A/N: OK, this will definitely be the last chapter of this fic, but I am planning a sequel...keep an eye out!
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, unfortunately never will do :(
After a breakfast of toast and eggs, she insists on washing up. He feebly protests, but she simply piles the plates into her arms, puts them in the sink and pulls out her wand to start to clean them.
He, too, pulls out his wand, drying the plates as she finishes washing them, and they work in silence together for a while.
But as she passes the final plate to him, her fingers brush his skin and the plate crashes to the floor.
She flushes scarlet and jerks her hand away, hurriedly bending to repair the broken shards of china. He grins at her reaction but moves away, levitating the plates back into the cupboard as she straightens, still blushing an angry shade of red.
She bustles around, putting away the newly-repaired plate and resolutely looking anywhere but at him.
He's still smiling, but the expression is softer now. He thinks he knows what she's thinking, thinks he understands her reaction, and he doesn't want to startle her.
He moves towards her, careful to be noisy, clattering against the table. he lays a gentle hand on her shoulder and feels her flinch as she turns towards him.
"Thank you, so much, for yesterday. You're really special, really special. I just never realised how special until a few hours ago."
She blushes again and shrugs non-commitally, trying to jerk her shoulder from his grasp; he just grips her tighter, pulling her towards him.
She doesn't mean to flinch when he touched her, but she does anyway - she can't seem to help it, her nerves are raw and every cell is on the alert. She feels his grasp tighten and can't move away from him even if she had wanted to.
And then he's kissing her, kissing her kissing her kissing her like she's never been kissed before, soft and forceful and caring and passionate all at once. She feels her knees go weak and he has to hold her closer to stop her falling. She doesn't mind - it just means she has an excuse to slip her hands around his neck and tangle her fingers in his hair, marveling at its softness. She doesn't want to ever stop kissing him, and just kisses him harder when he threatens to pull away.
Before he knows what he's doing, he's kissing her, kissing her kissing her kissing her like he can't remember kissing anyone ever before. She's more important to him than anyone else in the world at this moment in time, and he wishes he could stop its flow so this moment never has to end. When he tries to pull back, give her time to think, she just pulls him to her again, and he smiles against her mouth. Thoughts are running pell-mell through his mind, none leaving an imprint there except one: I love her. I want to marry her.
In his mind, he sees Fred grin. "Mission accomplished," he mouths at his twin, but smiles broader when he realises that George is otherwise occupied.