3. Feather
It's not always the passionate kisses full of need that can unravel a person. Sometimes, it's when the two of you have had a long day and you're sitting by the fire in the common room. It's late, and so even though the two of you are alone, your voices are hushed. The springtime thunderstorm outside threatens to drown out your whispered words, so you lean closer together on the floor directly in front of the source of warmth. You can never remember what it was that the two of you talked about later – everything and nothing all at once. It isn't significant.
As the minutes tick by on the large clock in the common room, the two of you have crept closer and closer together. You've stopped talking, but when?
He's so close you think you could count every eyelash if given the time.
She's so close you can see every freckle kissing her cheeks.
And then it happens – she brushes her lips against yours.
No – he brushes his lips against yours. They're so warm and this isn't allowed; this is forbidden. He has specific lines drawn and always reminds you of them. But his lips are just barely touching yours and your heart has begun beating in double time. A jolt of excitement and desire runs from your lips to your toes, to your stomach, to the tips of your fingers. Your body buzzes with electricity, wanting more always more.
His lips are feather light upon yours and for an instant he touches them together for the first time. And then his presence is drawn away. But your eyes are still closed because you need to savour this moment. You know that when you open your eyes he'll be apologising and saying that he never should have done that, that the two of you can't do that.
So you keep your eyes closed a little longer. You delay the inevitable heartbreak for as long as you can.
You take a shaking breath and open your eyes.