|They sit side by side on the swing, close but not touching; he frowns and glares through reading glasses perched precariously on the bridge of his nose at a sheaf of papers on his lap, a stark contrast against the midnight darkness of his robes; she gazes into the distance, a dreamy look on her face as she witnesses the slow, gradual darkening of the sky, the play of blues and purples and reds against the whiteness of the clouds, pretty but somehow...insubstantial. Shallow, a mere prologue to something deeper, darker -- which, even now, she imagines, the jewels of starlight against the velvet darkness, and the thrill she has, the memories she holds, of nights, of whispered words never meant to be spoken in the starkness of day, of promises made with his eyes, dark with passion, as he whispered...it is this that comes to her as she eyes the lengthening shadows of the lamp posts, stretching into the distance, contemplative now.
As the last vestiges of pastel fade from heavens now simply gray and tired, she reaches, a little hesitantly, to gently clasp his free hand, the one that is impatiently drumming a rhythm on his parchment as he continues to scowl.
He looks up, then, an expression of slight surprise on his features. "What is it...?"
She does not pause in tracing unseen figures on his palm, only replies, gently, "I'm writing my name on your palm, so your hand will always remember me."
He raises an eyebrow skeptically and comments rather drily, "How dreadfully sentimental." Yet the look in his eyes softens, and a hint of a smile teases his lips as he looks at her.
She smiles a little sadly at him, then lowers her head such that the expression in her eyes is hooded, "Will you remember me?"
He looks a little confused for a moment, thrown off by the sudden question. "What do you mean...?"
"I meant what I said. Will you remember me?"
Now he sense a kind of desperation in her voice, even though her face remains shadowed.
Still confused but somehow sensing the importance of his answer, he pauses, then speaks a single word in a low voice. "Yes."
She finally looks up, then, and he is taken aback as he spots the faint shimmer of tears in sapphire depths. He moves a little and takes her into his arms as it is the only logical thing to do.
The sheaf of parchment fell, forgotten, to the ground as the two embraced, a pool of light, valiantly resisting the encroaching darkness...
A/N: Daisy chain :) Could be said to be partly attributed to Harry Potter, or at least "he" is :) Also my fixation with the term "Miss me?" :) If it reminds you of any particular pairing, HP or otherwise, tell me, 'k? And please. I want your honest opinion :)