A/N: Hello. I made a little mistake in the chapter titles, THIS chapter was supposed to be called "Happy Birthday Harry". For reasons that will be obvious when you read. And I'm already starting the next chapter. But I expect it won't be in for a week, because…well to be honest I keep blushing. But I'll get my act together. ;) Read on!
By the time I get to sleep, it's no earlier than 2 in the
morning and it's a pain to drag my ass out of bed at 7, but the fact I had a
very pleasant evening and an even more pleasant night makes it bearable.
I wasn't surprised this morning at wanting to see him. It's the needing to see
him that made me take advantage of Mrs.
Weasley's time in the bathroom and run across the hall and slip into his room
without knocking.
As I walk in, he grabs a green shirt from his closet. He's already dressed in a
pair of steel grey corduroys and a white t-shirt. Damn, I missed show and tell.
He puts the shirt on and grins when he sees me.
"You're already dressed."
"I was efficient this morning."
"Any particular reason?"
"Hmm, maybe."
I grab his right wrist and button the cuff. He holds up his left wrist for me
so I can do the same, and then I start working on the rest of the buttons, from
the bottom to the top. When I reach his chest, I want to leave the top ones
undone, and his hands cover mine and he intertwines our fingers, then stretches
our arms, hands connected, outward and away from our bodies. For some reason,
this motion pulls me forward, against him.
"Have you noticed we keep running into each other in bedrooms?"
"What a coincidence."
"Were you looking for me?" He whispers against my cheek.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I just needed to."
I expect he'll kiss me at that point, but he draws me into a tight, close hug instead.
"I really meant what I said about this being my best birthday."
"And it's not even over yet."
"Don't tease me, you know it will drive me crazy all day."
I raise my lips to meet his, and it's perfunctory and sweet and quite possibly
the best start to the day that I could have conjured up. "I should
go." I tell him, and it occurs to me we've become a bit clandestine,
meeting in the shadows, behind closed doors.
"I wish it didn't have to be like this." I say to him before leaving.
"It's only today."
"I know, but we should still be on good terms with Mrs. Weasley."
"We're fine, she just doesn't approve of the living arrangements."
"Trust me, if she goes home and you're not happy with her, you won't be
happy with me either."
"Hermione, if there was a compromise to be reached here, believe me, I'd
go for it. She has to know that we're
consenting adults."
"Probably, but at least she'll know it's not just some thing born out of
temporary lust." Love is blindness, I want to say, but that's a 4 letter
word. That one is taboo.
With that, I leave his room and go downstairs to do one last visual sweep of
the place before people start arriving.
*
There are now a good number of my friends and even more
people I don't really know gathered in my house. Being that I'm the guest of
honour, I can hardly sit upstairs alone for the entire night, waiting for
Hermione to come back and join me.
I quickly change and head downstairs to the party. Thankfully, I'm not the last
guest to arrive as Lavender arrives fashionably late and announces that the
party can now begin.
Hermione is standing by the door, gathering jackets and I see Lavender hand her
a bag, winking, none too inconspicuously.
I move closer to the two of them and shake my head at the blonde.
"What are you up to?"
"What do you mean?" she asks, trying to look innocent.
"What's in the bag?" I motion to it with my head.
"It's for later," she grins at me.
"Alcohol?" I guess.
"What do you take me for, a cheap drunk?"
I smirk at her. "Lavender, I'm sure you've raised your tolerance level so high
that it would be quite expensive to get you hammered."
She's not quite sure whether to take this as a compliment or an insult so she
just sticks her tongue out to me in reply.
"Anyway," she tosses her hair over her shoulder. "I expect the alcohol to be
provided if the event is to be worth my while."
As if on cue, my mother appears in the doorway of the kitchen.
"Would anyone like some punch?" she asks.
"Is it spiked?" Lavender whispers.
Hermione laughs, "I highly doubt it."
Lavender sighs and politely declines the offer.
The party is for the most part a subdued affair and it comes as no surprise that Lavender makes her excuses, wishes me a happy birthday and is gone early. A few minutes later the door bursts open.
"THE FUN HAS ARRIVED!" Ron and the rest of my Quidditch team barrel in, tanks of firewhiskey and all.
"Ron!" Hermione laughs. Ron sweeps her up in a bear hug and spins her around until she threatens to jinx him. Then he comes after me. I recoil in mock fear.
"Good to see you, mate! Happy Birthday!" he gives me a hearty pound on the shoulder.
"Ron, calm down!" Mrs. Weasley scolds her son.
"Sorry mum." The rest of the guys snicker as Mrs.
Weasley gives Ron a warm hug and kiss on the cheek. Fred and George barge in after the Quidditch team and I know that
Lavender will be very sorry that she left early. They enchant some lawn gnomes to give a show (that, when their
mother turns around, turns very naughty) and Tonks flares her hair up so they
look like still fireworks. Mr. Wealsey
ogles at our television while Lupin tries to drag him away to join the
party. The noise level is incredible.
After the cake, I head into the kitchen and my mom follows me.
"Harry, you don't need to do that. I'll take care of it" she tells me as I
stack plates.
"It's fine," I tell her over my shoulder.
"Things are winding down out there, you should go say goodnight."
"This will only take a few minutes."
"When did you care about cleanliness?" she laughs.
I shrug. "I just needed to clear my head."
"What's on your mind?" she asks, as if she doesn't know.
I sigh. "I don't like the way things
are between us," I tell her.
"I don't either, but that's the way I feel," she says, taking the plates from
me.
"And I feel the way that I feel."
She charms the plates so hard that they zoom into the cabinet faster than me on
my Firebolt.
"Mom, can you stop that?"
"What?"
"You're going bust a hole in the back of the cupboard."
Thunk. Thunk.
"Mom!"
She stops and turns toward me.
"What do you want me to say, Harry?"
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do. You want me to tell you that it's okay that you're living in sin
with Hermione."
What - living in sin?? "We haven't done anything!"
"But you intend to."
I can't deny it.
I sigh.
"Who do you think I am?"
She gives me an odd look.
"What kind of a question is that?"
"A valid one, I think. Can you answer it, please?"
"You're my son's best friend. You are also my son, and a hero, and a star
Quidditch player." she says.
"Yes, I am." I wait for her to continue and when she doesn't, I do. "I'm your
son and you raised me. Yes, you
did. Merlin knows what I would be like
if the Dursleys raised me. You taught me things. All of us. You taught me to respect myself and to respect other
people and to be honest and kind and to love without reservation."
She nods, but doesn't say anything.
"Then you need to understand that that's all I'm doing. I'm respecting myself
by being true to my feelings for Hermione. I'm respecting her by validating her
feelings for me. I'm being honest with you and with her and with myself. I'm
loving her without reservation, without fear that I'm doing something wrong,
because I'm not."
She busies herself with her wand again.
"I know who I am, Mom. I know what I want. I know the difference between right
and wrong."
"Do you?" she fires at me. "I'm wondering, Harry. Because you are not
ready."
"I don't think it's true. I – both of
us – have been through more than most people in a whole lifetime. And love is love," I say just as firmly.
The word hangs heavy in the air. It looms between the two of us until she
breaks the silence.
"What you feel isn't love," she tells me. "It's lust. Love is about respect and
commitment and I don't see either of you demonstrating that."
"Maybe that was true with the other girls." I say and instantly regret my big
mouth.
She doesn't miss it. She doesn't miss anything, really.
Her face clouds over and it's like I've just told her I was gay or something.
Really, her reaction would probably be about the same.
So I was a huge flirt. So what?
So a lot, apparently.
She puts her wand away and turns to walk out of the room.
"So you're just going to go back to the Burrow angry at me?" I ask her as she's
walking away.
"I'm not angry at you, Harry. I'm disappointed."
"Mom, stay and talk to me please."
"What is there to say?"
"That you trust me to make my own decisions?" I ask.
"I don't have a choice, do I?" She leaves the question hanging in the air as
she walks away.
There's nothing I can do but go back out to what's left of my party.
*
"My supervisor is a total asshole," Melissa tells me when I ask her
how her studies are coming along. "He has me doing his research all day,
and then I'm buried with my own stuff over the weekend and I'm so behind I'll
probably be in the lab on Christmas eve."
I smile at her sympathetically.
"And have you any idea what my tuition is? I could buy a house."
She and Jonathan are among the last guests to stick around, courtesy of their
proximity to home. Ron and the team had to go catch up with all they'd miss
during their stay in the States, so he crushes my bones again and makes me
promise to visit him tomorrow at his flat.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mrs. Weasley walk out of the kitchen, and he
follows close behind. Judging by the looks on their faces, it must have been
one hell of a conversation.
He finds his way to my side, briefly touching the small of my back to let me
know he's next to me. I look up at him, the questions evident in my eyes.
"Later." He says and goes over to the front door to say goodbye to
the people leaving.
I follow Mrs. Weasley out to the deck, and sit across from her. She's quiet and
I have a lot of sympathy for her. It would almost be easier if he and I had
been shacking up for a while, but now she's got to look at me and see two kids
she's seen grown up want to "do it", and that has to be hard and it has to be
awkward.
"I'm sorry." I don't know why I say it, but it seems appropriate.
She just breathes, slowly, calmly, deeply.
"He's in love with you, you don't need to apologize for it." She
looks up and must note the look on my face. "He is."
"We just started talking about dating. It's so new."
"No, it isn't. You've only now put it in motion."
Have I been waiting for this moment to arrive? I never thought about it this
way. Maybe I was lying to myself.
"He's in love with you, and he'll tell you that eventually, but that
doesn't mean he's also not smitten with you. Because he is." I don't say
anything to this, and she goes on. "So, maybe you could keep that in mind,
please? I know you're both thinking about freedom in 24 hours when I go, but
aren't all things worth having also worth waiting for? A little bit, at
least?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Be careful, dear. I see it in your eyes too."
. . . .
"Are you going to see her off with me?" Harry asks at breakfast the
next day.
"No, you guys should go ahead. It'll be good for you. I have to visit Ron, anyway."
He nods. Then he suddenly grins
suggestively. "Do you have plans for the evening?"
"Harry!"
"What?"
"We're so not having this conversation over pancakes. Even if they are
second rate and came from a box."
"But we have this whole big house to ourselves."
"We're not a couple of virginal kids who plan it out because they want
everything to be perfect, and then end up using the first opportunity when the
parents are out."
"No, we aren't. But what's wrong with wanting things to be perfect?"
"Nothing. It's just...pressure."
"I can't imagine I'd be disappointed."
"Then let's go with the flow. I'm not pencilling you into my day
book."
"Alright, why not? I can buy us dinner and we can watch TV. It'll be nice
to just sit with each other."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. I always wanted to sit with you, and not wonder about whether it's
okay for my hand to be here or my thoughts to go there."
I need to get going, but I definitely want to say bye to Mrs. Weasley, and I
think she wants one last look at the before picture, then bottle it up as a
memory. I head upstairs and after talking to her briefly, get rewarded with a
hug which is different than the ones she'd given me before, but it's not bad.
She wants the best for both us, and I can relate to that.
*
The house is quiet. When she gets to my
side I ask her if she wants tea or something before she goes and she shakes her
head in response.
"So is this it?" I sigh. "You're just not going to speak to me?"
"What is there to say?" she asks. "You've made up your mind, haven't you?"
"Yes," I say honestly. "But can't you try to be happy for me?"
"If I thought that this was going to be good for you, I would."
"You think Hermione is bad for me?"
"No, I didn't say that."
"Then what are you saying?"
"I'm saying that if you really care about each other, then you will respect the
relationship that you're trying to build."
"I do."
"Take time with it then, Harry. That's all I'm asking."
"I've taken time, Mom. I've known Hermione for a while, you know. . ."
"Not like this," she sighs.
I shake my head.
"If you can't even say the words…" she starts and then backs off.
"What words?" I ask, although I know. I know.
She knows that I know too and she doesn't reply.
"I see I'm not going to convince you," she says instead. "So please, Harry,
just promise me that you'll be careful."
"Of what?"
"With your heart. With her heart."
Oh.
She gives me a sad smile.
"I should go."
"Okay."
"Will you write us?" I ask her. "I don't like that we're saying goodbye to each
other this way."
She nods. "I disapprove of the way that you're choosing to live your life, but
you're still my son and I love you."
I thank her and pull her into a hug.
"I'm sorry that you can't understand this, Mom."
She pulls back from me.
"I understand more than you think I do, Harry."
She picks up her bags and gives me a little smile.
"I'll write you both tonight." She says in a worn out voice. Crookshanks saunters into the living room
from the kitchen, were he has been spending most of his time. For the past several month he had been
staying at the Grangers, so Hermione could have less stress with her new job
and home. The orange furball had just
recently moved in with us, but he is not the loud annoying tiger that attacked
me back in third year. He is very old
for a cat, which makes me think he is a half-breed of some other magical
creature. He purrs softly, and my
mother smiles at him, an aged creature that does not and may never have a
complex problem like ours.
She says good-bye again, and then she's gone.
I sigh and look jealously at Crookchanks. "I wish I was as care-free as you are."
Crookshanks gave me a very "Hermione-esque" eye roll and trotted back into the kitchen, making a snorting noise.
"Maybe I should get Hermione that dog."
. . . .
I knock at Ron's door. He opens it in his boxers and a grimy t-shirt. Classic Ron.
"Hermy!" he gives me another of his organ-squishing hugs then looks me over. "If I'd have known this was a date I would've dressed up too."
"Honestly, Ron. Just because people get up before 10 and wear pants, doesn't mean they're dressed up." I give him a kiss on the cheek.
He closes the door behind me and offers me some tea.
"So how've you and Harry been? Been keeping him in line, I expect." He grins.
"Same old. He still won't let me have a puppy. I keep telling him Crookshanks is getting lonely with you having Pig all the way here and Hedwig always out."
"That bastard" Ron jokes. "I'll get you one for your birthday. He can't turn away a present."
"Thanks Ron!"
"No problem"
We start to talk and joke about random things about our jobs. About the States. About the twins and Ginny. About Ron's next girlfriend, or "victim" as I refer to it. All the while I thought about my upcoming evening with Harry. Apparently this showed.
"Hermione?"
"Yes?"
"Are you okay?"
"Of course."
"Well, when I said that Harry was clubbing like mad in Vegas, you dipped your teabag into your cinnamon roll."
I looked down and saw that this was indeed, true. I blush. He notices.
"No way!"
"Ron – "
"No bloody way!"
"Listen – "
"That's great! Good for you two!"
"Ron – "
"Harry, huh?" Ron says thoughtfully, startlingly calm.
"What?" I say, limiting my sentence to one word since I know he would have cut me off again anyway.
"Well for the record I'm gonna say that I was the first to see this coming. Really, in 7th year when you fell while trying to hang a Christmas banner and you landed on Harry in a 'compromising' position you guys didn't move for like half an hour. Staring and all that."
"Ron, what – "
Suddenly his eyes flared. "Wait a second. He's not playing you, is he? That – "
"Ron! Sit down! No, he's not!"
He sits. "Really?"
"No. We're just dating for now. It's not that serious yet."
"Okay, well let me just say it's about damn time you two sucked it up and finally made your moves. Have you shagged yet?"
I spit out my tea. And slap his shoulder.
"Ow. Just kidding."
"That's none of your business, Weasley."
"If you say so." Suddenly Ron has a light bulb moment. "What did mom say?"
"Well, she's disappointed that we're still living together. . .but she still loves us."
"She'll get over it." Ron says dismissively. "It is kind of weird, you too having been friends for so long, but she'll get over it."
"I don't know. This isn't Bill's hair. . ."
"Trust me, she will."
Half an hour later I tell him I have to go, and he sees me out the door with a case of firewhiskey for Harry. He reminds me again that he is happy for us and tells me that if Harry ever lays an eye on another woman he would pummel him into oblivion, best mates or not.
*
"Was it terrible?" she asks when she gets home.
"It was awkward."
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault."
She sighs, "Yes, it is. At least partly."
"I can't help that I'm attracted to you," I tell her with a goofy grin.
"No, I guess I am pretty irresistible," she rolls her eyes.
In reply, my arms wrap around her waist and pull her close.
"Harry," she sighs as my mouth, hot and wet, settles on her neck.
"Mmmm?" I ask, absorbed in my task.
"She's probably envisioning this right now."
"Gosh, you sure know how to kill the mood," I groan, drawing back.
She shakes her head at me. "Ron knows
too."
"Are you going to bring up everyone we know?"
She smiles. "Sorry."
"What did he say?"
"He's happy. And he gave me enough alcohol to get you drunk for a month."
"Great." I resume my
task.
"I'm sorry, I was just thinking about something that she said."
"What?"
"That things worth having are worth waiting for."
I pull back completely and look her in the eye.
"We have waited, Hermione."
She bites her lip, which I find incredibly arousing.
"It hasn't been so long," she says softly. "We only just admitted that we were
more than friends to each other."
"I've wanted you for years," I tell her candidly. "Even if that's not true for
you, it is for me."
She smiles, blushing.
"My mom said that if I couldn't say the words to you, that it wasn't the right
time" I tell her.
She doesn't say anything.
"And I was thinking about that. I was wondering why I hadn't."
"Harry…"
"I think maybe it's because I was afraid that you didn't feel the same way, but
then I realized, that doesn't change how I feel. I've been going on about how I
am being honest with myself for maybe the first time in my life but I can't say
it out loud? How hypocritical is that?"
"Harry…"
"I love you."
She closes her eyes.
"And you don't need to say that back to me. I just wanted to be honest."
"Okay."
"It's not to get you into bed either."
"I know."
"If you want to wait, I can wait."
"Okay."
"Okay."
She opens her eyes and I smile at her.
"I want us to wait, Harry. I want this to be worth having."
"You are."
She smiles.
I lace my fingers with hers.
"Okay, so if that's out of the plan, what do you suggest we do this evening?"
She leans close to whisper to me.
"Just because we're not doing that doesn't mean we can't do other things."
. . . .
Hedwig drops off a letter from my mother, she's perhaps expecting that we'd be
lying in a tangle of sheets by the time she got home.
I hate that she's wrong, and even more than that, I hate that she always gets
her own way.
*
We settle into a nice routine over the next few days. As is the usual for us,
we don't see much of each other during the day, but when I get home, instead of
retiring to the bathroom for a long shower, I sit with him and talk. It's no
different than our usual conversations, and I keep thinking he was probably
right about how friendship is a starting point moreso than a line not to be
crossed.
I'm sitting home one day reading, when Harry's head appears in my fireplace. Crookshanks meows in greeting.
"Turn on the wizarding wireless. I'm giving an interview."
"With who?"
"Witch Weekly"
I laugh. They always
have an interesting way of twisting whatever Harry says into something teenage
girls could drool over.
In about 10 minutes, he comes on the air and most of what he says is in one ear
and out the other. They ask him about his childhood influences, living with
muggles, being a hero that thwarted the Dark Lord, yada yada yada…
"So, how is your lovely roommate?" The interviewer asks. My ears perk up.
"She's great, busy with work."
"And you haven't killed each other yet at home, so that's a plus."
"Yeah, well, we're hardly home, so the opportunity hasn't really been
there." Harry laughs. It's at
least partly true.
"Do the tabloid stories bug you much?"
"Which ones?"
"The ones speculating about the two of you."
"No, not really. It goes with the territory."
"And there's no truth to them?"
"Uh, well, the thing is, they spin things their own way, and even if
you're one of those people who, uh, think there's some truth to everything,
it's so distorted by the time you read about it in there that, you know, it's
not worth the aggravation."
"Would there be some truth to the dating rumors?"
"Look, I think Hermione is great. She's great, it's no secret I've always
thought so." I raise an eyebrow at the in he's given.
"And?"
"And now you're starting to sound like The Quibbler." He laughs and
the interviewer picks up on the deflection and moves on to discussing the
current Quidditch season.
. . . .
"Hey."
"Living room." He yells back. "Did I say too much?" He asks
me as soon as I walk into his line of sight.
"No. But you definitely suggested something. I'd love to read your fan
mail next month." I wink at him.
"I'm sure it'll be well worth the wait. Will I get an angry call from your
mom?"
"Actually, I sort of lied before when I said I hadn't told anyone. When I
went home, I told my mom and dad that you liked me."
"Oh, really? What did they say?"
"Dad asked if you were my boyfriend." I chuckle.
"Am I?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Do you want to be?" I can't believe I'm saying
this.
"Do you have to ask?"
I shrug my shoulders.
"You don't have to ask." He assures me. "Unfortunately, this
newfound boyfriend of yours has to go out east for a couple of days."
"When?" I can't keep the disappointment from my voice. It's the
weekend, I was hoping for more than a half an hour in the evening when we're
both too exhausted to do anything but turn the TV on.
"Tomorrow morning."
I sigh.
"I know this blows, but I'll be home in no time. And we should sit down
and figure out what to do about your birthday."
"Yeah."
There are a lot of things I suddenly really want to tell him. I love you. Don't
go. I love you, don't go. I want to say them, but they stay inside, waiting for
another day.
. . . .
It's dark outside. But not dark enough to make it the middle of the night.
There is most definitely a warm body next to me. I try to conjure up the images
of last night, and nothing in particular comes to mind, so either this is a
dream or I've got an unexpected visitor.
I open up my right eye and see him grinning at me.
I stretch a bit, then take a deep breath. "What time is it?"
"5:30."
"Can't sleep?"
"I have to go in an hour."
"Sucks."
"I know."
"You want to go back to sleep?" He whispers against my temple.
"Um, I don't know."
"Okay, we can stay up then."
*
I told her it was okay if she wanted to wait. I tried to tell myself that. For
a while, maybe I even had both of us convinced. But that was before I was lying
in her bed. Before I felt her body pressed close to mine, her breath hot on my
neck, before she was this languid and relaxed next to me.
I place a soft kiss on her temple and then other on her brow. Still another on
the corner of her lips. They lift in a knowing smile and she whispers that we
only have an hour.
"A lot can be accomplished in an hour," I tell her.
"Mmmm," she sighs.
"You should come with me" I tell her.
"And what would I do while you're out with the boys and ignoring everything but
the snitch?"
"Watch adoringly?" I suggest and she gives me a look that says she doesn't play
the adoring girlfriend.
I love that about her.
She shifts slightly so that she can prop herself up on an elbow to look at me.
"What?" I whisper.
She shakes her head.
"I never thought I'd be attracted to you."
"Thanks?" I laugh.
She laughs with me.
"You were the one who asked for that list, remember?"
"I didn't think you'd actually make one!"
She grins at me.
"I'm full of surprises."
"Oh, really? Have you maybe changed your mind about this abstinence thing?"
"Would that surprise you?"
"Yes?" I ask hopefully.
She smiles mischievously.
"How much time do you need?" I ask her seriously.
"Are you going to mark it on your calendar?" she teases. "Put a big red circle
around the date?"
"Do you think I'm that pathetic?"
"Well…"
I stick my tongue out at her.
"It's not about time, really. I mean, it is, but it's about me feeling
comfortable with us."
"You don't?" I ask soberly.
She shakes her head. "You're going to take this the wrong way."
"Is there a right way to take it?"
"When we first started… dating, I guess… it's no secret that I was concerned
about what that meant to our friendship."
I nod, interested in where she is going with this.
"It's funny though, this week, I realized that we're still the same friends we
were before."
"That's not exactly true," I wink at her.
She rolls her eyes, "Yeah, okay. But aside from that, it is. We still talk like
we used to, we still make each other laugh and think. You're still you."
"And you're still you," I smile at her. "And I happen to really like you."
"Just like?" she teases. "Last week you loved me."
I sober, "I do."
"I want to…" she stops.
I shake my head. "It's okay, Hermione. Just because I said it, doesn't mean
that you have to say it back. It doesn't work like that."
She nods and falls on her back.
"When will you be back?"
"Tuesday afternoon."
"How long can you stay after that?"
"A week?" I shrug. "It'll be a home game."
She sighs. "I hate Quidditch."
"What are you going to do while I'm away?" I ask, playing with her hair.
"Oh, you know… Lavender is going to bring back that bottle of booze she didn't
enjoy at your birthday party and she's going to get out her little black book
and we're going to have a wild orgy with a bunch of male models," she teases.
I raise an eyebrow. "If that's the way you like it, I could cavort around in
some boxer briefs for you, you know. All you had to do was ask." I pretend pout
and she snorts.
"You don't seem like a boxer-brief kind of guy to me," she muses.
"Oh, really?"
"No," she shakes her head. "I bet you wear regular boxers. Maybe ones with little
happy faces. And Mrs. Weasley probably wrote your name inside them."
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
She shrugs.
I lunge at her and she squeals and dissolves into giggles. But when my mouth
makes contact with hers, we stop playing and the kiss turns hungry and urgent.
"Harrrrry," she says, breaking away. "You have to leave soon."
"I can be late."
She shakes her head at me.
"Come with me?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"Because you'll kiss me like this again there and then I won't be able to let
you leave to play Quidditch."
"That was the plan," I wink at her.
"And I have work."
She pushes against my shoulder and I reluctantly get up.
"Go," she whispers.
"I love you," I tell her again and she smiles at me in reply.
