Symphonies in E Minor

Chapter Twenty Three: The Reception (Part I)*

hey..... how y'all doing........... forgive me for not updating bffs don't kill me faaaaaanks </3

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Harry tiredly gazes down at where Aaliyah's head should be. She's buried under the covers, no doubt unable to breathe, and he wonders if pulling the sheets from her face will rouse her. He wants her to sleep, but he's also itching to see her face, stare at it for as long as she allows him.

The conflict inside of him doesn't last for long, and he gently rolls the sheets away from her face, smiling immediately at the sight of her sleeping face, her mouth in a pout, her eyebrows clear of any tension. And her cheek squished against his shoulder. Upon seeing this, he feels the full weight of her on top of him. A small portion of him doesn't want to move her at all. Perhaps they could stay like this for longer with nobody bothering them.

That, of course, is a fantasy. And a risky one, too.

It comes as no surprise that when she does end up waking, the scene unfolds just as he'd expected. Though it hits him straight in the gut far more painfully. It still strikes him hard whenever he sees her, even during the most mundane moments such as yesterday when he spotted her upon that hill waiting for guests outside the church doors, resembling too much a butler, and in any normal circumstance, she would have amused him, but not that time. This time, her appearance had caused him to nearly buckle. He thought she couldn't get any more beautiful the night he met her, then again on the night of Clara's ball, and finally last night, wrapped in his arms with the softest, sleepiest expression on her face, but he knows she'll be proving him wrong again soon.

Aaliyah blinks up at him, a bleary look in her eyes that suggests she's not fully there with him yet.

Harry whispers, "Good morning."

She looks around the room without moving her head. Her lips purse.

"You're in my room," he clarifies when there's no recognition in her eyes. It comes when he says that. "Because you refused to leave it."

That makes her close her eyes and smile slowly. She turns her head and presses her nose to his neck and softly inhales. Harry restrains himself from shifting. Her fingers slide across his nightgown under the sheets, making him tighten his abdomen muscles. She pokes them hard.

"Ow," he mutters. "Stop it."

She snickers into his neck, taunting him by shoving her fingers into his muscles again. He grabs her fingers firmly in one swoop, laying them forcefully flat against his chest.

"You're such a nuisance," he says, closing his eyes. "It's about 6, by the way. Your family will come looking for you soon so I suggest heading out so your mother doesn't find a reason to cut my head off."

"She wouldna do that," she whispers into his neck. It tickles.

"Oh she absolutely would. Maybe not your father, but..." At the mention of her father, he suddenly remembers their conversation and his cheeks heat. "We actually need to speak about something."

Aaliyah peeks her eyes up at him.

He takes her in from her slow blinking doe eyes to her pouty mouth. "Well." He swallows. "Maybe not right now. But it's important, all right?"

She tucks her head back in his neck.

"How funny is it that you don't speak in the mornings. Wish you were like this at all times."

In response, she bites down on his neck. He yelps, pulling away quickly. "Aaliyah!"

"What?" she says innocently.

She stretches then, pulling herself off of him. She wipes a hand under her mouth, like she'd done at the hotel room, which leads him to suspect drooling can be added to her list of awful sleeping habits. She stretches her legs until they peek out from under the sheets, her stockings still on, and then her arms. Her wonderfully bare arms Harry rubbed as she was falling asleep. As soon as she pulls away from his side, it makes him miss the weight of her, the warmth of her.