Unlikely Companions

Chapter 21 New Beginnings

"Sometimes," he said. "I think about that morning at Grimmauld Place."

Mathilda turned around, looking away from the window she had been standing by. It was the next morning after their conversation with the Professor, and she looked as if she had spent the night thinking about it. Her dress was simple, far from that she had worn the night before.

"Why?"

"All of our problems in London began there."

"You're not wrong," she said, shrugging. "But I don't understand the point of this."

"My family wasn't good to me either."

"Did they cast you out, too?"

"No," he said.

He extended his hand, letting his palm face upwards. It was scarred, mangled, and it made her insides churn. She moved her hand over his, covering it tenderly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"What for?"

"I don't know. I just am."

They stayed quiet for a few seconds, until her fingers intertwined with his, and they held each other for a bit. Like he had seen Newt do the night before with Tina.

"Thank you," he said, nervous. "For understanding."

"That's what I'm here for, right?"

He hadn't realized how close they were, how much they had approached while they spoke. Suddenly, however, they were face to face. And his only impulse was to bring her even closer.

Credence slowly raised his free hand, pushed some hair behind her ear, and held her cheek with it. And, he was kissing her – his lips had connected with hers softly, barely brushing them.

It felt good, he realized. The closeness, the feeling, her.

But, to his surprise – since he didn't think it could get better – she was kissing him back. It was like getting a good taste of sunshine after a long winter, warm and pleasant, safe and sweet, lovely from every direction. Mathilda felt like that next to him, as if the sun itself had come to warm him exclusively. He wanted to kiss her forever, to never be separated from her, and to make her as happy as she was making him – but he needed to breathe.

Credence could still feel her, breathing tremulously in front of him. He kept his eyes closed, afraid that he had misread, that she was upset. Her hands closed around his cheeks, the pads of her thumbs brushing softly over his cheekbones. And her lips were on his again, making him smile.

He wanted to laugh, to scream, shout, and spin her around, but she was kissing him, tangling her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. And he never wanted to stop kissing her.

It was her who broke that kiss, searching for air to breathe. He chuckled, daring to open his eyes a little bit. She was grinning, her eyes were twinkling.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "It's more than okay."

"Can I continue kissing you?"

"Yes," she said, throwing caution to the wind and leaning towards him for another kiss.

He caught her half way, enjoying the small happy sounds that she made every once in a while. It was the first time in months that he felt so light, so carefree. And he was going to hold on to it for as long as he could.