love is what makes you smile when you're tired
your first kiss is steamy, literally. it's freezing outside, and his breath is so hot it almost burns you cheeks and the air that passes through your lips turns to smoke in seconds.
your second kiss is wet. all over. it's six months later, and he's graduated from hogwarts. the rain is pouring down and everybody is inside so you had to drag him out to talk to him without anyone eavesdropping.
your third kiss is pure perfection. you're in hugo's room, but hugo's not there and you've just asked him to move in with you and he doesn't answer, he just reaches up and gives you a kiss. it's not too long, not too short, not to wet and not too dry. his lips are smooth and yours are chapped and you want to stay in this kiss forever and ever and ever again because it's perfect.
"yes", he whispers, and kisses you again. and again and again and again. and then rose shouts that dinner's ready and you part and look at each other and smile and take a few breaths and then you walk down the stairs to the kitchen and pretend that nothing has happened.
and then you're losing count. you kiss and kiss and kiss and you move from mouth to neck to shoulders and further down and your kisses fall upon him like snowflakes in the winter. sometimes you get aggressive and then he has to hide the marks with turtle necks and scarfs and anyone with brains can guess what he's been doing because it's july and hot and no one in their right mind wears turtle necks in july. but he's eighteen, so he's forgiven, he can still blame the hormones raging through his body.
and you keep your relationship secret. and he's got not problems with it, 'cause he gets to kiss you when he gets home from work, but it's wearing you down. it makes you tired, but you love him, and giving up is no option. but oh how you want to tell everybody, you want to scream, but you can't.
they would hate you, abandon you, disown you. and if the potters disown you, you have no one.
he sprinkles you with kisses. he notices something is wrong and he asks, but you can't explain so he kisses you instead in hopes of making things better.
you spend christmas at the burrow. christmas eve finds you on the couch in front of the fire, with a glass of wine in your hand, lazily listening to the others talking about everything and nothing. the snow is falling gently outside in the garden, and you think of what happened exactly one year ago. you sneak a glance at him, he's laughing with rose and hugo and the fire makes his skin shimmer and he's beautiful. your gift to him is safely placed in your pocket. he has no idea, and you seriously don't know how he's gonna take it but you're so very very tired of sneaking and lying and hiding and you can't do it anymore. if he says no you'll leave, because although every thought of him makes you smile, you just can't do it.
then fred's youngest daughter comes rushing and climbs up into his lap and the wine is all over the rug and she puts her arms around his neck and her eyes are sparkling with excitement and joy.
"uncle teddy, what do you want for christmas?"
you feel the others' eyes on you, and you sigh.
"i don't know... that you'll be nice the next year?" she frowns, unsatisfied with the answer.
"no, what do you want for real? from santa?"
"yeah teddy, what do you want for christmas? from santa?" he shouts across the room.
you think about it for a second or two. you weigh pros and cons. and then.
"all i want for christmas is you", you say, loud and clear. and no one says a word. except for melaine.
"do you like uncle jamie so much you want to have him as your own?" she asks, wide-eyed. you nod.
"yes i do."
"but he won't fit under the tree!" she exclaims. the tone of desperation in her voice makes rose laugh, and the heavy silence between the adults are broken. james gives you a weak smile, and hermione nods, understanding.
"as we hadn't guessed already", ron mutters. harry smiles at you, reassuring, and you can suddenly breathe easily again.
your second kiss is wet. all over. it's six months later, and he's graduated from hogwarts. the rain is pouring down and everybody is inside so you had to drag him out to talk to him without anyone eavesdropping.
your third kiss is pure perfection. you're in hugo's room, but hugo's not there and you've just asked him to move in with you and he doesn't answer, he just reaches up and gives you a kiss. it's not too long, not too short, not to wet and not too dry. his lips are smooth and yours are chapped and you want to stay in this kiss forever and ever and ever again because it's perfect.
"yes", he whispers, and kisses you again. and again and again and again. and then rose shouts that dinner's ready and you part and look at each other and smile and take a few breaths and then you walk down the stairs to the kitchen and pretend that nothing has happened.
and then you're losing count. you kiss and kiss and kiss and you move from mouth to neck to shoulders and further down and your kisses fall upon him like snowflakes in the winter. sometimes you get aggressive and then he has to hide the marks with turtle necks and scarfs and anyone with brains can guess what he's been doing because it's july and hot and no one in their right mind wears turtle necks in july. but he's eighteen, so he's forgiven, he can still blame the hormones raging through his body.
and you keep your relationship secret. and he's got not problems with it, 'cause he gets to kiss you when he gets home from work, but it's wearing you down. it makes you tired, but you love him, and giving up is no option. but oh how you want to tell everybody, you want to scream, but you can't.
they would hate you, abandon you, disown you. and if the potters disown you, you have no one.
he sprinkles you with kisses. he notices something is wrong and he asks, but you can't explain so he kisses you instead in hopes of making things better.
you spend christmas at the burrow. christmas eve finds you on the couch in front of the fire, with a glass of wine in your hand, lazily listening to the others talking about everything and nothing. the snow is falling gently outside in the garden, and you think of what happened exactly one year ago. you sneak a glance at him, he's laughing with rose and hugo and the fire makes his skin shimmer and he's beautiful. your gift to him is safely placed in your pocket. he has no idea, and you seriously don't know how he's gonna take it but you're so very very tired of sneaking and lying and hiding and you can't do it anymore. if he says no you'll leave, because although every thought of him makes you smile, you just can't do it.
then fred's youngest daughter comes rushing and climbs up into his lap and the wine is all over the rug and she puts her arms around his neck and her eyes are sparkling with excitement and joy.
"uncle teddy, what do you want for christmas?"
you feel the others' eyes on you, and you sigh.
"i don't know... that you'll be nice the next year?" she frowns, unsatisfied with the answer.
"no, what do you want for real? from santa?"
"yeah teddy, what do you want for christmas? from santa?" he shouts across the room.
you think about it for a second or two. you weigh pros and cons. and then.
"all i want for christmas is you", you say, loud and clear. and no one says a word. except for melaine.
"do you like uncle jamie so much you want to have him as your own?" she asks, wide-eyed. you nod.
"yes i do."
"but he won't fit under the tree!" she exclaims. the tone of desperation in her voice makes rose laugh, and the heavy silence between the adults are broken. james gives you a weak smile, and hermione nods, understanding.
"as we hadn't guessed already", ron mutters. harry smiles at you, reassuring, and you can suddenly breathe easily again.