Louis Bonaccord?
Winnifred was too flabbergasted to feel the proper joy when her deepest wish had been acquiesced to and her mystery wizard (Louis?) pressed his lips to hers heatedly.
Her schoolmate?
What a preposterous notion! Wasn't it? Surely, having spent seven years in Louis Bonaccord's company, she'd have seen some hint of marriageability in him, other than his blood. He did keep contemptible company, she remembered, such as an affinity for that insufferable Mullet girl she'd been forced to share a dormitory with. He'd even dated a Mudblood, Winnie recalled now, and she'd written several outraged owls to Rebecca about it, because hadn't he seen how foolish that was? With a war going on, nevertheless!
Still, she mused to herself as they wrapped around one another with certain social impropriety, without doubt, he had the breeding, and there was no arguing that he struck a spark within her, a spark she had never anticipated from their school days. Well, if he hadn't been perfect before, he certainly would be now! What else could he be, with her for a wife?
They were practically a perfectly matched set.
There was one thing she could not reconcile, and that was the difference in his appearance and how he carried himself, from what she remembered. True, Winnie had not seen him since they'd left Hogwarts, but surely three years hadn't changed so much in one man?
She quite liked the changes, though she wished to see him unobscured.
Pulling away, albeit reluctantly, Winnie purred, "After all this time? My, how the fates do conspire," as her hands stole deliberately to undo the fastenings of his mask.
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