Pearls and Fire whisky | A Harry James Potter love story

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Potter and I were sitting on the far end of the staircase. Because the staircase went into a spiral, even if someone dared to go past Draco, who was standing guard, they wouldn't see us sitting together right away. The steps were quite wide, yet without a second thought I had sat down right next to him. Our shoulders touching, and our knees brushing against each other ever so slightly, causing flashes of heat soaring though my body with every touch. 

"You look really beautiful," he says, his green eyes fixated on my dress. 

"You like the dress?" 

"I love the dress." 

"Good, because I wore it for you." 

He pulled his eyes away from the dress, now looking into mine. I had surprised myself with my statement, since I hadn't planned on being so blunt about it. Potter seemed to be quite content with it, a small smirk appearing on his lips. I hadn't seem him smirk before, he always just had this adorable smile on his face. It hadn't gone unnoticed to me that he had looked a little different tonight anyway, and part of me hoped it was for the exact same reason I had chosen to wear a red dress. 

I've seen Potter in casual clothes quite often, and even at parties he didn't tend to dress up a lot, he was either wearing a hoodie or a flannel. While I liked the casual look on him, I really liked the way he looked right now as well. He had put some product in his hair, an attempt to slick his hair back. However little strands of his black hair still fell forward onto his forehead, which I personally found really attractive.  

He wore black jeans, a little tighter than usual, with a black t-shirt and a black button-down, which he had left open, on top of it. I comparison with my Slytherin guy friends, the complete black outfit of Potter was still considered casual, but I knew that for him it wasn't, and I wanted to make sure that he knew his efforts hadn't gone unnoticed, not by me at least.

I put my hand on his upper thigh, my thump making small circles on his jeans. I could see him looking at where I had placed my hand, his adam's apple bobbing up and down, before looking in my eyes again. 

"You look really hot in black Potter," I say, with a little squeeze on his thigh. Again, a lot more forward than I had wanted to. I tend to get a bit more straightforward when I was intoxicated, but with only a few sips of butterbeer this evening, that was hardly the case. Potter didn't seem to mind my candid at all, again a smirk appearing on his lips. 

My body felt hot, exceptionally so. It wasn't the usual heat flushes that went to my cheeks whenever I was with him, I felt fuzzy, my fingertips tingling. I started to feel everything more intensely, the rough material of his jeans, the cold, stone step underneath me, the soft material of my dress on my body. 

I was starring at his lips as if it was the most interesting thing I have ever seen in my life. I moved my body more sideways, my free hand reaching out to his face. All I could think about was how his lips would feel, and before I know it my fingertips were softly tracing his lips. 

"Potter, do you ever wonder how my lips would feel?" I ask him, completely in awe of how soft his lips felt against my fingers. When I didn't get a reply, it was as if I broke out of some sort of trance, dropping my hand. I blinked a few times before looking up, making eye contact again. The realisation of what I had done kicked in, making me create some more distance between us by shuffling back a little bit, no longer touching him at all. 

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I- I'm sorry," I stammer. 

Suddenly his right hand was under my chin, lifting it up, his other hand on my waist to pull me closer again. The heat that had slowly started to disappear, came back even more intense than before, burning where he touched me.