A little fic Im working on. I hope you enjoy it.
I don't own them and it's a good job!
R&R x
Across the grid she was working silently, her luscious hair swept up into a bun at the nape of her neck, her hand was gently twisting the charms on her beloved necklace as it lay on the nape of her neck. Her skin is flushed and she looks positively angelic as she stares contently at the blue lit screen. He doesn't mean to stare and he doesn't feel he is. Staring implies being intrusive but he isn't being intrusive, he prefers to think of it as appreciating, as you would a fine portrait. Her hand leaves her neck and her eyes dart up just for a second, scanning the grid, assessing whether this is too sensitive to do while there's people who shouldn't see the information around. Her eyes scan over to Harry's office and she can see him looking at her and she smiles to herself. She wishes she could just tell him how much she values his friendship and that she wishes it could be more but there's always a lump in her throat if she even comes close to letting out the words. Instead of meeting his eyes she turns back to the screen, its easier to appreciate his attention but never acknowledge it than to run the gauntlet of words and tension that ensues.
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She types at her computer, staring patiently at the screen waiting for the command to take place. Her eyes scan the page, her cheeks warm from the heat the office is under due to the freezing temperatures of December and she sighs. It's not what she's looking for it never is first time. If only it was as easy as entering a name, an organization and a date to achieve the time and location of an attack. She scans the name once more under a different heading, still nothing pops up in alert. Sighing again she glances at her watch. Half past seven. She's had enough for now but it's still over an hour and a half until she feels she can leave. Closing the window she stands and straightens her heavy skirt and winter jumper. She looks so dwarfed in all the material, the wool and the chord weighing her down as she shifts awkwardly on her feet before deciding what she wants to do next.
She heads for the kitchen cup in hand and it's a second before she hears the music coming from his office its faint but it stops her in her tracks. It must be eight years at least since she had heard the piece, the lightly played piano she wishes she could master. Changing her direction she slides the heavy door from its frame. He doesn't turn, either he can't hear over the music or he is choosing not to. She leans for a moment or two on the wooden frame relaxing as she does so. The music is not what she would have expected from him not that she really knew what he liked, but she had taken him for more of a Beethoven kind of guy, perhaps she was to be surprised again. Should she say something or just let him discover her, she didn't want to look like she was a silent stalker so she spoke.
"Fifteen years ago you would have been called a traitor for listening to this." She said just loud enough to clear the music.
He reaches for the remote turning it a little lower but still facing away from her. "There was never a question of my loyalty, not to the service at any rate."
"I was…Harr…I wasn't….I wasn't saying there is..was." She could feel her cheeks reddening and she straightened away from the frame of the door.
"When you spend years undercover you become immersed in the culture, this was part of it that was quite pleasant."
He smiled and she relaxed slightly letting her eyes run over his face, still standing taught though.
"Come in" He says softly, warmly and there is no way she can resist as he rises a few inches from his chair in politeness. She takes a seat and immediately feels relaxed, the music flowing from the speakers to her ears calming her from below the skin. It was back in Oxford where she had first fallen in love with this Rachmaninoff and this piece in particular had always managed to help her work. They were also her favorite flower which helped with the imagery of the piece.
It wasn't until the track ended that she realized she has been sat, eyes closed for far too long for it to look like she was still awake. Slowly she opened one eye and then the other, he was looking down at the papers he had been reading when she had entered the room and she is spared any embarrassment.
He only looks up when she shifts to her feet again. " I was going to make a coffee" She says shaking her mug at him, immediately regretting the action as the remains of her last caffeine fix splashed onto her cream jumper. "Erm….oh…would you like one?"
"Thankyou" he replies and with out a second to spare she has grasped his cup and fled from the room again.
Please R&R (any comments are welcome) and I'll write some more! x