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“You don’t have to keep doing that, you know?”
It was a rare occasion in the Vera-Vaughn home where it’s occupants were at rest: no crisis to avert, no demons to vanquish, no magical creatures to assist. The sisters had retired to their respective rooms to enjoy the peace and quiet, knowing full well that things could change in an instant. This is where Harry found the eldest witch that day, snuggled beneath her covers, laptop perched on the side table, papers arranged on top of the sheets.
Harry blinked in confusion as he entered the room.
“I’m sorry?”
“Knocking on the door? You don’t need to ask permission to come in, Harry.”
“What do you mean?”
Macy threw him a withering smile, “This is your room, too, you know?”
He could not help the tinge of pink that coloured his cheeks at her reply. While it was a known fact that Harry Greenwood shared the same bed as Macy Vaughn, the idea of this bedroom being his, being theirs... it was almost juvenile how the idea thrilled his soul. Their room.
Theirs.
It had a nice ring to it.
“It’s still proper manners to announce one’s presence before entering a private accommodation,” he countered, stuff British manners seeping through. “I may have caught you in a compromising position.”
“In case I was walking around naked? I think we know each other well enough for that to be more than appropriate.” A smirk crossed her face as she continued, “Besides, the only compromising positions I've been in with lately, are with you.”
His blush deepened as Harry came to sit on the edge of the bed, flaming cheeks faced towards the window and away from Macy’s scrutinising glance. “Well, I..” he started, when the rustling sound of sheets and paper being tossed aside alerted him to her movements behind him. Arms encircled him from behind as Macy rested her chin on his shoulder. “Fine, Professor Greenwood, knock away, if that makes you happy,” she whispered, warm breath fanning across his cheek. He turned his head slightly to catch the impish smirk on her lips before leaning in to capture them with his own.
“You make me happy, Dr Vaughn.”
Macy blinked in the darkness of her room, breathing in and out slowly. A sense of calm and security enveloped her and she turned to the figure in the bed beside her. Harry’s chest rose and fell with each slow breath, the moonlight ghosting over his skin, highlighting the sharp outline of his nose. Macy could not resist the urge to reach out and lay a soft caress on his cheek, feeling the warmth beneath her fingertips.
Harry Greenwood was in her bed and nothing else quite mattered.
She brushed back his hair from where it fell across his forehead, Harry softly sighing in his sleep. She smiled at his response, her heart softening at the sound. This was a strange habit of hers, watching him as he slept. Though he was undoubtedly her senior of many years, Macy felt protective of him, wanting to keep him away from the darkness of the world. He had stepped up to guard her sisters and her from demons, and she wanted to return the favour.
Their relationship was still in its infancy, but the depth of their feelings for each other had taken root many months prior, from a foundation of friendship that blossomed into love. Yes, she was in love with her Whitelighter, and he loved her, too.
Harry’s eyes fluttered open, the blue-green orbs clouded with sleep before the corners crinkled as he smiled at her. “You’re watching me again.” Macy nuzzled closer, letting their noses touch lightly. “No, I wasn’t. I was just thinking.”
His arm wrapped around her, pulling their bodies together, resting around her waist above the covers. Macy struggled to suppress a grin, tangling her legs with his, her own arm snaking around his torso. It still surprised her how good it all felt, how completely natural it was to have him surrounding her, to have him so close. “What were you thinking of?”
“The first time we met.”
“Which first time?”
“The real first time.”
“Ah yes, the one, I cannot remember.”
Macy watched as Harry’s brows furrowed slightly; she knew he didn’t like knowing he had erased her memory, and worst still, to not remember meeting her the way she did him. The first time she brought it up, Macy had reassured him that he was a pure gentleman, a source of comfort in her time of need. But the words were never fully enough to help Harry feel comfortable with the situation, and she must admit, it warmed her heart to see him be conflicted over their shared past- how the promise to not hurt her still rang true despite the alteration to their respective memories. She pressed her fingers against the creases forming on his forehead, smoothing them with her coaxing touch. Her hand slid down to the side of his face, Harry leaning into her touch.
“I could get used to this.” He whispered.
Macy’s eyes met his, as she felt warmth pool low in her belly. She leaned forward, lips colliding gently with his.
“Good, because we have the rest of our lives.”