*Crack!*
Under the light of a lamp, a strangely dressed woman appeared from nowhere. In her hand she held a wooden wand and kept this pointed out in front of her as she looked around and surveyed her surroundings.
“So muggle.” Her distaste was betrayed in the tone of her voice and she started to walk along a path, planting high heeled boots into the ground as she did. Her long deep purple robes billowed behind her and the lacy black dress rode up just above her bare knees. Nicola’s Randall’s clothing was somewhat smarter than it had been months before. Business at the Black Widow was improving which meant money was coming in. Sure, the front antiques shop wasn’t the best galleon earner but her services behind the scenes paid off. She’d rekindled old trade partnerships and was once more on the black market. So now she was better fed, better watered and better clothed.

She had to thank a certain wizard for giving her the helping hand to get started again. She kept his secret, she held the passage way to his little club and bar and he’d helped her restart the small shop. But Tawse was rarely around. He vanished for weeks on end and showed up out of the blue. He talked of trouble with the ministry yet never elaborated which led Nicola to believe he was either exaggerating the whole thing or avoiding her.

But tonight she had his current address and she was going to pay her beloved Scottish criminal a visit. The street itself was quiet, it being eleven o’clock at night. The houses all looked the same, red brick and square shaped, much unlike a true wizard’s abode. Each looked so plain and exactly the same as the one on either side. Muggles truly were a dull sort.

And here was number 17; a house that looked the same as every other on the street. The occupant of said property was, however, rather unusual. Nicola pocketed her wand and walked up the pathway to the front door. A balled up fist banged on it and the witch waited for a few moments before the door slowly creaked open.

Miss Randall stepped inside and looked over the face of the wizard she very possibly had a few too many feelings for. She stepped forward, arms lifting to wrap around his neck and her lips pressed strongly against his.

"Look.  No.  I'll get the door.  You...go finish the story and see he gets to sleep."  The silver-haired woman, and owner of the house, paused with her hand on the deadbolt and looked up at the tall, burly wizard.  The woman's blank, slightly distant expression was immediately recognizable.  The imperious curse that held Mrs. Meath clouded her expression, leaving her with a soft, slightly detached grin.  The older woman nodded and turned, making her way up the stairs to the bedroom above. 

Cinaed waited until the woman cleared the top of the stairs before peering through the peephole.  It was late enough that the outdoor lights had been turned off for the night and Cinaed was in no hurry to turn them on and announce their presence.  Shadows enveloped the doorstep, obscuring the identity of the figure in the doorway but their outline was unmistakable.  Long dark robes draped over a slender frame.  It was a woman.  And, it was a witch.  Cinaed cursed under his breath and pulled his wand, holding it at the ready.  If the witch outside was a stranger, she would soon regret stumbling upon this home. 

The light on the porch flipped on and Nicola's features came into view.  Cinaed cursed, again, quietly as he scanned the walkway behind the witch.  There were no other figures.  No sign of her being followed.  Cinaed slowly opened the door and, with wand hand held ready, beckoned Nicola inside. 

"What are you-" he started to demand when Nicola kissed him.  He backed up, drawing Nicola into the house without breaking the kiss and swung the door shut with his foot.  A few moments into the kiss, he broke the contact and leaned back.  "How did you find me?" he asked, opening the door to add a few more boundary spells before securing it and shutting off the porch light.  "Did anyone follow you?  Did anyone see where you went?  Merlin!"

Cinead stowed his wand and turned, shaking his head.  How did he know if his cover was blown?  Unfortunately, you didn't know for sure until the Aurors showed up.  Cinaed groaned, again, and rubbed his face.  It was safest to assume his cover was blown.  The real question was: could he wait until morning or should he wake Fionn now. 

"Merlin!"

The wizard’s lips tasted familiar and his scent further drew her in. He kissed back and Nicola pressed up against him, eager for more as the weeks had passed with nothing. She needed this. She deserved it.

Yet he pulled back and looked at her with an alien expression. He wasn’t pleased to see her, wasn’t throwing her over his shoulder and taking her upstairs. Instead he questioned her on finding him and set more spells on the door. All this time with no contact and once again all he cared about was himself. Nicola had wondered about him for weeks. She’d felt lonely back home waiting for a visit from a wizard that never showed. He was too occupied with that damned infant of his and running away from the ministry because he’d been misbehaving.

“Why would someone see where I went, Tawse?” She stepped away from him, arms now folded over her robes. “You’re paranoid.”

Obviously planning on staying, and most certainly not taking his paranoia seriously, Nicola removed her robes and proceeded to hang them over the banister at the bottom of the staircase.
“No one followed me, no one knows where I am, and no one is about to barge through that door blah blah blah.” She stepped back close to him and placed a hand on each bicep, pressing up against his body. Dark eyes gazed up to his. “How wonderful to see you, Nicola. I’ve missed you greatly. I’ve been dreaming of your legs since the last time I dropped in when the whim took me. Welcome to my muggle hovel where I play Daddy and stare out of my curtains in case those bad men in red robes come to take me away.”

Was Nicola mad at him?
Most definitely.

Nicola was angry.  Why, Cinaed couldn’t fathom.  He’d kissed her back, hadn’t he?  If he hadn’t been pleased to see her, his initial response would have been quite different.  Did she really require some whole elaborate mating song and dance?  Like a bloody, horny peacock that pranced and preened and waggled his tail feathers every time she walked by?  Needy witches.

“It would be paranoia if I didn’t have reason to be cautious.”  Cinaed started to turn towards the front sitting room to do exactly as Nicola predicted: peer out the curtains for those blasted Aurors. The witch’s persistence in ignoring the severity of his situation was one of her biggest faults and the primary reason he didn’t wholly trust her.  She wouldn’t intentionally betray him.  That he was certain of. 

But, a broad smirk did stretch across the wizard’s face as Nicola blocked his way and pressed against him.  He leaned over, closing the space between their faces and murmured, mimicking Nicola’s speech even as she spoke.  "How wonderful to see you, Nicola. I’ve missed you greatly. I’ve been dreaming of your legs since the last time I dropped in when the whim took me. Welcome to my muggle hovel where I play Daddy and stare out of my curtains in case those bad men in red robes come to take me away."

He kissed her, firmly, pulling her more tightly against him for several long moments before dropping his hands.  “They’re bound to know you’re associated with me.  They’d be fools not to realize following you is the easiest route to finding me.”  And, to Robin.  He’d been over it time and time again with Nicola; he doubted repeating himself would make any difference. 

“Are you here to help me pack?” he asked, turning to, at last, make his way into the sitting room and peer out the window.  “I don’t think I can wait until morning.”

Even as she spoke Cináed started to repeat her words, his face mere inches from hers. She felt his breath on her cheeks and the Scottish accent tainting the words brought her attention to rest solely on the bulky wizard whose grip was pulling her closer into a kiss. She rose onto tip toes, reaching closer to narrow the gap between their heights. Yet all too soon Tawse pulled back and Nicola was left wanting.

Dark eyes narrowed a minute amount when her lover jumped straight back to the topic of great irritation. It had been nearly 18 months they had been involved with one another and for over one year of that, nearly everything the Scottish wizard discussed was about him and being on the run from whatever he’d done to the ministry. He was right in believing that Nicola didn’t take it seriously. She was reaching her wits end at wanting to spend her time with a wizard who took a game of hide and seek far too seriously.

“Are you here to help me pack?” The overgrown idiot passed Nicola and walked into another room, his lady friend hot on his heels, her temper increasing.

“Get over yourself!” She snapped, following him into the dark room. “The malevolent Cináed Tawse hasn’t been a feature in the papers for an epic amount of time now. You are shrouding yourself from a society merely irked of your antics. Nothing more. The aurors have grown bored of chasing a paranoid man that hides behind a set of curtains.”

The Ex-Azzie stood at the window, a single rough finger holding the edge of the lace curtains back just enough to peer through at the street beyond.  Despite having full confidence that this was necessary, Cinaed's gaze refused to focus on the street, the cars or any of the shadowed corners.  Usually, Cinaed could handle Nicola's hormonal temper with just the right mixture of humor, apathy and knowledge that it led to more enjoyable activities. 

Tonight, though, his patience was wearing dangerously thin. 

"What would you have me do?"  Cinaed's voice boomed with a percussive beat as he turned and rounded on the witch.  He crossed the room in several brisk strides until he was back within inches.  His frustration and anger at his situation, the boredom, the isolation and the merlin-flaming-cruciating Ministry were being funneled at the witch in front of him who persisted in reminding him of all this crap!  He wanted her to be right.  If not, he wanted to prove her wrong. 

Soft footsteps sounded from the stairs in the hallway and the blank eyed old woman peered down into the front rooms.  "Is everything al-"

"Get back upstairs!"  Soft footsteps retreated and, somewhere upstairs, a door clicked shut. 

"Fine!  You think this is all pointless?  You think I do this for the kicks?  We'll play it your way tonight."  He lifted his hands.  This couldn't end well, he knew that.  So why, then, was he being so bloody foolish for this frustratingly naive witch?  "I'll get Fionn home and then whatever you want.  You call the shots!"

Having Tawse mere inches from her was normally an enjoyable experience. Nicola had spent months longing for such a closeness. Now, however, as the great Scottish wizard stalked across the small living room towards her, shouting and getting angry, Nicola was quickly thinking about making her exit and setting a sensible distance between herself and the easy to anger wand less wizard.

The brief interlude of someone coming to the landing didn't provide much reprieve as her lover very quickly rounded on the witch once more. Goosebumps rose on her arms and Nic's heart started beating a touch faster but she held her ground, standing still and staring at the the burly man.

"Yes!" The witch ejaculated! "This is how you need to be, Tawse! Angry and strong! Not acting like some whimpering muggle peering out of his curtains in case someone steals his garden gnomes."  Perhaps this wasn't the reaction Cinaed had expected from the small witch when he'd got angry and said they'd do what she wanted. But he didn't scare her like he did everyone else. In fact, his present attitude angered her. It was good to see him get irritated.

The ex-Azzie's hands had balled up into tense, claw-like fists; his fingers clenched and flexed under the strain of suppressing an urge to reach out and shake the witch .  His upper lip had curled back into a frustrated snarl as he listened to the witch.

The outer tension was the physical manifestation of the war of indecision inside the fugitive.  Boredom and cabin fever surged through him, the frustration making him want to be careless and stupid and, yes, just like Nicola described.  But, the voice of reason - the voice in his head was reminding him he'd sorely regret a night of carefree indulgence if it landed him back in Azkaban.  And, Fionn back in the hands of muggle-loving Aurors. 

"You witch!" The ex-Azzie cursed, spitting on the floor and turning on his heels, without explanation.  Heavy footsteps took the stairs two at a time and, after a few moments delay, the ex-Azzie returned to the first floor with a confused, sleepy-eyed four-year-old clinging to his neck.  "I'll meet you out front the Widow in five," he explained.  He needed to bring Fionn someplace safe and outside London.  He would not be bringing Nicola with. 

Wrapping his cloak around himself and the child, he strode out into the street until he could apparate into the darkness.

---

True to his word, five minutes later, Cinaed strode out of the shadows from the depths of Knockturn Alley and approached the front of the Black Widow.  He paused, briefly, to light a cigarette.  That voice in his head had, finally, been quieted and dark smirk, he leaned down to kiss Nicola. 

"Where to first?  Fondue at the Three Broomsticks?"