AN: Happy Friday! Thanks to those who left reviews. I'm trying present tense for kicks, which is why it is short. T rating is definitely applied.
Reminder: I have a poll still up. Please keep in mid if you click 'Other' if I haven't done that scene already. The fic A Step Closer has a variety of them.
I also still take prompts.
Disclaimer: Last time I checked I've never had any connections to JK Rowling besides a love for books.
Title: Beauty
Word Count: 500
"As if you were on fire from moon lives in the lining of your skin."
― Pablo Neruda
Maybe it is cliché that he thinks she looks incredible in one of his shirts. Sitting on his bed with a Harpies t-shirt thrown over her lithe frame, legs cross, and eyes bright with laughter. The late morning sun streaming through a window, highlighting that happiness. And he just loves seeing her look like this, she looks like at time like this that the war never happened.
He kisses her, a hand fluttering at the nape of her neck, and the other curling at her hip. It all reminds him of flying—the breathlessness, dizzying of the deepening joy. He is swerving and diving, holding tightly onto her. He doesn't want to let go, and neither does she.
She whispers his name into his collarbone, and then says three other words. It still affects him like it did the first time. With him fumbling the words back, and a rosy blush appearing on his face. "Love you," he says back, meeting her green eyes. Her eyelashes brushes his cheek as he captures her in another kiss. "So much…"
Her pale, scars skin is a contrast to freckles and pink of his arm, he studies. She grips his shoulders, their arms meeting up exactly. His hand is twisting in the front of his favourite shirt. The green of the fabric brings out her eyes, all dark and lush like the trees surrounding Hogwarts. The usual pallor of her skin is dusting with pink, dark hair in a disarray, and her heart beating a fast tempo under his hand. He feels sparks with every time they touch, and it goes off inside him like fireworks.
He can see a hint of the more hills and valleys of her body. He itches to explore more, to feel every inch of her skin. He lowers his head to her mouth, and her hands tangle in his hair. She feels warm and alive, all rosy pale and glint-fill eyes, her iris-smelling shampoo acting like a beacon. She is so beautiful in his eyes, pale and dark with a touch of lively green, and underneath the flesh there is a warrior built out of fire. And whenever he sees her he falls a little more for her.
"I love you," he says again.
"I know," she reaches to touch the sides of his face, a marvellous light shining in her face. "Always."
