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“Stop looking me like that,” Pansy grumbled from between the crumpled silk eggshell sheets. She laid the back of her wrist over her eyes, protecting her face from being drenched in the sweet, golden hour sunshine pouring through the sliver of periwinkle curtains cracked open to the left of them.
“Like what?” he asked shyly, softly, albeit with something else lacing his voice. Something vulnerable. He had a smile on his face. The type of smile that people write poetry and shit about.
Neville rolled from his back to his stomach to lean on his crossed arms while he gazed at her. Just gazed. With his eyes of gold protected by pale angel lashes, and through his wispy, baby blond hair hanging over his forehead. And, Merlin, when his full pouty lips grazed the edge of her shoulder, she felt her entire spine quiver in anticipation.
He felt warm. He felt like—like home. Like peach cream popsicles, and pink frilly satin blouses, and the warm summer sun on her face, and the gooseflesh consuming her body. He felt familiar. As if she couldn’t carve herself out from them—whatever them was—and as if he shared every tangled limb and every breath with her.
Pansy groaned, burrowing herself under the canopy of their comforter’s heat for a little while longer. “God, you’re annoying.”
“And you’re cute.”
“Don’t call me cute.”
“I can’t help it; you look cute with the sunset on your neck.”
“Fuck, Longbottom, what trashy, self-published novel for blokes without game did you dig that gem out of?“
His hands trailed under the sheets until it met her hips. He brought her closer until she couldn’t distinguish his large hands splayed out over her bare stomach from her own skin. And Pansy felt something warm unfurl at the bottom of her stomach like ribbons as he placed a gentle kiss on the freckles splattering her shoulders. So. So—she turned around and said something, anything, to stop that—to stop them—and if it means swallowing every semblance of courtesy in favor of mumbling—
“Just. Just stop looking at me like you’re in love with me or something.”
—then she’ll say just that. Until the sun sets. And until dawn rises again and whirls her back into his arms.