To All The Grills I've Loved Before

The hunky hero helped Dora to her feet and she nodded to the idea of getting dried off. She was soaked, her hair was a mess (though admittedly in better shape than Everwhore’s), and she wasn’t sure where her shoes were. Had she had them when she arrived? Dora couldn’t remember how she even got to Leo’s house, let alone where her shoes or handbag were. All she knew was that Ollie’s whore better not speak about her kid again. “Try me again, skank!” she called over her shoulder, flinging Echo’s probably overly processes hair onto the ground before she stepped inside the large mansion. The temperature difference inside the comfortable home made Dora shiver as the pair left wet footprints everywhere they went. Dora had no idea where they were going or even where to attempt to lead them, having only visited once before and over a year ago. Her head was spinning and she let this guy lead her wherever she needed to be.

Of course, the drama department had been brought in by London James. Dorian couldn’t help but smirk. Her sister would have been proud, he thought, remembering Paris’ stories about her own wild adventures. Then there were the adventures that she always tried to get Dorian to join on, though rarely did so successfully. She wanted dancing and movies, Dorian wanted home cooked meals and sitting under the moonlight watching the stars. They had been an odd couple looking from the outside in; the quiet, controlled Auror and the wild, party-loving Astronomy professor. He still missed her. “No. I just brought a watermelon. Perhaps I should check in on it, though, see if its brawling with the cantaloupe.” He flipped the meat onto the other side and gave her a look that, if she couldn’t tell already, meant he’d been joking. A rare sight. “When was the last time you saw her?” he asked quietly, eyes trained on the grill. He would never forget his last moments with Paris. He hoped London’s had been better.