Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and its characters are not mine.
A/N: Written for hp-may-madness challenge's Day 7 prompts, let's ride and rain.
Flash Bulb
The night was silent and still as the car sped along on the road. Streetlight shone its orange glow upon the asphalt, transforming the road into an alien world. In the confines of the cabin, Harry and Scorpius made small talk about work and food and books, filling up the space with harmless words until the inevitable arrived. After a while, one of them faltered, and the conversation came to a halt. The silence was stifling, as if the car had sunk to the bottom of the sea.
"May I turn on the radio?" Scorpius asked. When Harry said yes, he pressed a button and fiddled with the dial until dead air turned into sound and sound into music. On the stereo, a singer was crooning sensual, smoky dreams. Scorpius leant back in the passenger's seat and relaxed. "Do you know this song?"
"No."
With his hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road, Harry seemed to focus on nothing else. As Scorpius contemplated Harry's profile, he wanted nothing more than to bridge the distance between them and reach out for the older man. Nevertheless, he did not dare. Summer was ending and with it their summer love affair. Harry would return to his teaching post at Hogwarts, and Scorpius would return to his old life—life without Harry.
With a pang he turned away from Harry and looked out the window. A sprinkle of rain fell upon the glass, while the ever-changing nightscape rolled back without an end in sight. Street lamps sprayed orange rain-sparks, and when the car came to a stop at a traffic light, raindrops seemed to glitter like stardust. Scorpius recognised the street lined with coffee shops and warehouse studios; he was almost home.
He wished the drive could last for a while longer, but there was a time limit to this summer romance of his. The magic of the summer night was almost gone. The dream he once held onto in his adolescent years had already been realised: he would not ask for more.
Four traffic lights, one left turn and one right turn later, the car came to a stop on a certain narrow street dominated by a row of terraced houses. It was time to wake up, Scorpius told himself firmly while putting on a smile—as much for Harry's sake as for his own sake. He unbuckled the seat-belt and leant over to give Harry one last kiss. A beat later, Harry caught him by the nape and deepened the kiss, a kiss that tasted of coffee and much sweetness.
"I'll walk you to your house," Harry whispered after the kiss, his warm hand stroking Scorpius' nape still and keeping him in place, as if he too did not wish to part—or so Scorpius wanted to believe.
"I think I can manage those last few steps on my own," Scorpius said in half-jest. Looking wistful in the faint artificial light, Harry nonetheless humoured him with a smile and let him go. "I had a good time," Scorpius heard himself say as he turned away from Harry. "I hope you did too. Good night."
"Can I see you again?"
Scorpius stopped dead in his track. Stricken with a pang of yearning mingled with fear, he turned ever so slowly to face the older man once more. Upon that weathered visage of Harry's was a shadow of unrest, of anxiety, of guilt, of trepidation and of longing. It was the face of someone who, in spite of half a century worth of life experience, knew not what to expect of a young man who was half his age.
"I want to see you again, Scorpius."
Raindrops drummed against the windows as if pressing Scorpius for an answer. The singer on the radio murmured words that lingered in the air between him and Harry: lips, hands, kisses, want, bed, perhaps not quite love. After taking a deep breath, Scorpius gazed into Harry's eyes and opened his mouth.
Finis.
A/N: This is inspired by the music of Cigarettes After Sex. Thank you for reading.
