93. "You persistent idiot."
Death smiled warmly at Harry from across the table.
Beneath the table she stretched her foot out releasing all the tension in her toes.
Today they were dining in a rather fancy restaurant in France. Heart shaped flowers bobbed to the sound of the soft violin music being played for the customers.
She rotated her stiff ankles in wide arcs then in smaller arcs. The pressure on her toes lightened with every consecutively smaller arc.
Harry had that adorable tense expression that he was wont to put on. She felt bad for the poor dear; he really needed to relax more. There was hardly a need to be so tense with her.
Her leg rose and sank in a rhythmic pattern. The tempo grew slower and slower as she reached the apex of height. Once at the apex she would mildly rotate the whole of her foot.
Death opened the available wine for their table and poured some for the both of them. She rose her glass for a cheer. It amused her how shaky his hands were as he rose his own glass to hers, "To a very enjoyable evening."
The clinging of their glass was a rather pleasant sound.
She twisted her ankle to work out any stiffness and tension.
"Do try not to be so stiff, dear. You just need to enjoy yourself. I sure am," she advised brightly. Now he had that painstakingly cute flush to the cheeks she had so missed. "You're looking a little bothered. Is there anything I can do to relieve that tension?" Death fluttered her eyelashes at him in concern.
Harry choked, "I can't help it when someone has been rubbing their feet up and down my leg."
"Oh my, how did that happen?" she questioned. Her feet was finally removed from Harry's leg as she slipped her foot back into her high heels.
He snorted, "I have a few ideas."
"Never mind that old news," she teased, "How are things on your end? Are you readjusting to Hogwarts?"
"It's not as annoying. I think people have gotten the idea that I would rather be left alone. Some of them are still pretty embarrassed about denying Tom's return. Classes are still the same, but Hogwarts itself offers a nice distraction. Things are going pretty smoothly. I can't say the same about working under Dream," he said.
She furrowed her brow, "I hope my brother isn't giving you a hard time. Don't hesitate to tell me if he becomes too much of a bother. Dream can be like that."
Harry took a sip of his wine, "It's fine. He isn't too bad. He could try to be less dramatic, but I've dealt with worse leadership. Speaking of brothers how are things with Destruction?"
"It's been wonderful. He comes and goes when he pleases, but he drops by often enough. I couldn't be happier with him," he said with a smile.
"That's great. So has your brother been working on any more masterpieces? I have to say that his sculpting has gone in a direction I couldn't have ever predicted the focus-"
Death rolled her eyes. Now she had lost him to one of his little art tangents, if one could call her brother's creations such.
It was then that the lights of the restaurant began to dim as a wood nymph singer stood beside a band and began to sing an enticing romantic French song.
"Dance with me," she grabbed him and mercifully saved herself from one of Harry's art sessions.
Harry caught himself and followed her to the dance floor with the other couples. Amidst all the dancing, they soon fell into the mood of things. The very beat of the music guided their bodies into an ever heightening seductive flow.
Harry's hand held tightly on hers as their steps synched to and fro from each others, every moment away making them relish their eventual reunion. When she once again stepped within his grasp, he spun her around. It was marvelous how her dark dress spun alongside her hair.
Her beautiful spin came to an end as he caught her. Death took the opportunity to lean closer and closer into him. Her eyes stared longingly into his before she broke the trance and teasingly spun away from his embrace. She had him fully under her spell, for his eyes never lingered away from her form.
Longing for her, he outstretched his hand. Death took his hand but didn't immediately return to his arms. She shifted her weight and smoothly kicked into the air. Harry indulged in the sight of her beautiful leg.
Not a moment since her feet returned to the ground did he pull her right back in. Using his pull, she spun once again and reunited in his awaiting arms. Hugging her by her midsection and leg, he playfully spun her around. The sound of her pleased giggles made him smile wider.
He held true to her even as he allowed her feet back on the ground.
"Your hands are wandering," she teased.
He slid his hand up her legs to her waist, "I couldn't help myself."
Death grabbed his hands and renewed the dancing with a slower pace, "You are growing awfully bold~."
"How can I not? I have the most beautiful woman in reality right in my arms," he replied.
Death tittered, "I guess I was wrong all those years ago. You have a lot more in common with my dear friend Casanova than I thought. Woe is me to have fallen in the grasp of such a rampant womanizer. At the very least you're a lot cuter."
"I'll take it. So, do you want to head back to the table? I think our food will be out soon. If we have time, I can tell you about a new piece I want to commission. You see-"
She cut off his next words with a deep kiss. When her lips parted from his she hummed, "I'd rather dance some more. We have plenty of time before the food comes. Please?" Death fluttered her eyes at him.
He agreed and she had to hold back a resounding cheer. Harry would talk her ears off if given half the chance to ramble about her brother's artwork. If she wasn't careful, he would be the death of her.
But she loved him all the same.
