Don't own anything related to Harry Potter or Damien Rice.

We might kiss when we are alone
When nobody's watching
We might take it home
We might make out when nobody's there
It's not that we're scared
It's just that it's delicate

- "Delicate" by Damien Rice

His marriage had crumbled just as surely as he had promised her that he would be with her. It had started off completely by accident with them standing in his and his wife's kitchen and laughing over an open magazine, hot tea, and freshly baked scones. His fingers were soft and the brush of them against the back of her hand had felt so innocent that she ignored the action. Her orange hair sat on her head in a thick mass of curls that reached her shoulders. His dark eyes seemed mesmerized by her hair as their conversation died down. She could taste her nervousness in her mouth like the trickle of sweat traveling down her neck. The clingy shirt she wore tightened around her breasts as her breathing rate increased. His fingers hesitated in touching her hair. His gaze locked with hers as his right hand gently moved over her soft hair and stopped to caress her cheek. His eyes fluttered closed as he turned away from her.

It was almost five years since that fateful event. The door to the kitchen opened and closed as the woman with white blonde hair breezed back inside. Her purse hung on her shoulder, and she looked the perfect picture of sophistication in her suit as she gave him a nod and smiled at her cousin. Their son was outside, and she would hurry back from the emergency meeting at the Daily Prophet as soon as she could. She completely ignored the fact that he appeared to be as white as a sheet of paper when he nodded to her and followed her out the room. She gave both of them a large smile as she took in a deep breath and apparated. He turned to her with a strange expression and did not try to hide the fact that he was confused.

Both of them stared at one another in disbelief and wonderment. The space between them was discarded, and their lips crushed one another hungrily. She did want him, shamelessly, and the only person that had been aware of it for the past two years was her older brother. He pushed the book on the counter to the floor and sat her atop it. His hands trembled as they moved over her body. How many times had he touched her? How many times had he felt her body writhing underneath his? Her skin was the color of wheat and smelled of lilacs. He buried his face in her chest and inhaled deeply. How many times had he allowed himself to tear her clothes from her beautifully shaped body? He stepped away from her with his index finger pressed against his lips. How long would it take for him to realize that his marriage had been legally dissolved two years before? His dark eyes darted to the opening door.

A pale six year old boy stood in the door holding the hand of a five year old girl with skin several shades lighter than her mother's. She wiped her nose and ran to her mother wailing about something Remus had done. She kissed the girl and whispered into her ear. Teddy reached out and took the girl from Roxanne and told her that her brother was sorry. He happened to look up and find his wife standing in the doorway with her purse clutched to her chest. Her silvery blue eyes darted between her former husband and her cousin. She had forgotten her papers.