Epilogue
Harry and Araminta slept late the next morning. After devouring a platter of Eggo waffles (toasted by Bollocksy herself), they took advantage of the glorious day outside.
A warm zephyr rippled across the surface of the lake, following the ripples made by Harry. He had stripped off his shirt to row them out into the center, and now Araminta lay sprawled across his bronze chest (which wasn't rippling, for the moment).
The boat acted as their hammock and they watched the marshmallow clouds drift across a delft-blue sky. Harry twirled a lock of Araminta's golden tresses around his finger. "Penny for your thoughts, love."
Araminta sighed and buried her face against his well-defined pectorals. "It's been a very long fortnight or so. Do you ever feel like people are just out on a witch hunt, or that they want to label you--or have you label yourself? Do you ever feel like everyone's a critic? That people are willfully blind to the writing on the wall?"
Harry gave Araminta a long look. "What brought this on?"
She shifted restlessly, rocking the boat. "I don't know. Maybe I have prometasyndrome. I feel like I want to break down the fourth wall and scream to the world yes, Virginia, this is a--"
Harry quickly muffled her words with his questing mouth, plundering her honeyed lips with his tongue. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo against her breast and she wrenched herself free with a strangled gasp. "What was that for?"
"Show, don't tell, remember?" Harry winked.
Araminta burst out laughing.
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This and all chapters of this story=fanfiction. Harry Potter and other Potterish things owned by J.K. Rowling, some publishers, and movie studios. They are used here without permission. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.