DISCLAIMER: NO! I DO NOT OWN HARRY BLOODY POTTER!
Diagon Alley: Springtime
Its dusk, that time just before twilight when the sky is still a light blue though now infused with gray, and the world seems darker than it should be below the horizon.
I love this time.
Just the most subtle mist hazes around us in such a pleasant way as Harry and I stroll through Diagon Alley. Our hands are clasped in his jacket pocket, and neither of us is talking much, just enjoying the person beside us.
A man steps out of a shop briefly and flicks his wand. At his command, the street lamps flare to life, casting their steady, unwavering glow of white light on the sidewalks: Never the sickening yellow that pools on Muggle streets.
Its during that lag between rush hour and the late-night crowd, when the village seems to pause and catch it's breath.
The mist is beginning to clear, and replacing it is a light drizzle.
Nobody's really out at this time, so we're perfectly free to stop in the middle of the street as we do now, the droplets of rain thickening growing into a heavy shower.
So its fine with me as he brings our clasped hands up, over our heads, and twirls me around in a whirl of laughter and vivid red hair and rainwater.
Its fine with me as he tugs me towards him and presses his soft, warm lips to mine.
My mouth slides over his in a burst of gentle passion, tasting his tongue, licking the rain drops off his lips, giggling all the while.
Springtime.