This is how it began once, with a trail of feather light kisses and one palm pressed into the back and another to your cheek. Floating, they called it; you were floating. You've only experienced the feeling once. When doing magic for the first time. There have been muggle movies and television shows about out of body experiences but you're floating now and you think the writers have had it all wrong. You think they've never experienced such an action because if they did, they would know there wouldn't be enough time to fill the airtime.
The tent is white and dimly lit. You would prefer an actual room, but you can't always get what you want, given that you both are on the run now. You make the mistake of blinking once and replacing one face with another's but then you shake your head, silently apologizing for the singular mistake you've made.
He kisses you and you forget that there was anyone else.
It's always been about other boys that you've wanted, rather his best friend that you've always wanted, and it's always about the other girls he was involved with, Ginny, but one day you stick out your hand, and you're surprised who you find grabbing on. He grabs on and fingers interlace, and you blink the tears making a home on your eyelashes because somebody wants you and somebody loves you; even overall when you're a mess of books and grades and you have a tendency to be rather arrogant when stressed. But he wants you and he loves you.
So he sticks out his hand and you find yourself content to tag along, to stand back from everything and from the people who've always disliked you. You're content to stay quiet and forget your words; you've used them often enough that they've become unnecessary. He'd prefer if you took up the attention but you smile and nod and hover in the background anyway, you've done this all before and it's just motions now.
He says those three words first and you feel something taking root inside your heart, a small feeling nestling beside it whispering I am here, I love you. Three words and it was as though it transformed into a bandage big enough to take up the entire space in their tent. You hear three words and it's almost as if you can feel yourself healing easily, as if these past few months haven't happened and you haven't wasted a good fraction of your life worrying or crying, crying a river wide enough to drown; the pool of loneliness always threatening at your feet.
You don't say it back and he kisses your forehead because he knows you mean it anyway; feelings just have always been difficult for you, what with a war going on, or no one around. You have your solitude but even you are aware of how ridiculous and stressful life has become. Besides you've said it one hundred times before. He knows.
There's something to be said for happiness but you've never known it first hand; it's elusive and despite your best intentions, it's always managed to evade your grasp. You've had contentment and sadness, and an anger mixed with sorrow and regret but you've never had happiness in its purest form.
are you sure, he asked.
i've never been more sure, you replied.
And it's true, you're surprised at how easily sure becomes true.
His hands brush your hair back like he sees you, really sees you. you've heard the songs and you've read all the books, you've seen it in all the muggle movies and they are such cliché, muggle clichés, but you wish on 11:11 and you never step on cracks in the sidewalk, and once in a while, in the middle of an ordinary (magic filled) life; actually, scratch that, in the middle of a magical chaotic life where everything is messy and most of the pieces have turned jagged enough to cut, life gives you something to be happy about.
you fall in love once and it lasts forever.