“What is it?”

“It’s called a Hurricane,” Seamus said. “It’s from America, and ‘s supposed to be good.”

Hermione glanced from him to the brightly colored glass. She took a sip and made a face. “It’s rather strong, isn’t it?”

“’ve not tried it meself. I can get you something else,” he offered, looking slightly concerned.

“No, it’s fine,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll get used to it. I wanted to try something different, right? This is certainly different.”

“Well, if yeh decide you want another drink, jus’ let me know. ‘d hate to lose meh job for not making the customers happy,” he said with a grin.

The Hurricane was stronger than what she was used to drinking on the rare occasions that she had something other than a butterbeer, but it wasn’t as bad as Firewhisky, which she’d only tried once. She took another drink and studied Seamus. As he discussed Quidditch scores with a wizard who had just ordered a drink, she realized that he’d hardly left her end of the bar since she arrived. When he did leave, he always came back to her after he waited on a new customer. That intrigued her as did his lazy smile and the fact that his eyes were a shade of blue that she couldn’t recall seeing before. Her gaze moved over him and took note of his slender build and strong hands and the freckles on his nose. Why had she never noticed these things before?

“Do yeh want anything to eat?” he asked after the wizard left the bar with his drink. He wiped down the bar with an old rag and smiled at her.

She shook her head but didn’t look away from this man that she’d known for more than fifteen years and hadn’t really ever seen until tonight. She could blame the Hurricane, she told herself, because she had to have some excuse for the warmth in her cheeks and butterflies in her tummy as Seamus flirted in a relaxed way that was familiar but she now suspected wasn’t that casual at all.

“You okay, Hermione?” He frowned and looked down at her drink, which was barely touched, and then back at her. A lock of sandy brown hair fell across his forehead and brushed against long eyelashes that she rather envied.

“I’m fine, Seamus,” she said, pleased that she didn’t sound as flustered or nervous as she suddenly felt. When he continued to look at her with that concerned expression, she added, “I’m not very fond of the food here.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod. He leaned forward and grinned. “Neither am I but don’t yeh be tellin’ anyone.”

“It’ll be our secret,” she promised solemnly. He was too close now, and she was tempted with things that she should not be thinking about or even considering. It was the Hurricane’s fault that she leaned forward and brushed her lips gently against his. She pulled back quickly, face aflame with embarrassment at her bold behavior.

Before she could move away from the bar and stammer an excuse that placed the responsibility of her actions on the Hurricane, because she wasn’t above denying her own culpability when she did something that was potentially humiliating, Seamus grabbed her hand. He pulled her back across the bar and kissed her firmly while he moved his fingers through her hair. The first kiss melted in several teasing kisses against her lips and soft nips with his teeth before he straightened up.

He grinned at her, somehow managing to look mischievous and sincere at the same time, and she found herself smiling back shyly. “’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he admitted. “Guess I should have given yeh a Hurricane months ago.”

“Hmmm...perhaps you should have.” What did he mean by a long time? How long had his playful flirting actually been serious? How had she been so blind not to notice an attractive and funny man who wanted to kiss her? She took another sip of the drink for courage, glancing around to make sure that his boss wasn’t around to chastise him for kissing a customer before she looked back at Seamus. She put down her glass and asked, “Would you like to go out for dinner after your shift?”

“Dinner, huh? Yeh jus’ want another kiss, don’tcha?” he asked with a teasing smile. He reached up and tugged on a lock of hair that had escaped from her braid, brushing his knuckles against her cheek. “’m off work in an hour. Wait for me?”

Hermione didn’t bother denying that she was thinking about kissing him again because she thought the flush that followed his teasing probably confirmed the accuracy of the remark. Instead, she smiled at him and nodded. “I’ll wait.”

End