Chapter 32: Molly and Lysander
Candle flavour: fluffy towels
Extra prompts: circus, devil, swordfighting
She always loved going to the circus, if only to see Lysander's stupendous, ridiculous dare-devil act. How he managed to balance on that tightrope whilst swordfighting and bowing to a Hippogriff, she'd never know. It was amazing to watch him; it just took her breath away (though she couldn't help gasping whenever he did hid flip from the top of that tower onto the tightrope, no matter how may times she saw it).
But the part she liked best about her trips to the circus wasn't the show itself (though it was always spectacular). It was going to see Lysander afterwards, in his caravan, where he rested after every performance. She would bring him a soft, fluffy towel, and make him a cup of tea, which he always drank with a chocolate biscuit from the tin on the side. Then she'd listen to him moan about his "dreadful performance" for an hour or so, until she stood up and said she absolutely had to go now. She'd lean down and peck him on the cheek and straighten up to leave. Every time, she thought she'd gotten away with it. But she never did. He always pulled her back down for a proper kiss, and wouldn't let her go until he got one.
That was what Molly liked best about the circus.
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