bringing her eyes back to him. “I always made sure I got the books after you stopped sending them,” she confided, smoothing her hands across his shoulders. “It’s so pathetic but it sort of brought me closer to you in a way. I mean, you saw that one with the pealing spine – I’m not going to pretend I’m not confident I could repeat passages from all of them verbatim. It just felt like you were near because for me … I still felt like I knew you, a little bit, and I could see where your moods were sort of changing as you were writing and I’ve got annotations in some places – usually where you’re being a snarky git,” she laughed, unable to stop herself, reaching up to cup her hand around his neck in assurance that she rather liked the snark, it wasn’t a criticism. “Or where, weirdly, I actually knew some things. Those I’d star off in this green ink that reminded me of your…” she closed her eyes, her embarrassment rising once more.

“I know that it’s been established that we didn’t really do divorce well,” she winced, “but the more I speak the more utterly pitiful I sound. I mean, as though keeping the wedding ring and queuing up all morning to get the books you didn’t send me wasn’t sad enough like … I had a discourse with the text, almost, and it felt like I was talking to you again. Which was stupid, really, because given all of the chances I’ve had to talk to you and I didn’t take them… it’s ridiculous.” She leaned forward, resting her forehead on his shoulder, whining quietly into his shirt. “I missed you, Keiran. Like death. Those books were my little not so private piece of you. I was horrified when Liam took them out. It was like…” she lifted herself back up. “It was like all of my cards had been shown right there and it was totally pointless me even telling you how I felt because it was all in the books and if it hadn’t have worked out right I think I would have had to have strangled Liam because I have never felt so exposed in all my years…”

Millie shook her head, biting her lip in an effort to contain her laughter. She brought her hand up away from his neck and curled another lock of hair behind her ear, one that was persisting on springing free.

“The red bound one is my favourite, though,” she expressed to him. “Because it was the first one I went and got myself. It was such a bitterly cold day, too, and everyone was so excited at the shop. I’d pre-ordered it and everything and took it home and unwrapped it and I read it that afternoon. It wasn’t completely in one sitting because the twins didn’t really take to the idea of me not playing with them but by the time they went to bed I finished it off and … I could see so much change in you. It was in the way you’d written and there was something altogether different that I didn’t quite understand. I suppose I loved – not past tense, I don’t mean that. I know I love the books because it still felt like I was with you somehow and so I kind of got to see you as you moved along and changed and … it’s really not flattering for me no matter which way you angle the light but they were my only connection to you so I kept them and I loved every one, even and especially the ones you got me. I was just not brave enough to tell you. Some Gryffindor I am, eh?”

Keiran's throat tightened as he attempted to swallow, unable to rip his gaze from hers. Well, until she moved up to sit in his lap and his head fell back against the top of the couch and a deep groan rumbled out from his chest. Without his telling them to, his hands dropped to her waist, attempting to encourage her to send her hips over that same path again. But his darkened gaze met hers as she spoke, brow relaxing as he looked her over.

Her explanation both comforted him and brought back the guilt. "I should've sent them. I didn't realize you read them... I mean, the kids never said-" Keiran paused, shaking his head sadly. He took a breath, trying both to calm himself as well as take in exactly what her actions meant. After a moment, his fingers rubbed up and down her sides, more than willing to use both what Millie had started and the conversation to their full advantage.

"You knew those dedications were for you, right?" He replied finally, looking up at her openly. "Every time," Keiran swore, leaning forward to nudge her nose with his own. "Maybe some part of me knew you would see them," he whispered, lips brushing over her own. "I desperately hoped you did. That you knew."

His fingers drifted, sneaking under the hem of her dress and feeling their way across the skin there. Even as the fabric was pushed back, his lips parted, requesting access that could allow him to explore and relearn. Taking advantage of the fact that her legs were on either side of his own, Keiran braced her against him, turning so he could lower her onto the couch cushions. Unlike their previous endeavors, he was determined to take it slow - a strange variant on their original agreement - and draw things out, even to the point where she grew frustrated with him for doing so. Yes, she could make him flustered. But he was certain he could make Millie feel.

So he didn't push for any rushed, desperate feelings that wanted to escape. It wasn't just need that he wanted to show or admit, it was love. And as he arced his hips against hers, Keiran made sure to tell her once more, voicing the words against her ear. If she stopped him, so be it. But if she let him, he was intent on making sure she knew just how much he wanted her to let it all continue. To let him go with her to the gala. Or continue their planned overnights. Essentially, he just wanted to be able to call her what he had never been allowed to: his girlfriend. Because oddly, the title just made him adore her all the more. It had a sense of innocence about it that they had never been truly granted, which struck him just as he lifted off her to pull his shirt over his head.

"Please, baby," he groaned into her neck once he leaned over her once more. "Let's not fret over it all. Just take it as it is, and say you'll let me call this official. I want people to know you're mine again," he explained with conviction, his palms glancing over her stomach and yet further north. "Say yes, Missie."

Keiran couldn't explain why he failed to voice the actual request for her to take on the role he so wished she would, but he hoped the sentiment was there to the point where Millie could take the meaning and either accept it or run away before any real damage was done to his heart. That, he supposed - the fear of being ditched again - was what kept the whole question from coming out, even as it was prepped on his lips to do so. The idea that she perhaps thought she had changed her mind about him but could turn around and prove herself wrong? It made him want to cringe. So his eyes closed, the bridge of his nose wanting to scrunch in distaste for actually bringing up the idea of making it official in the first place. But he refused to show any nerves, instead dropping his lips to her pulse point, feeling impatient to the point of deciding to bare his teeth just enough to scrape them over that spot on her neck. Millie would come out of their first date (sans children) feeling loved and needed, even Keiran's own decision to take his time ended up killing him.

The only thought that seemed to compute in the mind of the blonde woman was that she was going to be in more than her fair share of trouble when she got home because there was no way in the creation of cats that Keiran was going to get her home at ten, sharp. She couldn’t find it within herself to care, however. She slid her hands up over Keiran’s neck and she smiled a little, a quick twitch of her lips which was meant to assure that she didn’t care, that she’d bought them because she’d loved to see him write. It hadn’t mattered that he hadn’t sent the later ones. She’d gone and she’d been happy to wait, fingers warm in her mittens, with everyone else in Dublin that had loved his books. She’d loved the atmosphere and in part she’d enjoyed the irony of it as she bounced in her boots, trying to keep her blood flowing as one of the tellers took his sweet time in the hot store to open up the doors. She hadn’t minded. In fact, it made it more special.

“It would have been the height of all narcissism to believe it,” she breathed, her voice intermingling with his. “I think I knew, even if I didn’t want to believe it.” She supposed that in hindsight just as Liam had thrown out all of her cards and stacked them neatly on that table somewhat tattered but well-loved that he’d also in doing so removed all of Keiran’s, too. The dedications were there for her and for their family and to know that she’d pored over them was quite possibly as exposing as having the books taken out at all. They needn’t have said anything that they had in the restaurant. It had all been in the books – in him writing them diligently for years and for her taking and loving every single one. It was almost as though through that nothing had even ended. All of the feelings were still allowed to churn and were turned over in the cauldrons of their hearts and whether it was pleasure or whether it was utter self-inflicted torment was not clear and ultimately it did not matter because they were together again.

She rose up a little into his touch, her skin beginning to tingle as his fingertips brushed across it and she whined into his mouth, lifting her tongue through to tease at his. It was slow, languorous and in equal parts frustrating and elating. Her hold on his shoulders tightened a little as he moved her but once her back found the cushions of the sofa she relaxed her hold, drawing her hands down across his upper back. The almost liquid material of her dress pooled away as he rose his hands up across her legs. Scuttling away as though shy it revealed more inches of creamy skin until there was no further place it could retreat to as he reached the hem of the waistband. She gave a distressed whimper, the feeling of so little between their hips making her feel dizzy. Inconsequential sounds rattled aimlessly from her lips as she tried to both stifle and articulate what she was feeling.

The dress seemed as eager as she was for it to disappear off of her body and whether through magic or divine intervention the material slid up at will. She gasped, her nails tightening into his shoulder inadvertently as a rush of delight flashed through her. Her stomach instinctively drew back, trembling almost at the ghosting feel of his touches. She was beyond being able to really get out words. A sentence wasn’t what he was going to get from her. As much as something in her wanted to throw up pros and cons, all of the pros of this heartily outweighed the cons. You could never wholly attribute thinking with one’s loins to being a male fallacy. No, when Keiran attached his lips to her pulse point she groaned out her acquiescence, her legs tightening up either side of him, rolling towards her, begging him closer. Sense be damned. She was his.

She leaned forth, planting a kiss at the point where his neck met his shoulder and she clamped her eyes shut tightly as she realised the friction that such a shift caused. Impatience drove this woman. Fifteen years of bumpy roads had taught her a kind of respect for calm and waiting but she couldn’t. As she sat up she wound her arm behind her to pull down the zip of her dress and she pulled it up over her head, abandoning it in the direction of Keiran’s shirt. Once the dress was discarded she registered satisfaction at deciding to go racy but matching. The sharp contrast in colour seemed to scald her skin, Slytherin green having slunk away to reveal the deep Gryffindor burgundy, declaring obstinately where her true allegiances laid. She moved forward, her hands spreading reverently down his arms, her fingers dripping into mingle with his, and she slid her lips against his chest, breathing in the deep scent that was permeating off of his skin, that was purely him.

“Yes,” she exhaled against him, finally bringing a proper more level-headed affirmation to his request. “Yes,” she repeated, lifting her hands to his belt buckle, her fingers lithely undoing it before sliding it ever so daringly slowly out of the loops, abandoning it to the floor when the last piece of leather was relinquished by the cotton. She lifted her gaze up to his, imagining that they both wore a similar lustful darkness in their irises, and she leaned forward, replacing her lips back against his chest, her tongue coming out to tickle across the momentary change in his skin, feeling it tighten in response to her. She retracted her tongue, appealing her lips to his shoulder instead before laying herself back again, drawing him close until their lips met once more.

“Ask me anything,” she mumbled against him. “And you’ll get it in a heartbeat.” And by Merlin, for everything that would enact if his mind saw fit to wonder at the possibilities, she’d do it, too.