Fleur couldn't help but take in every little twitch Harry made as he stared at the ribbon in her hair. She twirled her hand absently through the end of her braid while she examined his features for even a flicker of understanding. She sighed, letting her hand drop to her lap as his green eyes finally returned to hers. It wasn't fair to expect him to make a leap like that. He would need her to be clear and direct. That's just how he was. She could do that, it couldn't be too hard.

"You-It looks incredible," he muttered, the near slip sending her stomach into an excited acrobatic routine.

Oh…

This was going to be difficult.

"Complimenting your own gift?" she heard herself say, her playful nature taking over in the absence of proper thought. "I am not sure if that is praise for me or for you."

Despite the multitude of thoughts whirling through her head, she still felt her face heat in embarrassed pleasure at one of his rare compliments.

"I-er," he tried, his face flushing to match her own.

"I am only teasing," she said, reaching out to gently touch his elbow, before quickly pulling her hand back, lacing her fingers together in her lap in an attempt to control her impulses. She just wanted to touch him...to scoot closer and lean her head against his shoulder or to hug him until, for once, she was satiated.

A shy grin slowly replaced his perplexed confusion, and she returned his smile until the lengthening silence started to become unbearable.

"Would you like to start dinner?" she asked, the excited twirls of her stomach eliciting a low growl of hunger.

Harry nodded, standing quickly from his seat on the couch. He turned, carefully placed his picture in the newly vacated seat, and turned towards the small hall.

"Through there?"

Fleur stood up, and lead him through the connecting hall into the small kitchen. "It is rather small," she said, encompassing the room a quick wave of her hand.

"I'll make due," said Harry, stepping over to where his bag of ingredients sat on the countertop.

He emptied the bag of its remaining contents, quickly filling the limited workspace as he spread out. He stepped over and turned a knob on the oven before turning on the tap and sticking his hands under the flowing water.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Fleur asked from where she stood in the entryway. She had done so little cooking in her time at her new apartment, she wasn't even sure she would be able to tell him where things were.

"I'll be okay," he said absently, drying his hands on a towel and fishing around in his mountain of ingredients. He lifted a head of garlic and began pulling the cloves apart.

"Have you always liked to cook?" Fleur asked, sitting at one of the two chairs at her small dining table. She smoothed her dress as she sat, grabbing at the hem and tried to resettle the fabric more comfortably over her knees. She liked the dress, especially one so...thematic, but it was far from as comfortable as her usual loungewear. She ran her thumbs through the thin straps over her shoulders, momentarily wishing she had opted for the comfortable green sweater hanging in her closet. Once she was properly situated, she reached over and touched her finger to both the red and green candles sitting on the tabletop, lighting them.

"I think so," Harry answered. He crushed one of the cloves of garlic with the flat of his knife as he spoke. "It was one of the only things that I had to do for the Durselys that I could enjoy."

Familiar anger came alive inside of Fleur, and she ruthlessly quelled the rising emotion. It wouldn't do to be enraged in the middle of what could become a very important Christmas Eve with Harry. But if the candles next to her were burning a little brighter and a little higher, well...he probably wouldn't notice.

"We do not have to talk about those horrible people. It is Christmas Eve, we are meant to be happy while we spend time together."

"Well...I am," he said, his knife slowing as he turned to offer her the small but genuine smile that always made her smile in return. He turned back around, though she could see the tips of his ears turn pink.

"It's different with you," he continued, his knife flashing as he began chopping more rapidly. "Sirius will vaguely mention it. Ron and Hermione haven't said a word about it since I told them, which suits me fine." He stopped chopping and used the back of the blade to push the garlic into a small bowl. He set the knife down and shrugged at the countertop. "But if it's you...I suppose I don't mind talking about it. You've...er...seen the worst of it already."

Fleur felt her considerable fondness for him swell even further at his words. She rose silently from her seat and crossed the small space with a few quick steps, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. His surprised features were only visible for a moment before she pulled him close and wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders. She had wanted to look him in the eyes when she told him, but it was just so...personal.

"Isabelle," she said, her voice muffled as she buried her burning face into his shoulder.

"What?"

"My name," Fleur said, forcing herself to push herself out of the safety of his embrace and stepping back. She glanced briefly to his confused green eyes, before dropping her gaze to somewhere on his chest.

She had always imagined what it would be like to tell someone. She had even rewritten her favorite books in her mind as a young teenager, putting herself into the titular role as she boldly proclaimed her name to whatever prince, hero, or even the occasional villain she had rescued. What she had not imagined in those fantasies was the vulnerability that washed over her and made her bare shoulders, neck, and face burn.

"My name," she repeated, again forcing herself to look at him properly, "is Fleur Isabelle Delacour." She laced her fingers together in front of her and fought against the desire to fidget beneath his gaze.

He didn't begin decrying her name's glory and beauty to the heavens, as some of those in her early fantasies had. He didn't immediately succumb to overwhelming emotion, and fall to his knees with the weight of responsibility that holding her true name secret entailed. And he didn't laugh, or smirk; things she knew were uncharacteristic of Harry, but things that she had been fearing ever since the subject of true names had fallen from her lips in Hogsmeade two months previous. Instead, he stood, rooted in place while his emotions swirled around him in a complex dance that had Fleur desperately attempting to discern how he felt about her revelation.

A shy smile broke through the whirling storm, settling the dance into one of nervous...fondness? Fleur felt her heart leap as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Thanks for telling me," he said, the sincerity in his sense and tone melting the anxious knots that had formed inside her chest.

"Of course...Harry James Potter," she said, smiling.

Her grin faded quickly when she saw a small shiver run up his back, and he surreptitiously tried to rub away the gooseflesh from his forearms.

"You do not like it?" Fleur asked, her hands twitching at her sides trying to reach for her braid.

"I like it fine," he said quickly. "It's like I said...it's different with you. But," he flashed her an awkward grin, dropping his hand to the side, "maybe we just stick with 'Harry'...for the most part."

Fleur's nerves vanished alongside a quick laugh. "But I have trouble even pronouncing the first letter in your name properly."

To her utter surprise, Harry blushed so deeply she was positive he was in danger of passing out. He turned swiftly back to the counter and busied his hands with the small spice bottles he'd brought along.

"I...like that too."

Fleur smiled fondly at his back and returned to her seat, her heart refusing to return to its normal rhythm. If she could share her name with him...surely she could share her feelings as well. No matter what she was afraid of, he hadn't done a single thing to make her feel anything less than safe with him.

"How have you managed that?" Harry asked, startling her out of her small pep-talk. She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts she hadn't noticed him put the birds in the oven. He sat down across from her and pointed to her ribbon. "I tried it out, to make sure it worked before I gave it to you, and if I tried really hard I could get it to stay one color for a few minutes, but if I got distracted it would change again."

Fleur froze, Harry's perfect opening dangling in the air between them. Could she take the step...the leap that she had to take to help him to understand? Should she? Vagueries were easy, but speaking aloud some of her most vulnerable thoughts was…

But she knew what she wanted. She could feel it, deep in her chest, churning around angrily, impatiently. No matter how much fear the small voices in her head interjected into her mind, none of it satiated the desire to be closer

"Do you remember the sphinx?" she began, her voice stronger than she'd expected, but more tremulous than she had hoped.

"Of course," Harry answered quickly, his brows drawn together in confusion. "It's sort of a once in a lifetime thing after all."

Fleur pulled her braid protectively over her shoulder, the candlelight glinting off the silky lavender surface of her ribbon.

"And do you remember my riddle?" she asked faintly.

Oh...this was going to be very difficult.

Harry's brow furrowed further as his eyes unfocused behind his endearing round glasses.

"I...I think so," he said slowly.

The words sat easily on her lips; words that she had spent countless sleepless nights pondering since that...eventful summer day.

Fleur took a deep breath and threw herself over the edge.

"Some think their time is done and gone,

a Vila's villa foreclosed upon.

A gift to hang, tied roundabout,

can curry favor for any lout."

She let out the shakey remnants of her breath, trying not to notice how intently Harry's bright green eyes were focused on her.

"T-the colors vary, some hues may shine

As lavender sings..."Please be mine.""

She fell silent, the last lines falling victim to the failure of her voice after her admission. The corners of his mouth turned down in a faint frown when she finished speaking, his unfocused gaze sliding from hers, and slowly down her arms and to her hair, held tight in a white-knuckled grip. She jumped when his eyes suddenly snapped up to hers, the haze of deep thought replaced by sharp focus.

Her heart thundered in her chest so powerfully she was sure he could see its beat through the thin fabric of her dress. She tried to push her nerves from her mind and focus instead on Harry. He sat across from her almost motionless, his immobile body a far cry from what she was sensing coming from him in waves.

She felt a tumultuous mix of shock and confusion swirling out from him. The two feelings almost smothering a small spark of something she had never before felt from him. The rare emotion ignited, though its intensity was somehow absent from his features, which stayed stock still as he stared at her. Her mind worked frantically to place the feeling. Could it be her answer to the unasked question she'd been too afraid to ask?

She froze as she recognized it, her heart shattering into tiny pieces in a way it had become far too accustomed to doing on his behalf. He could be so selfless...and truly heroic at times, but to do so without hope…

Though the feeling of hope had flared so strong, she felt it begin to fade beneath the harsh undercurrent inside of him that she had yet to understand.

"Harry," she said, causing him to jump as the silence between them was broken. "You figured it out." She smiled nervously at him as his eyes grew wide behind his glasses. "I felt it."

Harry spluttered, his frozen contemplation shattered by her quiet admission.

"Y-you...you…" he tried, before slumping back in his seat, affixing her with a stare of gentle disbelief.

"Is it so impossible to believe?" she asked, a touch defensively. Her nervous smile dropped into a small frown. She...she should have expected something like this. She clenched her jaw and squared her shoulders. He would understand how she saw him, no matter how long it took.

"You feel...about me?" he croaked.

Fleur simply nodded.

Harry blinked owlishly at her, his sense still tinged with disbelief, though she could feel the hope beginning to grow with each affirmation.

"It's just...hard to believe," he repeated.

"Why?" Fleur asked, her lips quirking into a playful smile. He hadn't rejected her, and the hope brewing inside of him told her he was unlikely to do so. She just needed to help him get there.

He stared at her for a moment as though she'd spoken complete nonsense. "What do you mean, 'why'?" he asked, the words bursting through whatever had been keeping them at bay. He leaned forward, suddenly more animated than she had ever seen him. "I've told you before Fleur, you're incredible, in pretty much every way."

Fleur's felt the warmth inside of her grow pleasantly as he complimented her for the second time. "Well," she said, her frown lifting into a shy smile, "you could stand to mention it more often." She tried to master herself, not wanting to let the only flattery she cared about distract her. "But if I am...all you say I am," she continued, "why do you think I would not be interested in dating you?"

She saw him frown down at the table and pushed away the guilt she felt at addressing the issue so directly. All she really wanted was to be close to him, not to have these difficult conversations right away.

"Do you trust me, Harry?" she asked, catching his eye as he looked up at her in surprise.

"More than anyone," he answered, his voice soft but sure.

"Then trust me to know what I want," said Fleur, leaning forward and capturing his gaze with hers. His eyes seemed to search hers in the same way they had done during their first meeting. "You, Harry," she said, pushing past her feelings of embarrassment for being so direct. If it was what he needed, she could do it. "I want you. To be with you, and to go on dates with you. To be a normal girlfriend and experience things I was afraid I never would. And I want to do it with you, damn it."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Harry was pushed back in his chair by her vehemence, her fierce blue eyes pinning him in place. He saw the care and frustration dancing side by side in them as she held him trapped, frozen in his seat.

He tried to speak, but the words vanished before they could form. He had somehow stepped through the floo to her apartment, and into a dream-world. He didn't understand how someone like her could want someone like him, but...she did. He trusted her more than anyone else, and if she said she did, then…

"That would make me...unbelievably happy," he whispered, his hand gripping the edge of the table tight-a lifeline into the turbulent waters he was about to tread.

"I never thought anyone would want...me," he continued. He saw her eyebrow twitch up and her lips part, the glint in her eye promising disagreement, but he barreled on. "You already know about my parents...and the Dursleys." He smiled a little as he saw her eyebrow fall and her jaw clench. "When your parents first took me in for the summer...I thought that they were the type of people who probably just tried to do the right thing."

He shrugged self-consciously. "Even with Sirius, I sometimes thought that he might just be feeling guilty about my dad," he continued. "And the Weasleys...I'm Ron's friend, and they're good people. But you," he said, swallowing away the lump in his throat, "it's always been different with you. We were already friends. You had what I thought you wanted; a friend. And so did I; someone who understood me in a way Hermione and Ron can't. But you...chose me. You want me," he whispered, his eyes finding hers. "It's something I never thought I'd have, and to have it with you...it's hard to believe I'd be so lucky."

Without a word, Fleur rose from her seat. Harry stared up at her, noting with extreme pleasure that the ribbon he had spent so many nights staring at, just hoping she would like it, was still suffused with its life-changing lavender hue.

She held a hand out as she stopped in front of him. He reached up, lacing his fingers in hers and rose to his feet. He looked up into her eyes, his newfound height all the more obvious for their proximity, though he still had to tilt his neck ever-so-slightly when they were standing so close. He could smell the faint cinnamon scent he'd come to associate with her as she took a small step forward, letting go of his hand and wrapping her arms around his shoulders in an embrace he had come to crave.

He felt the heat of her arms through his shirt and the much warmer heat of her body as she pulled him to her, resting her chin on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her middle and let out a soft sigh of contentment. A smile came unbidden to his lips as he closed his eyes. He felt no compulsion to pull back, to stiffen, or to be let out of her embrace. He relaxed into her, enjoying not only the warmth from her that had always meant safety, but also the utterly satisfying feeling that he finally felt no panic and no anxiety at being held by Fleur. Someone who was not only his friend, but wanted to be with him...

A dream-world indeed.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Fleur held Harry tight, unsure if she could face him now that they were...whatever they were. Dating? How did that even work? How could they go on dates when she would be accosted the whole time? Would they ever be able to go out like other couples because of her abilities?

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, his voice piercing through her worries. He stepped back, though she couldn't help but notice how reluctantly his hands fell from her sides. "You tensed up all of a sudden."

"I…" she tried, her voice failing as the realities of someone being together with a Veela finally permeated her giddy joy. She saw his open gaze flit suddenly over to her hair, his shock settling on his face and his sense falling. Her eyes followed, widening in horror when he saw her ribbon shifting slowly away from lavender to a deep dark blue.

"What...what does that mean?" Harry asked tremulously.

"Nothing," Fleur blurted. "I promise. I will be right back." She all but sprinted from the room, returning moments later, wand in hand. She stood in front of Harry and closed her eyes to focus. The deep blue of her ribbon swiftly shifted back to the familiar lavender and she tapped the end with her wand. She opened her eyes and offered him an apologetic smile. "I think it changed because I had...expressed...what the color was trying to convey. Please understand that my feelings have not changed."

Harry nodded slowly and tried to relax. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "I don't know why I thought…"

"Do not worry," Fleur said, leaning over to set her wand on the table. Harry saw her brace herself as she straightened, a nervousness to the set of her face. "It is not your fault. I was thinking about the difficulties that will come with...dating me."

"Difficulties?" he repeated, the word barely making it out as her sentence washed pleasantly over him. 'Dating her.'

Fleur began to pace in front of him, her fingers running through the loose end of her braid.

"I said I want to go on dates with you," she began. She had begun to speak quickly, and her accent grew stronger, "and I do, but it will be challenging for us to go out because of my abilities. Maman and Papa are rarely able to go out and try to make the most of the formal balls held for the government officials that I told you about. If you are with me, it is unlikely we will be able to go out 'normally' at all. I do not know if-"

She jumped as his hand reached out and touched her bare shoulder. Her head snapped over to look at his hand, which he promptly snatched away.

"Sorry," he muttered, his fingertips warm with the lingering heat of her skin.

"Harry," said Fleur, turning to face him. "Do not be sorry. It is as I said, I am a tactile person, so I do not mind...at least with you. It is just that you are not the one who usually initiates contact. It surprised me, that is all."

He nodded, mentally chastising himself. He knew she wasn't the type to instantly flip on him like that. He forced the thoughts from his mind and refocused on Fleur...on his girlfriend. He'd just been told that the most amazing person in the world wanted to be with him. There was no reason to focus on anything else.

"That might be true," he said, trying to refocus on her worries. "But...even without your abilities, I doubt we'd be left alone."

Fleur stared at him blankly, causing his face to heat.

"They've been writing stuff about me for years," he said, wincing. He had never liked talking about the Boy-Who-Lived, but he wished he'd thought ahead about the effect it would have on anyone he dated...

Dated?

"Harry?" Fleur prompted when he didn't continue. She sat back down at the table, motioning for him to follow suit. She slid her wand in front of her and began idly twirling it through her fingers. Harry sat down as well, again trying to focus.

"Er...do you remember the article that came after the Weighing of the Wands?" he asked.

"I do," Fleur answered. "It was rather full of supposition about me. You too, as I recall. Which was strange considering I remember Dumbledore rescuing you from that woman."

"It's pretty much always been like that," he said with a sigh. "They'd probably go crazy if they saw me out with someone. Especially someone like you, even if you didn't have your abilities."

"Someone like me, hmm?" Fleur asked, a playful smile pulling at her lips as Harry deftly put some of her worries to rest.

"You know what I mean," Harry said, gesturing vaguely in front of him for a moment before dropping his hands to the table, defeated.

"I do," Fleur said, smiling apologetically. "I am sorry for teasing you again. I cannot help it. I tease people that I like. Let me know if it ever begins to bother you." She gathered the now-loose ends of her hair and began to rebraid it before continuing. "You are, however, the only person that I do not mind mentioning my Veela traits. Do not worry, I will not get mad."

Harry opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the sudden ringing of the timer on the oven. He rose from the table and grabbed two hand towels from the counter before removing the birds. He set the hot pan atop a third towel and pulled a thermometer from his bag.

"I notice you do not use any magic while cooking," Fleur said, rising to hover nearby while he worked. As she drew near, the aroma of the garlic and the hens caused her stomach to complain impatiently.

"I don't know how," Harry answered, apparently satisfied with what he saw on the thermometer. "I learned to cook in a muggle house, plus I'm underage, so even if I knew them, I couldn't use them." He covered the hens in aluminum foil and stepped over to the fridge where he removed a large head of broccoli.

"I see you have been talking with my mother," Fleur said with a small laugh, gesturing to the vegetable in his hands.

"She said it's just about the only vegetable you like."

"I can stand a few others, but not many," she said, watching as he broke the head apart into smaller pieces and tossed them in a bowl with oil. "You should talk to Maman about cooking spells as well. I expect she would be thrilled to teach them to you."

"Between her and Mrs. Weasley, I could probably make a career out of it," he said, seasoning the broccoli with salt and pepper before sliding it into the still-warm oven.

"What do you want to do for a career?" Fleur asked, peeking under the foil, the aroma that issued forth making her mouth water. "At the moment I would council you away from your Ministry. It is rather dull." She saw a guilty start from him as she spoke, and felt a frown crease her brow.

"I...haven't thought about it," he admitted quietly.

"You should," she said pointedly, letting the subject drop.

He nodded and set the timer before stepping over to the counter where he had been working. He began to tidy up, slipping the seasonings back into his bag. He set the knife and cutting board into the sink and turned to Fleur.

"It's about done," he said.

"I'll grab the plates," Fleur said, reaching around him and opening an upper cabinet door above the sink. "Silverware is in the drawer there, under where you were working."

A few short minutes later, they were eating Harry's meal. The small room was filled with only the sounds of silverware on plates at first, with the exception of Fleur's instant compliments about his considerable cooking skills. Harry hadn't felt hungry until the food was in front of him, the revelation about Fleur's feelings having pushed everything else from his mind.

It was gratifying to watch Fleur enjoy the meal he had prepared. Her praise and delight a welcome change to the harsh expectations and scorn he used to experience after cooking. He stared down at his plate, a feeling of unbelievable amazement welling up from inside him. He saw Fleur notice and look up from her dinner at him.

"What is it?" she asked after swallowing her mouthful of food.

Harry tried to smile, but he could feel it twist into more of a grimace. Fleur's beautiful features fell into a serious set as she focused her attention completely on him.

"It's nothing bad," he said, pushing his food around with the end of his fork. "I just...it hits me at times, that things are completely different now."

"Which things?" Fleur asked, her sly smile causing his face to heat.

"Well…" he began, "u-us, of course." Her brilliant answering smile sent pleasant butterflies through his stomach. "But...this." he finished, pointing to his plate with his fork.

"Your dinner?" asked Fleur.

"Yes...sort of," Harry answered, sighing as he tried to organize his thoughts. He relaxed when he looked up to find her patiently waiting for him to explain. "I know that I don't ever have to see the Dursleys again, but some things just...drive it home. Like how instead of cooking for people who don't appreciate it, I get to cook for my...girlfriend."

Fleur grinned at him, her cheeks flushing prettily.

"I quite like hearing you say that," she murmured, "and I am glad it is...sinking in. If having dinner dates helps you with that, I will gladly have food cooked for me as often as you would like."

Harry laughed, feeling the thoughts of the Dursleys melt from his mind as Fleur continued planning their future dinner dates. The conversation carried them through the rest of their meal and further into the evening. Their empty plates sitting between them, forgotten, until Fleur shivered, rubbing her hands vigorously across her upper arms.

"Can we move back into the living room? A fire will help me get warm," she said, another shiver accenting her request.

"Sure," he said, rising from his seat and grabbing the plates. After setting them alongside the cutting board and knife in the sink he turned to find Fleur standing at the entrance to the hall, her right hand outstretched, her wand clutched tightly in her left. As he stepped closer, he could see the excitement shining through her bright blue eyes and the nervousness sitting in lips pressed tight together. She laced her fingers through his, her warm hand soft against his calloused one. She pulled him gently through the hallway, flicking her wand to the fireplace as they entered the living room, the dying embers roaring to life in a blast of heat.

"Much better," she breathed, giving his hand a tug. He followed her pull and sat to mirror her, sitting sideways on the small couch. "I quite like this dress, especially how well it fits the season," she said, nodding to the window where small mounds of snow had piled at the bottom of the frame. "But it is rather cold."

Harry nodded, trying and failing to follow her prompt to the window, his gaze refusing to move away from Fleur. The firelight wrapped around her, giving her hair and skin a glow to rival the summer sun. She shifted her gaze from the window to meet his, her blue eyes drawn up in the soft, honest smile he hadn't realized he had fallen for so long ago.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could snatch the impulse back under control.

The deep blush that colored her cheeks was nearly instantaneous, and she ducked her head, squeezing his hand tight with her own.

"Thank you," Fleur said, an embarrassed grin pulling at the corners of her mouth. "You looked quite dashing in your dress robes last year, but tonight you look...rather handsome." She laughed lightly as Harry flushed to match. "Now we are even."

She turned to sit normally, leaning against the back of the sofa. She gave his hand another tug, pulling him close. After he got comfortable next to her, she scooted over so their sides were touching, and rested her head on his shoulder. He gently rested his cheek against the top of her head, her satisfied sigh allowing him to relax against her.

They sat in silence, the pop of the fire the only sound while the silent snow outside insulated and isolated them in their newfound happiness. The lights on the tree in the corner twinkled, a reflection of the bursts of joy inside Harry as Fleur began rubbing her thumb gently across his, their fingers intertwined in her lap.

"This was not quite what I had in mind for this evening," she said, her voice soft.

Harry smiled against her head. "It was...unexpected...to say the least."

"And you are okay with how difficult it will be to be together with a Veela?" she asked, her grip on his hand betraying her calm tone.

Harry paused a moment, denying the instant 'of course' that wanted to jump from his mouth as soon as she had finished speaking. If it was something that worried her so deeply, he wanted to be sure he was as clear as he could be about how he felt.

"I am," he said finally, testing the words in his mind before expressing them. " But I think that it won't matter how hard it can be to date a Veela since I'll be together with you."

Fleur lifted her head slowly from his shoulder and fixed him with a wide-eyed stare.

"Not that I'll-" he tried to continue, but was silenced by two fingers resting gently on his mouth. She pulled her hand away and smiled fondly at him in a way that made his heartbeat quicken and begin to pound in his ears. His breath caught in his throat as she tilted her head and leaned forward, the slight pull on his hand a gentle, insistent question.

Somehow, in the fractions of a moment as she leaned in close, he noticed the flutter of her lashes around eyes he had so often admired and the slight parting of lips he hadn't dared to dream of. His eyes closed of their own accord, a faint brush of cinnamon driving away the world around him as she drew closer, meeting her lips to his.

A/N: It's been almost two years, but here we are :D First chapter of this story was posted in March of 2018. Dang.

I also wanted to say that I appreciate the lack of 'update now' messages and reviews. I know we went from 2 or 3 chapters a week to 2 weeks without one, and especially after such a doozy of a chapter that was 23. I hope you can see why I took some extra time and care with this one. I hope you're as happy with it as I am!