Harry Potter and the Bucket List

Year 5 - 11

Although Tom and I were—as he would say—courting each other, there wasn't much change. We were friends first, and we had been flirting with each other for months by that point. We could not interact daily, but we made up for lost time when we could.

Tom was still able to get some squeaks out of me, and I was able to pull out some loud laughter.

Being with him was easy, and I always felt a pang in my chest when I had to tell him goodbye.

There was one change since we started to date. Every time we were together Tom made a point of reaching out and touching me. It wasn't anything significant, mostly brushes or quick pats.

I would have found it endearing or even sweet if it wasn't done in such a deliberate manner. There was a clinical calculation to it—the movements too confident and direct to be interpreted as accidental or subconscious.

I knew Tom wasn't trying to initiate intimacy, so what was his purpose?

After the tenth time of him "accidentally" brushing my hand the very same night, I flat out asked him, "Are you testing me or something? 'Cause I don't have limitless patience."

Tom was careful to respond, a flicker of unease on his face. "More like I'm testing myself while using you."

When he didn't offer an explanation fast enough I sighed. "Would you please elaborate?"

He said, "I'm conducting research on how I feel when in physical contact with you or others—and before you ask: I am excellent at compartmentalizing and visualizations. It's not too difficult to imagine someone else in your place when I reach out and gauge my reaction from there."

I stared at him in surprise. I knew he wasn't someone who craved physical intimacy, but it had not occurred to me that perhaps he had an aversion to physical contact all together. Hindsight, made sense—abusive childhood could result in someone either touch-starved or abhorrent the idea of physical contact—but Tom was such an excellent actor at hiding his discomfort I wouldn't have considered it until brought up.

He went on, "I wanted to see if touching you was the same as touching others. Did my perception change due to this body, or were you an exception?"

I folded my hands together. "What was it like to touch others before?"

Tom considered the question, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Mm... like snow, I suppose. Fine for a while, unpleasant if too long."

My brow furrowed. "And now?"

"I can't be too certain. It's only been brushes," said Tom with a suspiciously innocent smile.

I narrowed my eyes, suddenly getting a sneaky suspicion. "Hmm. So to remedy that you'd need to examine how you feel for prolonged contact?"

Tom continued to smile innocently which I knew had to be a lie. Tom wasn't an innocent wizard by any stretch of the imagination. "I suppose so, yes."

Oh jeepers.

"Tom. You know I'm always down to cuddle, you don't need to come up with such an elaborate scheme."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sweet baby Merlin you're such a dork. Come on, let's go cuddle."

"Oh—now?"

"Yes, now. Go sit in your recliner," I said, making a shooing motion. Tom raised an eyebrow, but silently moved to sit in his recliner. I crawled into his lap, pushing against him to stretch the recliner back.

I settled into him, then placed my ear against his chest and listened to his heart beat. Tom's arms were still raised, and I did not need to see his expression to know he had a conflicted expression.