The private dining chamber Thor had arranged was, by Asgardian standards, remarkably restrained—which meant it only contained enough gold leaf to bankrupt three Earth nations, seating for a modest dozen guests, and a view overlooking Asgard's twilight gardens where flowers bloomed in colors that technically didn't exist in normal visible spectrum.
Harry arrived with his wives in what could generously be called "formal casual"—attire that suggested they'd made effort without succumbing to the elaborate ceremonial dress that apparently constituted Asgardian evening wear. His midnight blue jacket had been tailored by someone who understood that proper fit was the difference between "well-dressed" and "walking sculpture," while his wives had each chosen styles that reflected their personalities while maintaining coordinated elegance.
Hermione wore deep burgundy that emphasized her scholarly authority while somehow making intellectual competence look devastatingly attractive. Daphne had selected ice blue silk that clung to her aristocratic curves with the precision of strategic fashion warfare. Susan's warm coral dress radiated maternal elegance wrapped in unconscious sensuality. Tonks had gone with violet leather that made punk-rock aesthetic look appropriate for divine dining. Luna drifted in silvery grey that seemed to shift between solid fabric and captured moonlight depending on viewing angle.
Sif arrived moments later, and Harry's enhanced senses registered the immediate shift in her usual presentation. Gone was the full warrior's armor—replaced by what he assumed was Asgardian formal attire that managed to be both elegant and practical. Deep green fabric emphasized her warrior's build while revealing enough to suggest she was comfortable with her own attractiveness without making it the primary focus. Her dark hair, usually pulled back for combat practicality, fell in waves that caught the ethereal light.
"Lady Sif," Harry greeted with that devastating smile that had made goddesses reconsider their evening plans, "you look absolutely magnificent. Though I confess myself curious whether Asgardian formal wear includes concealed weapons as matter of course, or if that's personal preference."
Sif's lips curved into genuine amusement as she gestured toward what appeared to be decorative clasps but were clearly functional knife sheaths. "Personal preference. Centuries of combat training make complete disarmament feel... uncomfortable. Like missing a limb."
"Sensible," Tonks approved with cheerful understanding. "I've got at least three concealed weapons on me right now, and Harry refuses to attend formal events without his wand properly holstered. Old habits from dangerous professions."
Thor bounded in with his characteristic enthusiasm barely contained by formal attire, his golden hair gleaming in the magical light. "My friends! Welcome to what I have been assured by Mother will be 'civilized dinner conversation' rather than 'another catastrophic feast requiring medical intervention!' Please, be seated!"
The dining table had been arranged with careful attention to encouraging conversation—circular rather than the formal hierarchical seating that typically dominated Asgardian state dinners. Harry found himself positioned between Sif and Hermione, with his other wives distributed to encourage cross-group interaction rather than allowing them to form defensive cluster.
"So," Thor announced as servants began bringing food that smelled extraordinary and looked like it had been prepared by chefs who considered 'presentation' a competitive sport, "we have five days together! Well, three and a half now! Time enough for proper acquaintance beyond combat scenarios and diplomatic formalities!"
"Three and a half days," Sif repeated with warrior's pragmatism about time management, "to determine whether theoretical compatibility matches practical reality. No pressure whatsoever." Her dry tone suggested she was well aware of the absurdity while simultaneously taking it seriously.
"The probability matrices suggest optimal progress," Luna offered with dreamy certainty, accepting wine that appeared to have been fermented in alternate dimensions where grapes possessed additional flavor dimensions. "Current relationship development trajectories exceed baseline projections by approximately 23%, which indicates genuine chemistry rather than mere physical attraction or political convenience."
"23%," Harry repeated with British appreciation for Luna's precision. "I love that you can quantify emotional connection with decimal accuracy while making it sound like weather forecasting."
"Time Stone perception provides comprehensive data analysis," Luna explained as though this were perfectly reasonable basis for relationship advice. "Though I should mention the calculations become increasingly complex when accounting for variables like dinner conversation quality, alcohol consumption effects, and whether anyone accidentally creates diplomatic incidents through inappropriate humor."
"Diplomatic incidents through inappropriate humor," Daphne mused with aristocratic interest. "That sounds like challenge rather than warning. Should we establish ground rules about acceptable topics, or embrace chaos as relationship development methodology?"
"Embrace chaos," Sif decided with warrior's directness. "I'd rather discover incompatibility through honest conversation than maintain artificial courtesy until commitments have already been made."
"Excellent philosophy," Hermione approved with scholarly satisfaction. "Authentic connection requires authentic communication, which sometimes involves discovering friction points through direct discussion rather than elaborate diplomatic avoidance."
The first course arrived—something that appeared to be crystallized starlight arranged into geometric patterns on plates that probably cost more than Harry's entire Hogwarts education. It tasted like lightning mixed with honey and possibly some fourth flavor that Earth's culinary traditions hadn't discovered yet.
"So," Susan began with maternal warmth that made even potentially awkward questions feel like natural curiosity, "perhaps we should start with basics? What made you interested in Harry specifically? Beyond the obvious factors like cosmic power, devastating good looks, and that particular brand of British charm that makes authority figures reconsider their life choices."
Sif paused mid-bite, clearly processing how to answer honestly without sounding either shallow or excessively romantic. "Initially? Physical attraction combined with professional respect for his combat capabilities and tactical thinking. He handles impossible situations with combination of competence and humor that's... rare, even among divine warriors."
Her dark eyes met Harry's emerald gaze directly. "But what made me actually pursue this—what made me ask for extended time rather than accepting surface attraction—was watching how his wives protect him. That level of fierce devotion speaks to character that exceeds surface presentation. People don't inspire that kind of loyalty through charm alone."
"No," Harry agreed quietly, his voice carrying depths of genuine emotion beneath aristocratic restraint. "They inspire it through repeated demonstrations of worthiness. Through choosing them, consistently and deliberately, even when circumstances make those choices difficult."
"See, that," Sif said with warrior's appreciation for emotional honesty, "is exactly what I mean. Most people with your level of power would deflect compliments or accept them with arrogance. You acknowledge that loyalty is earned through action rather than demanded through authority."
"Harry's allergic to unearned authority," Tonks explained with cheerful bluntness. "Spent too much of his childhood watching authority figures abuse power to ever be comfortable demanding respect rather than earning it through demonstrated competence."
"My childhood," Harry said with British understatement that made trauma sound like minor inconvenience, "was educational regarding how not to exercise power. Living in a cupboard under the stairs while being treated as unpaid servant tends to provide perspective on what constitutes ethical treatment of those with less power than yourself."
Sif's expression shifted through surprise, anger, and what appeared to be protective fury in rapid succession. "You were—imprisoned? As a child? By your own family?"
"'Imprisoned' might be strong word," Harry replied with that devastating combination of honesty and deflection. "Though 'comprehensively neglected and occasionally abused' would be accurate. Not relevant to current circumstances, really—ancient history that shaped character but doesn't define present identity."
"It absolutely is relevant," Sif said with warrior's intensity that suggested she was mentally cataloging those responsible for past wrongs and considering creative violence as redress. "That kind of early trauma typically produces either broken people or those who overcompensate through cruelty toward others. You've clearly chosen neither path."
"He chose the secret third option," Hermione said with scholarly precision about Harry's character development, "which is 'dedicated entire existence to ensuring others never experience similar circumstances' combined with 'developed pathological need to save everyone regardless of personal cost.' It's simultaneously his greatest strength and most concerning behavioral pattern."
"Hence why," Daphne added with aristocratic practicality, "we maintain constant vigilance regarding his martyr complex. Left unsupervised, Harry would absolutely sacrifice himself to save complete strangers, then probably apologize for inconveniencing everyone with his death."
"I'm sitting right here," Harry protested with fond exasperation. "And I've gotten much better about the martyr complex. I only died once in the last two years, and that was technically unavoidable given the circumstances."
"'Only died once' is not the reassuring defense you think it is," Susan pointed out with maternal concern wrapped in warm humor. "Normal relationship development doesn't typically include discussing frequency of resurrection as though it were routine medical procedure."
Sif was processing this exchange with warrior's pragmatism about accepting impossible facts. "You've actually died? Multiple times? And these resurrections are... reliable? Not temporary states or near-death experiences?"
"Thirteen proper deaths," Harry confirmed with British matter-of-factness. "Though the last one was different—that's when Death recruited me as her Champion and the whole 'mortality becomes negotiable concept' situation began. Prior deaths were significantly less convenient and involved more uncertainty about resurrection outcomes."
"Thirteen deaths," Sif repeated slowly. "And you continued fighting despite having every legitimate excuse to retire from heroism entirely."
"Retirement seemed selfish," Harry said with simple honesty that somehow made cosmic responsibility sound like basic decency. "Universe kept presenting situations requiring intervention, and I possessed capabilities that could prevent suffering. Walking away would have meant accepting that others would die because I prioritized personal comfort over ethical obligation."
The conversation paused as servers brought the next course—something involving actual meat rather than crystallized concepts, which Harry appreciated as return to familiar culinary territory even if the preparation methods probably involved magic that Earth's chefs would consider cheating.
Thor, who had been observing this emotional honesty with obvious satisfaction, finally contributed his own perspective. "This is precisely what I meant about proper acquaintance! Surface conversation reveals surface compatibility! Deep honesty reveals whether foundations can support actual relationship rather than mere romantic fantasy!"
"Deep honesty," Tonks agreed with cheerful appreciation for emotional vulnerability, "is code for 'prepare to have every assumption challenged and possibly discover that your potential partners are more complicated than initially anticipated.'"
"I'm beginning to appreciate that complexity," Sif said with growing certainty. "Initially I was attracted to power and competence. Now I'm discovering that those qualities are built on foundations of genuine character that makes surface attraction seem almost incidental."
"Almost incidental," Harry repeated with devastating charm that made even self-deprecation look attractive. "I appreciate the 'almost' qualification. Nice to know physical appeal still registers despite the concerning behavioral patterns and resurrection history."
Sif's cheeks colored slightly, though her warrior's composure remained admirably intact. "Physical appeal definitely registers. But I'm realizing that pursuing you means accepting entire package—the trauma history that shaped you, the martyr complex that drives you, the wives who will absolutely intervene if they perceive threats to your wellbeing, and apparently the occasional death that requires emergency resurrection protocols."
"That's remarkably accurate assessment," Hermione confirmed with scholarly approval. "Most people either romanticize the complexity or become overwhelmed by it. You're processing it with warrior's pragmatism that suggests genuine capacity for handling reality rather than fantasy version."
"Warriors learn quickly that romanticizing situations leads to catastrophic tactical errors," Sif replied with professional precision. "Better to acknowledge difficult truths early than discover them later when commitments have been made and retreat becomes complicated."
The conversation continued through multiple courses, gradually shifting from heavy emotional processing to lighter topics that revealed personality rather than trauma. They discussed favorite training techniques (Sif's involved apparently hurling weapons at moving targets while blindfolded), embarrassing combat incidents (Harry's included accidentally setting his own robes on fire during a crucial duel), and the various ways their respective cultures approached concepts like honor, duty, and acceptable property damage during crisis situations.
"So wait," Tonks interjected during discussion of Asgardian honor codes, "if someone challenges you to formal combat, you're obligated to accept or face social disgrace?"
"Generally yes," Sif confirmed with warrior's matter-of-factness about cultural norms. "Though there are diplomatic methods for declining without losing face—delegating to champions, proposing alternative contests, or demonstrating the challenge itself was issued improperly."
"That's absolutely mad," Tonks declared with delighted horror. "In Earth's magical communities, you can just tell people to sod off if they want to fight you! Maybe hex them a bit if they're particularly insistent, but there's no formal obligation!"
"Your culture sounds remarkably practical regarding conflict avoidance," Sif observed with what might have been envy. "Asgardian honor codes sometimes feel designed to maximize dramatic confrontation rather than minimize unnecessary violence."
"Most honor codes are," Harry said with British cynicism about traditional warrior cultures. "They're typically created by people who consider dying gloriously in battle to be preferable outcome to living sensibly and avoiding unnecessary conflict. Leads to impressive poetry but questionable life expectancy."
Thor's laughter boomed across the intimate dining space. "Harry speaks truth! Our traditions are magnificent but occasionally impractical! Though I would argue that honor codes serve purpose beyond mere survival—they provide framework for maintaining civilization when power differences make exploitation tempting!"
"That's actually valid point," Hermione conceded with scholarly fairness. "When some individuals possess divine-level capabilities, social structures that emphasize honor and duty help prevent abuse of power through cultural pressure rather than merely legal constraint."
The evening stretched toward what Asgardians apparently considered late hours (though time in the realm operated on scales that made Earth's 24-hour cycle seem quaint), and the conversation had achieved that comfortable intimacy that came from genuine connection rather than mere social performance.
Sif had learned that Harry's wives weren't just allies or romantic partners—they were family in the deepest sense, bound by choices made repeatedly through impossible circumstances. She'd discovered that their protection of him wasn't possessiveness but genuine care for someone who would absolutely sacrifice himself if left unsupervised.
Harry and his wives had learned that Sif's interest wasn't mere physical attraction or political convenience—she was genuinely drawn to the complexity, appreciated the emotional honesty, and possessed the warrior's pragmatism necessary to handle relationship dynamics that exceeded normal parameters.
As servants cleared away the final course and Thor began enthusiastically describing tomorrow's planned activities (something involving Asgard's legendary library and possibly weapons demonstration), Sif caught Harry's attention with warrior's directness.
"This evening," she said quietly, "has been... illuminating. More so than I anticipated."
"Illuminating good or illuminating concerning?" Harry asked with that particular combination of genuine curiosity and prepared acceptance of either answer.
"Illuminating perfect," Sif replied with warrior's honesty. "You're more complicated than I expected, your wives are more remarkable than initial impressions suggested, and I'm increasingly certain that pursuing this represents genuine opportunity rather than romantic fantasy doomed to disappoint."
Her dark eyes held depths of emotion carefully controlled by centuries of warrior discipline. "I'm not committing to anything permanent tonight—that would be premature and possibly foolish given we've known each other mere days. But I'm committing to genuine exploration of possibilities. To seeing where this leads when given proper time and honest communication."
"That," Harry said with devastating sincerity, "is all anyone could reasonably ask. Honest exploration without artificial pressure or predetermined outcomes."
Around them, the evening concluded with the sort of comfortable satisfaction that came from successful relationship development—foundations strengthened through honest conversation, compatibility confirmed through emotional vulnerability, and everyone departing with genuine optimism about future possibilities.
—
The evening had wound to its natural conclusion—Thor departed with promises of tomorrow's library expedition, servants cleared the final remnants of dinner service, and the intimate dining chamber gradually emptied until only seven figures remained in the soft golden light that seemed to emanate from Asgard's very architecture.
Sif stood with warrior's poise that couldn't quite conceal the nervous energy beneath her composed exterior, her dark eyes moving across each of them with careful consideration. When she finally spoke, her voice carried that particular combination of directness and vulnerability that characterized all her most honest moments.
"Would you—" she began, then paused as though reconsidering her phrasing. "That is, I would appreciate if you might escort me to my chambers. All of you. Together." Her warrior's composure held firm despite the slight color rising in her cheeks. "Not for... I mean, I'm not suggesting anything presumptuous. I simply find myself reluctant to end this evening quite yet, and the walk would provide additional time for conversation."
Harry's emerald eyes glinted with understanding and appreciation for her careful navigation of potentially awkward territory. "Of course, Lady Sif. We'd be honored to escort you. Though I should mention that any presumptions you might theoretically be making would likely be welcomed rather than rejected, should such presumptions actually exist."
"Harry," Hermione chided with scholarly precision wrapped in fond exasperation, "perhaps let Sif set the pace for relationship development without your characteristic tendency toward accelerating emotional timelines through devastating British charm?"
"I was merely clarifying available options," Harry protested with wounded dignity that fooled absolutely no one. "Communication requires explicit parameters to avoid misunderstandings."
"Explicit parameters," Daphne repeated with aristocratic amusement barely concealed. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
Sif's lips curved into genuine smile that transformed her usually serious features. "Your family dynamic is... refreshing. Most courtship protocols I've experienced involve elaborate formal procedures and careful avoidance of anything resembling honest emotional communication."
"We tried formal procedures once," Tonks said with cheerful irreverence as the group began moving toward the exit. "Lasted approximately thirty seconds before Harry said something devastatingly sincere that made everyone cry, Hermione started analyzing emotional authenticity using academic frameworks, and Daphne declared the whole thing 'tedious aristocratic nonsense' before suggesting we all just say what we actually meant."
"Sounds like significantly more efficient approach," Sif observed as they entered the crystalline corridors leading toward the wing where Asgard's warrior elite maintained their personal chambers.
The walk itself was leisurely, their group naturally arranging itself so conversation could flow easily—Harry and Sif at the center, his wives positioned to participate without creating the impression of protective barrier. The corridor's ethereal light caught the various textures of their evening attire, creating moving patterns that looked like artistic study in contrasts between Earth's fashion sensibilities and Asgard's more dramatic aesthetic choices.
"So," Susan said with maternal warmth that made even potentially awkward topics feel manageable, "what happens after these five days? Assuming continued mutual interest, I mean. You're Asgard's greatest warrior with responsibilities here, we're Earth's cosmic champions with rather unpredictable crisis management schedule. The logistics seem... challenging."
Sif's expression showed she'd already been considering precisely this question. "Asgard's warriors travel frequently across the Nine Realms on diplomatic missions, security operations, and occasionally recreational violence when things become too peaceful. I could arrange assignments that bring me to Midgard regularly without abandoning duties here."
"Plus," Luna added with dreamy certainty, "the Bifrost provides essentially instantaneous travel between realms when Heimdall permits access. Distance becomes theoretical concern rather than practical barrier, assuming relationship development justifies regular interdimensional commuting."
"Interdimensional commuting," Harry repeated with British appreciation for making cosmic travel sound like routine public transportation. "I love that we've reached the point where that's casual consideration rather than impossible fantasy."
They passed several other Asgardian warriors in the corridors—some offering respectful nods to Sif and curious glances at her companions, others too focused on their own concerns to register the group's passage. Each interaction provided small insights into Sif's standing among her peers: respected without being feared, admired without being envied, the sort of professional regard that spoke to centuries of demonstrated competence.
"Your fellow warriors respect you considerably," Hermione observed with scholarly interest in social dynamics. "That's not merely formal courtesy—that's genuine professional admiration."
"I've earned it through consistent performance rather than inherited status," Sif replied with warrior's matter-of-fact acknowledgment of her own capabilities. "Asgard values combat prowess and tactical thinking above bloodline or political connections. Makes for merit-based hierarchy that occasionally produces friction with nobility who prefer advancement through family connections."
"Merit-based advancement," Daphne said with aristocratic appreciation for systems that valued competence. "Refreshingly sensible, actually. Earth's magical aristocracy could learn considerable lessons from that approach."
The conversation continued through the winding corridors—touching on everything from training philosophies to favorite weapons to the various ways different cultures approached concepts like loyalty and duty. Each topic revealed small compatibilities, moments where their respective worldviews aligned in ways that suggested genuine foundation rather than mere surface agreement.
Finally they arrived at chambers that were, by Asgardian standards, relatively modest—which meant they were merely the size of Harry's entire Grimmauld Place residence rather than small palace. The door was decorated with intricate metalwork depicting various battle scenes, each one presumably representing significant moments from Sif's considerable warrior career.
Sif paused at the threshold, her hand resting on the door but not yet opening it. Her dark eyes held depths of emotion carefully controlled by centuries of warrior discipline as she turned to face them fully.
"This evening has been..." she began, then stopped as though words were inadequate for capturing what she wanted to express.
"Perfect?" Harry suggested gently, his voice carrying that devastating combination of cosmic authority and genuine warmth.
"Terrifying," Sif admitted with warrior's honesty. "In the best possible way. I'm accustomed to facing enemies where victory means survival and defeat means death. Those stakes are straightforward—succeed or fail, live or die. This—" she gestured at all of them "—is infinitely more complex. Success means building something meaningful that enriches all our lives. Failure means... disappointing people I'm already beginning to care about deeply."
"Then don't fail," Tonks said with characteristic bluntness wrapped in genuine support. "We're not asking for perfection or immediate commitment to eternal partnership. We're asking for honest effort and willingness to see where this leads."
"Which you've already demonstrated," Susan added with maternal warmth. "Tonight alone showed you're willing to be vulnerable, accept correction when needed, and engage with complexity rather than demanding simple answers to complicated questions."
Sif's warrior's composure finally cracked slightly, emotion showing through in the subtle trembling of her hands as she processed their acceptance. "I would—" she started, then stopped again.
"Yes?" Harry prompted gently, giving her space to articulate whatever she was struggling to express.
"I would like to kiss you," Sif said with warrior's directness that somehow made the request both bold and carefully respectful. "All of you. If that's acceptable. Not as commitment or promise of immediate intimacy, but as... acknowledgment of genuine connection and desire to explore possibilities."
The request hung in the golden air for exactly two heartbeats before Harry's devastating smile transformed his features into something that could have convinced angels to reconsider their life choices.
"That," he said with velvet British authority, "would be more than acceptable. Though I should warn you that once you start kissing Potters, we tend to be habit-forming. Possibly addictive. Definitely memorable."
"I'll take my chances," Sif replied with warrior's courage facing unknown territory.
She stepped forward first toward Harry, her movements carrying that fluid grace that spoke of centuries of combat training applied to entirely different physical coordination. Her hands came up to frame his face with surprising gentleness, dark eyes holding his emerald gaze with unflinching honesty.
"Thank you," she said quietly, "for being exactly what I didn't know I needed."
Then she kissed him.
It started gentle—careful exploration of connection rather than immediate passion, both of them learning the contours and responses of someone entirely new. But Harry's Soul Stone enhancement made even simple physical contact carry depths of emotional resonance, and within heartbeats the kiss deepened into something that made breathing seem optional and time feel negotiable.
When they finally separated, both slightly breathless, Sif's eyes held dazed satisfaction mixed with dawning realization about exactly what she'd gotten herself into.
"That was—" she started.
"Cosmic-level snogging," Tonks supplied helpfully. "Fair warning: Harry's got the Soul Stone enhancing everything he does. Makes even casual physical contact feel significant. You get used to it. Eventually. Sort of."
Sif turned toward Hermione next, approaching with the same careful respect she'd shown Harry. "May I?"
"Please," Hermione replied with scholarly precision about consent protocols, though her amber eyes held warmth that transcended mere academic interest.
This kiss was different—Hermione's Mind Stone influence creating mental connection that accompanied physical contact, thoughts and emotions flowing between them with unexpected intimacy. When they separated, both women wore expressions of surprised delight.
"You taste like libraries and lightning," Sif breathed with warrior's poetic precision.
"You taste like ozone and determination," Hermione replied with academic appreciation for descriptive accuracy.
Daphne stepped forward with aristocratic grace, her ice-blue eyes holding challenge wrapped in genuine welcome. "My turn, I believe?"
Her kiss carried her characteristic intensity—controlled passion that suggested depths carefully managed rather than absent. The Space Stone's influence made distance feel theoretical even as they stood pressed together, reality bending around them in ways that made the corridor seem both infinite and intimately small.
"Devastating," Sif murmured when they parted. "Absolutely devastating. All of you."
Susan approached with maternal warmth that somehow made the intimate gesture feel like coming home. Her kiss was gentle but firm, carrying comfort and passion in equal measure, the Reality Stone's influence making the moment feel more real than reality typically managed.
Tonks bounded forward with characteristic energy, her kiss enthusiastic and slightly chaotic in the best possible way, the Power Stone creating subtle vibrations that made even simple contact feel electric.
Finally Luna drifted close with dreamy grace, her kiss carrying otherworldly quality that suggested experiencing the moment across multiple timeline variations simultaneously—past, present, and future possibilities collapsing into single perfect present.
When all six kisses had been exchanged, Sif stood with her back against her chamber door looking thoroughly kissed and slightly overwhelmed by the experience, her warrior's composure pleasantly demolished by intimate contact with six cosmically enhanced individuals who had just demonstrated exactly what she was considering joining.
"I think," she said with careful pronunciation that suggested her brain was still rebooting from sensory overload, "I may need some time to process this evening. Alone. While lying down. Possibly while questioning every life choice that led to this moment and simultaneously being grateful they did."
"Understandable," Harry said with devastating British charm barely concealing his own pleased satisfaction. "Cosmic-level physical contact takes adjustment. We'll see you tomorrow for Thor's library expedition?"
"Tomorrow," Sif confirmed with warrior's determination despite obvious desire to potentially spend the next twelve hours reconsidering her understanding of physical possibility. "Library. Educational activities. Definitely not thinking about how kissing six people enhanced by Infinity Stones has fundamentally altered my baseline expectations for future intimate encounters."
"Definitely not," Daphne agreed with aristocratic amusement.
As they began walking back toward their own quarters, leaving Sif to her presumably very interesting private reflections, the Champions shared satisfied glances that communicated volumes about successful evening and promising relationship development.
"Well," Harry observed with British understatement, "that went remarkably well. No diplomatic incidents, considerable emotional honesty, and successful physical escalation that confirmed chemistry without rushing into premature commitment."
"Plus Sif's face when she realized Soul Stone enhancement applies to kissing," Tonks added with delighted satisfaction. "Absolutely priceless. She looked like someone discovering that gravity was optional."
"The Mind Stone connection was fascinating," Hermione mused with scholarly interest. "Creating mental intimacy during physical contact adds dimensions to the experience that normal kissing lacks entirely."
"All our Stones contribute something unique," Susan said with warm satisfaction. "Makes even simple gestures carry profound significance."
"The probability matrices," Luna announced with dreamy certainty, "indicate 87% likelihood of permanent relationship formation, assuming no catastrophic complications during remaining days of extended stay. Sif's emotional investment has increased substantially through tonight's intimacy."
"87%," Harry repeated with appreciation for Luna's precision. "I'll take those odds. Now let's return to our quarters before we encounter anyone who might have questions about why we're all looking thoroughly satisfied with ourselves."
Behind them, in her chambers, Sif was indeed lying down and reconsidering her entire understanding of physical possibility while being profoundly grateful for every choice that had led to this moment.
Tomorrow would bring library exploration and continued relationship development.
Tonight had brought confirmation that theoretical compatibility was transforming into genuine connection that might actually survive transition from Asgardian hospitality to real-world complexity.
—
The moment Sif's chamber door clicked shut behind her, the warrior's legendary composure shattered like glass.
She made it approximately three steps before her knees decided that standing was optional, dropping onto the edge of her bed with all the grace of a felled tree. Her hands came up to cover her face, though whether to hide her expression from imaginary observers or simply process what had just happened, she couldn't quite determine.
"By all the Norns and every star in the Nine Realms," she breathed into her palms, her voice carrying that particular pitch of someone whose entire understanding of physical sensation had just been comprehensively revolutionized. "What in Odin's name was that?"
Her lips still tingled—not metaphorically, but actually tingled with residual energy that suggested Infinity Stone enhancement didn't just affect the moment of contact but left lingering aftereffects that her nervous system was still processing. Six different kisses, each one carrying unique qualities that defied everything she thought she knew about simple physical intimacy.
Harry's Soul Stone influence had made the connection feel spiritually significant, as though their essences had briefly merged in ways that transcended mere physical contact. Hermione's Mind Stone created mental intimacy that suggested she could sense Sif's thoughts and emotions with uncomfortable clarity. Daphne's Space Stone made distance feel negotiable even while pressed together. Susan's Reality Stone made the moment feel more real than reality typically managed. Tonks' Power Stone created vibrations that still echoed through her nervous system. And Luna's Time Stone suggested experiencing past, present, and future possibilities simultaneously.
Sif flopped backward onto her bed with warrior's dramatic flair, staring at the crystalline ceiling while her brain attempted to process sensory information that exceeded normal parameters.
"I'm being ridiculous," she announced to the empty chamber with the authority of someone trying to convince themselves of obvious facts. "I'm Asgard's greatest warrior. I've faced frost giants in single combat, negotiated with dark elves, survived battles that would have killed lesser fighters. I don't get giddy like some maiden experiencing her first kiss."
Except she was absolutely getting giddy like exactly that.
Her feet kicked slightly against the bedframe—unconscious movement that her centuries of warrior discipline couldn't quite suppress. A smile kept trying to take over her face despite her best efforts at maintaining dignity. When she touched her lips experimentally, they still carried that residual tingle that suggested cosmic enhancement had opinions about appropriate recovery time.
"This is absurd," she continued her one-sided conversation with excellent ceiling architecture. "I am *centuries* old. I have seen empires rise and fall. I don't giggle." She paused. "I'm definitely not giggling right now."
She was absolutely giggling right now.
The sound escaped despite her warrior's discipline, transforming into full laughter that echoed through her chambers with genuine delight. When was the last time she'd felt this specific combination of excitement, nervousness, and profound satisfaction about relationship development? Centuries, probably. Possibly never with this particular intensity.
"They're all so—" she started, then stopped because adjectives felt inadequate. Attractive? Obviously. Powerful? Certainly. Complicated? Undeniably. But those words failed to capture the specific quality that made them collectively irresistible.
They were genuine. That was it. No performative courtship rituals, no elaborate social games, just honest communication wrapped in devastating charm and cosmic power. They'd shared trauma, revealed vulnerabilities, demonstrated trust through emotional honesty rather than demanding it through authority.
And they'd kissed her like she mattered—not as conquest or political alliance, but as someone they genuinely wanted to know better.
Sif rolled onto her side, hugging a pillow with the sort of undignified enthusiasm that would have mortified her if any of her fellow warriors witnessed it. Tomorrow she'd return to professional warrior bearing, tactical discussions, and appropriate emotional restraint.
Tonight, in the privacy of her chambers, she could be giddy like a schoolgirl experiencing first serious romantic interest.
"Three more days," she whispered to the pillow with warrior's determination applied to entirely different objectives. "Three more days to confirm this is genuine rather than Infinity Stone enhancement creating artificial connection."
Though honestly, based on tonight's evidence, she was increasingly certain about which outcome probability favored.
---
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