Dear Iris [h.s]

chapter thirty three.

Iris Grace

Harry poured two glasses of wine, put on a classical music record and we sat at his kitchen table talking over a record. I didn't really expect him to listen to classical music, but I guess it's fitting for the whole persona of the boy who reads and writes for a living. He said it helps him focus and that I should try it.

Wine kept being poured, conversation kept flowing and we just seemed to talk more and more rubbish. Wine makes me laugh at the stupidest shit, but apparently it has the same effect on Harry, he keeps laughing at the most unfunny things I say. He has a nice smile though, I'm not complaining.

"Let me change the record, I don't want to bore you." He said, standing up from his chair at the table.

"No! No, I like it." I exclaimed quickly before he had the chance to run over and change it. "It's very you."

"That's why you like it?" He asked, still standing with a smirk on his face.

"Maybe." I smiled shyly.

Harry chuckled and finished the wine that was left in his glass, I did too as the conversation faded it. He then held his hands out to me, which I was confused by, to which he sighed dramatically and grabbed my hands himself, pulling me up to my feet.

When he started to sway his hips, I began laughing and he did too. I shook my head, almost in a protest to say I was not dancing, it's him, but he spun me round and held my hands again, now channeling his inner ballroom dancer.

"Harryyy," I sighed, shaking my head as he held my hands, basically dancing himself.

"Just pretend we're in a painting of yours." He told me with a mischievous grin.

So I did, it's hard to say no to him.Harry and I were in each other's arms, dancing to his classical music in his living room, tiptoeing around the pieces of paper that fell to the ground he refused to pick up.  It felt like the most cinematic moment ever.

You know those moments in films where the camera spins around two characters who are having the times of their lives and there's happy music in the background. That's what this feels like.

It feels like too much wine, a friendship among a world of negativity, the part in the book where the readers are unable to wipe their smiles off their faces, the second chorus of a song. It feels like a painting hung high in a prestigious gallery.

I couldn't wipe the smile from my face, our eyes were locked on each other just like the grins on our faces. My arms were wrapped loosely around his neck, his hands held my waist in front of him.

When his eyes fell to my lips, time began to slow and so did his dancing. I didn't know whether to do it, whether to move in and kiss him, too frightened I'd ruin a moment I'm not in a hurry to forget. It appeared we were both thinking the same thing, as we both went in for the kiss at the same time, and shared the most smiley, happy kiss I could imagine.

Pulling back for a brief second, we both had the same smile on our faces, wine drunk and full of pure joy, feeling like two people the world isn't totally against for a change. It wasn't long till our lips met again, this time more passionate and we were pulling our bodies closer together, as close as remotely possible.

Harry topped forwards as I stepped back, all the way till my back hit the countertop and I gasped in surprise. I didn't expect us to be that close, Harry found it funny though. Most likely an effect of the two bottles of wine we've had.

"You're funny." He smiled, holding my cheeks with his hands.

"Shut up." I shook my head, moving back in to kiss him, because I couldn't get enough apparently.