Did I kiss you, or did you kiss me?
What, the first time?
Mm.
I kissed you, I think. Or maybe � no, I�m pretty sure I kissed you. I�d been thinking about it all week.
What, since the Quidditch match?
Mm. You were spectacular. That dive � I don�t know how you did it�
I�m always spectacular.
You wish. A spectacle, maybe.
Hey.
(Laughter, then silence.)
I watched you for so long.
I know. I watched you watching.
At first I didn�t even know why. I just thought I wanted to be your friend.
Neither of us realised. Don�t pick at it, love.
(A sigh.)
It just feels like I wasted so many years�
Shh�.
The kiss. Always it came back to the kiss. Pleasure, pain, sorrow, regret, happiness�love. It was the kiss � little more really than a brief brush of lips, hope and fear so lucid in the other�s eyes � that made you, forced you to realise that this was about more than friendship.
It had been a perfect week. You had seen the admiration on even the face of the Enemy as you pulled out of the twisting dive with the Snitch clutched tight between your fingers, the crowds cheering wildly. And then it had snowed. That perfect end-of-term sort of snow, that decked the castle and grounds in icing-sugar confections of silver brilliance. Under the moonlight, as you trudged back up to the castle for dinner (the powdery stuff shifting and crunching beneath your boots) the landscape had glowed. And there had been the Other. Standing in the snow, watching, waiting, such an expression on that familiar face as you�d never seen before. There had been words, as you stood together, cold and neither really comfortable. Strangely weighted words whose understanding seemed to hover outside your grasp, and you frowned, unsure.
The kiss brought certainty as your eyes flew open in startlement. You had been kissed, the first move had been made, and suddenly your feelings were no longer complicated but painfully simple, and what came next was easy. Standing in the snow under the evening moon, both bundled gracelessly in layers of wool and fleece, neither of you saw beyond kissing each other, beyond the new wonders of skin on skin and gloves tangled in hair. Neither of you knew you were watched.
Poor Ron.
I�m sorry about him.
It�s not your fault. He can�t help being jealous.
He�s always been jealous of you. Everything you had�
It�s not just me. He feels like I�ve stolen you away from him, too. He had such strong feelings about both of us.
(A sigh.)
Do you think he�ll get used to it?
Maybe. Eventually. It�s so strange how everyone looks at us out of the corners of their eyes, when�
When we feel like this was our destiny? That it was fated to be?
Mm.
I never believed in fate.
Until you met me?
Idiot.
(Laughter.)
It had been sad. They had both lost friends over this, they had both made enemies. And alone, that was hard to cope with. But together � together, all that seemed important was each other. In the quiet between-spaces, in the secret dark of the night, love lay heavy on them like a blanket. Touch became sacred, names became caresses. Entwined together, they discovered the secrets of each others� skins, became so much a part of one another that in the drear light of day it was surprising to be once again separate beings. Surprising, bitter � almost painful.
Sometimes it had hurt - when they saw the distance in the eyes of former friends, when those who were supposed to be family poured scorn. They gave each other comfort. Hands clasped tight in hands, heads pillowed on shoulders, built around them a fortress of safety. Nothing could hurt them enough to touch their shared strength, nothing could come between them. Closeness built its own walls about them. They loved, and cared not for the vagaries of the waking world.
(A sigh.)
I can�t imagine this ever being over.
Don�t. It won�t be. I won�t let it be. You�re mine.
(Laughter.)
Possessive as ever.
And I�m yours. We belong together.
(Silence.)
I know.