“Stop.Stop,”hesays,voietrembling.“Youdon’tgettosayitfirst.”
Thethumbstops.ThereisonfusioninPotter’svoie.“What?”
DraogripsPotter’shandbak.Itfeelsright,Potter’shandinhis.“Givemeamoment,”hesays,andit’salmostaplea.Hedoesn’twanttheirfirstkisstotasteliketears.Hetakesadeep,shakyinhale,andmustersthee.“GivemeamomentandthenI’llkissyou.”
Asharpintakeofbreath.Andthenanausatory“…Youdon’tsaythatandexpetmetowaitamoment.”
AndDraoughsagain,giddyandwarm,andhewipeshiseyeswithhisotherhand,theonehitbythehex,anditstillhurts,thatone,butit’snothingomparedtofinally,finallygettingthis.
“Goddamn,Potter,youreallyhavenopatiene.”
AndheswallowsallthehesitationdownhisthroatandpullsPotterdownforakiss.
DearHarry,
sidermesurprisedtoseeapitureofyouandmysoninanalleywayinHogsmeade.
Iamwritingtospareyouthesufferingofwaboutmythoughtsonthematter.
Iwouldloveitifyououldjoinusfortheholidays.
Love,
Narissa
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