But when he said he
couldn't shoot, it just seemed to make an odd sort of sense to
tell him that Hermione couldn't dance. It fit, really. Men were supposed to
shoot, and women
were supposed to dance, and trusty best friends were supposed to keep their foolish mouths shut.
Clearly, all three of them needed a bit of instruction.
"Yes." She sighed again, with even more drama, not that Gregory would have imagined it possible. "It is all so romantic," she added. "The bride, the groom."
"Both are considered standard in the ceremony, I understand."
His mother shot him a peevish look. "How could I have raised a son who is so unromantic?"
Gregory decided there could not possibly be an answer to that.
"You might wish to revisit your understanding of the word everything." Gregory turned to his mother. "Vocabulary and comprehension were never her strong suits."
Violet rolled her eyes. "Every day I marvel that the two of you managed to reach adulthood."
"Afraid we'd kill each other?" Gregory quipped.
"No, that I'd do the job myself."
It was a damned good thing men couldn't have children. Gregory took no shame in admitting that the human race would have died out generations earlier.
He stepped toward her, and her heart just ached from it. His face was so handsome, and so dear, and so perfectly wonderfully familiar. She knew the slope of his cheeks, and the exact shade of his eyes, brownish near the iris, melting into green at the edge.
And his mouth-she knew that mouth, the look of it, the feel of it. She knew his smile, and she knew his frown, and she knew- she knew far to much.
were supposed to dance, and trusty best friends were supposed to keep their foolish mouths shut.
Clearly, all three of them needed a bit of instruction.
"Yes." She sighed again, with even more drama, not that Gregory would have imagined it possible. "It is all so romantic," she added. "The bride, the groom."
"Both are considered standard in the ceremony, I understand."
His mother shot him a peevish look. "How could I have raised a son who is so unromantic?"
Gregory decided there could not possibly be an answer to that.
"You might wish to revisit your understanding of the word everything." Gregory turned to his mother. "Vocabulary and comprehension were never her strong suits."
Violet rolled her eyes. "Every day I marvel that the two of you managed to reach adulthood."
"Afraid we'd kill each other?" Gregory quipped.
"No, that I'd do the job myself."
It was a damned good thing men couldn't have children. Gregory took no shame in admitting that the human race would have died out generations earlier.
He stepped toward her, and her heart just ached from it. His face was so handsome, and so dear, and so perfectly wonderfully familiar. She knew the slope of his cheeks, and the exact shade of his eyes, brownish near the iris, melting into green at the edge.
And his mouth-she knew that mouth, the look of it, the feel of it. She knew his smile, and she knew his frown, and she knew- she knew far to much.
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