[edinburgh] baby's in black. [tag; dieter]

More snow.

Sofia's big brown eyes were shielded behind dark lenses of her expensive sunglasses and she sighed as they blinked at the heavily laden clouds overhead. Was all this happened in this place? Cold weather and binge drinking? It was bitterly cold. As an Italian, it wasn't second nature to prepare for winter. They didn't really get a winter. Not unless she lived in the north, which she did not. Bundled up in a camel coloured coat with a thickly knitted scarf wrapped around her slender neck, it was a shock to see her so dressed down. But she knew Scotland. She would not be tackling hills or cobbled streets in her new hideously expensive but glorious leather boots.

She found it a surprise as she stood in the middle of the ancient market square. It seemed rather…old fashioned. It didn't seem to fit Dieter. He looked modern. Stylish haircut, fancy clothes, cheekbones that looked as though they could cut her. She just couldn't place him at any other time than the one they were currently in. He was handsome. He had a face that could launch a thousand ships. Not quite timeless but beautiful regardless.

She didn't fancy him. She respected him. They had some sort of strange, unhealthy and toxic relationship. But it worked. Not quite friends but a little more than acquaintances. Maybe that was the incorrect word to use? Too formal. He had, after all, given her a scar down the centre of her spine after he'd smashed the glass of her vase and then proceeded to sleep with her on top of it. It was a long story.

Her long glossy dark hair was tied back into a ponytail that bounced cheerfully as she strode, her rubber soled trainers skipping over the cobbles as she looked up at the buildings around her. They were cute. Quaint. Clearly expensive. She, herself, was all about gothic architecture. She liked black and cobwebs and beams and preferably, buildings with a disturbing and gruesome past. Public medieval executions? Cool.

No body paid her attention as she crossed the square but she wasn't stupid. She was expecting the Meer Mafia to be around somewhere. She regretted laughing at them dearly now. The foolhardy behaviour had almost caused her demise but Dieter had been the one to save her. It came with strings, she knew that. She couldn't help but feel like she'd made a deal with the Devil. She could feel them. Their presence surrounded her, like a cold fog, slow moving, seeping into her bones. They hadn't done anything yet but she was not going to make the same mistake ever again.

Checking the slip of parchment, she stopped in front of an impressive building. Ancient stone, pretty windows, peaked and decorative roofing. Looking over her shoulder, Sofia slipped into one of the darker alleyways. With her hands on a gate, she pressed down, easily hopping over the iron railings with the ease and grace of a cat. It was quiet. It was only around four in the afternoon on a Tuesday and the sun was starting to set.

Shimmying around the back of the building, she heaved a sigh. It had been a while since she'd climbed a drainpipe. Shrugging, up she went. She was swift and practised as she climbed, moving as quickly as she could as she felt the bricks shift beneath her fingers, small amounts of mortar crumbling. She heaved herself over the apex of the window and stood on the roof, crouching as she made her way carefully across the loose slates.

"I probably should have knocked," she grunted as she moved swiftly, keeping low. Turning, she crossed the roof as she peeked down, tilting her head as she wondered if Dieter owned a flat or the entire building. He broke her wards and curses and scared the living shit out of her the last time he'd come to Milan. She didn't want to scare him. Rolled carefully in the inside pocket of her coat was some things the mythical being referred to as Erika Meer wanted. She assumed they could have met up, perhaps over coffee. But she also wanted to bring him his Christmas gift, too.

Wards weren't Sofia's strongest subject. She had people to break those for her. Realising her weaknesses, she wore various thin layers, designed to withstand the majority of nasty things that may be unleashed; fire, water, dragonpox, death, pestilence, locusts, the usual.

She was more concerned with protecting herself. She knew he was skilled but she didn't mean any harm. She didn't wish to steal or hurt him, wondering if he had one of those wards that figured out the intent of the trespasser. It took Sofia twenty five minutes and a whole host of swear words before she managed to crack open one of the windows at the back of the house. She pried it apart with her fingers, letting out a grunt of frustration and pain before she slid down and with some serious manoeuvring, managed to squeeze herself through the glass and dropping herself into the building softly.

"Ow," she hissed as she scowled, rubbing her shoulder that had been pulled and pushed back at an unnatural angle so she could squish herself through. Stepping in, she wasn't sure what room she was in. Bedroom? Spare room? Sitting room? Regardless, she peeked around the corner as she stood in the hallway and called out, "Honey, I'm home!~"

At Sofia's words, the house gave a creak. Then, with a pop, a house elf appeared. She was small, even for an elf, and wearing a bright neon-lime-green dress with a large pink plastic bead necklace. After a little curtsy, she beamed at Sofia. "Good afternoon Miss-Bright-Red!" Perfect Italian. German accent. "Master Dieter will meet you in the drawing room, if you would be so kind as to follow me." She turned and started walking at a swift pace, talking without really paying attention as to whether the guest was indeed actually following or not. "Elli thinks Miss-Bright-Red should have used the front door! But Master says that Miss-Bright-Red should be allowed her fun. Can Elli get Miss-Bright-Red something to drink?"

Once orders were taken - or not - the elf opened the drawing room door, gesturing for Sofia to enter, and then popped away again. The room was quite dark, but cosy. A roaring fire - possibly for Sofia's benefit - warmed the room. Dark mahogany furniture, including rather a lot of bookshelves, filled the room, with dark green painted walls, leather armchairs and green and gold cushions tying the decor together. It was traditional, but not overly cluttered. Dieter would call it timeless, but he did have a thing for the grandeur.

The man himself was posed in an armchair, rich smoke curling from a black russian cigarette in a nearby ashtray, black-rimmed glasses perched on his face as he pretended to read a book. Crisp white shirt with just the top button undone, revealing a glimpse of the silver choker-style collar that lay beneath. Just moments ago he'd been working in the middle of a pile of paperwork, sleeves rolled up and swearing at the files. Sofia didn't need to know that. Right now he was the picture of elegance and poise. Like he'd been whiling away the hours here in this seat, sipping on peaty whiskey and smoking without a care in the world. Sofia would probably know that was lies, but these were the facades that their relationship was built on. Smoke and mirrors, darling.

"Scarlet! So wonderful to see you again," he said with a smirk, looking up from the book and gesturing to the seat nearest to his. "Glad to see you managed to avoid the wards. Would have hated to see your stunning looks ruined." He was teasing, of course. His wards had alerted him to her presence as soon as she'd hopped the railings, and he'd lowered the usual enchantments and curses that normally protected the house. He knew that while he thoroughly enjoyed breaking apart another's security, not everyone shared his hobby. "Haven't gotten yourself killed yet, I see. Keeping well?"

Sofia gave a squeak of surprise as the House Elf appeared. Since their last run in, the Italian had taken more of a back room approach. Filing and paperwork, mostly. She'd had a fright and it showed. She was out of practice and it showed. She was unprepared and rather jumpy and that showed, too. She'd been out of the field for too long.

Miss. Bright Red.

The brunette gave a laugh once she'd managed to calm down a little, slipping off her sunglasses and placing them on the top of her head swiftly. Master Dieter, she'd said. Sofia folded her lips together to stop the laughter and she could feel her red lipstick smear. Oh he'd love that.

Quick as a whip, the elf moved and Sofia had no choice but to follow behind her. Her big dark eyes flicked left and right as they passed various rooms, trailing behind as she peeked into them. Once a collector, always a collector, she made mental notes about any things she might like the look of. Oil paintings, Chinese vases, tapestries. Various bits. She often wondered what he spent his wealth on and now she realised. As she followed Elli, her slim fingers brushed against the heavy and ornate fabric of some curtains. Nice. She could work with this.

Sofia frowned suddenly as the House Elf's words. "Mm," she agreed, still frowning. "You might be right there, Elli," she mumbled, feeling irked. She had a feeling he knew she'd be around and he probably let her win. She knew how girls worked. Men were supposed to let them win, play dumb, rollover. When men did that to her, it pissed her off. Her inner feminist felt as though Dieter had just pushed women's rights back five hundred years. The bastard.

"Something warm would be nice," Sofia told the elf politely with a smile. "Tea?" She asked before the elf vanished. "Milk, no sugar," she added to thin air before shrugging gently. She would have wanted something stronger, maybe a hot toddy or mulled cider but she figured it would be best if she had the vast majority of her wits about her.

The scent of old pages and familiar smoke reached her. Stepping in, she looked around. She was impressed. A stark contrast to her modern, bright and open home back in Italy but she liked it. It was filled with a velvety silence, only broken by the inviting crackle of embers.

His glasses made her smile. He looked like a hot professor, one that would easily get into trouble in a co-ed school. "And you," she said gently as she unwound the scarf from around her neck and draped her coat across the back of her chair, kicking off her trainers and wiggling her bare toes into the carpet, feeling infinitely warmer now that she was close to the fire. She folded herself into the proffered seat and curled herself up like a lazy cat.

"Your concern is appreciated," she replied easily. She nodded vaguely. She was keeping well, she supposed. Sofia was no longer prancing around, avoiding responsibilities and her conquests' wives  but she supposed she was fine. "Sure," she answered, just as vaguely, her eyes trailing over his jaw line before briefly looking at the pile of papers he had been working through before her rude interruption.

"Lovely place," she told Dieter, genuine in her compliments. Absently, she brushed mortar from her jumper front. "I'd suggest getting those bricks looked at though," she advised him. "They're not as strong as I thought they were," she concluded, still feeling the numb ache from her ruined shoulder socket.

She offered him a sunny smile. They always did this. They went weeks, perhaps months without crossing paths but they were always drawn to one another. Well, she was, at least. They were on a knife edge; they could easy go from ripping each other's clothes off to ripping each other's faces off. "I brought your terrifying matriarch what she wanted," she replied as she shifted to remove a sheaf of papers from her pocket, which she placed on his desk and retreated swiftly. Sofia was both scared and impressed by the witch that had grown men grovelling and could ruin a life, just by blinking. Had they met under different circumstances, Sofia might have invited the older witch out for a drink.

"Oh!" She said, clapping her hands as if she'd just suddenly remembered something. She extracted a sealed bottle of expensive red wine, the neck tied with a sparkling Christmassy ribbon. It wasn't tampered with. She liked the think that they were past poisoning one another. Then she handed him a worn wooden box. Inside, nestled gently in the electric blue silk lining, was a glittering brooch. Expensive and made from white gold and sapphires, she watched his reaction eagerly, hoping he'd like it. "Oh," she said swiftly. "I may have stolen that but the wine's from my personal collection. Buon Natale~"

He liked the way that Sofia made herself at home, kicking off her shoes and curling up on the chair like she belonged there. He found himself watching her for a moment before forcing himself on. His feelings for Sofia had expanded from pure lust and professional admiration to involve endearment along the way, and he wasn't sure that he liked that. It was easier when they'd just been playing the game - him the mysterious German criminal, her the Italian femme fatale. The fact that they'd started getting to know each other and he actually liked her just seemed wrong, somehow. But it wasn't as if it was a secret. He'd put his cards on the table when he'd saved her life. It kind of spoiled the ongoing game in which they tried to off each other.

He quirked a smile at her comment about the bricks, waving a hand dismissively, then smiled wider at her mention of his 'terrifying matriarch'. Erika was the one person who could truly strike fear into Dieter's heart so he understood the sentiment exactly. "Mmh, I'll pass them along, thank you." he replied, not looking too closely at the papers. "She likes you, you know..." he added with a smirk, "you wouldn't be alive otherwise, no matter my opinion." Oh, he was back to saving her again, that was no fun.

Thankfully, Sofia moved the topic onto... gifts. Well that was unexpected. And gift giving was usually so political too - making sure that a gift of similar value and thought was produced in return - although he wondered whether Sofia really bought into all that or whether she was just genuinely presenting Dieter with something that she'd seen and thought he might appreciate. He examined the label of the wine, murmuring approvingly at the year and geography before setting it aside and turning his attention to the box. Habits had him subtly running his fingertip around the join until he caught himself in the act. It was unlikely that Sofia would present him with a trapped box after the events in Rostock. He flipped open the lid.

To some, the ornament within might have seemed gaudy or old fashioned. But it seemed that Sofia knew Dieter better than he'd thought. The brooch was so him that it might have been plucked from his personal collection. In fact both of the gifts felt genuine in a way that he hadn't been expecting and it made him slightly uncomfortable. Like he no longer knew what the parameters of their acquaintance were.

"Beautiful. Seems your sticky fingers have impeccable taste," he said, setting the box aside as well. "If I'd known you were coming, I might have prepared a gift in return... " he said, just as Elli popped back into the room, this time with a tray laden with a bright copper teapot, two large mugs, milk jug and sugar bowl. "But tell me, what does one get for the girl that is capable of getting whatever she wants for herself, mmh?" he mused aloud, a barely-there suggestiveness in his tone. He watched as the house elf poured out the tea, the plastic beads of her necklace clacking together. "Perhaps I could offer you a favour instead... within reason, of course."

Like a cat, Sofia had a knack of making herself at home. It seemed strange, a contradiction, that someone who was constantly running was able to adapt. The merrily crackling fire was warming her from the inside out as she felt her eyes close, just momentarily. Had she been with anyone else, it might have been a romantic set up; a snowy day, a roaring fire and a handsome man.

"Oh please do," the tall brunette said brightly and with a cheerful smile. The Italian's downfall had always been that she was too cocky. She had a deep rooted Devil-may-care attitude and a sense that her luck was running out. She had a smart mouth that ran and ran but seeing a room full of burly men turn into stuttering children, she knew the diminutive older woman was not someone to mess around with.

She snorted with laughter, genuine this time as she reclined in her seat. Sofia wiggled her bare toes as she moved in her chair, the leather creaking in protest as she shifted to sit cross-legged, her eyes on the fire. In the dim light of the room,  her brown eyes seemed larger, the shadows casting her cheekbones into high relief. She had to tread carefully. After all, no one liked their family being made fun of.

"I'm sure she does," she said smoothly as she looked over at him. "After all, why else would she let me be tied to a chair and have seven shades of shit kicked out of me?" She blinked. "Or maybe she's just really fond of you," she added thoughtfully. Everyone in that room seemed to listen to Dieter, almost as much as they heeded that woman's demands. Sofia knew she was on borrowed time and it was all her fault. For years, she thought she'd been invincible. She owed Dieter her life but she was just banking on him not asking him to give it up.

"She seems sweet. She's got a wonderful dress sense. If I hadn't annoyed her, I'd love to get together over afternoon tea and she could give me pointers on how to reduce men to crying babies." That much was true. She and the Meers were on some sort of truce. It felt like a tightrope; uneasy and wobbly but for now, it was working.

She shared Dieter's feelings. He was supposed to be a fling, a one night deal. They hadn't meant to progress further than the physical side of things but she, dare she say it, considered him a…friend? She was genuinely concerned for his welfare. He didn't need protecting but she wanted to, she found herself dressing and sometimes wondering what he'd think of her attire. It was messed up and mindboggling. They hadn't set out a clear set of "rules" for this "relationship" either. She did honestly find herself missing him when he wasn't around. She was also tired. Tired of running, tired of trying to ruin his life and tired of everything.

"Old habits die hard?" Sofia asked with a sparkling grin as he examined the box. She wasn't offended, that sort of thing was what they'd been trained for. "You know," she said, conversationally as her slim fingers stroked the leather of the armchair she was sitting in. "If I did want to kill you," she said, effectively letting Dieter know she'd given up. "I think it'd be somewhere like Vienna." She looked at him for approval. "Something like the Michaelerplatz," she blew at her curls absently. "Front and centre, surrounded by history and beautiful buildings, maybe even with some music playing. Mozart?" She asked him, taking a stab in the dark. "I'd like to think you'd treat me with the same courtesy. Or maybe fire me out of a cannon. Muggles make it seem like such fun."

Watching Dieter opening the gift made her smile smugly. "I know, right?" She joked. There wasn't any ulterior motive. There wasn't anything she could offer that would make up for the fact that Dieter had risked his life to save hers, short of doing the same for him. "Do you like it?" She asked, turning to face him with her elbow on the arm of the chair and her chin held in an upturned palm, gazing at him like an excited child. It was a small thank you, a token, really.

"Oh you don't owe me anything," Sofia said breezily as she waved a hand through the air, just as the little elf wandered back in. She smiled at Dieter, deciding to entertain this idea just a little more. "No idea," she said with a heavy sigh. "A five star holiday? New shoes?" The Italian was deeply superficial and certainly vain. Like most of her countrymen, image was everything. "Can't go wrong with diamonds," she offered with a thoughtful frown. Picking jewellery was a minefield. It was such a personal gift and it was easy to get it so wrong. She wanted to see what the German would pick out for her.

Her eyes were focused on the copper teapot as she thought about it and took her time. "Not sure," she finally admitted to Dieter. Sofia had always wanted to get married. For someone who was so flighty and outrageous, the idea of wanting something so mundane seemed laughable. Just somewhere quiet with someone she didn't have to lie to. Maybe a dog, too. "Time," she finally settled on as she looked at him, leaning forward to pick up her cup.

The statement was rather ambiguous. There were things in her past she'd like to erase or correct. The night that she'd first killed someone, the time where she'd slept with someone and accidentally started a Montague and Capulet style war and the day that she'd broken Ermanno Tomassi's heart. For a second, she looked a little sad and lost before she bucked herself up again. "Thank you, Elli," she told the elf. Sofia wasn't sure if the little creature minded her being in her home.

She smiled into her tea as she sipped at it gently. "There's an auction coming up," she told him. "Very hush-hush. Lots of bad people doing bad things so naturally, it sounds like a perfect Friday night. Come with me?" She tilted her date. "I could use the muscle. And I don't want to be the only loser there without a date. Feel free to ditch me once inside, though."

Dieter chuckled as Sofia painted a rather romantic picture for a place of death. "Would you be killing me, or seducing me?" he replied with a playful smile, although he had to admit that the picture she painted sounded lovely. "Now if I ever run into you in Vienna I'll be watching my back," he added with a chuckle.

The mentions of five star holidays and new shoes were in-character, but they didn't particularly fulfil the brief - Sofia was perfectly capable of getting those things for herself. Jewelry was more interesting, and Dieter wondered whether he knew her as well as she apparently knew him. Would he be able to pick something she'd like? It would be the opposite of the brooch she'd given him. Sofia's taste wasn't fussy like his, it was cleaner and sharper. Something timeless and classic but with a more modern edge. Something simpler in style that allowed the expensive materials to take center stage.

But her next response was more interesting. A date, and not just any date, but one to the upcoming auction. He'd heard about it, of course, and planned to go. It was exactly Dieter cup of tea - a place filled with exotic dark curiosities, what wasn't to love about that? The only downside was that he might run into someone who wanted him dead. No, scratch that, he would definitely run into several people who would want him dead. And it seemed that Sofia was thinking along the same lines. His lips curled into a smirk at the idea of him being her 'muscle'. Dieter had never looked traditionally intimidating. In fact he'd spent much of his life passing himself off as weaker, more vulnerable, more gullible... when people underestimated you, you were always one step ahead of them.

"Why would I ditch you? You'd be far better company than any other arm candy I might take..." and of course Zi wouldn't be seen in that kind of company with Dieter on his arm... something that Dieter was beginning to feel quite weary about. It was like being in the closet all over again. He was rather bored of being a 'dirty little secret' and had hoped that as he got older he'd be leaving all of that behind him. What he wanted was someone who took him as he was... and strangely enough Sofia seemed to be one of the few people in his life that fitted that description. "I'd be delighted to accompany you."

"Both?" Sofia said brightly. "We'd have a lovely dinner and civilised conversation first, of course. I'm not an animal," the Italian said as she sipped at her warm tea. The weather outside was frightful. Sofia was used to the rolling Umbrian hills and warm sunshine and to be shunted over here to this little town, it was taking its toll on her. The heat radiating from the mug and into her hands was soothing. She was also vaguely amused that the little elf had brought out mugs. She could have sworn Dieter was a fine bone china kinda guy.

"Somehow, I don't think I'm your type." Her smile was knowing as she wiggled her eyebrows at him. Her tone was gentle, never judging. She'd heard things and people tended to talk. The Meers had power but gossip was greater at times. Sofia had heard little snippets but things did make sense. They'd ended up sleeping together a few times but if he did genuinely fancy her, he would have sought her out more often.

"Shall we match outfits?" Sofia joked. Her wardrobe consisted of black, black and more black. Understated but obviously expensive pieces, often made just for her. Very rarely did she get to dress up but she had a couple of pieces in the wardrobe that might just suffice. "I bet you'd look positively angelic in a tuxedo," she added.

"I've got my eye on a couple of things," she said distractedly as she traced a finger around the rim of her mug. She wondered if Dieter knew she wasn't really in the business any more. His family must be watching her like a hawk. As of late, Sofia had been shunted backwards and out of the light. She'd taken over the accounts and the funding and the general dabbling in an and out of the black market. Did she miss it? Certainly. It was exhilarating and terrifying but it was for her own safety. If Ms. Meer needed her contacts, she'd have to say that she no longer had any.

She offered Dieter another smile. She felt genuinely comfortable in his home and would be considerably irked if she'd been lulled into a false sense of security. "Thank you," she said gently to his agreeing to being her "date". She wondered if he'd wear the brooch she'd bought him. She wouldn't be offended if he didn't, that was a matter of personal choice.

She tilted her head, the conversation lapsing into silence for a second or two as she thought. Being beaten to within an inch of her life had somehow given her a new outlook on it. "Does the matriarch know about the auction?" Sofia asked conversationally as she stretched out her dark denim clad legs. She was half expecting a dossier to be prepared. Things were going far too well for Sofia to be able to drink champagne and have an openly nice night with the man sitting close to her. "I'd really hate for her to get the wrong idea about you and I."

A slow smile spread over his lips as she mentioned his 'type'. Yes, Sofia was pretty damn far from what he found himself looking for in a partner. Although his relationship with Zi was still a secret, the whole scandal with Ben had made its rounds. Gossip traveled fast. Very few people ever talked about it in front of him, of course, just a mention was guaranteed to put him into a bad mood.

"Don't we match outfits usually anyway?" he teased back with a grin. His wardrobe was also mainly black. He rolled his eyes at the mention of a tux though. "I'm not a huge fan of bow ties," he admitted, "Stupid little things, don't see the point." Plus the traditional kind were a health-hazard and the easy-detachable ones were crass. That was one of the things he liked about the high collars of his usual Russian-style robes. Nothing there to grab on to. But picking an outfit for the auction would be important. It was the kind of place where one didn't want to make the wrong impression. Everything had to be perfect.

"Yes, Erika is aware. I'm not sure if she'll go herself, but her sons and my uncles will no doubt be there." he replied, sipping from his own mug. No matter how good Dieter was at his job, there was a certain breakdown of trust there. Even if Erika knew that Dieter wouldn't dare go against her will again, she wouldn't give him the honour of shopping on her behalf. "I'll be there for my own interest." and not just to buy either, but to see who else was there and what they were buying. It never paid to take your eyes off of the competition or your enemies habits. "Oh I'm sure she knows exactly where we stand," he responded, his face devoid of emotion, even here in privacy not wanting to appear like he might be thinking badly of his aunt. "She ends up knowing everything. I don't even know how she does it, but she does," he shrugged, "but I am fairly certain that she's given up caring about my relationships after the, ahem, tricky business with the Thalberg family. I'm sure you heard about that."

She returned his grin. "Well, black never goes out of style and I don't wear colour well," she told Dieter as she blew on her still-hot tea. "No?" Sofia asked politely as she looked at him with a thoughtful frown. "Seems a shame," she added. "You have a lovely neck," the Italian added. "Elegant," came the soft reply as she let her eyes slide down his aforementioned body part. "You have a wonderful jugular notch." Her words were friendly, if not slightly unnerving. She offered him another bright smile. "Can I touch it?"

Sofia nodded. "Oh wonderful. I'm looking forward to meeting the rest of the family." Her words were tinged with sarcasm but she did want to meet them. Or, at the very least, know what they looked like so she could avoid them in future. The brunette and the German had settled into some sort of paper thin truce. Things were okay now but she had a habit of making patience wear thin.

"Good," came the reply with a gentle nod. She and Dieter had never been romantically involved. They couldn't be classed as "lovers". Erika had referred to her as a pet when they'd last encountered one another. Even in her bruised and battered state, it had irked her.

"So," Sofia said briskly, turning in her chair to look at him with a tilted head. "Where do we stand, Dieter?" She asked serenely. Sofia's life was very compartmentalised, as she was sure was his. Everyone she'd ever met was filed away. There were those she loved, those she liked and those she didn't. Useful contacts, time wasters and mistakes. Dieter didn't really fit either of her labels well enough. Things got messy when feelings overlapped. They weren't quite friends but they'd shifted away from enemies. They weren't really colleagues, either. Dieter Meer remained stubbornly right in the middle.

Sofia snorted into her tea cup as Dieter reminded her of his failed wedding. It wasn't funny. It must have been awful. All the money spent, the food, the wine. The guests, the venue hire, the ripple of shock through polite society. "I never did say that I was proud of you," she added quietly, her voice barely above the crackling of the embers as she dragged a fingertip around the rim of her mug. "It was a very brave, if not impolite, thing to do. I wish I was there to see everyone's face," she giggled with merry glee.

She shrugged again. "We both dodged a metaphorical bullet," she added vaguely. Did Dieter know about her former fiancée? It just depended on how far into her past he'd gone digging. His name had been Lars van Vechten. He'd been a few years older than her and a professor at Beauxbatons. She had no idea what she was thinking. He wanted what she wasn't able to offer him. Her life was far from normal and he had a collection of annoying habits, including sleeping with women who weren't  her.

"At least your fiancée didn't cheat on you with a librarian," Sofia said disdainfully as she pulled a face. "He scared easy, too," she added, sounding bemused. "He totally freaked out when I came home covered in blood. Apparently, when told it was someone else's blood, that somehow made it worse?" With a roll of her eyes, Sofia blew a raspberry. "He was such a wet blanket."

"If we're both single by the time we're forty," she said with a sparkling grin. "You'd marry me, right?"