For the Hogwarts Forum
Writing Club, Showtime, "Meet Me Inside" (Kingsley Shacklebolt)
Roald Dahl Event, amber ampersands (color: amber)
Word Count: 444
The pub is empty when Kingsley enters. Really, he's surprised to see that Rosmerta hasn't already turned in for the night. "Good evening, Rosmerta," he calls, making his way to the bar and taking a seat.
She greets him with a warm smile that melts his heart. Without waiting for him to make his request, she retrieves a bottle from the shelf behind her. "Long day?" she asks.
It's become their special code almost. The size glass she pulls out always depends on his answer; the harder the day, the bigger the glass. "Hectic," he admits honestly, because even after being Minister for Magic for three months, he still finds himself bordering on becoming overwhelmed, "but tolerable."
Rosmerta nods, that brilliant smile still curling her lips. With a wave of her wand, she summons two smaller glasses. Kingsley lifts his brows, leaning on closer and resting his elbows on the bar, curious. Sure enough, Rosmerta opens the bottle and fills both glasses with the sweetly fragrant amber liquid. She pushes one glass towards him and takes the other, clanging it against his in toast.
"Are you sure you should be drinking while you work?" Kingsley teases, sipping his drink, relishing the sweet, smoky taste as it warms his body.
With a roll of her eyes, Rosmerta smirks. "Who's working?" she asks waving her wand. The door clicks as the lock slides into to place. Chairs and stools lift, finding their places atop the tables. "I'm on a date."
Kingsley feels a sudden nervous jolt. He swallows dryly, taking a deeper drink. He's always admired Rosmerta, but he's never considered that she would feel the same. "Are we dating now?" he asks quietly. "I had no idea."
Rosmerta leans in, dangerously close. Kingsley's breath hitches. "I thought you knew," she whispers.
He hesitantly reaches out, fingers brushing through her honey blonde hair. "I had always hoped," he admits.
Rosmerta closes the short distance between them, grazing her lips over his; Kingsley has the feeling she's deliberately holding back, teasing. Cupping her face gently, he presses his lips more firmly to hers, his heart racing at the absolute perfection. He's had girlfriends in his youth and assorted dates as an adult, but none of them have ever made him feel like this. There's a flutter of nerves rippling through his body, and yet he feels at peace, as though his lips were always made to find hers.
She breaks the kiss, cheeks flushed a beautiful, dull pink, a satisfied smile on her lips. "Well, now that we've settled that…"
Kingsley grins, lifting his glass. "To us," he says.
Rosmerta repeats his gesture. "To us," she echoes.