Interlude [h.s]

sixty-one

Alouette looks away fast. There's a warmth that spreads through her, from her chest to her toes, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

I can't stop thinking about that afternoon.

Something flutters inside of her, but the unmistakable tang of danger is in her mouth. They're treading a dangerous line, and she doesn't know what's at the end of it. She does know what will happen if she falls, though, and maybe that's what Harry wants, after all.

"Alouette," he whispers. His voice is unexpectedly warm, but there's an alluring darkness to it. Like a gentle bait hanging above a black hole, and she turns her head.

Harry's lips land on top of hers. She gasps but pulls him closer, a hint of disappointment washing over her when she notices the handbrake between them. She puts her knees on the seat and grazes his jaw with unsure fingers, and he hums against her mouth. This feels forbidden, and maybe that's why she can't get herself to stop.

She climbs over the space between their seats and straddles him. The moonlight is like a silvery rain on top of their faces when she presses her mouth against his again. She can feel him smile into the kiss, his hands close around the fabric of her shirt. His arms are wrapped around her frame and they feel so hot, the contrast with the chill air strong. His fingers are on the nape of her neck and he pulls her closer to him unexpectedly gently, as if her skin is like the wings of a butterfly and he doesn't dare to ruin it, lest she never fly again.

She doesn't have his same carefulness in her touch, though. Her hands slide through his curls and she tugs at them in the way she knows will make him gasp. His moan comes, faint against her mouth, and his eyelashes flutter. A new urgency comes over him and his hands move to her hips. She pulls her waist up just enough to give him better access, and her head slams against the roof of the car.

Alouette whelps and her hands fly to her head. "Shit," she mutters, leaning on Harry's shoulder to hide the tears that well into her eyes. "Fuck." Her head feels like it could split open at any moment. She doesn't know what's worse, the pain or the embarrassment.

Harry is shaking slightly under her. She brushes away the tears in her eyes and looks up just to discover Harry's hand is covering his mouth. He's trying to hide it, but the twinkle in his eyes is unmistakable.

"Are you laughing?" she asks faintly. The pain is fading away now, and she lets out a chuckle as well.

"I'd never," he replies. He's a liar, but Alouette doesn't feel the need to point it out.

She laughs louder, and soon after she's joined by the shadowy, warm manifestation of hilarity that is unmistakably his. His eyes are like stars in the night, and she's never seen him looking so free. Maybe being away from the Palace is starting to rub off on him, too, because she swears he's never shone quite so bright before.

She leans her head on his shoulder again and lets out a sigh. "My head hurts," she mutters under her breath, and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him. The tips of his fingers dig into her skin, but not enough to hurt her. It feels oddly reassuring. "I'm done with secrets," Alouette announces.

Harry hums, and she feels his chest vibrate under her. "The night is young," he murmurs. "What would you like to do?"

She shrugs. The hit has suffocated the flame that was burning inside of her, and now only its comfortable warmth is left. Or, maybe, it's Harry's own warmth the one she's feeling. She tilts her head up, but she can only see the angle of his jawline and the shadow below. Her hand finds his face and she tilts it towards her. "Tell me about you," she says, and she doesn't exactly know where the question came from.