"Morning," he said groggily.
"I am not," she said in a voice that said she knew he was lying."Will you stop quibbling with me over this point? I'm older than you and have seen a lot of women."
"Seen?" she asked dubiously."That, my dear wife, is another topic altogether, and one that does not require discussion. I merely wanted to point out that I am probably a bit more of a connoisseur than you are, and you should take my word on the matter. If I say you're beautiful, then you're beautiful.""Really, Turner, you're very sweet- "
He leaned down until his nose rested on hers. "You're starting to irritate me, wife.""Good heavens, I wouldn't want to do that."
"I should think not."
Her lips curved into a mischief-tinged smile. "You're very handsome."Lucy was, in almost every visible way, just a little bit less than Hermione. A little less blond. A little less slender. A little less tall. Her eyes were a little less vivid in color-bluish-gray, actually, quite attractive when compared with anyone other than Hermione, but that did her little good, as she never went anywhere without Hermione.
She had come to this stunning conclusion one day while not paying attention to her lessons on English Composition and Literature at Miss Moss’s School for Exceptional Young Ladies, where she and Hermione had been students for three years.Lucy was a little bit less. Or perhaps, if one wanted to put a nicer sheen on it, she was simply not quite.
She was, she supposed, reasonably attractive, in that healthy, traditional, English rose sort of manner, but men were rarely (oh, very well, never) struck dumb in her presence.Hermione, however…well, it was a good thing she was such a nice person. She would have been impossible to be friends with, otherwise.