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She liked to watch him when he was concentrating as he was now, nose pressed in a book, dark curtains of hair hanging down to block out the distractions of the world around him. He looked like an ink blot in the verdant spring landscape, and her eye was drawn to him despite her every effort to concentrate on her herb gathering. She often wondered if he did this on purpose. Positioned himself just so, so that she would see him, so that she wouldn’t be able to tear her eyes away, so that the image of him would be burned into her brain and follow her the rest of the day, tempting her…

He knew how to get her attention; that was certain. They had known one another long enough now that he seemed to know her every whim and desire, even some she had worked very hard to keep to herself. But with that infuriating Leglimency… Even so, she mused, who needed Leglimency when they had eyes so dark, so intense that they seemed to pry your lips, your heart, your soul open with just a glance. All he need do is look at her in just the right way and she would be pouring out her most deeply held secrets in less time than it would take him to tuck his hair behind his ear.

She found herself willing him to do just that. Just a glimpse of pale skin, and that profile… As though reading her mind, he reached up and fulfilled her desire, revealing a brow creased in concentration. Eyes never leaving the page he brought a finger to his lips, moistening it before using it to turn the page in the large book spread out in his lap. Her body exploded in a maelstrom of desire at the thought and memory of those lips on hers, those fingers tangled in her hair, trailing over her skin. She shivered and forced herself to tear her eyes away, and concentrate on the job at hand.

What was it she was doing? Oh yes. Taking the little knife from her pocket, she began to scrounge around in the underbrush again in search of the small plant with purplish leaves. Herb gathering. Yes.

But like the needle of a compass drawn by the magnetic pull of his presence she found her eyes wandering back to the spot across the clearing where he sat like a stooped shadow. She couldn’t stand it anymore. “You could help me you know.”

His eyes lifted lazily from the book. “Pardon me?”

“You could help me.” She nodded toward the basket beside her. “You know you are better at identifying these things than I am.”

An eyebrow arched a little. “You haven’t been studying your Culpeper as you should. I fail to see how that is my fault…”

She sighed. “Stop being a pill, and just come and help me, will you. I’m not getting a thing done with you sitting there looking so tempting.”

The eyebrow arched higher.

“You know you are. You can’t deny it.” The corner of his mouth twitched, and she shook her head with a sigh as she stared down into her nearly empty basket. “Insufferable man…”

When she glanced back up her heart leapt at the sight of the amused smile on his face. She smiled back, feeling the familiar warmth his smiles always brought diffuse through her body. And then he moved. Closing the book, he got to his feet, dusted off his trousers, and walked toward her. When he reached her, he looked down his nose at her with all the sternness of that old, well-practiced school master’s air, and held out the book.

“Your Culpeper Madame. I’ll not do your work for you. If I do, you’ll never learn.”

“My Culpeper…?” She snatched the book out of his hand and stared down at it incredulously. “My Culpeper!?”

He smirked.

“You’ve had it all this time, knowing that I was struggling, and…”

“I was more than aware that you were struggling, but as it wasn’t with your Herbology I didn’t suppose that ‘that’,” he motioned toward the book she now hugged to her chest protectively, “would be of any use.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Here now…What are you on about?”

“I only meant, my dear, that the ailment you are suffering from requires a treatment far more…” he paused for a moment as though weighing his options. “A treatment far more ‘intimate’ than a rudimentary dose of ‘Culpeper’.”

It was her eyebrow’s turn to reach for the heavens. Setting the book down beside her she got to her feet, and took a step forward until she was mere inches from him. “And what ‘ailment’ might that be, hmm…?” she challenged.

His eyes darkened to an almost predatory hue, but there was a glimmer there that was uniquely his. This was his patented version of ‘the tease’. He seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. Merlin knew she was.

“Well,” he murmured. “Let us take tally of your symptoms, shall we…” Lifting a finger to her cheek he let it glide lightly over the warm, soft skin. She had to fight to keep her eyes open. She didn’t want to miss a thing. His expression was one of complete and utter professional detachment. He played his part well.

“Flushed cheeks? Yes – most definitely,” he began. And then his thumb came up to rest against her lips for the briefest of moments. “Quickened rate of breathing…” His hand moved away, slid over her neck, to her chest, stopping just above her left breast. “Increased heart rate…yes…yes…”

“Well what is it?” she managed, though truth be told she was barely holding it together. A million images raced through her mind, images that hardly helped her situation, and she couldn’t help but wonder again if he had planted them there, or whether he knew that it wasn’t necessary, that her own mind would conjure them with or without outside assistance.

“Well my dear, it appears that you have a rather advanced case of Ferveo Genialis.”

“Mmm…” She pressed herself up against his body, pleased to feel that his desire matched her own; “sounds serious…”

“Oh, it is. Left without treatment it can be lethal.”

She thought she saw one corner of his mouth twitch, and she broke out in an amused smile in spite of her resolve. “I believe you spoke of a treatment.”

“Ah yes, but it’s only temporary, I’m afraid. Once infected it’s a rather permanent condition. I would suggest weekly treatments if you want to stay free of the symptoms.”

Mastering her amusement, she drew her mouth into a straight line again, and shook her head. “Oh no, that’s out of the question I’m afraid.” Some of the eagerness seemed to fade from his eyes, and she saw a small flicker of hurt. She rushed to finish. “Once a week won’t be near enough. I get the symptoms almost daily, you see.”

She saw the relief wash over him, but the momentary fear at thrown him from his game, and she knew that she would have to help him back on track. “The treatment, then, if you will. I think I’ve suffered enough, don’t you?” She smiled bright, and warm and inviting, and his eyes searched hers for a moment before the dark gleam returned.

“Yes, I’d say you had.” And with that he swooped in and claimed her mouth in a passionate kiss – a kiss that, like all his kisses, left her breathless, and dizzy and weak in the knees, but above all always left her craving more.