Harry Potter One Shots

For You

I would fall from grace...

The sun was streaming through the curtains in the Ravenclaw common room, and students were stretched out on couches, turning the pages of their novels with a flick of their wands, or sitting in pools of sunlight with friends, chattering aimlessly.

Up in the higher realms of the tower, a seventh year girl and a boy were conversing away from everyone, holed up in the girl's dormitory, a sealing charm on the door for privacy. The girl, Gloria, sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the desk she shared with her dorm mates. Her short chestnut hair, usually straightened immaculately, was sticking up haphazardly and forming tiny ringlets around her face. She wore glasses, which many people would be surprised to see, as she only took her contacts out right before she went to bed. Her pink lipstick was smeared around her rosebud lips, and her mascara had become mere black smudges around her dark brown eyes, but she looked as pretty as always.

She owed her messy hair and ruined makeup to the boy opposite her on her bed. Just minutes ago, they had been a tangle of limbs, and he had been pressing kisses tenderly down her neck. His name was Otis, and his hair didn't look any messier than usual (though that wasn't saying much), but there was a freeness in the way he lay sprawled across her duvet. She never saw him as relaxed as he was around her, and it made her love him even more every time she caught him at moments like this. She didn't want to ruin the mood; the lovely peacefulness this sunny Sunday had brought them. But she had been avoiding this for days.

"There is an issue," Gloria said.

Otis, who looked almost asleep, grunted and opened one eye to show her he was listening.

"The girls want to know why I didn't go with them to Hogsmeade this weekend."

"That doesn't sound like an issue," Otis replied. "I think you should come and canoodle with me on your bed instead of talking about this issueless issue."

Gloria couldn't help but giggle at his choice of wording. Sometimes, she looked at Otis and saw what everyone else saw - a goofy, gangly teenage boy with far too much hair and not nearly enough suave. It still amazed her (though she would never tell him this) that when his lips were on hers, when his body was pressed up against her own, the whole world fell away and she was filled with a burning passion. Obviously, she would much rather be 'canoodling' on her bed with him at the present moment. But that would have to wait (and besides, they had probably done enough canoodling for one day).

"I've run out of excuses, Otis," she said. "I ran out of excuses about ten excuses ago, actually."

Her boyfriend got up reluctantly and perched next to her on the desk, swinging his legs to match hers. They both swung their legs far too often; it was a nervous habit.

Otis tilted his head so he was looking at her out of the corner of his eye, and gave her one of his goofy smiles. These particular smiles took over his whole mouth, and made his eyes close up so tightly his whole face was basically a smile.

"We could," he said, never once breaking his beautiful smile, "and this is a wild idea so I'll understand if you're shocked. We could-" he paused for effect and raised his eyebrows meaningfully. "We could just tell people about us."

He shrugged like it was no big deal, as if to say "no pressure, I'm cool with whatever and I'll love you no matter what". When he squinted at her, waiting for her to reply with the answer he expected, she just wanted to pull him close and kiss him on that spot on his head that made him smile against her chest. She also wanted to retrieve his glasses from under the bed, where they'd somehow ended up after their afternoon activities. She didn't do either of these things. Instead, she said what she always said when this topic was brought up (never by her, always by him, always with the uttermost love and care).