Interlude [h.s]

thirty-nine

He looks away. "I'll finish getting dressed, if you don't mind."

He walks back into his bedroom, and Alouette turns her head to follow him with her gaze before she can stop herself.

He has a nice frame. Long legs, slender hips, wide shoulders. His body is lean, athletic, but not overly so. Still, she's sure he'd manage to best anyone in a fight; he's too smart and determined not to. She shakes her head as soon as she realises what she's thinking.

Alouette closes the door and steps further into the room, unable to shake away the feeling that she's overstepping. She shouldn't be there while he isn't properly dressed.

A couple of minutes go by and then Harry comes back wearing the white dress shirt from earlier, this time buttoned up and tucked into the high-waisted black trousers of one of his suits. The jacket and tie are nowhere to be found, and there's a little line of lace around the cuffs at his wrists that Alouette hasn't noticed earlier.

"You always seem to be wearing the same thing," she comments as he rounds the black leather couch to lean against it.

He raises an eyebrow. "I hardly believe you've seen me wear the same clothes more than once."

"You have an upsettingly high amount of suits, then."

The hint of a laugh flashes through his eyes. "Upsettingly high?"

Alouette nods and slowly walks around the couch to sit on it, the lighter mood he seems to be in making her feel more relaxed as well. "I wonder what your wardrobe looks like. Is it just a sea of black suits and white shirts?"

"That's quite accurate," he replies, sitting next to her and crossing one leg over the other. They look longer than usual because of the fit, and she stares for a moment too long.

"And do you have them all matched already or do you match them in the moment?"

Harry narrows his eyes. "Why do I have the feeling you're making fun of me?"

"Oh, I'd never," she backs out quickly before giving him a little glance. "I like this pair of trousers, by the way."

He seems to be a little surprised, but doesn't let it show. "You do?"

Alouette nods. "It's a little more high waisted than the others. It gives you nice legs."

Harry stares at her for a long moment. "Do you look at my legs often, Lark?" he then asks, and Alouette almost chokes on her own breath. He chuckles and slides closer to her, putting his arm on the back of the sofa, behind her. "So I have nice legs, is that so? What else about me is nice?"

Alouette glances down. "Well..." Her throat is dry, Harry's fresh but somewhat sweet cologne in her nose. He smells of water and flowers, the moment in which raindrops touch wild blossoms in the middle of a spring thunderstorm. She's drowning. "I like your... jawline."

He smiles. "My jawline?" His fingertips touch her shoulder, slowly sliding up and down her upper arm.

"And your... lips." She slowly looks up. He's looking at her attentively, curiously, almost.

"What else?"

"Your eyes."

He tilts his head. "My eyes?" he asks softly, earning a nod in reply. "Would you say I'm attractive, then?"

Alouette hums. She doesn't know if the temperature in the room has risen or if her brain is playing tricks on her.

Harry lifts her chin with a finger. Her skin tingles where it touches his. "Then why don't you kiss me?" he whispers, and then presses his mouth to hers.