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His feet pattered on the creases of the dilapidated stone floor. The floor on which a variety of pairs of feet pranced on. Walked past everyday, without acknowledging its worn out feature.
Yet his focus was not on the unconsidered cement. Instead he gazed at his hand. His hand whose fingers curled around hers.
A small smile flitted across his face as the joy of being near her erupted from the pit of his stomach. From the corner of his eye he saw her blushful cheeks twitch out in a smile that mirrored his own.
Soon the slow sound of heels clicking against the gray cement came to a halt. The corridor had come to an end. His fingers let go of hers with great weary.
They craved to be entwined with her own again. But he knew they could not. At least not yet.
"We are here." She told him.
Yes he knew that already. But what exactly was here to her? Did she lace her words with some hidden meaning? A meaning that was only meant for him? For him to solely understand?
"Harry it's time for you to go."
Perhaps it was, he reasoned. His shoulders slumped in defeat and grasped his firebolt tighter. As if his grip on the smooth handle could diminish the thought of wanting to caress her slender hand.
He carried on until he reached the grand open wooden doors. The ones who exposed the scenery from outside. Where he was supposed to go.
He turned around and saw her watching him. As if waiting for him to do something. Some action that would allow him to leave from her sight.
She waved that creamy hand of hers slightly. The jingles of her charm bracelet clinked together.
It was not a good bye. Simply a see you later.
He walked away.
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She dragged her feet towards the Quidditch pitch. Where hoards of screaming fans united together and created quite a frenzy. She felt quite out of place in this reunion.
For her joy was not centered on this vulgar sport. She only came out for him.
To watch him gracefully fly around with his windswept hair and flushed cheeks. To see him stoop in earth shattering dives that made her heart clench in fear. Where in the end his long fingers grasped the golden ornament. Where his fingers pinched the fluttering wings that demanded to be let go.
But he wouldn't.
He would raise his arm up high. And let the awaiting fans scream themselves hoarse with glee.
His ear reaching smile would carry across the stadium. With a little hope buried deep within, she wished dearly that the smile that tugged at her heart strings was aimed to her. A secret smile that was his message only for her.
Like an ice skater would glide on the glistening ice and carve out her lovers initials. Their initials would be shown in the meaning behind that paramount smile.
That was his display of affection for her.
She would be held in this illusion every time as her feet skipped to him. And ran as fast as they could so he would see her first.
So she would lock eyes with his joyful emerald colored orbs. Where her heart would quiver in excitement and her stomach make erratic flops.
But their stares would only last for so long. The others would take her stupor to their advantage and rush past her. Eventually block her path to him. And interrupt their staring contest.
She would then watch him on top of the cheering crowds and wave her hand gently. He would turn around and mimic her move until he was carried inside the castle's shelter.
Her eyes would then close tightly. Her mind furiously analyzing this instance to the other situations. But in the end, they all turned out to be the same. The same as they were that last Quidditch match to the one preceding it.
Tears would form around the corner of her eyes. She would choke out her wishes of what she craved. But she knew it was hopeless that he would do more than wave at her.
Or hold her hand before the match.
She once asked him why he did that. Her curiosity at his comforting gesture could not be quenched in asking this question.
He spaced out and told her he felt safe when he held her hand. Her questions multiplied but soon disappeared when anguish was written across his _expression.
Only then she understood that what happened in the past visited him every now and then. She said nothing more but cradled his head in her hands and nodded her head.
If he felt safe with her, she would not deny him leading her across the dank corridor and tugging at her hand.
Inwardly she felt pleased that this became a ritual for them.
So every practice or match he would place his hand over her own as she did her homework in the common room. His touch would make her quill halt over the parchment she would be writing on. The quill would be left to drop as she placed her other hand over his.
He would then walk a meter from her and hold his hand out.
An invitation he always proposed to her.
She would let her legs bend in a mild curtsey. As she played along with his playful game.
When she would take his hand, the feeling of accusing stares from the people residing in the common room would invade her.
But she learned to ignore them as she concentrated on his scent.
An aroma she could only classify as him.
"Hermione! Look over there!"
The screaming made her frantically look around the pitch. Her eyes automatically came in contact with his.
As if he could feel her gaze on him, he turned around and held his hand that grasped the struggling snitch.
This is for you.
Her arm extended to its extent with its palm up. She wanted him to know that she accepted it. A smile broke out across
his face, that she couldn't help but mimic it.
The winds blew across from her that made her hair whip around. Yet her position did not change.
She saw that he was coming towards her. Slowly she withdrew her arm.
She could see the questioning in his eyes. But she merely shook her head and gestured to where the rest of the confused team was.
He chuckled and kept his position near her still. She raised her eyebrows in disbelief as she couldn't imagine that he wouldn't celebrate with them right at the moment.
"I want to be with you first." His whisper barely left from his mouth to her ear.
Her body leaned to him, as if her body wanted to be as close to him as humanly possible.
She breathed out slowly to try to calm her pounding heart. A smile still present upon her face, she dangled her body even more from the ledge.
His chin rose up slightly and his lips pouted in position of what she and him longed to do.
Her eyelids closed in pure bliss as his lips wavered under her own.
She could care less about the gasps heard behind her and the blinding flashes from a camera.
For right now the world only consisted of him and her. Nobody else.
11/18/03- A challenge from Portkey "House cup/Kiss". This one goes out to Victor who presented the challenge
and Nitya who betaed.