Emerson Wilmore was an exemplary Ravenclaw student, known for her unwavering dedication to academics and an unyielding moral compass. However, things took a twisted and deviated turn in her life after her boyfriend, Cedric Diggory, was murdered by L...
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The sunlight crept through the narrow slits of the Astronomy Tower, casting soft golden lines across the stone floor and the thick blanket tangled around their bodies. The morning was still, hushed, and sacred, like even the castle itself knew not to intrude on the intimate moment between Emerson and Mattheo.
High above it all, in a cocoon of warmth and stillness, Mattheo stirred from the floor of the Astronomy Tower.
He blinked slowly, the ache in his body a distant hum compared to the memory of the night before. Emerson was curled up beside him, tucked into his chest with one bare leg hooked lazily over his waist and her hand pressed just above his heart. His arm was wrapped around her waist protectively, a conjured blanket pulled up just enough to keep her warm. She was breathing softly, strands of her brown hair spread over the blanket like threads of gold.
He didn't move for a long time. He just looked at her, as though this version of her was something precious. The faint crease between her brows. The steady rise and fall of her breathing. Her lips parted ever so slightly, soft and peaceful. She looked nothing like the girl who once snapped at him in a corridor or rolled her eyes at his arrogance months ago. She looked like a dream: his dream.
Mattheo's hand gently smoothed down the back of his Quidditch jersey that wrapped around her frame, tracing invisible lines, and then moved to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Wake up, darling," Mattheo whispered hoarsely. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I want to look at you."
Emerson stirred, her body pressing slightly closer into his before her lashes fluttered open. Her Hazel eyes, still fogged with sleep, blinked slowly at him.
He smiled, gentle and boyish. Gods, he looked so perfect first thing in the morning. "There you are, Emie. Good morning."
She blinked again, her voice raspy and soft. "Hi..."
He grinned, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. "You slept through sunrise. Lazy thing."
"Mmm," Emerson groaned, burying her face into his chest, her voice muffled. "Too warm to move."
"Good," He wrapped his arms tighter around her, one hand stroking slow and languid circles into the bare skin of her hip. "Don't move. Just stay like this."
She yawned quietly, the sound muffled against his chest. "Mm. What time is it?"
"Too early," Mattheo murmured, brushing a stray piece of hair from her face. "But I couldn't sleep anymore... Not with you lying on me like this."
Her head lifted slightly, just enough to look at him. Her cheeks were flushed from the warmth of their shared sleep, her eyes a little puffy, but she looked radiant to him. She always did. Especially now, glowing like the morning sun. She could light up an entire room.
