Chapter 7 – The First Confrontation

At breakfast the next morning, the Great Hall buzzed with the usual morning chatter, but Harry's focus was solely on Dumbledore, seated at the head of the long table. His piercing blue eyes sparkled with curiosity as Harry approached.

"Professor," Harry said quietly, careful not to draw attention. "There's something urgent I need to discuss with you, can we meet tonight?"

Dumbledore studied Harry for a moment, then nodded. "Blackwood Manor?" he asked softly.

Harry nodded. "Gather the Order."

As he turned to walk away Dumbledore stopped him. "Remember Harry, trust but verify." Harry nodded again.

As the day unfolded, Harry sought out those he trusted most: Severus Snape, Narcissa Black, and Sirius. He found each of them in turn, pulling them aside in hushed conversations.

"I need you in my office after dinner," Harry told them, his voice firm but laced with urgency. "Do not tell anyone about this conversation."

Once he had spoken to each of them he went to the ministry to give them a heads up. The Ministry of Magic buzzed with activity as Harry stepped out of the Floo Network into the grand atrium. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the dreary sky outside, and golden statues of witches and wizards stood proudly in the centre fountain. Harry adjusted his cloak, his expression grim as he made his way toward the lifts.

He had to warn them—before it was too late.

The lift doors opened onLevel 2: Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The halls were quieter than he remembered, the tension palpable in the air. The Ministry knew something was brewing, but they didn't know how bad it would be.

Harry spottedBartemius Crouch Sr., a younger, more vigorous version of the man he remembered from his original timeline. Crouch was speaking with a group of Aurors, his commanding presence unmistakable.

"Crouch!" Harry called out, his voice echoing down the corridor.

Crouch turned, his sharp gaze locking onto Harry. His brow furrowed in confusion. "Lord Blackwood? What are you doing here?"

"We need to speak with the Minister," Harry said urgently. "Now."

Crouch's eyes narrowed. "This better be important."

"It is," Harry replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Minister Jenkins was seated behind her desk when Harry and Crouch entered. She was a formidable woman, her silver hair pulled into a tight bun, her piercing eyes scrutinising Harry as he approached.

"Lord Blackwood," she greeted, her tone wary. "How nice to have you back in Britain. Care to explain your unexpected visit?"

Harry inclined his head. "Minister Jenkins. I've come with a warning."

Jenkins leaned back in her chair, her expression skeptical. "A warning?"

Harry stepped forward, placing a folded parchment on her desk. "Tomorrow night, there will be coordinated attacks across Britain. Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, several Muggle towns. Voldemort's followers are moving."

Jenkins' eyes widened slightly at the name, but she kept her composure. "And you know this how?"

"I have sources within his inner circle," Harry said carefully. "I've seen the plans."

Crouch frowned. "This is a serious accusation."

"It's not an accusation. It's a fact," Harry said, his tone steady. "If you don't act now, people will die."

Jenkins glanced at the parchment, unfolding it slowly. Her eyes scanned the list of targets, her lips pressing into a thin line. "And you're certain of this information?"

Harry nodded. "Completely."

Crouch glanced at Jenkins. "If this is true, we need to mobilise the Aurors immediately."

Jenkins tapped her fingers on the desk, deep in thought. "We've heard whispers of growing unrest, but nothing this concrete." She looked up at Harry. "Why come to us? Why not handle it yourself? That is what your family tends to do, is it not?"

Harry met her gaze evenly. "Because I don't have the manpower to cover every target. The Ministry does."

Jenkins studied him for a long moment. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

"Station Aurors at each of these locations," Harry said. "Alert the Muggle authorities as well. Voldemort's followers will target anyone they can to spread fear. The words he used were swift and brutal."

Crouch nodded. "We can begin preparations immediately."

Jenkins sighed heavily. "Very well. But if this information is false—"

"It's not," Harry said firmly.

Jenkins stood. "I'll authorise the Auror deployment. Crouch, coordinate with the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee. We need to handle this carefully."

"Yes, Minister," Crouch said, already moving toward the door.

As Harry turned to leave, Jenkins stopped him. "Why are you doing this, Lord Blackwood? What's in it for you?"

Harry's expression softened. "What do you think will happen if we don't stop him now? I'm here to make sure that future never comes to pass."

Jenkins watched him for a moment, her sharp eyes studying him carefully. Then she nodded. "Let's make sure we don't fail then."

With that, Harry turned and walked out of the office, his mind already racing ahead to the battles to come. The storm was coming, and this time, the wizarding world would be ready. He would make

After dinner, Harry's office buzzed with quiet anticipation as Severus, Narcissa, Sirius, and Amelia filed in, each taking a seat. The room was quiet, save for the crackle of the fire casting flickering shadows across the room. Severus Snape sat with his usual guarded expression, his black eyes unreadable. Narcissa Black perched gracefully on the edge of her chair, her pale hands clasped tightly in her lap. Sirius leaned against the far wall, his face set with a mixture of determination and worry. Amelia Bones, straight-backed and composed, looked directly at Harry, her sharp gaze betraying a readiness for action.

Harry surveyed them for a moment before speaking. "Thank you all for coming. I won't sugarcoat this. I have been tracking Voldemort for many months. He is planning an attack on Little Hangleton as well as several other wizarding and muggle villages, tomorrow night. Headmaster Dumbledore and I have formed a resistance group called the Order of the Phoenix. We will be gathering in about an hours time to make a plan. You are here because you are the only people I trust to have my back if shit goes sideways. However, before we get into the details, I need to know something from each of you and I need you to be completely honest with me. I will know if you are not." He paused, letting his words sink in. "What do you know about Voldemort?"

The room fell silent.

Severus was the first to respond, his tone flat but measured. "Voldemort is more than a megalomaniac. He is obsessed with power, control, and the notion of his own superiority. His mastery of the Dark Arts surpasses anything most of us can imagine." He hesitated, his lip curling slightly. "But what truly sets him apart is his ruthlessness. He doesn't merely kill; he destroys. Lives, legacies, families—it's all collateral to him. But he is also relentless and will not stop until he gets what he wants."

Harry nodded, acknowledging Severus's insight, then turned to Narcissa. "And you?"

She straightened, her fingers tightening around the hem of her robes. "He's charismatic. That's his greatest weapon. He has a way of making people believe in him, in his vision. His followers believe he will bring glory to pure-blood families. But Voldemort doesn't care about loyalty or bloodlines. He uses people and discards them when they're no longer useful."

Sirius stepped forward, his voice laced with bitterness. "He thrives on fear. That's how he keeps his followers in line. His promises of power corrupt them. But he's also arrogant. He thinks he's untouchable. That arrogance will be his downfall."

Harry gave Sirius a small, grim smile. "I hope you're right." His gaze shifted to Amelia. "What about you?"

Amelia leaned forward, her voice steady and resolute. "Edgar says—he's a force of terror, one that grows stronger with every act of violence. But he has a weakness, his need for control makes him predictable. He doesn't just attack; he sends a message. And if we can anticipate that, we can counter him."

Harry took a deep breath, letting their words settle over him. "You're all right," he said finally. "Voldemort is dangerous because he's not just fighting for power—he's fighting to defy death itself. He's fractured his soul, made himself almost impossible to kill. He wants to reshape the wizarding world in his image, and he'll stop at nothing to achieve it."

He glanced at each of them in turn, his green eyes blazing with determination. "But he's not invincible. He's made mistakes before, and he'll make them again. That's why we're here—because I believe we can stop him before he gains any more ground."

Narcissa broke the silence. "You mentioned an attack," she said, her voice soft but insistent. "What is he planning?"

Harry's expression hardened. "A series of coordinated attacks across the country. He wants to destroy as many as he can in a demonstration of his power—a warning to anyone who dares to oppose him."

Amelia stood, her jaw set. "Then we must stop him."

"I'll explain the full plan when we meet with the Order tonight," Harry said. He hesitated, his voice softening. "But this is dangerous. You don't have to come. If any of you choose to walk away, I won't hold it against you."

Severus's dark eyes narrowed. "You'll need someone who can understand how his mind works. I'm not going anywhere."

Narcissa lifted her chin. "I've seen what Voldemort does to those who oppose him—and to those who follow him. I won't let him win."

Sirius clapped Harry on the shoulder. "You know I'm with you."

Amelia's voice rang with conviction. "We don't win wars by walking away from battles. I'm in."

A flicker of gratitude passed over Harry's face. "Thank you. All of you. Let's get ready—we meet the Order tonight."

The room fell silent once more, but the resolve in their eyes spoke louder than words.

O – o – o - o

The grand hall of Blackwood Manor buzzed with quiet conversations as members of the Order gathered, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and determination. The flickering light from the ornate chandeliers reflected off the polished wood and stone, casting the manor in a warm, golden glow. Harry stood in the living room near the fireplace, greeting each arrival with a firm handshake and a nod of acknowledgment.

For most, this was their first glimpse of his ancestral home, and their awe was palpable. Sirius and Edgar, having visited frequently, greeted Harry with familiarity and playful grins, while the others took in their surroundings with wide-eyed amazement.

Amelia had wandered off to explore after arriving. When she returned, her face was flushed with excitement. She stopped short in the doorway, glancing around the lavish living room before catching Harry's eye.

"This is your home?" she asked, wonder in her voice. "It's… incredible."

Harry chuckled, waiting until the others were out of earshot before pulling her close, his hands resting lightly on her waist.

"I haven't spent much time here until recently," he said softly, his voice just for her. "But it's grown on me since my return. I'm glad you like it." He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, "If everything goes to plan, it will be your home one day, too."

Amelia's heart skipped a beat, and her cheeks reddened at the implication. Brief images flashed through her mind—of them living here together, perhaps married, with laughter echoing through the halls. But she pushed those thoughts aside, knowing now wasn't the time to indulge in daydreams.

"You seem quite confident I'll say yes," she teased, though her voice was softer than usual.

Harry grinned, his eyes glinting with playful mischief. "I have confidence in my powers of persuasion."

Amelia chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, we'll see. But… I think I could be very happy here."

Harry's expression softened at her words, and for a moment, the world outside faded away. He lifted her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Good. Now let's get this meeting over with. I owe you a sleepover," he whispered, his lips grazing just under her ear before he pulled away, leaving her breathless.

When Harry entered the dining room where everyone had gathered, the atmosphere shifted immediately. The quiet murmurs ceased as all eyes turned to him. His commanding presence seemed to fill the room, the flickering candlelight casting sharp shadows across his features.

He scanned the room, his gaze falling on a familiar figure standing beside Dumbledore. His brow lifted in surprise.

"Minerva?"

Professor McGonagall inclined her head, her expression firm. "I told you, Harry—you have an ally in me."

Harry gave a grateful nod before gesturing for everyone to take their seats around the long table. Once everyone was settled, he remained standing at the head of the table, his hands resting on the back of his chair.

"We have a mission," Harry began, his voice steady and clear. "Tom Riddle and his followers are planning several coordinated attacks tomorrow night. Their goal is simple—destruction and fear. They want to spread chaos across Britain."

A ripple of uneasy murmurs spread through the room, but Harry raised his hand, and silence fell once more.

"We cannot allow that to happen," he continued. "Edgar?"

Edgar stood and unrolled a large map across the table. He pointed to several marked locations.

"The Ministry has been informed of the planned attacks. Aurors will be stationed here, here, and here," he said, indicating the spots on the map. "That leaves two villages unprotected—Little Hangleton and Hogsmeade."

Harry nodded. "Our plan is simple. We'll split into two groups to protect those villages. Our goal is to set up wards and protective spells before the attacks begin. We don't want to escalate the situation if it can be avoided, so defensive spells only. But if you're attacked, do whatever you must to keep yourselves and the villagers safe."

The room was quiet as the weight of Harry's words sank in. Then he turned to Dumbledore.

"Albus, your thoughts?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "The Order and I will take Hogsmeade and the nearby settlements. I presume you and your allies will handle Little Hangleton?"

Harry inclined his head. "Yes."

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well. As always, your involvement in this mission is entirely voluntary. There is risk—great risk. If you choose to assist, meet me in Hogsmeade tomorrow at sundown."

A murmur of acceptance rippled through the room. Some asked questions, others merely nodded their agreement.

Harry stepped forward, his voice cutting through the noise.

"I know what's at stake," he said, his tone unwavering. "We're not just fighting to protect these villages. We're fighting for the future of our world—for the lives Voldemort seeks to crush under his heel. Stand with me, and we'll show him that we will not be broken."

The room erupted into murmurs of agreement, resolve strengthening in each person's eyes.

Minerva caught Harry's gaze, her lips twitching into a faint smile. "You're quite the leader, Lord Blackwood."

He gave a small, tired smile. "Thank you, Minerva."

As the meeting concluded, people began filing out of the room, their steps purposeful and their shoulders squared with determination. Harry lingered behind, watching them go, his mind already racing with the next steps to be taken.

Amelia approached him quietly, her hand slipping into his.

"I'll be there tomorrow," she said softly.

Harry turned to her, concern flickering across his face.

"I don't want to see you in danger," he murmured.

"I'll be careful," she promised. "But I want to help."

Harry sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I know you do and I'll admit I'm always better with you by my side."

With a tender kiss to her forehead, he pulled her close, both of them standing in the quiet dining room as the weight of what lay ahead settled over them.

O – o – o - o

The village of Little Hangleton lay cloaked in the heavy stillness of night as Harry and his allies moved into position. Wards shimmered faintly around the perimeter, layered with intricate protective enchantments cast by Sirius, Edgar and McGonagall. Harry crouched behind a low stone wall, his senses heightened as he scanned the darkened streets. Every sound, every flicker of movement, set his nerves on edge.

Then, the stillness shattered.

Death Eaters emerged from the shadows like specters, their black robes billowing in the cold night air. Tom Riddle walked among them, his expression imperious, his crimson eyes glowing faintly. The very sight of him sent a jolt of determination through Harry, who gripped his wand tightly.

The first curse flew from a Death Eater's wand, and the night erupted into chaos. Defensive spells clashed against dark curses, lighting up the village square in bursts of violent colour. Screams and shouts echoed through the streets as the two sides collided in a battle of sheer willpower.

Harry and Sirius fought side by side, their spells precise and relentless. Amelia and Edgar Bones held the eastern flank, their command of shield charms keeping the villagers safe as they fled to protected houses. Narcissa and Severus coordinated their efforts with McGonagall, their combined knowledge of advanced duelling tactics keeping the Death Eaters at bay.

Tom Riddle stood at the heart of the fray, his frustration evident as his forces struggled to break through the wards.

"Push forward!" he snarled, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "Break their defences!"

Bellatrix Lestrange let out a wild cackle, her wand slashing through the air as she hurled a string of curses toward Harry. "Oh, the little Blackwood boy, playing the hero" But then her eyes locked on familiar blonde hair. "And my blood traitor sister. Let's see how long you last!"

Harry deflected the curse aimed at Narcissa with a flick of his wand, countering with a Stunner that forced her to dive out of the way. He pressed forward, his heart pounding.

"You'll need more than insults and theatrics, Bellatrix!" he shouted, his voice steady despite the chaos.

Nearby, Lucius Malfoy barked orders to a group of new recruits, his mask askew as he tried to regroup their forces. "Strike the wards! Weak points will emerge if we focus our attacks!"

Harry saw Tom turn sharply toward Lucius, his eyes narrowing. "Do I need to do everything myself?" he hissed. With a wave of his wand, Tom unleashed a wave of dark magic that slammed against the wards, causing them to ripple and flicker.

But the defences held.

The frustration in Tom's expression deepened, his usual cold composure giving way to barely contained rage. He stalked forward, his wand moving in intricate patterns as he cast one devastating spell after another, each aimed at breaking the defenders' resolve.

"Fools!" he spat, his voice a venomous growl. "Do you think your pitiful resistance will matter in the end? I will not be denied!"

Harry's team held their ground, their coordination and resolve matching the Death Eaters' ferocity. With every failed attempt to breach the wards, Tom's anger became more pronounced. His movements grew sharper, his curses more erratic.

At one point, he turned on Bellatrix, his voice cold and cutting. "If you cannot handle a single group of defenders, perhaps you are less valuable than I believed."

Bellatrix flinched but quickly masked her discomfort with a wicked grin. "I live to serve you, my Lord," she said, though her voice wavered slightly. Bellatrix, desperate to prove herself, hurled a deadly trap spell, a twisted web of fiery ropes that lashed toward him. Harry dodged, but one caught his arm, searing his flesh.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Harry retaliated, his spell slamming into Bellatrix and sending her sprawling. Sirius appeared at his side, helping him to his feet.

"We need to get you out of here," Sirius said urgently, his eyes darting around the battlefield.

"Not yet," Harry insisted, his voice strained but determined. "We end this."

Tom ignored Bellatrix as she flew past him, his attention snapping around the battlefield. His crimson eyes scanned the chaos, his mind racing. For all his power and planning, his forces were being driven back. Harry saw the crack in Tom's composure and seized the opportunity. He stepped forward, his wand alight with a powerful Disarming Charm that collided with Tom's shield spell. The force of the clash sent a shockwave through the air, and for a fleeting moment, their eyes met.

"You won't win tonight, Riddle," Harry said, his voice steady despite the pain lancing through his injured arm.

Tom's face twisted with fury. "You dare to speak to me of victory, child? You have no idea what you're meddling in!"

But even as he spoke, the tide of the battle turned further against him. The Death Eaters were in disarray, their attacks faltering under the combined might of the defenders. The wards continued to hold, and the villagers were safe.

Tom's frustration reached its peak. With a furious slash of his wand, he unleashed a final wave of destructive magic, the sheer force of it shaking the ground beneath their feet. But it was a desperate act, a show of power meant to mask his failure.

"This is not over," Tom snarled, his voice echoing ominously. "You will all pay for this defiance."

With a sharp gesture, he signalled his retreat. The Death Eaters, battered and demoralised, apparated away one by one, their dark figures vanishing into the night.

As the dust settled, Harry staggered to a nearby tree, slumping against it as he clutched his injured arm. Blood seeped through his fingers, and his breathing was ragged. Amelia was at his side in an instant, her face pale with worry, her voice trembling as she spoke.

"Harry, are you all right?"

Harry managed a strained smile, though his face was tight with pain. "I'll live," he said through gritted teeth, his gaze fixed on the spot where Tom Riddle had vanished moments before. His green eyes burned with unyielding determination. "But he won't stop. This was just the beginning."

Sirius crouched beside him, his hand firm on Harry's uninjured shoulder. "Then we'll be ready for him next time."

Harry nodded, steeling himself. "Take the others and make sure the village is secure and there's no one lingering in the shadows or anything." Sirius nodded and headed over to Edgar and the others, leaving Harry and Amelia alone.

Amelia's stern voice cut through the moment. "You're seriously injured, Harry. We need to get you to the hospital wing."

Harry shook his head, wincing as he shifted against the tree. "I've had worse."

Amelia raised a skeptical eyebrow, folding her arms. "I'm not sure I want to know what counts as worse," she said, her tone tinged with exasperation.

Suddenly, she knelt in front of him, her sharp features softening into something Harry hadn't seen before: vulnerability. Her lips pressed into a thin line as her eyes locked onto his, and Harry's breath caught.

"I could have lost you," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her hands trembled as she reached for his good arm. "Do you understand that?"

Harry's protest died on his lips as she shook her head, her frustration and fear pouring out.

"And then," she continued, her voice breaking slightly, "I wouldn't have been able to tell you… I love you, you stupid, reckless man."

Harry's eyes widened. "What?"

"I love you, Hector Blackwood," Amelia said firmly, her face inches from his. Before he could respond, she leaned in and kissed him—fiercely, passionately, with all the emotions she had been holding back.

For a moment, the pain in Harry's arm faded, replaced by the warmth of her embrace and the sheer shock of the moment. When she finally pulled away, her cheeks were flushed, and her breath was shaky, but her gaze was steady.

Harry blinked, still processing what had just happened. "Amelia…"

She held up a hand to silence him. "No arguments. We're going to the hospital wing, and you're not apparating on your own."

Harry's lips twitched into a small, crooked smile. "Fine. But for the record, you're bossier than Dumbledore."

Amelia rolled her eyes, though a faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She helped him stand, her arm slipping around his waist to support him. Moments later, with a wave of Harry's wand and Amelia's steady presence, they apparated leaving the battlefield behind.

Amelia guided Harry through the double doors of the hospital wing, her arm firmly around his waist as he leaned on her for support. His steps were uneven, his face pale, but he still managed a faint smirk.

"Been a while since I've been carried off the battlefield," Harry muttered, his voice laced with dry humour..

Amelia shot him a sharp look, though the corners of her lips twitched. "Less talking, more walking. And stop trying to charm your way out of this."

Madam Pomfrey bustled over the moment they entered, her eyes narrowing as she took in the state of Harry's arm. "Good heavens, what have you done to yourself this time, Professor Blackwood?"

"He decided to make himself a human target," Amelia said crisply, easing Harry onto a bed.

Pomfrey huffed. "Sit still while I fix this mess."

Harry bit back a groan as the matron waved her wand over his arm, muttering diagnostic spells under her breath.

"I'm not used to having the professors in here," she added, giving Harry a pointed look as she applied a numbing salve. "You're going to be trouble, aren't you?"

"Probably," Amelia replied before Harry could, her tone wry.

Harry chuckled despite himself, though it turned into a wince as Pomfrey set the bone with a sharp flick of her wand. "She's not wrong," he said through gritted teeth.

Once Pomfrey finished, she handed Harry a steaming goblet. "Drink this—it's a Blood-Replenishing Potion. And no complaints, Professor, or I'll charm your mouth shut."

Harry raised an eyebrow at her, then glanced at Amelia. "See what I deal with?"

"Drink the potion, Harry," Amelia said firmly, though her lips twitched again.

With a resigned sigh, Harry downed the potion in one gulp, grimacing at the taste. Pomfrey gave a satisfied nod. "Good. Now, rest here for at least an hour before you even think about leaving."

Amelia stayed by his side, her expression softening as she watched him. Harry closed his eyes briefly, exhaustion tugging at him, but her presence was grounding. He wasn't alone.

When Pomfrey finally released him, Harry insisted he could walk on his own, but Amelia was having none of it.

"Humour me," she said, looping her arm through his as they left the hospital wing.

The corridors of the castle were quiet, bathed in the warm glow of torches. As they reached Harry's quarters, he stopped just inside the doorway, turning to face her.

"Amelia," he began, his voice hesitant. "There are things I should tell you."

Amelia shook her head, stepping closer. "Later," she said softly, her voice firm yet gentle.

Before he could protest, she closed the distance between them, her hands resting lightly on his chest. Her eyes searched his for a moment, then she kissed him—deeply, passionately, her emotions spilling over in that one gesture.

Harry froze for a heartbeat, then melted into the kiss, his hands finding her waist as he pulled her closer. Amelia quickly realised that kissing him slowly was beyond the limits of her fractured control. Instead, she kissed him hard and dug her fingers into his thick, dark hair. Nearly crushing her body against his, she held the kiss until they both were panting. "Maybe you should take me to the bedroom."

The sweetness of her mouth left him aching and breathless, but it was her words that brought him up short. Harry studied her face for a moment, finding something new there that filled him with delight, until the need threatened to overwhelm him.

"Amelia," her name was a groan. "Are you sure?"

"Did I stutter Harry?" she replied.

"No ma'am, I heard you loud and clear." He kissed her hungrily, probing his tongue deeply, exploring, tasting and possessing until he was dizzy and she was flush against him. When he pulled away Amelia took his hand, and led him to his own bedroom. Standing with her back to the bed, she traced her hand up his sleeve and then held his cheek. "I'm ready Harry. I want to share everything with you." Amelia removed her robes and then reached around for the clasp on her dress. Then she paused and turned to let him undress her instead.

Harry gathered her hair gently and moved it to one side over her shoulder. His hands trembled as he opened the fasteners on her dress, his heart pounding just as hard as the first time he'd undressed her all those years ago. Her skin was mesmerising, pale and smooth, warm to the touch as he traced a finger down her spine. He slid the material forward to release her arms and then let the dress pool on the floor. He planted a kiss between her shoulder blades then straightened up and turned her towards him.

"I think it's my turn," she said huskily, grabbing the hem of his shirt, she eased it up slowly. Dragging her fingers up the smooth, warm skin of his stomach, Amelia slipped it free from his muscular shoulders. She loved his chest, both the warm tone of his skin and the muscles beneath. She grabbed him around the waist, grinning at him. "Let's get these off."

With her fingers beneath his waistband, she slipped them around and undid the clasp. Sliding them down over his trim hips and his growing arousal, she nipped playfully at his neck. Amelia finished with his trousers at his feet and wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss him; this time sinking her tongue deep into his mouth.

When she pulled back, she rested her cheek against his. "You make it easy to want you."

Harry tightened his grip around her waist, holding her close against him.

"I want you too, Amelia." Having her undress him was incredible, and he was breathing heavily after that kiss, but it was so much more than that. He pulled back to look at her, stroking her cheek. "It's not just physical," he said gently. "You know that, don't you? I mean-" he grinned and pressed a little tighter against her. "It's obvious what you do to me, but what isn't so obvious is how you make me feel."

Having her know where he stood before they took this step was suddenly very important. "I take this seriously, Amelia. I'm not playing." He was surprised at the rush of vulnerability that welled up in him. He traced her mouth with his thumb while watching the blue eyes absorb what he was telling her. "I'm in love with you," he said lightly, "and I don't see that ever changing."