a/n: This is my adult-only account. I do not take unsolicited fic requests.

ballerinaroy asked for 48. "You make me want things I can't have."

and oops i tried to write a fwb fic.

sorry, dude. i've tried.

Disclaimer: Ha, ha, no.

Title: feeling a little unsteady

Word Count: 774

Summary: It was like she was sixteen again and had her heart pried open for him to see. [tumblr prompt, Gender AU – F/M]

Early in the morning, Harper Potter tried not to think about what had happened that previous night.

She did not think about Gawain Weasley sinking to the ground with her, not the way he tenderly kissed the inside of her thigh before dipping his head further, not the soft waves of his hair spread against the pillow next to hers as he slept, or the number of things they did in the privacy of his bedroom in Puddlemere. Or in her London flat. Whatever place worked best with their busy schedules and lack of privacy from family and friends.

Four months. That was how long their respective agreement was able to last, their first real go at things since the War. It had all ended when with Harper admitting to Gawain as a form of pillow talk that he made her want things she couldn't have. She never had the chance to see his reaction, not when leaving as fast as she could run had been her only priority.

There was another knock on her door. "Harper, please, let me in."

She buried herself on the sofa, her hands covering her face as hot shame burned through her veins. What was wrong with her? You make me want things I can't have. It was like she was sixteen again and had her heart pried open for Gawain to see. It was a moment of pure vulnerability she could never take back.

It's like living out of someone else's life, she had told him at Dumbledore's funeral. Funny how that still felt true five years later.

Harper wanted to laugh or maybe just cry. She couldn't decide.

He was still on the other side of the door.

Fine. She went for the door and yanked it open.

"Harper," said Gawain, almost stuttering with the word. He had had one hand placed on the doorframe in an attempt to appear casual, but the tips of his ears were pink.

She bunched her hands in the borrowed red jumper, something she had grabbed randomly. It still smelled like him. "There's nothing to talk about. This was a mistake."

Gawain made an incomprehensible sound.

Harper swallowed hard. The air between them was singing with tension as he locked his wide brown eyes with her green ones. A cycle of memories went through her mind – Gawain complaining with her at a dingy bar about their lack of successful relationships, a soft murmur between them after the fourth or fifth shot that it wouldn't be the end of the world if they tried for old time's sake. Him pressing her against the kitchen counter, his jeans tangled around his ankles with his face buried into the side of her neck, her whole body responding to his. Their stupid agreement to keep things light and casual until they weren't.

"Being with you isn't a mistake," Gawain said. His expression was just as bold as it had been for their first kiss. "I need you to know this can work because I believe in us."

She wasn't sure what kind of noise left her mouth. All she knew at that moment was that her heart was exposed in a way it hadn't been for a long time. That the boy from her childhood, the one who wrote her Valentine cards and kissed her by the Lake, hadn't given up on loving her despite everything.

"I don't want to mess this up again," she said softly. It's like living out of someone else's life, she had said before and meant again the other night, but maybe she deserved to live it herself…

"That's the point of trying."

So, Harper made the move to try.

Their bodies met midway. Harper felt Gawain lift her off her feet, her legs automatically straddling his hips as he stumbled past the threshold and closed the door with a backward kick, nearly tripping over the rug in the process as her watery laughter filled the air. They kissed hurriedly against the wall, knocking a picture frame to the floor. She traced the freckles on his abdomen with her mouth by the kitchen table, his hands twisted in her black hair. He slid his fingers between her thighs when they made it to the floor, her body wrapped around him.

"You can have this," Gawain murmured to her later once they finally made it to the bed. He kissed the old scar on the back of her hand. "We can have happy things."

"It's better when I can share it with you." Harper played with the long strands of his hair. It was only a matter of choosing happiness.