Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/665560.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Sirius_Black/Hermione_Granger
  Character:
      Hermione_Granger, Sirius_Black, Ginny_Weasley
  Additional Tags:
      Femdom, Cross-Generation_Relationship, Foot_Fetish, Body_Worship, Orgasm
      Delay/Denial, Grinding, Non-Penetrative_Sex, Community:_hp_kinkfest, Book
      5:_Harry_Potter_and_the_Order_of_the_Phoenix
  Collections:
      Harry_Potter_Kinkfest, HP_Het_Taboo
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-02-01 Words: 4974
****** The Secret Incantation ******
by pauraque
Summary
     This is what she wants. This is what he needs.
Notes
     Written for the 2013 round of HP_Kinkfest, using prompt #1 (Hermione/
     Sirius femdom) submitted by philstar22.
     Thanks to hannelore for proofreading and encouragement. Any errors
     are my own.
They stood together, gazing up at the chandelier that hung from the ceiling,
the dust so thick on its spidery limbs that it looked almost like snow.
"I could reach it if I stood on something," Sirius said. "I hate to use magic
in here, knowing the kinds of counter-curses my mother liked to keep about."
His lip curled.
"There's the chest of drawers," said Hermione, looking dubiously at the rickety
old thing jammed into the corner. "It's tall enough."
"What, this?" He grabbed it roughly by the corners and dragged it out into the
middle of the room. Its clawed feet grasped feebly at the floor as they skidded
across it, as though it had once been alive, but the spellwork had long faded.
"Do you think it'd hold you?" Hermione asked, taking a nervous little step
back. "It doesn't look very sturdy."
Sirius pressed down experimentally on the peeling top of it; the middle sagged
a bit, but it held. He shrugged and said, "I've done riskier things." He gave
her an appraising, up-and-down glance. "But I suppose you could nip up there
instead, you look light as a feather."
"I can try. Heights do bother me a bit though. Sometimes," she added quickly.
"I remember," he said with a hint of a sly smile that made her cheeks feel
warm. "Here, I'll give you a boost up." He knelt down and laced his fingers
together.
Just that.
The sight of him kneeling before her, gazing up expectantly. A funny feeling in
her chest, like something clicking quietly and rightly into place.
Barely breathing, Hermione lifted her foot and placed it into his clasped
hands. The house suddenly seemed quiet, the faint rattle of dishes downstairs
sounding worlds away.
He looked up at her with half-lidded eyes. "Go on," he said, voice low. "You
won't hurt me."
Gingerly, she shifted her weight into his hands. It was not like stepping up
onto a chair; his hands had give, and she had to trust him not to drop her. She
touched his shoulder to steady herself, and swallowed, finding her mouth dry.
She let her other foot leave the ground, and for a moment he held her up,
making a small sound of effort in the back of his throat.
It was only a moment, and then she stepped up onto the dresser, making it creak
frighteningly. Sirius was with her instantly, hands on her hips, steadying her.
"I've got you," he said in a dry-sounding whisper.
Hermione's head spun as she looked up at the spider chandelier, her heart
racing and the soles of her feet tingling with vertigo. With Sirius holding her
steady and handing her the feather duster, she could just barely reach, and
brush the dust and cobwebs away.
*
It had started, maybe, in third year, when they were dismounting from Buckbeak,
and her face was numb from the wind and her heart racing, and Sirius Black held
her hand.
She was only fourteen then, and no boy had ever held her hand before, let alone
squeezed it warmly and peered down at her with dark eyes that smouldered like
coals, and twitched a wry, dangerous smile.
When she arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place, the Weasleys crowded round her with
smiles and hugs and claps on the back. Sirius was standing a bit apart, hands
in his pockets and looking unsure if he ought to be there.
Having pulled away from Mrs Weasley's embrace, Hermione walked up to him and,
with a small laugh of hesitation, put her arms around him in a hug. It was
awkward for a moment as he stood frozen in surprise, and she felt like Lupin
and the Weasleys were all staring. Then she felt Sirius relax a little, and he
tentatively embraced her, as though he thought she might break.
"It's good to see you," she said as she drew back from him, smiling.
"Oh?" he said in faint surprise, and the Weasleys laughed as though he'd made a
joke, but she didn't think he had.
She sat next to Sirius at dinner, watching him out of the corner of her eye.
His now-clean fingers were long and elegant, and as he talked, he tore his
rolls to pieces like a child.
*
"It's not as though I don't like Sirius," Ginny said, pulling the covers free
from her mattress where her mum had tucked them in so tightly. "But it is a bit
weird with him here. I never know what to say to him."
Hermione put one of her pillows on top of the other, finding them flat. "How do
you mean?"
"I don't know. He's just — odd. Sort of like the house." She gestured around
them, the curious serpentine motif of the crown moulding. "Dark."
"He's not a dark wizard," Hermione said, alarmed.
"I know," Ginny said hastily. "I meant more, his personality."
"Well, if you'd been wrongfully imprisoned for twelve years, you mightn't have
a very sunny disposition either." Hermione was surprised at how defensive her
own voice sounded.
Ginny hesitated, as though she was going to say one thing, but then decided on
another. "I guess not," she said.
*
Hermione flopped down in the cracked leather armchair, wiping sweat from her
brow. The summer heat outside made it muggy inside, like a greenhouse. There
was only one chair in the room, and Sirius sat down on the thick round rug at
her feet, his legs stretched out long.
"I never knew house-cleaning was so hard!"
Sirius smirked unhappily. "I expect it's easier if you do it more than once
every ten years," he said, gesturing round the place.
"Well, once it's done, it'll be much nicer staying here, at least."
He let out a humourless laugh, picking idly at the rug. "I don't think there'll
ever be anything nice about being here." He stretched, reaching for his ankles.
"God, my feet are killing me."
"Mine too," she said, glad for the change of subject. "I think I'm beginning to
need new shoes again."
"Still growing, are you? Perhaps next year you'll be able to shop in the
ladies' department instead of the toy shop." He ran a finger along the edge of
her shoe, grinning up at her. "These trainers go with a doll's house, don't
they?"
She tried to give him a stern look, but it couldn't have been very convincing
through her giggles. "My feet aren't that small," she said, stretching her legs
out and pointing her toes.
"Could have fooled me." He tugged at her shoelace, and the bow came undone. He
did it almost idly, as though this was something he did all the time, and she
nearly didn't register it until he stopped midway through sliding off her shoe,
and looked up at her questioningly.
It felt so natural that she didn't need to think — she nodded her permission,
feeling restful and sleepy in the big armchair, regal, like a queen on a
comfortable throne.
Only then did he take her shoe all the way off, and then the other, and then
Sirius's hands were sliding firmly up the sole of her stocking foot, massaging.
Pleasure curled up through her body, coming out as a contented hum. She wasn't
sure she'd ever had her feet rubbed before.
"Mm, that's lovely... But — oh, aren't my feet sweaty?" She wrinkled her nose
with an embarrassed laugh.
He shook his head, peeling off her socks. It felt good to get out of them in
this heat. "Not at all."
She suspected he was lying, but with the way this felt, it was hard to care.
She relaxed back into the chair and let her eyes fall shut. Just the sound of
birdsong out the window, and Sirius's hands cupping her feet, rubbing the ache
away.
And then — something softer.
Her eyes fluttered open. He was pressing a kiss onto the sole of her foot, just
below her toes. He looked guilty, caught out, mouth open but wordless, as
though surprised himself that he'd done it.
"Hermione? Sirius?" It was Lupin's voice calling, and his footfalls creaking up
the stairs, and they were both on their feet in an instant. Lupin's head poked
through the door. "Molly's got lunch on the table," he said.
"Good, I'm starved," Sirius said abruptly, and brushed past him, making Lupin
look after him quizzically.
Hermione gave him a smile that she hoped didn't look nervous, and followed. If
Lupin noticed that her feet were bare, he didn't say anything.
*
During lunch, Sirius sat at the opposite end of the table and didn't look at
Hermione once. Afterwards, he muttered something about why he should be working
on the master bathroom instead, and disappeared upstairs.
She found the door to the master bath closed, and tentatively knocked.
"Sirius? Can I come in?"
A hesitation before he answered. "Of course."
When she opened the door, he was scouring the bathtub as though it had done
something to make him angry. She clicked the door shut behind her and clasped
her hands behind her back.
"So..." She let out a slight, shaky laugh. "I feel like I should be
apologising, but I'm not sure what I've done."
He stopped and stared up at her. "I— what? No. No, it's me who should be
apologising." He stood up, agitated, and threw the scouring pad into the tub.
"You've been so bloody kind to me, and God knows I don't deserve it, and then I
went and— bollixed it all up. As usual."
"Sirius, I—" She moved closer and carefully touched his arm. "Maybe something's
the matter with me, but I don't see why it was so bad. I mean, I was a bit
surprised, and you might have asked first, but..."
He put his hands on her shoulders. "Listen," he said hoarsely. "I don't want
to... to do anything you don't want." His eyes were burning, looking desperate
for her to understand.
Hermione was starting to feel out of her depth, not sure anymore that they were
talking about the same thing. "I never thought you did," she said finally.
He drew in a slow breath, hands tightening on her shoulders.
"I want—" She swallowed. "I want you to kiss me."
They were standing close together, and he started to duck his head down to
reach her, but instead she reached up to his shoulders and gently pushed him
down to sit on the edge of the bathtub, and it was she who ducked down to kiss
him.
It wasn't Hermione's first kiss, but it was the first kiss that made her feel
her feet might float off the ground, that she could stay here forever, standing
between Sirius's knees and feeling the stubble of his mouth on hers, the warmth
of his hands, tense and gentle on her hips.
When she pulled away from him, smiling, she said, "I'll give it some thought."
Sirius swallowed, breathless. "Give what some thought?"
"What I want," she said.
Sirius looked startled for a moment, and then, slowly, his face broke into a
smile, wider and warmer than she'd ever seen.
As she walked out of the room and down the hall, Hermione felt like she'd been
levitated, walking on air and grinning uncontrollably in the dark.
*
That night, she took a long, hot bath. She stretched out in the roomy tub, her
feet barely touching the end, feeling the water's heat soaking into her bones.
Still her mind ceaselessly raced, feeding her a thousand thoughts and counter-
thoughts. She closed her eyes and let them wash over her — it was all she could
do, sometimes.
     I can't do this.
          Why not?
She lifted a hand and traced her fingertips along her collarbone, a fluttering
tickle. This was how she'd first learned to touch her body, a few years ago,
while soaking in the bath.
     He must be twice your age.
          Viktor was older, too.
She drew soft circles around her breasts, pushing away a flicker of distress at
how small they still were. Her nipples tightened, and she pressed her palms
firmly against them, drawing in a steamy breath through her teeth.
     I'm too young.
          Nearly sixteen, and haven't I proven I'm old enough a dozen times
over?
She slid her hands slowly down her body, under the water, over her stomach and
her hips. The water rippled delicately as she shivered, arching her back.
     It's illegal.
          What is? I've only kissed him.
She caressed her inner thighs, ran her fingertips lightly along her skin. If
Sirius touched her there, if it were his hands stroking, teasing...
     He's just lonely, I'm taking advantage.
          He's an adult, he knows what he's doing.
With a quick glance at the door to make sure the key was still turned in the
gleaming black lock, she drew her fingertips firmly along the sides of her
vulva — that was the word she said in her mind, vulva, sounding secret and
unvulgar — sending a tingle of pleasure working its way slowly up her body.
     What am I going to do?
And the answer to that question rang out like a bell, silencing all others:
          Only what I want to.
*
She padded through the darkened hallway in her bathrobe and slippers, and found
the door to Sirius's bedroom open, and the candle inside lit.
He was sitting on the foot of his bed, wearing just a vest and pants, hands
beside him nervously. "I wasn't sure whether to expect you."
She locked the door. "I know what I want," she said.
A sly smile curled the corner of his mouth. "First time I've heard a woman say
that."
She hoped he couldn't see her blush at being called that — a woman. "It won't
be the last," she said, finding the words came out easily, fitting in like
jigsaw puzzle pieces.
He sat up straighter at that, his surprise illuminated in the flickering
candlelight. "I'm listening," he said.
She sat down on the bed beside him and drew in a breath. "I want you to kiss my
feet," she said, trying not to let her voice shake. "The way you wanted to
earlier."
Oh, she was so afraid. Trying so hard not to let it show in her face, but heart
pounding, terrified that he would ask if she was sure and she wouldn't be able
to say yes. That she was being an idiot, that he would be disgusted, that he
would just laugh in her face.
Sirius did not laugh. He looked, instead, like something had melted behind his
eyes.
He slid down onto the floor and knelt on the thick rug before her, eyes
glittering like fire. Her stomach fluttered as he slid off first one slipper,
then the other, and held up her bare foot delicately, like it was made of fine
china.
"God," he whispered, eyes falling shut. She looked down at him with wonder —
how could she make anyone feel that way? He seemed to savour this moment
between the permission and the deed, and then he did it — he placed a row of
tender kisses along her instep.
Her feet were warm and sensitive after her bath, and his lips were so soft —
but just seeing him, on his knees, at her command. That was what made her
pleasure burn deep.
She jerked slightly when she felt his slick tongue creep up her sole, and he
backed off, looked up at her questioningly.
"No— Yes," she stammered, tongue confused. "Go on, it's good."
Sirius quirked a wry eyebrow at her, making her giggle, and then he licked her
sole from heel to toes.
"Oh, that feels—" She giggled, not able to get out exactly what it felt like,
and let herself fall back on the bed, tingles of excitement racing through her
body. "Don't stop," she cautioned him.
He gained confidence as he went on, now licking and kissing eagerly — it was
hard not to think of a dog. His tongue swirled round her toes, and she laughed
again, squirming between ticklishness and pleasure.
And then he moved higher, pressing gentle kisses onto her ankle.
She paused — did she want this?
Yes.
She pulled her feet gently away from him and moved back on the bed, resting her
head on Sirius's pillow.
He climbed up on the bed too, head cocked cautiously, eyes shining.
"Yes," Hermione said in answer to the unasked question. "I want you to kiss...
kiss my legs."
Sirius curled up beside her and obeyed eagerly, kissing a tender path up to her
knee. He went slowly, and she could feel how hard he was holding back, the
tremble of his hand resting on her thigh — obeying her. Worshipping her.
He covered both her knees with kisses (another spot that made her giggle) and
she pulled up her bathrobe, offering him her bare thighs. He shuddered out a
moan as his lips touched her there; his need was obvious, and it thrilled her.
He wanted her. And she would decide if and when he got her.
"Do you like that?" Hermione whispered, watching him press trembling kisses up
and down her inner thighs.
"Oh god, yes," he hissed back, rubbing his rough cheek worshipfully against her
thigh. "I can smell... gorgeous..."
"Me?" she asked, startled.
"Do you want me to..." He trailed off, gazing up at her.
She didn't answer right away. She looked within, and felt a twinge of
nervousness at the thought. Not excited nervousness, but uncertainty.
"Come up here," she said, beckoning him with one finger.
She loved the way he crawled up the bed beside her, almost slinking, as though
ready for any command.
She touched his cheek, ran her fingers along the rough stubble of his jaw. She
could see now that his eyes were dilated, his cheeks flushed with arousal. "You
really ought to shave," she said.
"I've been told I look rugged this way," he said, breathing unevenly but
smiling.
She heard a slightly indulgent note in her own laugh. She stroked his hair and
said, "You've done just what I wanted. For now, I want to go to bed."
She half-expected disappointment on his face. Instead, Sirius looked... almost
pleased.
He nodded, and she kissed him lightly on the lips and hopped down from his bed.
*
All the next day, Hermione worked with Lupin on the pantry, but when she went
inside for lunch, she passed by the open bathroom door and saw Sirius shaving,
chin up and running the razor over his pale neck, his bright eyes slyly
smiling.
*
It surprised her how easy it was to keep acting as though nothing was
happening. Days of working side by side, and nights of I want — this secret
incantation that gave her more power than any other she had learnt.
     I want you to rub my back, she said, and he massaged her for what could
have been hours, gripping her shoulders almost too hard, making her feel loose
and tingly afterward.
She still wrote to her parents every week. She had been keeping things from her
parents for a long time, long enough that it didn't seem so difficult to add
one more secret.
     I want you to kiss my breasts, she said with an embarrassed smile playing
about her lips, and he was there, worshipping her body like she was a goddess.
His tongue flicked her nipple and the pleasure went through her like a knife,
like nothing she'd ever felt before. She pressed him to admit that he'd always
liked flat-chested girls, and his trembling answer crumbled into yes yes yes.
When Harry arrived, she found herself nervous that he would notice something
was strange, and then felt rather smug when he didn't.
     I want to see your body, she whispered, and then he stood naked before her
in the yellow candlelight, hard, his face flushed and shameless. Fully dressed,
she circled him, examined her property. She traced the tendons of his arms and
the curve of his spine, making him shiver. She wondered if she ought to be
nervous when she touched his prick for the first time, but instead she found
herself quite calm, smiling at the sounds he made as she trailed her fingertips
along his curiously soft skin.
"I want you to put these in the linen cupboard," Mrs Weasley said absently,
handling Sirius a folded stack of white towels.
"Of course," Sirius said, and as he turned to go, he threw Hermione a knowing
smile that made her face burn, and filled her with the most deliciously
mortified delight.
*
"I want you to lie down," she said. "Flat on your back." It thrilled her to
watch, the way he scrambled to instantly obey her. "Stay just there. I don't
want you to move."
She didn't quite get her leg over him the first time, and had to crawl up
higher on the bed, laughing a little at herself. He shared her laugh, but
sounded shaky.
"Have you wanted this?" she asked, lips pursed. At last she was straddling him,
sitting on his thighs. "Answer me."
She heard him swallow, struggling to form words. "I... yes, I've... I want it.
Thought about it... hundreds of times."
A glow of warm pride made her beam. "Of course you have," she said, edging
forward until she could feel his prick brush against her stomach as she leaned
forward. "I'm not certain I care to do it, though," she added carelessly, some
part of her amazed to hear her own voice come out with such confident ease.
"Do what you're sure of," he reminded her, hoarse-throated.
Hermione laughed imperiously. "Don't worry," she said. "I will."
She moved higher, and her vulva brushed against his prick, nudging it down — he
gasped, gripped the sheets in his fists. Higher still, and she slid herself all
the way up his shaft and back down, letting it slide between her lips.
His hips shifted, and she hissed, "Be still."
It came out without her thinking, and she thought she must look surprised, but
Sirius couldn't see that. His eyes were shut, and he made a small sound that
was both pleasure and need. She could feel his body trembling beneath her,
straining not to move as she slid herself back and forth along him, feeling the
slight resistance of his prick against her as it tried to move back to its
standing position.
When she sat all the way down, he let out a groan that was frighteningly loud,
and she clapped her hand over his mouth.
"Hush," she whispered. "That doesn't hurt, does it?"
He shook his head vigourously, and she smiled, drawing her hand down his jaw,
his neck, his chest. "Good," she said, and pressed down against him hard — not
with him inside, but grinding against him, using him as her toy to rub herself
against.
Sirius's cries were almost sobs, and she reached for his mouth again as she
rode him — he kissed her fingertips as though by instinct, arched and trembling
beneath her. This was power, no spell had ever made her feel power like this.
When she came, it felt new and wild, soaring like a bird above him.
She sat back onto his thighs, flushed and triumphant, a queen. His prick was
still hard, and slick with her orgasm, the gleam of it just visible in the
half-light. He was breathing raggedly, eyes wolfish in the darkness. He opened
his mouth to speak a few times before the words would come out, and when they
did, they were shaky and soft.
"Can— May I come?" As though the fate of the world depended on her answer.
She let the question hang in the air for a long moment, studying his face,
awash with longing. As though she was considering. But she knew what she
wanted, and she was beginning to know, too, what he needed.
At last, she said simply, with finality: "No."
The trembling moan that escaped Sirius's lips, the roll of his eyes — she felt
at that moment that she was seeing deeply into him, that she knew his desires,
stripped of all armour. She'd seen him nude, and now she had seen him truly
naked.
*
She got back into bed, tiptoeing, quiet. It was too dark to see if Ginny was
awake or not.
She lay there for a while, aware of the wetness between her legs and wanting to
touch herself a little. Mind racing, heart didn't seem to want to slow down,
pounding uncomfortably in her chest. But she didn't feel anxious, exactly. Just
wakeful. Thinking over it all again and again, and then:
"So..."
Hermione jumped at the sound of Ginny's voice.
"D-did I wake you up?" she stammered, heart now in her throat.
"No, I've been awake," Ginny said. It was hard to read her voice. She sounded
calm, but that didn't always mean anything with Ginny.
"I was just up getting a drink of water," Hermione said, cringing at how
obvious the lie sounded.
There was a rustle of bedclothes. Hermione could just barely make out Ginny's
outline in the dark, turning on her side to face her.
"Were you ever going to say something?"
"Something about what?" Hermione was agonisingly aware of the panic bleeding
into her voice.
"You've been in his room every day this week," Ginny said flatly.
A thousand thoughts raced and clamoured in Hermione's mind, screaming for
attention. Deny it? Defend it? Soften it? What came out at last was: "How did
you know?"
"Well, I knew you were going somewhere, and there are only so many places... I
thought at first you must be going to Ron's room."
"I— No!" Hermione squeaked, flustered and not sure why that thought embarrassed
her even more than the truth.
"I know that now," Ginny said. Now she was starting to sound embarrassed too.
"I... I used the extendable ears."
Hermione was glad it was dark — her face was on fire. "Oh my God," she half-
whispered, hand over her mouth.
"I didn't hear much," Ginny added hastily. "I stopped listening once I worked
out whose room you'd gone to."
"Well, that's all right then," Hermione said, the flood of relief coming out as
sharp sarcasm.
"I— I reckon I should apologise for spying." Ginny sounded uncertain now,
faltering. "I mean, it's not really my business."
"I should say not!" Hermione found herself going out of breath.
With a short sigh, Ginny sat up and lit the candle by the bedside; firelight
flickered on the walls, making the room look warm. "I'm sorry I spied, all
right? But can I just say something?"
Hermione stared up at the ceiling, jaw clenched. "I'm sure you will anyway."
"It's just that he's so much older..." A note of uncertain worry in her voice.
"Well, it's not as though he's a teacher, or anything! He's not in a position
of authority, and I'm nearly sixteen! That's old enough, for Muggles at least."
"You're not a Muggle, and neither is he," Ginny started, getting flustered.
"So I've got to wait until I'm seventeen, is that it? I'll be so much more
mature then?"
"No, that's not what I meant," Ginny said, shaking her head pleadingly.
"It's just that you don't like Sirius. You said as much."
"I didn't say that," Ginny hedged. "I only said I wasn't comfortable around
him."
"Well, I am. Believe me, I know how to handle Sirius." A half-mocking laugh
that sounded like it came from someone else.
Ginny paused. "All right. I'm really sorry, Hermione. I feel stupid."
"It's— Don't worry about it." She hesitated, then said in a small, nervous
voice: "You're not going to tell anyone?"
"No, I wouldn't do that!" Ginny sounded shocked.
"All right... Let's just go to sleep, then. I'm really tired."
*
It was a lie; Hermione wasn't tired. She lay awake feeling like she'd drunk a
whole flask of Pepper-Up Potion. She listened to Ginny's steady breathing in
the next bed, feeling prickly and annoyed. How dare she?
     How dare she tell me what I already knew?
Hermione lay awake until the night turned blue, lighting the bed-curtains and
making them look like dark ocean waves cresting over her.
*
Ginny was still asleep when Hermione crept out through the hallway. Someone was
up early in the kitchen, clinking dishes around, and as Hermione cringed past
the door, the exhaustion hit her, making her feel weak and gritty-eyed.
Sirius, of course, was still asleep. His heavy curtains were drawn, leaving the
room dark as midnight.
He was on his side near the edge of the bed, and she crouched down on the floor
beside him and touched his shoulder. First lightly, then giving him a shake.
He startled awake with an annoyed growl, then registered that it was her, and
his brows knit in confusion. "Hermione... What time is it?" he mumbled, rubbing
his face.
"I don't know," she whispered. "I couldn't sleep."
His gaze sharpened, suddenly seeming more awake. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I'm fine," she said automatically, shaking her head. "I've just been
thinking..."
He went quiet, and just looked at her, waiting.
"You've done nothing wrong," she assured him hurriedly. "You've done everything
I wanted and nothing I didn't. Do you understand?"
"Yes," he said hoarsely, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"I'll be going back to school on the first, of course, and I... I want you to
do one more thing for me."
She could see in his eyes that he already knew. He reached for her hand and
took it gently in his, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. And he said
quietly, "Anything."
What she had planned to say was I want you to forget me.
But what she actually said was this:
"I want you to wait for me."
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