If you could see her through my eyes, you wouldn't wonder at all

[cellarandmoon.livejournal.com]

 

*For a few days, Amrita could barely feel her feet touching the ground as she worked her shifts downstairs at the Leaky. She couldn't believe her luck, meeting (or re-meeting) Remus: he'd somehow taken a horrible day and spun it into something good, something hopeful. But it's been awhile since they met—in that very booth right over there, which her eyes keep flashing to worriedly--and she's long since started to doubt that he'll owl at all. The pub's near-empty most days, like much of Diagon Alley, so she's been spending a lot of time brooding and washing out glasses that don't need to be washed out, oscillating wildly between hope and despair and inventing less-and-less plausible reasons for the delay until she's driven herself half-mad with it for no particular reason.

It's foolish, but she can't help it, and tonight's no different. The early promise of the night—patrons, laughter, tips—has turned into achy feet and endless one-more-rounds for the only customer in the place, a regular who's neither charming nor a particularly good tipper. Still, she puts on her best smile for him as she refills his drink again and again. Behind it, her mind helplessly worries at itself like a well-picked bone: maybe he'll owl tomorrow morning. Or the next day. Or never. Best give up now. Oh, don't be ridiculous. Maybe he'll owl tomorrow morning.

This is what's galloping through her head like a centaur on uppers as she smiles prettily at the regular, waiting for last call, or for him to leave, or for her headache to simply kill her—whichever comes first.*

Comments

[dapperdeath.livejournal.com]

*He decides to help her along with her indecision, and lowers his mouth to brush her lips.

Evan was taught to kiss by an older French girl the summer he turned 14, and was a very careful study of the art. He has kissed plenty of girls, both at Hogwarts and after, but is still surprised by the thrill that goes through him when he kisses this girl. It's all strange and tangled up, and there's the taste of blood in her mouth even though she's just a tiny trembling thing in his arms.

But if he knows anything, he knows it can't go on too long. One hand slides up her back to press her tight and close for a moment, and he breaks it off quicker than he'd like.*

. . . A week from tomorrow, then.

[cellarandmoon.livejournal.com]

*As far as first kisses go, it isn't bad.

Not that she'd have anything to compare it with, of course, apart from childrens' games and a few clumsy busses from rowdy patrons at the Leaky. This is different. This counts. She stiffens at first, caught between twin ripcurrents of fear and desire, but she warms to it, and leans into him, her fingernails finding his upper arms and digging in hard—she can't help it, he almost tastes better than blood. And then, before it's barely begun, it's over, and she's got what must be an idiot grin plastered on her face.*

Er, right. Goodnight.

[dapperdeath.livejournal.com]

*He's got the grin too, although he'll deny it to himself all the way home.*

Good night, Amrita.

*He gives her hand a slight squeeze and turns, exiting the alley, resisting the urge to look behind him as he goes.*

[cellarandmoon.livejournal.com]

*She positively flies up the stairs to her room, and sinks into bed fully-clothed and shoed, directing her idiot grin at the ceiling.

"Hussy." says the mirror.*

Shut up.