You Won't Ever Get Too Far
Epilogue
The sky was clear and bright blue hanging over us. London would always be my favorite place in the world, but this was coming close. The wind stung my cheeks. Harry's were red above his Gryffindor scarf. Our hands clasped tight, cold and dry from the wind.
"I told you," Harry said.
I smiled at him. A genuine smile. No sneer or smirk, nothing fake. Just a smile.
Just a few more steps, and we were at the edge of the roof of Hotel Palais de Chaillot, with a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower. I know we weren't really supposed to be up here, but Harry insisted.
I looked at him. The wind had blown his hair in every direction. His green eyes were focused on the scene in front of us. I gave his hand a squeeze.
"Where shall we go tonight?" he asked. "We have a lot of choices, you know. We could actually go to the Eiffel Tower. Notre Dame, the Champs-Élysees, Moulin Rouge is always an option. The Louvre, Montmartre has the best view I read. I'm starting to sound like Hermione just listing off these things like it's nothing--"
I kissed him. "You talk too much sometimes."
He grinned. "Fine, we'll just go where I want."
"Listen, Potter." I teased, "I'll do what I please."
"By yourself in a foreign country."
"I have a wand and I can speak French."
"Impressive," Harry said sarcastically.
"Je veux avoir des rapports sexuels avec vous ce soir par la fenêtre où l'on peut voir la Tour Eiffel," I smirked.
"Something about sex, something about the Eiffel tower," Harry guessed.
"Peut-être, peut-être pas. Pourquoi ne pas essayer de deviner, monsieur Potter?"
"You Slytherins, always having to prove your point," he rolled his eyes.
"Nothing compared to you Gryffindors."
He smiled. I smiled back, touching my nose to his. He kissed me again, long, soft and full of passion. I slid my tongue past his chapped lips and massaged his with mine. I couldn't help smiling into the kiss when he pulled me tighter against him.
"Ugh, what are we, in a Veela romance novel?" I asked, clutching his coat pockets.
He laughed.
"I told you," Harry said.
I smiled at him. A genuine smile. No sneer or smirk, nothing fake. Just a smile.
Just a few more steps, and we were at the edge of the roof of Hotel Palais de Chaillot, with a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower. I know we weren't really supposed to be up here, but Harry insisted.
I looked at him. The wind had blown his hair in every direction. His green eyes were focused on the scene in front of us. I gave his hand a squeeze.
"Where shall we go tonight?" he asked. "We have a lot of choices, you know. We could actually go to the Eiffel Tower. Notre Dame, the Champs-Élysees, Moulin Rouge is always an option. The Louvre, Montmartre has the best view I read. I'm starting to sound like Hermione just listing off these things like it's nothing--"
I kissed him. "You talk too much sometimes."
He grinned. "Fine, we'll just go where I want."
"Listen, Potter." I teased, "I'll do what I please."
"By yourself in a foreign country."
"I have a wand and I can speak French."
"Impressive," Harry said sarcastically.
"Je veux avoir des rapports sexuels avec vous ce soir par la fenêtre où l'on peut voir la Tour Eiffel," I smirked.
"Something about sex, something about the Eiffel tower," Harry guessed.
"Peut-être, peut-être pas. Pourquoi ne pas essayer de deviner, monsieur Potter?"
"You Slytherins, always having to prove your point," he rolled his eyes.
"Nothing compared to you Gryffindors."
He smiled. I smiled back, touching my nose to his. He kissed me again, long, soft and full of passion. I slid my tongue past his chapped lips and massaged his with mine. I couldn't help smiling into the kiss when he pulled me tighter against him.
"Ugh, what are we, in a Veela romance novel?" I asked, clutching his coat pockets.
He laughed.
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