Whenever she got sad, there was 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲.
And on the other hand, whenever he got sad, there was 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫.
Until they discovered something that only required both of them in the same room -- nothing else.
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 �...
The human body is subject to the unconscious expression of emotions in the form of body language.
The way our body speaks is, most of the time, beyond our control.
Posture can display the feeling of superiority or inferiority. Fidgeting shows apprehension, stress, unease, or even boredom. Hand movements indicate a person's involvement—or lack thereof—in a conversation. However, unlike any other body language, eye contact speaks the loudest.
It is in the connection of two pairs of eyes that the strongest of feelings are communicated—just like a simple gaze can voice a thousand words, disclose a million thoughts.
This is proven one late afternoon in the Room of Requirement where a disoriented Draco and a flustered Clementia stood across one another, atmosphere brimming with sexual tension, both unaware of the personal armor they both had just shed.
As different as their outer expressions were, their eyes spoke of one thing. One urge.
The persistent temptation so loud it was deafening in the dead silence of the room; so thick and unyielding it was almost tangible.
The thought surfaced them both, and the impulse to comply was becoming harder and harder to resist by the second.
"Distance, I think," Clementia starts, attempting to swallow the heavy lump in her throat. "Would be helpful...before we start this conversation."
She had meant distance in the literal, physical sense of the word, because she is now far past the notion that they were both mentally detached from one another. Physical separation, at the very least, was a requirement for a proper conversation at this point—and they both knew this.
"I agree." It was a little surprising for Clementia at first to hear this, but she was more taken aback by his rush. Draco did not waste a second, not even to risk a glance her way, in muttering a quiet Levitating Charm to lift the table they had used to brew the potion a few feet above the air. With another flick of his wrist, it had been set in between them. A makeshift barrier.
He cleared his throat, hastily swiping his palm across his forehead to sweep the sweat-soaked strands that had fallen astray. "That should do it."
Albeit reluctantly, his eyes met hers, and the unspoken battle of who would start the conversation had commenced.
It was her turn to clear her throat. "I think what this tells us is that we can't keep our hands to ourselves."
He stuffs his hands on the pockets of his pants. "No."
