The game had gone well.

There'd been no sign of Thomas Jennings before or after. Gwen knew; she'd checked with security. The girls had played well, and the Chasers were coming along after all. She was not ready to start Rose Zeller, but she made an impression when she was on the pitch. The chemistry was not just obvious to her; the crowd was more excited when that combination of women was slicing through the air.

There were statistics to be run, plays to be perfected and she would need to watch the film a few times before reviewing it with the girls on Monday.

But it could wait.

The game had gone longer than normal, nearly four hours before she'd caught the snitch. The girls always celebrated on Saturday nights after games, but a long day in the air with several high-speed chases that had not produced a result, had done to Gwen what she'd not been able to herself for the last several weeks. Purged her of the unsettling energy that had been shadowing her.

The Viceroy was a debatable choice of venue for the evening considering who she'd met there the first visit, but Gwen had liked the music and the atmosphere and the likelihood that she'd see him here again was slim.

With a table near the dance floor, Gwen was ensconced in the black leather high back chair, a wine glass in hand, legs crossed and the silk she'd chosen for the evening warm and soft against her skin. The singer's voice was low and smooth, and Gwen was more relaxed than she could remember being in a long while.

Jonathan had been at the bar, in the shadows, nursing a tall glass of a dark ale when he'd seen her come in. He'd made no move towards her, given no outward expression that he knew who she was and that they were acquainted with one another.

She was relaxed, much different than the last time he'd seen her. He still had no concept of what had happened, what had spooked her enough to have her running from Somerfield's, leaving what she'd been meaning to purchase behind.

He'd sent her the strawberries, no real reason in his head as to why he'd done so in the first place.

Replaying the conversation they'd had over in his head had been of no help. They had traded barbs before, something he'd selfishly and in a bastardly fashion enjoyed. He wasn't sure what had been said that was so different, what had crossed the line.

And he was very familiar with how to do exactly that.

Dark eyes were trained on her back as he took another pull from his pint, shaking his head minutely when the bartender asked if he wanted another one. He wouldn't be staying much longer.

"A dance?"

Gwen pulled her gaze from the singer and live musicians, the handful of couples on the floor rocking to the smooth music to find a handsome man standing near her chair. He seemed pleasant enough, but nothing about him pulled at her despite his good looks.

The barest of smiles curled her lips and the shake of her head was demure as she raised her glass to her lips.

His eyes darkened, contrasting to his pleasant demeanor starkly and a small frown pulled between his brow. He was not used to being turned down. He took a breath to speak again, but Gwen beat him to it.

"I wouldn't suggest it," she said, voice low and smooth, relaxed still. Just a small shift had the silk of her dress sliding minutely higher on her thigh and she met his gaze evenly.

He paused, frowning, before straightening and striding away.

Gwen turned her attention back to the music then, another sip of her full-bodied Merlot sliding across her tongue. She would buy a bottle of the red before she left; despite the seeming mismatch, it would go well with the strawberries that had arrived at her home the day prior.

Jonathan's eyes tracked the man as he went back to the bar, where he'd originally started from. He wasn't the type that sat at the tables and watched the entertainment. He was looking for entertainment.

He'd been looking in the very last place.

Chuckling softly to himself, Jonathan shook his head and finished what was left in his glass. He slid it across the bar top, nodding at the man working. He had a tab, something he kept carefully in check and made sure to pay on time. He didn't want to estrange himself from the place that made the only decent martini in the whole of Leeds.

He stood and started for the door, his steps easy and unrushed. He had nowhere pressing to be, but had been here long enough. He was halfway to the large glass doors when the smooth notes of piano filtered through to his ears. He stopped, turning on the balls of his feet to look at the stage and the young man sitting behind the baby grand, a critical look on his face.

Gwen's foot had been tapping in the air idly to the easy rhythm, but the change of music had her body stilling in focus. Her Grandmother had played the piano when she was young. They'd always been heavy, emotional pieces, not what the young man was leading into just now, but the pure notes drew her attention and she set her glass down.

She'd never learned to play herself, but Gwen had always been fond of the instrument. Her lids went heavy as she listened. She wanted to listen with all of her focus, let her lids slide shut, but it was not wise to cut off one of her senses without Joscelin there.

He felt like he'd been standing there for quiet a while, just listening, when he felt someone bump into him from behind. He turned around, an unamused expression on his face. It slid into an easy grin. "Emma," he said, grabbing for both of her hands before leaning in to kiss her cheeks.

"Jon," the tall dark-skinned woman said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Don't squeeze me too tight."

Jonathan pulled back with a grin, looking down at her growing belly. "Wouldn't want Phillip to come after me, now would I?" His eyes traveled back up to her face, a friendly smile turning his lips. "Where is the man? Don't tell me you're here alone."

"No. Well, yes, but not really alone. Teddy is playing tonight," she said with a nod of her head towards the stage.

"That's Teddy?" He looked up at the man playing the piano, his eyebrows raising. "He grew up."

"Little brothers always do. He'll be leaving after this song. He's got an audition early tomorrow." She looked over at him, a smile on her face. "Dance with me?"

Eyes sliding to hers, Jonathan rose an eyebrow. "Really?"

"If you do anything, Phillip will kill you," she reminded him, pulling him towards the floor.

Sighing, Jonathan put his hands on her waist, the position made infinitely more difficult with her steadily expanding middle. "This is going to ruin my loner reputation."

"You'll deal," she said with a smirk, both of them turning to look as Teddy's fingers nimbly danced across the keys.

Gwen's gaze was drawn to a new couple coming onto the dance floor, and the moment she recognized the man, the piano music faded for the space of a few heartbeats before thundering back again.

Dark eyes traced over the woman he was with - tall, beautiful, pregnant - and his hands were resting on her waist. Gwen's eyes narrowed minutely and her fingers tightened their grip on the arms of the leather chair.

This couldn't be what it seemed. It was too obvious and Jonathan's hands .. something about the way he was holding the other woman didn't strike her as possessive in any way. She let a breath out, eyes following the couple.

"How's the diner," Jonathan asked, the easy rhythm the sixteen-year-old was hitting making him relax slightly.

"Busy. I can't exactly be on my feet all day long anymore, and Phillip's been waiting tables a lot more. He looks very fetching in an apron." Emma's eyes sparkled as she looked up at one of their favorite customers. "And you?"

"Well, I don't have swollen ankles, so I suppose I'm doing better than yourself." He grinned slightly at the look she sent him, his eyes going back to Teddy. He was pulled out of his critical listening when Emma snorted. Turning to her with an amused expression on his face, he looked at her with questioning eyes.

"Do you come here enough to have an enemy?"

He smirked. "I've made plenty of enemies, love, but I don't think any of them are here."

"Are you sure? There's a very lovely woman watching us intently."

Jonathan's steps slowed for a second before he realized who she was speaking about. He shook his head. "No. She's just... it's not what you think."

Emma gave him a look. "You have come into the diner at six in the morning, looking like the devil had ridden you and you'd just narrowly escaped his fiery clutches. She's not a former conquest? Are you sure?"

He shook his head. "I'm absolutely sure." He watched Emma shrug, their dance ending with an impressive show of skilled note playing from Teddy. Turning towards the stage, he clapped along with most of the room, practically feeling heated eyes boring into him from behind.

She should leave. Gwen didn't know why, but the air had seemingly shifted, and she knew the moment he'd become aware of her eyes on him. She should leave. After their last meeting, she knew what being around Jonathan Savage had the potential of baring. Gwen was loathe to 'run' again though, leaving her in a quandary of what, exactly, to do.

Deliberately pulling her gaze from him and the woman he'd been dancing with, Gwen's dark eyes went to her lap, the black silk contrasting vividly with her ivory skin. Her focus was far away though, or at least not on her own person, but just across the floor. This internal battle was all his fault.

"Thank you for the dance," Emma said, putting both hands on his shoulders, managing to press a kiss to his cheek despite the bulge on her front.

Jonathan turned his gaze to her, smiling softly. "It was a pleasure, just don't tell Phil. He'd get jealous." He watched her laugh, holding out a hand to her younger brother as he joined them. "It was very good, Teddy."

The man averted his eyes, social situations a bit too intimidating for him. Jonathan watched his fingers snap at his side, as he looked down at the wooden floor. His eyes slid to Emma once again, a friendly gaze in them as he watched the woman lead her brother from the Viceroy.

Slipping his hands into his pockets, Jonathan slowly spun towards the door, straining to see if Gwen was actually watching him. He saw movement in his peripheral vision, his neck turning fully to look in slight disbelief as he watched the same man who'd asked for a dance earlier approach her chair from behind. He obviously hadn't taken the decline well the first time and was looking for another shot, having no idea what he was tempting.

Gwen felt the presence of another person just before she felt a warm breath stir her hair.

"You know you want to," came the low murmur just over her shoulder.

"I'm quite sure I know what I want," she said, voice low, edging on dangerous. Her hand itched for her wand, but this was a Muggle establishment and the men here just had a slight problem with the word 'no'. It wasn't the first time she'd encountered such, and it wasn't likely the last. "And I'm positive it's not you."

She raised her gaze from her lap then, eyes finding Jonathan's. He was just standing with his hands in his pockets, watching her.

Gwen held his gaze for a long moment, dark eyes intent. She could continue trying to cement her point to the fool just over her shoulder with words, or she could make it quite clear that he should leave her alone.

Better the devil you know, then the one you don't.

Decision made, Gwen rose smoothly from her chair and clipped towards Jonathan. "Dance with me?" she said, though it was not really a question.

He'd watched her approach, knowing exactly why she was doing so. Her question asked, his eyes flicked over her shoulder to look at the man still standing, struck, next to the chair she'd vacated.

He slid his hands from his pocket, holding an open palm towards her, silent.

Gwen's eyes went to his open hand, hesitating for half a second. She should have just left, but even as she thought it, she set her smaller one in his.

His silence bred her own, and instead of saying anything, she just raised dark eyes from their hands to his own watching her, and waited.

Jonathan turned, leading her onto the floor. The musicians were back on stage, and as he turned to face her, the music began anew, the soft thrumming of bass accompanied by piano and a feathered drum.

His hand brought hers to his chest, holding it against him as his other found her hip, resting slightly on the silk of her dress. He resisted the urge to rub his thumb over the material, though it was a very heady thing and harder to do than he would have liked to admit.

Gwen was more than aware of his hand on her, hot through the thin material of her dress, and even as she stepped into his personal space to complete the last step in this first small dance, the thought crossed her mind that this was dangerous. Very much so.

He could feel the warmth of her, was close enough now to smell the slight scent of whatever she'd used to wash her hair. This scent was accompanied by something he was starting to associate with her, though he really hadn't been in her presence enough to place it. It was another question he had not yet gotten the answer to, something that was becoming a trend with Gwenog Jones.

He began to lead, years of demanded dance lessons making the movements graceful, almost second nature. The music was soothing, he was sure, jazz filtering through the room, but he couldn't exactly hear it. Or, he couldn't exactly concentrate on it. Chosen as the lesser of two evils was not exactly ego boosting, but by whatever steps, he was here now, silent, thoughts swirling.

He was an excellent dancer; smooth. Gwen noted the fact absently though. He led and she followed, but more insistent for her attention just that moment was that she could feel him.

Jonathan's heat pressed against hers, and that their movements shadowed each other as if they'd done this many times before did not help the pull of her focus towards the man lightly holding her. The music was soft, not demanding too much from the dancers on the floor, and she and Jonathan moved easily to the music, almost too easily.

It made it possible to focus on him. Focus entirely too much.

Their bodies did not quite touch, but she was close enough that she could not see his face. The barest turn of her head brought the line of his jaw into view, dark hair just a little too long, but not unflatteringly so. Her next inhale brought the spicy scent she'd begun to associate with Jonathan, and Gwen wondered at the fact that she should recognize it at all, and that it drew so much of her attention.

The music was beginning to pick up, and more people were joining the pair on the floor. Jonathan instinctively pulled her closer as more and more bodies surrounded them. Part of him reasoned that it was polite. Another part justified it as Auror training, having too many people in a room could lead to danger and that it was best to have everything that was his gathered to him.

Blinking away the thoughts of possession, Jonathan spun them away from the throng of people and towards the less crowded side of the dance floor.

The music had changed, and Gwen was vaguely aware of the fact and that more people had joined the floor, but Jonathan hadn't really quickened their steps. They both caught the slower beat easily - requisites of dancing were common for everyone in families such as theirs.

He'd slid his hand around to the base of her spine to bring her closer, but as they'd settled into a less filled part of the floor, he'd not moved it. That her free hand had drifted minutely lower to his chest, that their bodies brushed with every movement was not lost on Gwen.

She didn't pull away though, and a very small voice inside of her was telling her to pull back, stop this, but it was easy to ignore just that moment. The music was relaxing, their steps were fluid and the heat lacing through her just now had her softening somewhat into him, the barest exhale of her breath stirring his hair even as her lids went heavy.

Jonathan felt her relax against him, his eyes pulled slightly down to look at her face, though he knew it probably wasn't the best idea. Her lips were parted, and he found his gaze lingering on her mouth before it traced her jawline, down to her collarbone and the hollow of her throat.

He swallowed, not reflexively, but because a deep breath had coated his tongue with her, the taste thick and distracting. His hand splayed a little wider on her back as his eyes tracked the movement of the man who'd asked her twice for a dance now as he made his way towards the door. Not willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt, he pulled her closer and turned them so he could watch the man leave, make sure he was gone before his focus returned to the prize in his arms.

The adjustments were so minute. Perhaps why they didn't startle her into moving away; she'd known this had the potential to be dangerous. After their last meeting, Gwen had known he could affect her, and yet the thought, and concerns bound to it, were very far away.

Pressed to Jonathan now, his hand spanning the width of her back, Gwen's lids fell shut and her head turned enough that every breath brought his scent to her, his warmth, hers, theirs now, something to breathe.

He looked up when he noticed people leaving the dance floor out of the corner of his eyes. Looking over his shoulder, he realized that the band had stopped playing altogether. The quiet murmurs of the conversations that had started up filtered to his ears as he turned back to Gwen, his eyes dark when he saw her closed eyes. They were still swaying to a song only they could hear, but he stilled their movements as the reality hit him that they were the only ones on the wooden floor.

Gwen's eyes were bright, intent and swirling dark all at once. Only when Jonathan had slowed their movements had she opened her eyes and realized what was going on. She'd effectively put herself in his care, if only for a moment. The only time Gwen let her guard down so thoroughly was when she was with Joscelin. Not even with Tristan had she been unaware of her surroundings, especially when she was in unfamiliar territory.

She had known being near Jonathan, engaging him, was a path she had to tread carefully, and yet without his biting words and usual smirk ... this had crept up on her.

The lightest flush touched high on her cheekbones, her eyes flashed, with more than just irritation, and yet she still did not move. "Thank you, Mr. Savage," she said finally, words lower and smoother than she would have liked.

Jonathan looked at her, a carefully neutral expression on his face. He nodded slightly, hesitating, before he took a small step backwards, his hands trailing from her back, to her hip, before dropping from her body entirely. "Pleasure," he said, the quiet that seemed to surround them when they were this close making his voice louder somehow.

There was only a small space between them, but they were no longer touching now. The lack of his heat and her awareness of that lack, the cool air now brushing against heated skin, made Gwen follow his lead and take another small step away. "Yes," she murmured, gaze still on his. "Pleasure."

Irritation was present, but it was a distant buzz. Without it, it was a deliberate effort to incline her head in farewell. "Goodnight," she added, voice still low and warm.

Reminding herself of why what had happened was not a good thing, that she had bared herself again, just differently, but no less dangerous, Gwen was able to turn around and walk away. She could feel his eyes on her though, and it was actually difficult to keep going, that very feeling strengthening her resolve that it was exactly what she needed to do.

She gathered her black fur coat and settling it on her shoulders, the mink soft against her cheek. She shouldn't, but Gwen glanced over her shoulder as she moved to open the door. Her eyes found his in a moment, and again, it was an effort to pull her gaze away and slip through the door.

He'd left her just as unsettled as their previous meeting, though much differently. She could all but feel every step away from The Viceroy thinning whatever heated thread had linked them for a moment. The thought should have pleased her, but it didn't, and that was the most unsettling thing of all.

Watching until she was through the glass doors and out of sight, Jonathan stuffed his hands back in his pockets, turning towards the bar, considering one more drink before heading home. Shaking his head at himself, he waited a few moments on the fringe of the dance floor, giving her sufficient time to apparate away before he followed in the same direction.


SUMMARY: Jonathan and Gwen share a dance. It says more than words ever could.