AN/Disclaimer: This is actually one of the later chapters of the main story I’m writing – The Third Man, but I had it on my PC for quite some time now and I thought it might do as a single one-shot (hopefully a bit romantic and not too awfully cheesy :) story as well. Especially as right now I don’t have enough time and peace to continue the main story, though I hope to post next chapter within a month...
So if you like to read this one rather later, it will appear in The Third Man, though I can’t tell when exactly, it will probably take some time to reach that point of the story. In the Buffy-verse it’s set during the season three, some time after Christmas.
You won't find much of a cross-over here as it is, it plays merely in the Sunnydale-High-library and... let's say it's probably rather a Giles-fangirls kind of thing :)
Hope you enjoy anyway, I do not own Giles (sadly :)). I would really, really appreciate any reviews this time as this is my first attempt of writing some “hot” stuff and I could use some critics and comments that would help me at continuing my main ffic (which is now stuck exactly because I feel very unsure about composing the “love-making-chapter” :))) so please, if you have a few moments to spare, leave a comment, I’d be very glad.
Helen was walking towards the library, wondering a little about what the Scoobies might have been working on. Willow sounded very mysterious, but couldn’t or wouldn’t tell her anything, only that she was to come to the library at exactly 8pm.
In front of the entrance she paused and frowning slightly she peered through the small round window inside. There seemed to be no one in there. The lights were on, a few books were lying around the table, but none of the Scoobies were anywhere to be seen.
“Hm,” she murmured to herself, before finally swinging the door and entering.
“Hello?” She spoke as she was slowly walking towards the large table in the middle of the library, throwing curious looks both to her left and right.
“You’re late.” She got scared and turned around at the sharp, icy sound of his voice. He must have been standing behind the door, she thought. His expression was – as she had almost got used to it during the past few weeks since she had returned – stern, impenetrable, he was looking at her in the same way – his eyes cold and strict, his lips pressed tight, no trace of a smile or even some sign of being pleased to see her, and that she was back. Once again, for a split of moment she wondered whether he’d ever forgive her for having him left then. The words of his father during their short meeting after Christmas echoed in her mind: “I wish you good luck, Ms. Thornton. My son’s not forgiving. He tries to understand. What he understands, he can excuse, it doesn’t need forgiveness... For your sake as well as for my own though I wish that he’d forgive you. That might leave me with some hope that perhaps one day I myself would come into his good graces again...”
It’s been weeks since her return and he was still as bitter, as merciless as upon the first day when she paid him a visit. The only difference was that he now didn’t talk to her at all.
“I’m sorry,” she gave a nervous reply, feeling like a little child that had been naughty.
“Take a seat,” he said, it was an order, and Helen didn’t dare to disobey. Without thinking much she hurried towards the first chair and sat down, hearing his footsteps following her closely.
“Close your eyes,” he commanded, and when she turned at him confused, he repeated strictly, “Close them!”
Intimidated as she always got when he was speaking in this tone, she didn’t have time to think how odd this request was or what actually was going on. She closed her eyes, and heard a soft rustle, then winced a little as a pair of hands touched her hair and her temples and she felt a piece of fabric tying her eyes.
Then footsteps, going away and a short moment of silence, a quiet click-noise as if some switcher had been turned off, then footsteps approaching her again without a word. She heard him come to a halt and could feel his presence somewhere very close. She squirmed, her heart began to beat faster, it made her uncomfortable that she couldn’t see his face.
“Now get up,” he spoke, more quietly this time, and hadn’t her heart been throbbing now fast and loud, she would have noticed that he sounded softer this time. At the same time she felt his hand grasping hers and gently pulling her up. He pushed the chair aside, then carefully led her towards the small staircase that led to the racks in the back of the library.
“Careful now, there are seven steps,” he said, helping her to ascend.
Helen still didn’t dare to speak, or ask or make any sound, she was thinking too hard, what was going on and what sort of a bizarre joke she’s just been made part of and whether this was Giles’ idea of an appropriate punishment suiting her demeanour. She didn’t even notice that they stopped at last, only when he let go of her hand. Then she heard a scratching noise and soon afterwards she could perceive the faint smell of a burned match. Now she was getting more and more disturbed, having no idea what this all meant.
She was just about to open her mouth and ask, when again his hands brushed her hair as they undid the scarf that had been tying her eyes. She turned at him immediately, her eyes wide open, she looked a little scared.
“I don’t remember allowing you to open them just yet,” he said, and though he was trying still to sound demanding and stern, the slight trace of warmth in his voice would give away his pretense.
Helen shook her head shortly, “Oh, sorry,” and closed her eyes again, and Giles had to suppress a smile. He cleared his throat.
“Right, you may open them now.”
She hesitated, then slowly opened her left eye first, then the other, looking at him anxiously, as if checking whether she was still doing everything right.
Giles’ eyes were smiling, although he was still trying to preserve at least some last appearances of the strict, bitter and hurt man, whose impression he had been doing so well during the past weeks. But the corners of his tightly pressed lips were twitching. He motioned with his hand that she should sit, and only now Helen took a look at her surroundings. They were at the back of the library, standing between tall racks of books, the lamps had been switched of, but warm rays of light had been dancing upon the shelves, making large shadows of the two people in there and creating a very peculiar, intimate atmosphere. She dropped her eyes to see where the light was coming from, and gasped.
On the floor, on the not very large space between two racks there laid a thick beige cosy looking blanket, literally strewn with rose petals; behind it, in a corner on the wall was a record player and on it two red candles lit, their flames dancing happily. Next to them stood two glasses and a bottle of red wine, her favourite, as she realized immediately.
She was about to turn back around to face him again, when two hands grasped her at her shoulders from behind her, preventing her from turning around and right afterwards she sensed his breath on her neck, goose-bumps running up and down her whole body, as he quietly whispered into her ear: “I forgive you.”
She had been dreaming of this, imagining him saying those exact words, yet as she heard them now, she still couldn’t believe it actually happened.
Her heart was beating too fast, the sense of him standing so close behind her, touching her, was making her feel dizzy, his presence, everything about him actually, was – just as it had been all those months ago before she left – captivating, the sound of his voice enchanting, his touch, as he now glided his hands from her shoulders downwards to hold her hands, was electrifying, she felt excitement raising inside her and had to close her eyes for a moment. When his hands let go of hers, she opened her eyes a little alarmed, only to gasp as he suddenly placed his left hand on her waist and gently pushed her forwards, whispering now in her other ear: “And in case you’re hungry...” She made a few steps towards where the record player stood and behind one of the racks a small table came to her view, set with two small plates and a large one in the middle, full of all sorts of fruit and cheeses.
“And I could always order some mexicans, should this not be enough,” he spoke and Helen finally turned around at him, speechless, amazed, still a little incredulous, afraid that she might wake every moment from this beautiful dream, where his eyes were beaming at her, a faint, fond smile playing on his lips. She opened her mouth at last to say something, when something occurred to him and he straightened up. “Wait, something’s missing,” he said, walked past her to the record player and turned on the record that was in.
The first bars of Purcell’s Fairy Queen
almost made her cry now. She was moved, and knowing only too well that she didn’t deserve this was making it all the more difficult to stay calm. And as he got up and turned to her his shining, pleased face, she feared she’d lose it, she already felt her eyes getting glassy and the huge chunk building in her throat. He didn’t seem to have noticed, and came to stand right in front of her. She gulped, then tried to clear her throat, which sounded more like an odd whimper.
“Is something wrong?” He asked, the smile vanished from his face and he looked more concerned, uneasy. “Is it-uh... too loud perhaps? Or should I turn it off? You don’t like the music? I’ve brought some other as well.”
Helen shook her head vehemently, and grasped the front of his jacket with both hands to stop him as he was about to go past her back to the record player, but she was still unable to speak. He looked down at her, taken aback.
Giles saw that she was fighting her tears, softly pulling on his jacket, trying to collect herself to say something, but couldn’t. He took her hands in his, then said seriously. “I’m sorry, maybe this wasn’t-uh... such a good idea-“
She shook her head even more now and laughed a little, not taking her watery eyes off his chest. “N-no, no, it’s-eh... it’s wonderful, it’s... it was a beautiful idea, a-and I thank you for it...”, she spoke, then laughed again, “more than I-I can say right now,” she said jokingly, pointing at her throat with one hand, wishing the huge ball inside would dissolve at last and she could speak properly again.
Giles smiled, still a little unsure, having doubts whether he should have prepared all this.
She raised her head, looked him in the eyes, took a deep breath and yet again, though she had said it many times she felt that she had to say it this once more: “I am sorry,” her voice was firm at last.
He held her arm and with the other he brushed a string of hair from her face, smiling in a more confident way again.
“I know I hardly deserve to be forgiven, so thank you, this... means...,” she looked around them again, at the candles, the blanket, the small table, but he interrupted her:
“Forgiveness is not done because people deserve it, it’s done because they need it,” he spoke in his velvetian voice that was always making it hard to listen, because the mere sound of it was filling her with delight, anticipation, excitement, desire... “And I needed to forgive you,” he continued quietly, looked her deep in the eyes, then lowered his face towards hers, “because I need you,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes, her reason already seemed to have bid farewell and left the place for her senses, as his lips found her half-opened mouth and he kissed her, slowly, softly, as if offering her a small peek she would have to settle for for a while, but already making her longing for more, later, soon.
“I missed you,” she said, when their lips parted. He didn’t answer, but indicated towards the table with the food.
“Uhm, thanks, I-eh... I’m not really hungry right now, perhaps later,” she said.
“Alright, then, please sit down,” he pointed at the blanket full of rose petals and when she hesitated, he hurried to say: “It is more comfortable than it looks like.”
She nodded, then finally sat down, taking off her shoes, while he went to the record player yet again to get the two wine glasses.
“Here,” he offered her one, then sat down himself. Helen was watching him and his ghastly giant shadow that the light of the two candles behind them was creating.
“A toast?” He asked, his face gleaming.
“To forgiveness?” She suggested, again the talk with Henry Giles popped into her mind. But she would tell him about it later.
Giles gave a short nod, fixing her with his eyes, they clinked their glasses and took a first sip.
Then she turned more serious. “I feel I owe you-eh... an explanation,” she began. It had been impossible to talk to him during the past weeks, simply because he wouldn’t. He had been hurt, must have felt bitter, betrayed, so he was doing his best to make her feel his pain as well, ignoring her with such rigorous ostentation, that every time they were in the same room he – his not-taking-any-notice-of-her
attitude, his cold looks and occasional pointy remarks – made her feel so miserable about herself, so that she felt like she was the worst, the most horrible person in the world.
“No, you don’t have to-,” he said, but she shook her head firmly, determined to tell him.
And so she talked, starting with the nightmares she had been having for weeks, months even since the encounter with Rodolphus at Giles’ apartment, nightmares where horrible things were happening to him, feeding her anxieties, the growing fear that something terrible would have happened to him sooner or later, if she had stayed. She told him about Márkos and her long, tiresome, but very salutary conversations with him which finally made her see things in another way... made her recognize that the world wasn’t evolving around her and that bad things would always happen to people she cared for, no matter whether she was around them or not, mostly because those people had a perilous occupation of their own which had nothing to do with her... All in all after a while Márkos made her regret that she had left Sunnydale, and Giles.
“But now you’re back, and that’s all that matters,” he said, his eyes were reflecting his sincere happiness.
The record stopped playing, so Giles got up to change it and refilled their glasses as well.
“Once again, I’m sorry I went away, leaving you when you...” She said when he sat down next to her again.
“Shh,” he whispered to silence her, then – taking her quite by surprise – kissed her, putting just a little bit more passion into it than at the first time. Her heart did the familiar, pleasant jolt, she responded rather hesitantly at first, kissing his lips almost carefully, as if she was to re-discover them after the long time, to explore them again, bit by bit only to find out that they felt exactly as delightful as she’d remember, even more. She let his tongue in at last.
They were kissing as if they couldn’t get enough of each other, Giles was softly pushing her backwards. She was fumbling with one hand for some halt behind her back, but instead threw over the full glass of wine. The noise made them both wince a little and they paused, Helen turned around to see the damage, then murmured: “Reparo, abstergo
,” and at the same time the smashed glass became a whole again and the spilt wine disappeared.
Giles looked a little bewildered from the glass back at her, wanted to say something, but this time she silenced him when she pressed another kiss on his lips, taking his face into her hands. He didn’t protest, and laid his hand on her thigh, then slowly began to pick on her skirt to pull it upwards so that he could fondle her skin underneath at last. Helen meanwhile was playing with his tie and trying to unbutton his shirt without breaking the kiss. He noticed that she was struggling a little with all the layers of clothes he was wearing, so he took off his jacket at last and untied his tie.
“Thanks,” she said breathless as he leant over her to kiss her neck. For a short moment a strange mixture of pain and an almost unearthly happiness overcame him – the thought of how much he had been missing it for the past months hurt, but the fact that here she was again, in flesh and blood, all the curves and lines of her body exactly as he had remembered, the skin on her neck just as silken, soft and pale, the faint goose-bumps appearing exactly at kissing the same spots as before, that put him into a state of such joy, happiness, ecstasy... He looked her in the eyes for a brief moment, they were sparkling with delight, watching him, her lips were opened a bit, formed into a faint smile. He put his hands now around her waist and she hers around his neck, then – while placing another kiss on her lips, a tender, almost careful one – he gently laid her on the floor.
He was laying upon her, leaning on his elbows so that he wouldn’t put his whole weight on her, his fingers were stroking her ears and her cheeks, while he was lavishing gentle kisses everywhere on her forehead, her eyelids, her temples, her nose, her chin, only to end up on her lips. She had her eyes closed, surrendered herself entirely to him. Every single tender touch of his lips on her face was causing sudden waves of heat spreading inside her, and made her wish for more.
Without really realizing or thinking much her hands grabbed for his shirt and began to struggle yet again with the stubborn buttons on it. Giles heard her whisper impatiently “Recludo
”, that was followed by seven quiet pop-sounds and he felt his shirt getting opened by some invisible force, then Helen’s short, disappointed, almost resigned moan, when her hands found an undershirt beneath it, instead of his bare skin that she was more and more eager to touch with every new kiss from him. He smiled to himself, then pulled back a little.
“We’re not getting impatient, are we?” He asked teasingly.
She gave him a pretended annoyed glare. “Well, no, but someone
here is dressed up like he’s leading an Everest-expedition,” she nagged.
Again Giles smiled amused and leant back down to her to silence her with a kiss. “Well, you’ll just have to take your time... it-uh... rises the appetite,” he whispered into her ear, and Helen shivered. It was hard to not lose control.
“I could-eh... make it very-eh... quick, you know,” she replied, panting. Giles furrowed his eyebrows at those words a little, but didn’t stop kissing her neck. “One spell... rip your clothes off, I’d-eh... mend them afterwards...”
He straightened up now, looking at her incredulously: “Now how would that be a fair play? Where would that leave me?”
“No, absolutely not.” He said in a strict tone. “Spells are forbidden.”
She looked resigned, and sighed. “Ok.... But if I rip apart all your shirts, don’t complain. I won’t flick them back together.”
“I don’t care,” he whispered and already began to open her blouse. The gentle touch of his fingers, working the buttons from the collar downwards were causing her a pleasant tickle, with each button he seemed to have taken a little more time to open it, thus prolonging the touch, he knew how to tease her. “By the way – what’s with all the magic? How comes you don’t need a wand?” He asked suddenly.
She sat up, pushed him aside to switch their positions, and murmured “Later”. He was lying now on his back, a little surprised by this sudden initiative as she climbed up to sit on his thighs. She grasped for the belt on his cord trousers and began to struggle with it. After a few futile attempts she threw a stealthy glance at Giles, he was beaming at her. Discingo
, her inner voice said in her mind, and the belt immediately loosened up. Quickly she looked at Giles whether he’d noticed anything, but it didn’t seem so. She pretended to clumsily and after an appropriate fight having opened the belt on her own, then quickly undid the button and unzipped the trousers. She pulled his shirts out of them and Giles noticed her satisfied expression just before she placed her hands on his bare skin at last. He felt nice and warm, well, no wonder with all the layers wrapped around him
, she thought amused. Her hands were stroking his belly, drawing tender circles upon the naked skin, slowly moving upwards, pulling the two shirts along. Without really thinking, as she was deepened in and fully enjoying the touch, her mind was already planning ahead and made the next step as it thought – Pando
and there Giles’ undershirt suddenly went into pieces, ripped apart in the middle, finally exposing his chest. Her eyes widened as in a happy surprise, her expression resembled that one of a little child that was just offered a large piece of his most favourite cake.
Giles now pushed himself up to his elbows and looked at her suspiciously. “Are you – by any chance – cheating? I thought I said no spells,” he said, only half earnest.
Unwillingly she took her gaze away from his chest to look him in the eyes. It took her a few seconds to focus on what he’s been saying too. “... Did-eh... you hear me cast a spell?” She asked trying to sound as innocent as possible.
He looked at her from above the frame of his glasses, raising the right corner of his mouth, then pointed with his chin at the tattered shirt, the parts of which were now lying next to him on both sides. “How then would you explain this?”
She shrugged, and smiled unconvincingly: “A spontaneous rip perhaps? You know, w-with-eh... a-all the hellmouth-energy everywhere around this place... i-it’s not that
odd...” She was stammering.
He gave her that look again, then sat up to take off what was left of his shirts. “That was one of my best shirts, I got it from London...” He said reproachfully.
“I’ll fix it,” she whispered, gently pushed him back to lie down, and pulled herself up a little to sit now on his lap and bent down to kiss him. He gripped her waist and too began to pull her blouse to free it out of her skirt. When his hands finally touched her bare hips, Helen shivered from excitement, her kiss became more intense, more insisting, hungry, as if she wanted to catch up for all the lost months they had been apart. Giles’ hands wandered upwards, and he pulled her closer to lie on him, to feel her whole body covering his. She moaned a little, contentedly, as she stretched out her legs that were now intertwined with his.
He reached for the clip that was tying her hair together and carefully took it out, then watched amazed how her hair slowly loosened and string after string began to fall down to create an auburn frame around her beautiful face. He could also perceive its familiar smell, an odd, but pleasant mixture of roses and very faint, hardly distinguishable fragrance of winter spices, like gingerbread, cinnamon, cloves and cardamom... and raisins.... The smell immediately, like a trigger brought back some of his best memories of the times they had spent together, their first “date” in the theatre, the first kiss on the otherwise quite disastrous Halloween night, their first time...
She furrowed her brows, a little confused, noticing his fascinated look. Before she could ask however, he grasped her face with his hands, burying his fingers in her silken hair, and said: “I missed you too. Everything, always... every night and every morning... sometimes I woke up, expecting to see you deep asleep lying right next to me, but... couple of times I’d make tea for you by mistake... or set two plates in the kitchen for breakfast, before I realized...” He spoke quietly, in a calm, sad voice, yet without the slightest trace of reproach in it, but still every word felt like a deep sting in her chest, knowing that he had been hurting this much by her absence. “Once I woke up in the middle of the night and grabbed at my side, to pull you closer to me, and-uh... there was no one...” He smiled sadly and she felt his grip around her get tighter, he was almost pressing her against his chest, embracing her, he sort of cramped her in his arms, so that she could hardly move, as if wanting to make sure that she wouldn’t leave anymore now, when she finally got back.
Once more she felt the bitter taste of remorse and guilt, shame even that she had caused him all the pain. She closed her eyes for a moment and gulped.
“Oh, I’m sorry”, he hurried to say, and stroked her head tenderly. “I didn’t want you to feel bad...”
She opened her eyes and gave him a tormented look.
“Well-uh... a little perhaps,” he added whispering and grinned.
She looked at him suspiciously.
He raised his head slightly to whisper into her ear: “That way I can-uh... easier... take advantage of you.”
Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth, pretending to be entirely outraged. “Why Rupert! I am scandalised!” She said in a flirty tone.
He beamed at her, then tried to sit up and gently sat her aside. She was watching him curiously, wondering what he was up to. He got up to his feet and walked to the record player to change the music, for the previous record had ended again. Satie was in order now. At hearing the Pièces froides
Helen smiled at him fondly: So far this evening was perfect, probably the best in her life in a long time anyway.
He sat down again and his hand reached around her waist at her back, his fingers gently brushing the skin underneath her open blouse. He found the zipper of her skirt and slowly opened it, while kissing her neck. Goose-bumps were spreading through her body as his hands slipped beneath her skirt. They let themselves fall on the blanket, lying on their sides, facing each other. He was pulling her skirt downwards with one hand, without interrupting the kiss. She too fumbled around his trousers and caught the belt, murmuring “You’re still having too much on.... exsero
“Hey!” Giles cried out as he suddenly found himself lying there, completely uncovered
Helen threw a look down there. “Oops, sorry, sorry, I-eh... I only meant the-the trousers, but somehow m-my mind must have...,” she turned pink, then whispered “stratum
” and out of nothing a velvet blue blanket appeared to cover his naked body from his waist down.
“Now that’s it!” He spoke through pressed teeth, pretending to be angry, and put on a stern face. “I don’t want any more spells cast here!”
She looked at him innocently. “There’s-eh... I mean they-eh... won’t be needed anymore.” She said in a quiet, appeasing voice, and with her right hand caressed his chest.
“Or maybe...,” he suddenly spoke, glaring at her bra and pulling on her skirt.
She guessed his thoughts. “Oh I see”, she drawled amused. “So it is all fine to do magic if it suits you
“I really don’t think you are the one that should-uh....” He said
“Alright, alright... Right, but close your eyes first... Oh, just do it.” When he closed his eyes, she repeated the previous spell, now undressing herself. Giles opened his eyes curiously and felt his excitement rising at the sight of her naked body. She smiled at him shyly, then shivered a little at feeling slightly cold now and Giles pulled her closer to him and laid the new conjured blanket upon her.
“Now we’re equal,” he said satisfied.
Helen reached for his glasses, saying “Almost,” and took them off to put them aside and look directly in his lovely hazel eyes at last.
For a long while they were just lying there in this way, staring at each other fondly, their hands intertwined, they were enjoying the fact and were entirely happy about being together again. Eventually Giles’ fingers began to stroke her arm first, from her shoulder down to her hand, then skipped over on her lap and then from her there they would wander back upwards retracing her side. Each time he would reach a point further below and with every such skip of his fingers from her hand to her pelvis she would hold her breath for a short moment. She wondered how long she could take it without losing her senses completely... She put her leg around him to pull him even closer to her, and could feel him getting harder.
Everything that followed Helen perceived as if in a slow-motion. Suddenly he sat up a little, bent over her to kiss her once more and gently rolled her from her side to lie on her back. She began to shiver a little in the anticipation as his hands ran over her legs and her thighs, very softly with each stroke pushing them slightly apart. She was now so excited that she could hardly focus on what to do herself, her hands were just clumsily fumbling over his chest and his waist. Then he sat himself on her lap, and Helen gulped dryly at feeling him so closely. He smiled at her his gorgeous, boyish smile that had been so rare in the past weeks, then took her hands into his, carefully lifted her arms somewhat above and without letting go he began to lean over, still holding her hands, then slowly laying them down somewhere above her head. He placed another gentle kiss on her lips, with one hand he still held her hands bonded together behind her head, the other hand was gliding over her skin. She was breathing heavily, and had to close eyes again. Without realizing she spread her legs a little more, and that was the signal for him. He slowly let go of her hands, kissed her once more, then carefully moved down a little, between her legs. He then returned his hands to caress her arms that were still above her head. He kissed both her breasts and felt her mount up beneath him... and then he entered her, as carefully and as gently as he could. He saw her wince a little, furrow her brows and press her lips tightly together at the initial, short moment of pain. He held still and pressed a soothing kiss on her lips, and when she responded, opening her mouth and kissing him back with passion, and finally lifted her waist against his, he slowly began to move, filling her out with every thrust. Soon they would find their perfect, synchronized rhythm, not too fast, not too fierce, to savour this long desired reconciliation.
They came together, a quiet moan escaped her lips, before she took his face into her hands, managed to raise her head a little to put together their foreheads and, still a little shaky and gulping, she rubbed her nose against his softly, to calm down the breath. With his forefingers he was fondly stroking her cheeks, while returning the nose kiss.
For a while they were lying in each other’s arms, Giles rolled down, turned her to her side and took her in his arms to lie in their usual, favourite spoon position, where her head was resting in the curve between his collarbone and his chin as if it belonged there, she sensed his calm, regular breaths in her hair. He pulled his arms closer around her and eventually they fell asleep.
It was after midnight when they both woke up and made love yet again.
“I think I could bear a small supper,” she said afterwards, entirely exhausted, but happy. Giles kissed her passionately and Helen giggled. “That’s-eh... not quite what I meant... not that I mind...”
He glared at her, then gently flicked her nose and got up. He walked towards the small table with the food and brought the full plate back, sat down and they each helped themselves to some grapes and some rather exquisite cheeses he had provided for, while talking about all that had been going on in their lives during the past months when they hadn’t shared them.
When they banished the hunger and drank one or two glasses of wine, again they fell into each other’s arms, making love in an even more playful, kittenish way, both wanted to coddle and spoil the other with as much tenderness as possible.
Hours later they were lying on the floor in almost total darkness. The candles went out, the only light was the moonlight coming in through a small window behind one of the racks. They were simply staring at the ceiling, dreamy smiles on their faces, holding their hands, in a total bliss.
Suddenly she turned her head at him, murmured “Lumos
” and a tiny flame turned up, floating in the space above their heads, then a mischievous smile appeared on her face as she got an idea: “I have a surprise for you too.” She didn’t have the opportunity just yet to tell him that she got her magic all back, that she was even stronger than before that unfortunate ritual happened, that she could cast spells beyond imagination now and more importantly – without messing with her condition: no nosebleeds, no dizziness, no circulation-issues, that all was past now and she wanted to show him.
Giles looked at her curiously. She got up, took his hand and pulled him up too, then tucked them both in the dark blue blanket. She threw a quick glance towards the clock on the wall to make sure it was still early enough. “Take my hands and hold firm, it might feel strange, but just... don’t let go.” Giles raised his brows, a little puzzled, wondering what she was up to. “Ready? I bet you’ve never stoo there...” She added impishly and when he nodded hesitantly, she squeezed his hands and made a quick movement that Giles didn’t get to see anymore properly, because all of a sudden the space around them began to dissolve very fast, it felt as if he was flying with the superluminal speed. He felt all his inner organs getting mixed up inside him and whirled together, but fortunately just before he thought he would be sick, the space began to form itself back into shape... and a strangely familiar one.
They stopped, and before he could regain his focus, he heard her curse: “Merlin’s pants! What the-.. O-oo...” He was blinking in the sunlight, then finally took a look on his surroundings and opened his mouth in amazement, staring towards the large iron gate that he knew – but only from the other side - behind it dozens of people were assembled, all pressing hastily the triggers of their cameras.
“Bloody... I completely forgot it’d be noon here,” she said desperately, covering her mouth in horror, then quickly recovered from the first shock and the terrible mistake, muttered “sorry,” and grasped his hands tightly once more, turned on the spot and they disapparated again.
Sitting in his wide office at the British Museum, sipping his tea, Henry Giles was having a best day since a long time. He was smiling, no, beaming actually, every now and then his look would wander back to the evening paper on his desk, where right on the cover was a photograph of the Buckingham Palace, taken earlier that day. It was changing-of-the-guards-time, many tourists were assembled at the gate to watch the spectacle, ready to capture it with their cameras. The forecourt was full with tall figures of the guards dressed in red and black. But it was the thing in the background that was causing the cheerful expression on Mr. Giles’ face and his extraordinarily bright mood: There standing on the quite famous balcony at the front of the palace, covered quite sparely with nothing but a dark blue blanket, were two people holding hands tightly, a couple – a tall man of middle age looking a little bewildered, and a younger woman with long auburn hair and a content smile on her face.
The grey-haired old shook his head once again in an amused disbelief and said to himself: “So, it seems like he’d forgiven her after all.”
AN: Many thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Pls. review, comment how you find it or on anything that occurs to you, I’m also pretty sure it’s full of grammar errors and weird expressions, so feel free to tell me ;)