Complete Accident
by The Eighth Weasley
It was really a complete accident.
Harry had come hurtling around the corner, late for Charms, and knocked her over. Sorry, so sorry, he'd muttered, before seeing who it was--or, more accurately, before seeing that the necklace of Butterbeer corks had broken and was lying on the stone floor.
Oh. I'm really sorry, he'd said, leaning over to pick it up, surprised that she didn't seem angry and even more surprised to find himself truly upset that he'd broken it.
It's okay, she'd said, holding her hand out for it.
Here, let me fix it... He tapped it with his wand with a muttered Reparo, and the little clasp reformed.
Then she turned around, lifted that great quantity of hair with both hands, and presented the pale expanse of her neck. Will you put it on me? I'm terrible with those things.
Trembling fingers reached over her head--what if he brushed something he shouldn't--and then his hands met at the back of her neck, his fingers fumbled with the clasp, and then it was done: the necklace was back on her neck, where it belonged.
She turned around. Thanks, she said, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
Following some reflex action, no doubt, Harry's neck muscles twitched his head sideways and the kiss landed on his lips. It was quite enjoyable, you know.
So you see, it was really a complete accident.
--fin--