GRINDELDORE ~ Of love and other demons

Enchantment

{Year 1899, Godric's Hollow; Albus POV }

I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.

(Charles Dickens – Great Expectations)

~ Enchantment ~

"First day of love never comes back,
a passionate hour's never a wasted one.
The violin, the poet's hand
every thawing heart plays your theme with care."

This is how you like to make love.

While the rain beats lightly on the roof and the room is barely illuminated by the faint glow of a candle.

You woke up at the same time, when the ticking of the drops against the glass suddenly became more insistent. There was no need to speak – it's never necessary among you, never. You got lost in each other's eyes, once again, and your hands moved in unison, as if they were animated by their own, free, indomitable will. In silence, motionless, fingers intertwined, you surrendered by the call of a slow, gentle, deep kiss – a warm breath dissolved on bare skin, a caress so vivid and intimate that it left you shaken, breathless, incredulous.

Kiss me, keep kissing me. Don't quit, don't quit, for no reason in the world, don't quit.

Velvety, docile, trembling under your touch, his lips open – they welcome you, they absolve you – and offer themselves with the immediate burst of a rosebud reaching out towards the first morning sun.

Wait, wait, there's no hurry, it's just us, only us, the world doesn't exist.

You move away a little. His irises shine and even in the dark they chain you. Golden locks swarm on the pillows and frame his white, fine, bright face.

So beautiful. You're so beautiful.

He looks at you and smiles – he looks for you, he provokes you, he demands you, he doesn't have to ask, he doesn't need it, you are already his.

You touch the silk of his arms, of his elegant shoulders, of his sinuous and perfect neck.

Quiet, sweetness, enchantment. Desire. In the air only the echo of your broken, imprudent sighs.

His ruby ​​mouth is the apple of the Garden of Eden – and Gellert is the Tempting Snake, his coils wrap your body and your senses, you feel them around you, on you, branches of twigs, leaves, sanguineous petals.

His breath. Ocean wave breaking on the rocks, impetuous and magnificent. White foam, brackish breeze. Aphrodite born from the sea.

You want him.

You want him madly, intensely.

You move on him, inside him, who is hot and wonderful and he dances with you, he clings to your tense hips, he squeezes you strong, strong, strong between his thighs and he hurts you – oh, God, no, no, no! It isn't true, it's pure pleasure – immense, irrepressible pleasure – it's ferocious drunkenness, otherworldly fire that you feel flowing and roaring in your veins. You are one thing – now, always –, one spirit, one body, one heart.

The rain falls, falls, thin, it doesn't stop and floods you, it overwhelms you, it protects you, a trusted and discreet witness of your love. It whispers fairy tales of lovers, before you, between the same damp sheets and unmade clothes forgotten in a corner. It tells of sleepless nights, of groans suffocated with fury between the teeth, of happy and crazy lovers like you, bound like you, desperate like you.

But nobody is like you.

«I love you».

His eyes tied to yours.

«I love you».

As in twin mirrors that are reflected endlessly [1].

Let's start again, my blue?[2]

Dawn is still far away.

"Kiss while your lips are still red,
while he's still silent
rest while bosom is still untouched, unveiled.
Hold another hand while the hand's still without a tool,
drown into eyes while they're still blind.
Love while the night still hides the withering dawn."

[1] Joyce Carol Oates, My sister, my love.

[2] In my headcanon, Gellert calls Albus my blue (from the poem "My blue", by Ghiannis Ritsos: My blue - you said - \\ my blue.\\ I am.\\ And even more than the sky.\\ Wherever you are \\ I surround you.), and Albus calls Gellert bredhu (= brother: from M.Z.Bradley Darkover series).

NoA:

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Thanks to all!

Soundtrack: While your lips are still red, Nightwish.

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