Blossoming
Sparks
They'd agreed to meet for lunch at Madam Puddifoot's. Filius, overwhelmed by the profusion of pink, sat beside a grotesquely pink-charmed Flutterby bush, drinking a peculiar pink liquid through a tiny straw, waiting for his date. His "date." At the thought, he blushed pinker than the tearoom's decor. There she was now, looking around for him. He considered sending sparks from his wand, but that was too dramatic. Instead, he stood on his chair and waved. Pomona's blue and brown robes were a relief in the pink sea, and her brilliant smile of recognition sparked a warmth deep within him.
Flowers
No witch had given him flowers before. It would be carrying coals to Newcastle to give this particular witch flowers, so Filius had given her chocolates the first time he'd called and elderberry cordial the next. He was nervous throughout lunch, wondering whether the flowers had been a good sign, and whether his sentimental tears on accepting them had been fatal to their burgeoning relationship. When Filius suggested a postprandial stroll, Pomona shook her head, smiling. Now, as he lay beside her, tickling her tummy with a rosebud, he knew the flowers had been a very good sign, indeed.
Company
They had finished the most lovely lunch and now, sitting together on his settee, a fresh breeze blowing through the open window, they let out simultaneous sighs of contentment. Pomona smiled at Filius, taking his hand.
"I'm glad you liked the flowers," she said softly.
He squeezed her hand, then said shyly, "Very much. And the company even more."
"I enjoy your company, as well."
When his dark eyes met hers, her heart skipped a beat, her breath caught in her throat, then she leaned toward him and whispered, "I love it, in fact." And her lips touched his.