Penny For Them [Hells/Grey]

[Greyson "Grey" Sebastien]

The question brought a secretive gleam to Grey's eyes that he was powerless to disguise. "I did," he said, his mind suddenly deluged with memories of scents, tastes, and sensations that haunted him. He turned his gaze away from Hells, out into the shop while he worked to gather himself, to push his undeniable reaction back into safety. It took him some moments, some few long breaths before he trusted himself to look at Hells once more, and as he did so, once more he was assailed with that physical awareness of her, his body recognizing truths that his mind could not.

Grey's eyes shifted again, and he rounded the counter, slowly, but needing the distance, from her perhaps, but more likely from his own unexplainably strong urges. "Please excuse me, Headmistress--Hells," he corrected himself, having reflexively slipped into formality for the distance it gave. When his gaze rose again, he had tamped down any physical signs of his reactions, but they remained all the same. He smiled warmly. "I have had difficulties sleeping as well, and it begins to affect me." He was flustered, uncomfortably so, and it showed in that verbal slip, and in the sudden appearance of a faint trace of his accent.

[Headmistress Hells]

Hells watched him, a spread of warmth flushing her cheeks. There was no denying his reaction to her questioning. His limited answer amused her greatly and Hells could not help but smile at his discomfort, one she knew all too well. As he returned his gaze to her, Hells dampened her smile, letting it rest softly upon her lips. She did not want to embarress him any further regardless of how obvious he may have been.

"There must be something in the air then." She replied to him softly, taking it as a hint for her to leave. "And I haven't helped either, taking up your time like this." She smiled warmly at him, mainly to show that there were no hard feelings for his excuses. Unbuttoning her cloak, Hells slipped her hand inside her robes, taking out a small leather pouch. "How much do I owe you for the potions?" She asked, her hands shaking slightly as she counted out the coins.

[Greyson "Grey" Sebastien]

Grey could not resist watching the motion of her hands again as they parted her cloak, and so he saw that slight tell of nerves. It struck him as something odd, something important, but his mind could not make the connection, and so there was only gentle concern in his eyes as they rose to hers. "Ten Galleons," he said, though the price should have been thirty. There was something here which he could not explain, but all the same, he reacted to it, on so many levels that it was...unsettling.

"I have enjoyed your company," Grey admitted, hoping to ease the sudden awkwardness with those words. "Perhaps I should only sell you one vial, and assure you return?" he suggested lightly. It was tempting, though Grey put all three vials into a small bag for her.

[Headmistress Hells]

Hells studied him momentarily as she watched him attend to the vials, the coins resting in the palm of her hand. "I also have enjoyed your company Grey." She said, a familiar surge of bravado rushing through her veins. She bit her lip as she placed the Galleons on the counter, her heart beating strongly against her rib cage. Reaching for the bag, she glanced up at him from beneath her eyelashes, a fleeting moment of doubt crossed her mind, before she ignored it, sending it to the back of her mind. "And maybe you should. Good things come to those who wait.."

[Greyson "Grey" Sebastien]

Grey was struck momentarily dumb then, by the coy seduction so strong in her body language, in her voice. It couldn't be. And yet her words said otherwise, pulling him back to that star-studded night once more, to the voice who had said those words to him. Good things come to those who wait Sir. Grey found himself murmuring the reply without any real thought. "Have we not waited?" Had he really said those words? Just once more, love.

Grey would not risk saying anymore. It couldn't be her, his mind refused to allow him to put an identity to the dream, and he refused to acknowledge the possibility. Grey offered Hells the bag, shuttering his eyes once more. "Do come again," he said, only partially aware that he'd spoken the words at all.

[Headmistress Hells]

Raising her chin defiantly, Hells took the bag from Grey, yet she avoided looking at him. A lump of disappointment sat on her chest, but she refused to let it dampen her spirits. "I may well do." She said, stepping back from the counter and casting him a glance. "We'll see. Anyway, have a good day Grey. I best get back to my office. I have a grass stain to work on." She couldn't help but smile, aware that she would have just confused Grey. For now at least. With one last parting look, Hells turned making her way to the door. As the bell chimed upon being opened, Hells smile began to fade, doubts already beginning to grow as she closed the door behind her.

[Greyson "Grey" Sebastien]

Grey was indeed confused; her comment was cryptic to say the least, and her sudden return to the cool headmistress was too sudden to be ignored. That part of him that thought it could be her roared to life, but he pushed it down, resisted the urge to go after her, as much as he might want to. It had been one night, only one, for both of them, no matter who she was.

He tried to put those thoughts aside, but they persisted, and so he closed the shop early and retired to the back room with the Daily Prophet as company. Before long, he had invited Lady Merlot to join him, and it was only through her company that he was able to accept the obvious truth, as verified beyond any doubt by a gossip column and Hells's parting words. He sat at a bare-wood table in his store room for some time, head in hands, much the pose he had taken the morning after the masquerade.