He could not help but grin now, especially when she laughed – feeling far more relaxed and less likely that she would kill him than he had before.  It had been a toss-up for a while there, whether or not she was going to do something stupid – or if he would do something stupid, also quite likely when high emotions were passing between the pair.  It was an intense sort of thing and Archer did not particularly enjoy making her uncomfortable, but it was necessary, and it also wasn’t very much fun to wind himself up either – at least not in that way. 

Currently, he was enjoying himself much better and smirked defiantly as she tried to chastise him.  “You act like you don’t like it; Ray, but I know you better than that.”  For emphasis, the man made a bold (perhaps stupid) decision to pinch her where she would never expect it.  Now, of course, he braced himself momentarily, though expected nothing more than, if anything, a slightly stern tap to the cheek.  Grinning at this point, he challenged her to say anything with raised eyebrows.

She did not respond how he thought though, and started to touch his face.  It was strange, and he did not shirk away, but rather let her run her fingertips over his cheekbone and get close to his nose, but she stopped.  He could have laughed.  Yes, it was a little sore, but it was nothing an auror was not used to.  “Just a little sore,” he conceded, he did not want to lie to her after all, “but nothing too terrible.  I am a big, strong man after all,” he added, puffing up his chest with the bravado a typical auror would display on a daily basis. 

He had acquired a number of scars, bruises, and marks over the years, many of which he toted about now like trophies of past escapades and was glad enough that he now had the second break of his nose to add to the collection.  The feeling was not unfamiliar, and he grew used to it – it wasn’t as though it were something completely new – that was reserved for holding the nearly feather-weighted woman in his arms, her legs about his waist and hands on his neck.  That was new – and that was pleasant. 

“As for being as equipped as Tulo,” he looked her over, appearing to be scrutinizing what he could see, giving the undersides of her thighs another squeeze, just for good measure, “I do not think there is any comparison.”  He leaned forward and caught her in a quick kiss, moving to the corner of her mouth, her jaw, and rested at the base of her neck, “And I won’t hear anything about her, my nose, or anything else from earlier today, yeh?” he spoke against her ear, kissing the spot just below for good measure. 

A lot of emotional undercurrents had been brought to the surface and the storm surge had almost overtaken their uneven shore. The retracting tide still smarted and old wounds stung from the residue salt exposure but Archer was not allowing her inner demons to retreat with them. Everything was raw and exposed and came with a sense of vulnerability and openness that was… very new. It frightened her. But Archer Radley did not. And that made the difference; gave her the courage he had literally cornered out of her. She was not a coward. That innate competitive nature wanted to prove him wrong.

That pinch was unexpected if not entirely startling.  Too well conditioned to his behavioral quirks, Tamis shot him a disapproving look as she evaluated the Healer’s work on his nose. Despite Office rumors and previous allegations this was their first romantic venture, but there had been harmless platonic flirting almost since day one. At first it had been a rivalry, spurred by sour Hogwarts memories and a lost mutual connection. Then it had become a friendly display of crude camaraderie. Now, well, it was neither of those first two points. The difference was that, in the past, he had never gotten away with it.

“Universal confidence, it seems” she quipped back calmly, neither confirming nor denying how well he did or did not know her. They did not to inflate his ego any more than it apparently already was.

As she had predicted, Tulojow’s work was proficient and meticulous. If there was any swelling, she could not see it. A broken nose was an insignificant and frequent concern among Aurors but they were not always fortunate enough to have an actual Healer on hand to attend to it. Hasty field corrections were the culprit of many nasal disfigurements around the Office. By tomorrow, it would be impossible to tell. The men would be none the wiser that a seventeen year old girl had bludgered him. 

“I am aware,” she smirked back, not without irony, letting her hands fall from his face and down to his chest as he puffed it, offering an affectionate pat. It was such a familiar, typical displace of Auror egotism that the smirk almost quirked into a smile. It was rather impossible to forget, given their current predicament. The strong grip on her thighs and the muscle beneath her hands were helpful reminders.

A faint blush tinged her cheeks as he twisted her comparison about Tulojow Nagde’s medicinal supplies and her own, making it far more provocative. The squeeze and once-over made the pigmentation that much more traitorous. Another new experience. The only attention comparable that she was used to receiving equated to crude leers from the occasional inmate, neither appreciated nor complimentary. Raising an eyebrow, she attempted a smooth recovery, “I did not know you were one for flattery.”

It was a short-lived redemption.

He leaned forward for a kiss and by the time he got to the base of her neck her pulse was racing fast enough that she believed he, surely, must have been able to feel it. That final kiss below her ear she felt all the way to her toes was disorienting enough that she had trouble concentrating on the words. Tamis was not sure how she felt about his ability to do that; she did know that it was far too advantageous.

“I think I am convinced,” she admitted.

Archer knew he was in a prime position of power at the moment.  Ray could go nowhere unless he allowed her to by letting her down, and his feet were the ones that were going to control the movements they took.  For the moment, he was content to be in the middle of the living room, though, he supposed from the distinct feeling of being watched that they were not alone – and because he had not heard or seen anything, that it was Squeak who was doing the watching and she would surely not approve. 

The little thing was prude as they came and disapproved of Archer’s presence even on the floor of her mistress, of course, when Archer explained as much as he could to the thing, she relented.  He wondered what sort of fit she had when she found out Archer had actually dared to fall asleep on the bed the previous evening. He might have liked to ask if it would not interrupt the few, delicious moments they had in the living room.  Of course, he wished to make this party a little less public, especially to the burning eyes of the house elf that aptly concealed herself, and Archer began walking through the small flat, still supporting her weight. 

“You clearly don’t know me well enough,” Archer joked in return, smirking at the clear falsehood.  She knew him perhaps better than anyone else in the world.  The best part of thirteen years had been spent in her company, and that generally meant they knew things about one another that no one else knew.  The closeness a partnership generally brought, especially after that many years together, was undeniable, and Archer was amused that she attempted to counter with such a thing – she knew better than that. 

She, of course, could not anticipate what he was going to do next and he chuckled huskily against her neck as she admitted how easily she had been convinced.  “I thought I might have been up for a fight on it, to be honest,” he admitted in return, adding a few more kisses to the total he had already wracked up.  “I’m pleasantly surprised you are so easily swayed this evening…” he announced as he shifted her weight momentarily practically only into one arm and pushed open her bedroom door. 

As he crossed the threshold of the room, one he had, previously, thought he would never gain admittance to as part of her personal life, Archer grinned, “Will all other convincing be so easy?” he asked, partially out of curiosity and partially out of honesty, feeling a familiar tightness in his stomach as he grazed his lips over hers and even ran his teeth over the bottom protrusion of her lip, a devious sort of look to his eye as he did.

“Perhaps I need reeducation,” she smirked. Not likely. While she might not remember his favorite color or if he wore socks to bed (though she suspected), she knew the other nuisances. Their shared characteristic of running their hands through their hair when frustrated – she was not sure if had learned that from her, she from him, or if it was purely coincidental. The way he rubbed the back of his neck when he felt awkward or the way the bridge between his eyebrows furrowed when he was confused. She had the distinct formation of the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes (something a few years new) when he smiled memorized… and she had a gift for knowing when he had not had his coffee yet in the morning.

And, she knew he could be a sweet talker, having agonizingly witnessed it countless times. She had just never been on the receiving end of it. Ask her ten years ago if she believed she would have ever reached this point with her partner and Tamis would have laughed, hysterically. Then the excuses would have started. Not his type. Would be like dating a brother. Spent far too much time with him already. His girlfriend of the time did not need any real ammunition. They would need a stool. He had certainly found a solution to that last concern.

Warm breath exhaled against her neck with his deep, quiet laughter. The kisses resumed and he was helping himself through her bedroom door before she had even realized he was moving. Any comment died on her lips, blinking once in astonishment as Archer shifted her weight to deal with the door.  The fact that he was able to do that was just … wrong.

Speaking of wrong, Tamis reached out with a foot to close the door before Cat could sneak in, wanting the only male in the house to herself at the moment. The cat took to him better than to the woman the fed her. As she did so, she swore she saw an earthen colored creature of the non-feline variety dart toward the wooden panel, just as it shut. Her thoughts would have lingered on that had Archer not reclaimed her attention, grazing her bottom lip with a mischievous challenge that resonated in those deep brown eyes.

Stunned, she clung to her perch dumbfounded for a long moment, completely lost for a response. Then, for the second time, she laughed, and a flicker of impish woman from the past lit her gaze, just briefly. The man was, truly, becoming far too arrogant. Tamis tried not to think about the disturbing shadow under the doorway against the living room’s light as she, almost in mockery of his earlier stunt, pressed her lips to the crook of his neck and worked her way up and across the underside of his jaw, ending at the small flap above his earlobe.

Keeping her lips there, she finally replied to his line of questioning, quirking an eyebrow even if he could not see it. “Are you always going to talk this much?”

The hollow click of the door behind him, Archer was pleased.  She had kicked the door and kept out any of the intruders in the apartment – the non-threatening ones anyway, at least to him.  Squeak, though she did not like him, was harmless.  In fact, she took even better care of him than she did of Ray, in some respects, he felt.  He heard her muttering something about prize abraxon one day… whatever it was, he liked the idea.  The whole thing, well, she wasn’t going to come in without knocking and it was fairly obvious that neither of them were going to be opening that door any time soon. 

And the other woman in the apartment didn’t have the thumbs to open the door, nor the magical ability to pop through at will.  For good measure, Archer, once again, balanced Ray on one arm and reached behind him to lock the door again.  Cat, “affectionately” named by her owner, had taken some sort of special interest in Archer – animal magnetism he touted, but they were perfectly alone.  Clearly, the woman understood what he was doing –and the click of the door, caused by her own foot pushing it, was enough for Archer to be reasonably certain she was absolutely alright with it. 

He thought she would say something, but, always a woman of little need to speak, Ray took it upon herself to further the physical conversation.  His response was immediate and Archer’s stomach twisted in the cavity of his torso.  Any doubts about the fact she was a living, breathing human being were thrown out the window and Archer realized that he had never really actually thought she was a lifeless as others did – he had seen her at school and certainly heard enough shop talk from Tait, though, respectfully, he tried to ignore anything he said as ridiculous bravado typical of a Gryffindor and a torture tactic encouraged by Ray anyway. 

The first few months of their partnership, yes, she was cold and quiet, but she grew out of it.  Perhaps the job shook her sometimes and those glimpses of humanity showed – in the past few months she had been more open to human emotion than he had seen her since school.  Perhaps that was why he was willing to push himself, and her, recently.  A deep rumble of what could have been a pleased sort of growl (something he was not at all used to having happen in the recent future) bubbled from his throat and he, once again, gripped tighter on her thighs. 

Archer walked to the edge of the bed and bent his knees, and sat her down and moved his hands to her shoulders, drawing them slowly down her arms, over her back, resting on her hips.  “I usually let other things do the talking for me,” he added, gently suggesting that she lay back while he drew several long kisses over her arched neck.  Ten years ago, he would have laughed.  At this particular moment, he wouldn’t even dare. 

A good while later, the bedroom door reopened and a bunny slipper slid out of it, followed by another one as Tamis Raynor carefully closed the door back behind her, pressing a hand to the center of the wooden panel to lessen the noise. Just before it clicked softly shut, she caught one last glance of the man sound asleep among a tangle of covers. It was overdue, she decided. He had not had much of it since the assignment began.

A reverberating purring sound emanated behind her and she lifted a foot to halt the gray, spotted Egyptian Mau and Kneazle cross before Cat had a chance to seize the moment of opportunity and leap passed her into the bedroom. The purring immediately ceased and those tilted yellow eyes shifted up to meet her, long gray and black tail flicking in agitation. “Let him sleep,” she scolded the feline, accosting the cat gently with a slipper in a “shoo”ing manner. The tail continued to flicker for a long moment before Cat finally trotted off, taking refuge under the couch.

Sighing, she ran a hand across her forehead and through her hair – only to have it get stuck in the tousled tangles. Cursing softly, the next several minutes were spent extracting her fingers avoiding as many casualty chestnut strains in the process. Two sets of floppy ears battered the floor as she shuffled into the kitchen, swallowed in a fluffy robe. Once an insomniac always an insomniac, she supposed. Her mind would not stop reeling about the day’s events.

Retracting a teacup from the cupboard, Tamis went to fit her hand over the handle of the teapot, still being kept warm on the stove. Before her fingers could close around it, the pot mysteriously vanished into thin air. Not perturbed, Tamis turned around and pressed her back against the countertop, facing the small house elf wielding the stolen pot.  There was a long, lingering silence where sharp gray eyes stared into large blue ones and vice versa. Then, still without uttering a word, Tamis held out her teacup expectantly. Just as wordlessly, the elf filled it.

Taking a few sips of the warm liquid, Tamis listened to the nighttime sounds of the flat. The grandfather clock ticking, the occasional rustle of plumbing, the rustle as Cat rearranged her nest inside the couch Squeak had given up repairing.

“No lecture?” She finally asked the House Elf, staring straight overtop the House Elf’s head and at her bedroom the door, the crack underneath it dark and silent. Her relationship with Squeak was not typical. She was still the Mistress, Squeak still the loyal servant. But the House Elf had always been that stability factor in her life; the one that had cared about her growing up, that had looked after her needs. She had also tried to instill old pureblood traditions, with only partial success.

“Mistress would not listen,” the house elf resigned simply.

Tamis nodded once, raising the cup to her lips once more. At least they had a mutual understanding.



END