Amos stood alone at the Quidditch pitch. For the first time in his life, Amos looked nervous. He'd heard rumours around the school of a mysterious figure giving Ayanna Zabini, a Sixth Year Slytherin, presents. It took every ounce of self control to stop himself from telling people, "It's me! I'm the mysterious figure." There was something about her. Whether it be her gorgeous hair, soft, silky, and black, or the way she held herself like no one could stand in her way, Amos did not have a sweet clue. All he knew was there was this feeling inside that he just couldn't shake.
Amos had tried to shake her from his mind, but failed miserably every single time. So, he'd began to send her presents. Not intending to reveal himself, he left little notes.For beauty. For intelligence. For soul.All the things that he saw in her, he wanted her to see too.
Holding one last rose behind his back, Amos glanced at the watch on his wrist. 8:25. Not that he expected her to be early, but this was making him nervous. He'd never been so honest about his feelings before. Amos had never once put himself out on the line. He knew that she could possibly turn him down, maybe even humiliate him. For some reason, he didn't care. He just wanted her to know.
The idea of her admirer had plagued her all day, one of the flowers twirling between her fingers as she sat in the common room and awaited the time she'd meant to meet him. It was odd, this arrangement, and though she wanted to know him, his identity made her nervous. If she didn't care for him, all the person's work would have been wasted.
At five past the time he had asked her to meet him, she began her descent to the Quidditch pitch, her thoughts on all of the beautiful gifts she had received. Whoever it was must have cared, even just a bit, for her to know she had been on their minds. Possibilities of who was awaiting her, of why they had taken the trouble flashed across her mind, her feet sinking into the soft grass of the pitch.
There was a figure there waiting, her heart beginning to beat just a bit faster as she moved closer. Suddenly, her footsteps stopped, standing on the edge of the arena, in disbelief at who her admirer had been.
"Amos," she breathed.
Amos ignored the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow as they approached the Pitch. They might not have been her, and it would look strange for him to stare at a random stranger until their face came into view. The moment the footsteps stopped however, his head flipped up so fast, it could have gave him whip lash. There she stood, bundled up in her cloak, a look of disbelief etched across her face. His heart dropped to his stomach as he just stared at her staring at him. What was he supposed to do? It wasn't like he'd ever done anything like this before.
Swallowing a little bit of pride, Amos nodded. Part of him was waiting for her to hex him where he stood. Another part of him was waiting for her to run away and pretend like nothing happened. But one final part of him, a part almost too small to believe in, hoped that she'd at least walk down to him. Whether it would be out of admiration or out of disgust, it was better than nothing.
Slowly, Amos pulled the rose from behind his back, knowing that it was in plain view. He looked down at the rose, then to her. His head didn't move, only his eyes. Inhaling deeply, he waited where he stood, waiting for her to finished the last few paces that made up the distance between the two of them.
There was disbelief etched in the lines of her face, the inability to believe that Amos had actually done something so redeemable. She saw the flower in his hand, her footsteps moving closer to him, only stopping when she reached where he stood. He looked as if he had never been so nervous in his life, her face still expressionless as she watched him.
She reached out her hand, taking the rose from him and letting her eyes drop to the petals. Her fingers played with them for a moment, eyes falling on his once more before the smile spread across her face. She reached up and took his collar between her fingers, pulling him forward and brushing her lips over his cheek.
"You're the one who reminded me of my soul?"
His heart raised slightly from his stomach as she reached for the flower in his hand, playing with it's delicate petals. It rose ever so slightly as she looked back to him and smiled. Not one of those half smiles that most would receive as they walked through the corridors, but a full-teeth smile. Her smile was contagious, making him smile too. As she pulled him towards et by his collar, and as his light lips touched his cheek, a soft blush crossed his face.
Amos nodded and smiled, "Yes. That would be me." His voice was free of any smugness, which was extremely out of character, but so was this whole situation. Putting his hands into his jacket pockets, Amos face faltered slighted. "Was I out of line?"
Ayanna smiled again, shaking her head as she looked back down at the flower. "It was very sweet and very unlike you," she laughed, still unable to believe it had been him. She felt warm, cared for, and very out of place. "But you should have chosen someone deemed more worthy to be showered in affection, Amos."
Her smile remained, curiosity now much more evident than anything. "What on earth made you do this?"
Amos looked to the flower in her hand. Inhaling, he took a second of courage and reached for her hand, grasping it in his. His hold was strong, but gentle. "But, I have chosen someone worthy of my affection, Ayanna." Amos smiled kindly at her. He could taste her curiosity in the air. It danced in the thick air, causing him to smile a little wider.
Holding his breath for a moment, Amos looked at her hand in his. Flicking his head back up as to look at her, he blinked a few times. "You." The answer was simple, but he couldn't find another explanation.
Ayanna watched him and shook her head gently, unable to keep a soft laugh from her voice. "You're very sweet," she said, resting her hand on his cheek before looking back down and slowly twirling the rose between her fingers. "My opinion of you has certainly improved, and I'll cherish your gifts."
The idea that he'd thought of her like this hadn't left her, now knowing all of his reasons to go to her before had truly been genuine. But she was broken, a snake, an enemy, she could bed him and leave him be but she would be unable to give anything else. "I hope you find this one day, in someone much more deserving."
Amos could feel his heart fall into his stomach slightly as he listened to Ayanna speak. Her voice was relaxed and sweet, something before this moment he had never experienced. "I'm glad that your opinion has improved." He nodded softly, leading into her hand. It hurt him to know that this would have been impossible, but that didn't stop him from hiding it from his face.
Keeping himself cool, calm and collected, Amos nodded sharply once, "You deserve it, but I understand." Lifting her hand from his cheek, he kissed her fingertips lightly. "I'm here if you need me." Somewhere in his heart, Amos wanted to ask her why, but he knew the answer within himself. It was just too impossible.
The gestures he made, the way he held her hands, the soft kisses he feathered over her skin all did the same thing. The little inkling in her heart was wrenching. To tell him, someone who had truly cared for him, that she was incapable of giving him what he wanted from her. It was not usual, it was not the norm. She never felt, but she was feeling now, and there was regret.
Her hand slipped from his and she stood on her toes, allowing her arms to envelop him and pull him to her. It had been years since she'd been held, since she'd allowed such intimate contact, but just this once she would relish in it. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, kissing his cheek and holding the rose tightly between her fingers. "I'm not enough but one day I will be and I won't forget you."
Amos' arms wrapped around her arms, his hands finding the small of her back. Heat rose to his face as he accidentally touched the bare skin just about the hem of her pants. I wonder if she can feel my heart beating? The thought swam through his mind slowly. He hadn't been close to a person, not like this. He liked to dance the horizontal mambo every once and a while, but there were no feelings involved. Afterwards, he'd discard them like trash. Inhaling gingerly, he smiled as her lips brushed against his cheek.
He squeezed his arms around her waist lightly as she spoke. Her words touched his heart, but not in the way one would think. Her words played a sad, languorous tune with his heart strings. He found that all he could do was nod, so he did. It was a light nod, tilting his head twice, as if he didn't believe himself the first time. Swallowing, he shook his head once. He needed to speak aloud. "Don't apologize. I proceeded without finding out if you felt the same." Pulling away from her slightly, he put his forehead to hers. A near-silent whisper fell on his voice as the next words danced on his tongue, "I'll be waiting."