Her hand tightened slightly around his.
"But somewhere along the way…" She glanced back at him, meeting his eyes again. "You grew on me."
Gilderoy stared at her for several seconds.
The weight of her words pressed against him, not uncomfortably, but with the density of something real.
"Good," he said simply. "Because you grew on me too."
Amelia rolled her eyes, though the reaction lacked any real resistance. Her hand was still in his, and she made no move to pull it away.
"You haven't told me why you reciprocated to my advances instantly," she said after a moment, shifting the conversation again. "I approached you. I flirted. But you could have ignored me. You didn't."
Gilderoy leaned back slightly, letting the tone ease again. He considered the question, turning it over in his mind.
"I just had a really hot girl pop in front of me suddenly in the Great Hall that day," he said. "And she had me mesmerised."
"Oh?" Amelia smirked slightly, clearly amused despite herself.
"Yes," he continued. "She had my full attention. How could I have ignored her when she herself came to talk to me? She was confident, beautiful, and she looked at me like I was worth looking at. That's not something a man ignores."
"Good answer, my boyfriend," Amelia said, patting his chest lightly.
Gilderoy felt something settle in his chest as she said the words. Not love—it was too early for that, too soon for anything that deep to have taken root. But there was something there. Something that felt like potential. Like the early stages of something that could become more.
As they remained there, both felt the same quiet realization forming in different ways—that whatever had started as curiosity or circumstance had, over time, settled into something far more consistent than either of them had initially intended to name. It wasn't love yet. But it was becoming something real.
I trust her to tell me what she's hiding later on.
It wasn't a demand. Just a thought that sat quietly in the background of everything else. He had his own secrets, after all—more than she could possibly imagine. If she needed time to trust him with hers, he could be patient.
Amelia eventually rose from his side.
She stretched slightly, wrapping a blanket around her naked self, and walked to the small table that had appeared beside the fireplace. A house-elf appeared with a soft pop when she called for water, placing a glass and jug neatly beside them before disappearing again just as quickly. The elf was small and wrinkled, with enormous eyes that blinked up at her before vanishing.
Amelia thanked the elf, took the glass, and gulped it fast to satiate her thirst.
Gilderoy watched her without speaking for a moment, then smirked slightly.
"So, Amy."
She glanced at him over the rim of the glass, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.
"When are we going to get married?"
The reaction was immediate.
"W-what!"
She spluttered, coughing, nearly spilling water over her blanket and onto the floor as she coughed in surprise. The glass sloshed dangerously, and she had to grab it with both hands to keep it steady. Her eyes had gone wide, and a blush was spreading across her cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat of the room.
"I am not ready yet, Gilderoy!" The words came out higher than usual, almost squeaking. "It's been only a few months since we met! Maybe after a few years. I need to focus on my Auror career now. I have the trainee program starting, and I can't just—"
She looked at him properly then, still recovering from the shock of the question. Her mouth hung slightly open, her eyes remained wide, and her face had turned the colour of a ripe tomato.
Only then did she notice the smirk spreading across his face.
The realization came slowly, then all at once. Gilderoy's lips had curved into that particular smile he wore when he was being deliberately provocative—the same expression he used when he had just done something annoying and was waiting for the reaction.
Amelia stared at him, her brain processing the information in stages. She registered the smirk, then the teasing tone of his voice, and finally the question that had come out of nowhere, phrased with all the casualness of a remark about the weather.
Her face cycled through several expressions in rapid succession—confusion, dawning comprehension, and then a flash of something that looked dangerously like indignation.
"You—" She drank from the jug and spat a mouthful of water directly at his smirking face.
The water struck him square in the forehead, then dribbled down his nose, his cheeks, and onto the collar of his shirt.
Gilderoy blinked. Several drops clung to his eyelashes, and more were trailing down his face in lazy rivulets. His smirk had frozen in place, caught somewhere between amusement and genuine surprise.
Amelia stared at him, her glass still half-raised, her expression a mixture of horror and barely suppressed laughter.
And then something shifted in his expression. The surprise faded, replaced by something more thoughtful. His tongue darted out slowly, deliberately, and he licked the water she had spat from her mouth, water still dripping down his chin, sultrily.
Amelia froze.
Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.
Gilderoy held her gaze as he reached for the glass she had set down and picked it up. He took a sip, his eyes never leaving hers, then set the glass aside with a soft clink.
Then, without warning, he leaned forward. His hand found the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair with a gentleness that contradicted the suddenness of the movement. His lips met hers before she could react, and she felt the cool water pass from his mouth into hers, a slow, deliberate transfer that made her forget, for a moment, how to breathe.
The kiss was deep and thorough. His lips moved against hers with a confidence, and the water he had sipped was warm now, warmed by his mouth, and she tasted it along with him.
Amelia's hand, still frozen in the air, slowly lowered to rest against his chest.
When he finally pulled back, a smirk spread across his face again, and his eyes held that knowing gleam that said he was perfectly aware of exactly what he had just done.
"That," he said softly, "is for spitting on me."
Amelia stared at him. Her face was flushed, her lips slightly swollen from the kiss, and she was still processing the fact that he had just transferred water into her mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"You're insufferable."
"You love it."
Amelia opened her mouth to retort, but nothing came out. She closed it again, aware that he had, once again, won this particular exchange.
Gilderoy leaned back against the cushions, and his expression softened. The teasing had faded from his eyes, replaced by something quieter, something that felt more honest than any of his earlier comments.
"I asked for a reason," he said.
Amelia blinked. "What?"
"The marriage question. I asked for a reason."
She shook her head slightly, still catching up. "What reason?"
Gilderoy shrugged, the motion casual but the look in his eyes anything but. "I was curious how you'd react. You're so focused on your career, on your training, on everything else. I wanted to know if you'd even considered us long-term."
Amelia sat back and handed him the glass of water to drink.
"I have definitely considered us long term," she said, mock anger in her voice as she punched his arm. "And here is a punch for doubting our relationship."
"Oww, I'm kidding, I'm kidding, Miss Bones. Please don't harm me."
"Maybe pop this question later on. I have things I need to accomplish first," she said quietly.
"Sure, I mean we were already going pretty fast." A small laugh escaped him.
Amelia nodded in agreement. "We were indeed."
"But that doesn't mean I don't want…" She paused, searching for the right words. "This. Whatever this is."
Gilderoy pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I know."
She relaxed against him, her breath evening out. The conversation had drained something from her, but it had also given something back. A clarity, perhaps. A sense of direction.
"I'm not going anywhere, Amy," he said quietly. "Not yet. Not anytime soon."
She smiled against his shoulder. "Good."
They sat together in the quiet, the fire crackling softly, the weight of the conversation settling around them like a blanket. Neither spoke for a long moment, but neither felt the need to fill the silence.
Eventually, Amelia leaned her head against his shoulder again. Her hand still rested in his, her thumb still tracing small circles on his skin.
The fire crackled. And two people who had found each other in the strangest of circumstances sat together, content in the simple act of being present.
---
We're only at 73 Power Stones this week🥺
You're already receiving the equivalent of 3 standard WebNovel chapters every week, and I'm still releasing the chapter even though we haven't reached the Power Stone goal. The least I ask is that you save your daily Power Stones for my upload days so we can reach 150+ every week.
📖Advanced Chapters on Patreon- we are ahead by 12 chapters
https://patreon.com/A_Peverel