LONG STORY SHORT, james potter

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

It was light. There were large windows behind the bed that let in the morning sunlight that complimented the cream curved walls. The ceiling was fairly high, but the curvature of it made it less imposing. Small blue painted vines crawled up from the wooden floors and bloomed in small flowers a little less than midway up the wall. The flowers flowed with the wind outside. Her eyes crinkled at the sides at the sight.

Her attention was taken when she felt the weight of the bed shift. She looked nearly over her shoulder to see James placing the plate on the floor and she took another bite of her toast. James looked back up at her and the world stilled. The flowers stopped stirring, the dust stopped swirling and the Earth stopped spinning. Carefully, James placed his hand ahead of himself and lean forward. He gingerly lead the piece of toast out of her hand and back down onto the plate before leaning in further. Her heart rate quickened as he drew near and slowly, his breath approached hers, his nose touched hers and finally his lips carefully, tentatively caressed hers. It was a ghost of a kiss that had haunted her for years. And it beat any fiery, hedonistic kiss from the night before.

Slowly, she let him dance in her graveyard. She came out of hiding behind the mausoleum and tentatively let him lead her into a waltz. And she had to admit that it was nice to no longer dance on the graves of her dreams past alone. And she had to admit that even if the rising sun brought her final death, she was no longer afraid of its gentle star fire as her hand reached for his.

She sucked in a breath and pulled away, squeezing her eyes shut. "This is a bad idea. A really really bad idea." Her voice was barely a whisper—not having to be louder.

"Oh." The split second silence hung. "We can stop if you want."

Her stomach dropped and she sucked in another breath. "No no I don't want to be a spoil sport or—"

"You aren't." She looked up at him, uncertainty swirling around her eyes. And he finally felt her vulnerability. Her hidden wound that was still on the mend. Stitches that could be reopened with a single cutting word. "You—" He lost his voice and held his breath, willing the second to be longer than it was. Slowly, he pushed himself forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into him. She shifted out of the awkward position and wrapped her own around his waist. She could feel his heart beat. It slowed with hers as she turned her head and rested her cheek on his shoulder, her breath slightly fanning his neck, making his skin prick.

"I still hate you, you know." He could hear the pout in her voice as a smile stretched across his face and a low chuckle rumbled from his belly. She felt it echoing through her, making her smile as well. She drew in a deep breath and shifted so she could see his face. Their eyes flicked back and forth between each other. "How did we get here?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

The room fell quiet in the sort of way that let in late morning bird song. The grand symphonies that had been preparing were flirting all around them, striking their irises and playing with the ends of their hair—turning James's eyes celestial and Betty's normally brown hair golden. The world stilled as her hair tumbled over her shoulder as their eyes dared each other to look away. Slowly, she moved closer to him, allowing the sun to light her up from behind, caressing her hair and haloing her angelic hair. James pushed himself up slightly, meeting her halfway as their lips met slowly. Her fingers reached up tentatively and caressed his jaw. Slowly, she shifted to straddle his legs as his arms pulled her into him. They pulled away slowly. A small smiled graced her face.

"You okay?" His voice was barely a whisper. The edges of her lips curled up more as her fingers traced along his lips and she nodded.

"You?" He didn't respond, he only leaned up and captured her lips once more, making her giggle. Her smile bore too big, so he pulled away and studied her face before leaning in and peppering her face with sloppy kisses, making her laughter more raucous.