Duplicitous | T.N.

LVII • In the rain

"What're we doing?" He broke apart their connected lips. "This is wrong."

"So wrong." She continued to kiss him, hands entangled in his hair, a fiery drive fuelling the very passion of their kiss.

His hands held her head just as desperately, the pads of his fingers curled within her dark locks. "We should stop." He pressed his face harder against hers.

"Yeah, we should." She too dove further within the abyss that was their heated sanctuary. Lost in the mind stealing sea, her conscience sentenced to oblivion, she refused to disconnect her lips from his for more than a second.

Stealing a breath of air, they painted, heads pressed tightly against each other, eyes closed, smiles influenced as they relaxed. For a moment. Once their breath had been regained, they merely continued harder yet slower than before.

The hand that held him upward clenched a chunk of grass.

No. They weren't in the kitchens. It had in fact been a week since the very first time their lips had connected, and since that time, lost in the maze that was others presence, all they did was smack their mouths together with such ferocity, blood was bound to draw. With the subconscious plan to snog until their lips burned raw was a difficult feat, and based off the way they moved, they subtly feared they'd achieve it. Yet neither made the move to stop.

"I'm so wrong for you." He whispered, a hand fiddling with the string of hair that framed her face, pushing it behind her ear, he just... looked at her.

"Are you?" Her lips pursed. And for the first time the awkwardness settled in. Sat within the meadow of the dark forest, pleasant sun beams emphasised the mere curve of their features. Flowers and moss blossomed, the stream sung, and the nearby critters croaked. They had dedicated too much time to each other and within that time they fought to keep it indifferent.

Convinced that what they did was wrong, that's what they said, what they repeated. The reality that it perhaps wasn't so wrong was the scary aspect. Theodore felt his old habits mess with him. He gulped them down. "No." He scoffed.

"What?" She snapped.

"Doesn't matter." He pecked her lips twice, and when his lips moved against hers, she did not move along with them, this had him halting. He sighed. "I don't know what I'm doing." The Slytherin huffed.

"Neither do I."

"So just shut up and kiss me." And then they continued.

The silent promise that their kisses ensured were growing weaker.
Made of steal and iron, a wall separated them, physically they remained interlinked as their bodies moved against each other, but mentally however, their souls had been banished. Their constant refusal to communicate was growing more and more difficult. If opinions weren't shared, miscommunication was bound to hit them, it didn't stop them from wishing to evade it.

So they kissed, and did not speak.

This went on for several days.

•   •   •

Despite their absence of connection on a personal level, their affectionate ways came to no swift nor tragic end. It was strange almost, the thrill that was scored through the little things. The glances; empowering, the touches; enthralling. Drugged with giddiness, they allowed it to continue, barreling toward something they feared they could not step away from. Yet at the very same time, they didn't exactly want to step away from anything.

For Aurora it was the potential that left her wary. The unknown had her shook as much the opportunity. She did not know what could occur, what she was willing to invest. After all, it had just been a simple kiss within a simple moment.