Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money.
Prompt 39 - Hunger
Maybe it was her eyes.
The colour of amber more than anything. A bright golden colour with hints of a vibrant green depending on her mood. Framed by thick black lashes. Keys to her soul: where he had seen so many emotions, so many truths and so many secrets. Eyes that could peer into his soul knowingly; that appeared to accept all the faults they had to see. The ones he had thought would never open again, once upon a nightmare. But they were now closed in a peaceful sleep as she laid tucked up against him in the bed they shared.
Then again maybe it was her freckles.
The ones that he had never seen before. Or more than likely never knew she had. The ones that littered her nose before spreading out in a light dusting on the top of her cheeks. A light brown hue that you had to look to see. The ones he ached at the moment to kiss. The ones that fed his curiosity if she had anymore on other parts of her body.
Or it could have been her nose.
The slightly upturned nose that had once reminded him of a pug but now he found irresistible. The one he placed small kisses on the tip, trying to be affectionate at first but that had given way to just wanting to hear the giggle that escaped her every time he did so.
Speaking of that giggle, maybe it was her voice.
The sultry voice so unlike Hermione's. The one that flirted with the alto range: low and naturally seductive. The one that was in such start contrast to Hermione's soprano that would only go up the scales when she felt passion about something – the one that would assault his ears. But Pansy's voice, soft and low was his natural lullaby. The one that coaxed him back to sleep after his own nightmares.
Or maybe it was her face.
The one now lit by the midnight moon. The heart-shaped face marred with a jagged scar across her face. One of a hundred that marred her beautiful alabaster skin that he knew about. The one she was ashamed of, the one that she kept hidden, the one he skimmed now gently in the moonlight – wishing that he could take it away.
Maybe it was just her.
He thought as he studied her in that moonlight. Desiring so much more from her than he knew he should ask: afraid it would scare her and cause her to runaway from him. That was the last thing he wanted, as his hand caressed her jaw because all he really wanted in this moment was to hear that she felt the same way about him as he did as her.
Aching for more. Hungering for more. Longing for more.
Wondering how long she would be his, if only he had the courage to ask.
If he only had the courage to tell how he really felt now.
How he realized he had fallen in love with her.