It was totally unplanned, unprepared, and unexpected. But neither of them were really in a position to care at the moment about the circumstances. With her body being ground into the faded couch cushions and his body pressing against hers it was hard to think of the situation from a third party. But who could blame them though? They had been waiting for this for a long time.
When he had first moved in with the Order she had been livid. How dare he? How dare he come and join them when he was the one to put them there, indirectly or not. She vowed to hate him for the rest of her life, and she frequently let him know this whenever they fought.
And they fought often. He was rude, brash and cold to everyone, never really having anything nice to say during the rare times he spoke in a full sentence. The only time he seemed to speak more than ten words was when he was yelling insults at her. She was warm, compassionate, and stubborn. She never ceased talking to people and was always trying to help others, never saying her mind except when she was screaming it at the platinum haired head as it retreated from their arguments.
Eventually they learned that in war no one cared about petty school grudges and didn't have the time or patience to continue the feud; so they moved on. They addressed each other with cool indifference and avoided interaction. It was hard though, they were often together in missions since Moody had figured out that they were one of the best duos. They worked together, stayed in the same safe houses and learned to tolerate each other from the weeks that they would spend carrying out missions or waiting to be assigned new ones together. And they were always sent together. Her brains and knowledge of all things, with his cunning and strategic mind was almost an unstoppable force.
These missions made them learn about one another. She learned that he liked coffee because he was never allowed to have the 'unrefined' drink in the manor. He knew she liked earl grey with 3 cubes of sugar. She always bought green apples every time she went shopping because she knew he always had one with his lunches. Whenever he went out he would always come back with rolls from her favorite bakery in London as a thank you.
As weeks grew to months the atmosphere around them changed. She taught him how to enjoy little things and he taught her that letting go of control was healthy. She would come home to find him asleep on the couch with a book on his chest, the same book she had recommended weeks before. He would find her sometimes in the dead of night cooking a midnight snack while dancing to an invisible tune in her head without a care in the world. They learned from each other and though they didn't admit it, it made them better.
She first noticed it when she caught him walking from the bathroom to his room down the hallway, the lust she felt for him. Steam licked his pale skin and water pooled at his feet as they both froze; him in the doorway and her at the entrance to the hall. Later she would daydream about the towel accidentally falling from his lean hips. He would first notice during a mission when they got stuck in the forest for the night, covered in mud and blood. He had tried not to peek while they washed off in the lake but it was hard not to notice her sensual form when she was standing there in just a bra and knickers.
Touching had always been taboo for them. They could be friends, could get along, even have fun together but they would never touch for more than 3 seconds. So when he had disappeared during a mission only to show up several hours later at headquarters saying that he was grabbed but made it out fine and she tackled him in a hug he was hesitant to hug her back, but did eventually. After she began having frequent nightmares that ended with her screaming in her sleep, he resolved to hold her hand throughout the night until they stopped, no matter how 'unmanly' it was.
The breaking point for both of them was when she had been was snatched during a mission. She was rescued two weeks later and after a few more days of recovery from her injuries she returned to the safe-house where her partner was, only to find him a mess. The first thing he did was insult her for being so stupid and getting caught. Things only escalated from there. She was furious with his reaction and hurt that he wasn't more concerned for her. He was confused and half mad with indecision. When he had finally became so frustrated that he had screamed that losing her would break him and that's why he was so upset she had stayed silently shocked, and for a few minutes just stared at him. Eventually, overcome with embarrassment he tried to leave only to have her grab his worn jacket and kiss him with the passion of a dying man.
So here they were, lying on the couch. After she had kissed him and he had gotten over the initial shock, he had responded with such enthusiasm that he picked her up and set her on the couch. Eventually after a very long time of the slow and sensual snogging things got a little more heated. He laid her down and slid between her legs, rubbing himself against her core. His hands snuck underneath her oversized shirt, feeling the skin prickle from the sensation. She tugged at his shirt and eventually got him to take it off so she could feel his skin beneath her fingers. His mouth moved down her slim neck and over her bare shoulders, kissing and sucking the unblemished skin until he got to the first fleshy mound on her chest. Suckling the pert bud he ran his fingers over the other making it harden and crinkle. Her moans only spurred him on and she dug her nails into his hair, raking her fingers through the golden white locks.
Eventually he moved them to his room, picking her up again and stumbling to his bed and flopping her down before crawling up her body. He tugged her jeans down her legs as quickly as he could, impatient to see the beautiful body she kept so damn well hidden. She quickly got him to remove his own trousers to match her and soon they were both left with only their knickers and underwear on. He stopped his exploration and moved up her body once more to kiss her pouty lips again. He didn't stop his kissing until she moaned and squirmed underneath him. Smirking, he slipped his fingers past the fragile cloth of her underwear and felt her warmth cover his fingers. Later he would tease her about how ready she was for him but right then all he could do was groan and rub against her leg to relieve some of the pressure he was feeling. Soon the offending garments were gone and she was arching her back as he ghosted his fingers over her body while he sat on his haunches looking down at her form. Finally much to her pleasure he was there, in front of her, slipping into her and slowly thrusting his hips.
She had already told him that he wasn't her first. He knew this and had not cared. She knew he loved her and she hoped he knew she loved him. Why else would she be here, gripping his arms as he slowly brought her to the peak of pleasure and then past? Why else would she allow him to just stare at her afterwards as he finished? Why else would, when he asked her to, stay with him; tangled in his sweaty sheets until dawn broke through the blinds? Why else would she wake up to see him looking at her with the tenderest expressions she had ever seen him look at anything with if he hadn't loved her?