maidstone | stolen from another life { p h i l l i p }

As he found himself lost in the motions, Phillip's breathing became a bit rushed; he stole small breaths here and there rather than pulling away from her. The last thing the teenage wizard wanted to do was stop. His hands pressed up against her back, his lips on hers, his thoughts erratic. Breaking the kiss for another short breath, he was surprised to feel her moving to his neck. Instinctively he tilted his head to the side as she kissed him once, and then a few more times, and with his eyes still closed, he smiled. If his heart hadn't already been crashing against his chest, it would have been now.

Her question brought his eyes open, and they flicked down to her face to search her expression. everything felt good, everything she did set him on fire, but there was something about that look in her eye that made him even crazier. Subconsciously the idea that she hadn't done this with anyone else made him eager to experience new things with her. "Yes," he said with a heavy breath, giving her a warm grin as his hands traced down her back and around to her hips, "It feels great." He whispered to her, still watching her face intently. Although he was truthful, it wouldn't have mattered if she was the most experienced kisser or brand new, everything she did would feel right to him. Every time she touched his skin, it made him feel more than he had in years. It was quixotic, but he couldn't help but feel a surge of hope with his arms around her. Like somehow, deep down, he knew things were going to be fine now.

Preferring what they had been doing to talking, Phillip's hand moved up toward her face, where it rested under her chin. Green eyes were searching her face as his thumb ghosted across her cheek tenderly. He found himself looking at her lips again, for a moment, before he turned his attention to her neck, wanting desperately to return the favor. The seventeen-year-old was a little bit more skilled in what she had been doing, and as a good Prefect, he demonstrated that on the soft skin of her neck. In time he pulled back, being careful not to leave a mark behind, and looked at her face again. He wanted to see her, to know what she was feeling, and to experience it with her.

It felt good, of course. Even the waiting part, where he’d just lightly touched her face and stared into her eyes all dreamy-like. Even that rather torturous part, where she’d silently willed him to do something to break the tension, and her cheek had felt ticklish for the first time ever. Even that was good. The next part was better though, and she might have melted into the floor for all she knew. With her eyes closed, she couldn’t help but focus far too intently on his lips at her neck.

He pulled back quietly, and she kept her eyes shut for a bit longer, in case he was going to kiss her again. She didn’t really want him to stop, but at the same time, she wondered when exactly she would want to stop him. This was only the second time she’d seen him since he’d kissed her that first time, and his hands were on her hips, and they were making out. Had a whole house to themselves. She didn’t think about their age difference much, but in a moment like this, she couldn’t help it. She didn't feel out of her depth when they talked about things like the logistics of staying alive in space, or the properties of floo powder and how they differed in comparison to different enchanted teleportation, like vanishing cabinets, but she was wildly out of her depth here.

She opened her eyes, making eye contact straight away. “Um, right,” she answered, feeling flustered. After a second, she couldn’t help but laugh, just a little, entirely at herself. Her head fell forward and she rested her forehead on his chest for a second. She shook her head, then looked at him again, a self-aware smile appearing as she did so. She flattened the front of his shirt absentmindedly. "Good," she said, nodding, answering the question in his eyes.

Phillip felt like every part of his body was tingling when he had been kissing her neck. Even as he pulled away, he had wanted to keep doing it. His hands and his lips, desperate to touch her, and it took everything the young wizard had to keep from exploring too far too fast. In the back of his mind, he had kind of assumed she was new to all of this. They had never explicitly spoken about whether or not she had dated anyone, but he'd met her when she was fourteen, and since then, he hadn't heard her mention it. He liked to believe if she had been dating someone, she'd of told him. He thought that they were close enough to share those sorts of things now. And in reality, he doubted he wouldn't have noticed if she had been seeing someone considering how much time they spent together, and how much time they spent writing to each other. If he had been her boyfriend at the time, he wouldn't have been okay with her being around another wizard so much. That he knew for sure.

And as his hands were tempted to roam, to find the hem of her blouse, he reminded himself of that. Pulling away, he opened his eyes to see her with her eyes still closed. It tugged at him, a little smile playing on his lips, to see her with her eyes closed like that. Like he was stealing these glances at her, and when she opened them, he smiled a little more. Her laugh was unexpected, but he didn't take it personally, instead of letting one slight chuckle escape his lips as she leaned against him. His hand moved from her chin to tuck a piece of hair back behind her ear gently, the tip of his finger brushing over the helix of her ear lightly. He stood there for a moment, his body resting against hers as he worked to catch his breath and steady his heart rate.

Standing taller, he took this moment to look out the window, remembering where they were and the fact that they were the only ones here. The idea enticed him, thoughts stirring again, as he chewed on his bottom lip. He thought about kissing Billie again, but something about this moment gave him pause. His thumb rubbed absently across her inner hip as he thought silently. Eventually, he spoke, arching his back slightly to see her face when he asked the question.

"Is this okay?" He asked apprehensive, emphasizing this and hoping she'd know what he was referring to.

Her pulse was just… racing. It hadn’t stopped since she’d been a touch out of breath from climbing all of those stairs. She was hyper aware of it as he moved to tuck some stray strands of hair behind her ear, wondering if he could feel her heartbeat through her skin or something. Her smile faded, but only because she was so focused on his fingertips. She cringed away from his touch as he brushed her ear, feeling hypersensitive and a bit ticklish. “Goosebumps,” she said, by way of an explanation, a small smile on her lips.

She felt very exposed like this, with him, but that wasn’t necessarily bad. It was all such a new context for them, and it felt dangerous. Thrilling. She didn’t really think it was dangerous, even if it felt that way, though, because she really did trust him. When he looked out the window, she silently urged him to look back at her instead. It made her feel silly, to want his attention totally on her, but it would be a lie to say that she didn’t want that. Who’d have thought she’d spend a ridiculous moment feeling jealous of a landscape? She glanced up at the way he bit his lip, and blushed at the things she imagined.

She didn't have to wait long before he was looking at her again, his hand resting against her hip. She nodded, sensing that he was checking in, and not just wondering if something he was doing felt nice or not. A part of her didn’t want him to check in, but rather just do anything he wanted to do – anything that would make him happy – but she didn’t say that, because instinctively, she knew that he wouldn’t like it. “It feels good,” she said. Good was a bit of an understatement. After a second, she shook her head, a small smile appearing. "Everything does though," she admitted quietly.

He found her confession of goosebumps as beautiful as everything else about her, and the way she smiled made him feel floaty. Phillip was so swept away by where they were that the lines of how they got here seemed to blur. It was like they had always been here, but it was still fresh and new and strange to him, but in the best kind of way. He felt comfortable around her in a way he had never felt around anyone else before. And it wasn't just for the physical stuff, though that was currently his favorite part, it was everything. They had spent so long getting to know one another that he felt like nothing could break that connection. Until he met her, he'd forgotten what it meant to trust someone this deeply. He told her things he hadn't told anyone else before, and he was long past worried about her repeating his words. Deep down, he knew she would never hurt him, never betray that rare trust, and he would hold those same lines for her until his last breath.

Phillip had always been particular about things. Obsessive, motivated, and dedicated; when he put his head toward something, he couldn't be stopped or talked down from the ledge. The Ravenclaw applied that toward his hopes of finding his family, toward his chosen studies, and now toward her. Even though it had only been weeks since they had kissed, in truth, she had meant so much to him for years, and he was so utterly devoted to her already. He'd do anything she asked him to, and even the things she wouldn't ask anyone to if he could discern them.

In the seconds between when he posed the question and when she answered, Phillip felt the tiniest bit of panic moving in. The wizard had never meant to do anything she wasn't comfortable with, and while her reactions hadn't precisely said she was, he couldn't help but worry. He waited, a breath waiting in his chest, for her response, and when it finally came, he sighed a little. His face returned to a smile, which grew slightly into a smirk as she told him everything felt good. Whether she knew it or not, she was bolstering his confidence with words like that, making his already intense need grow that much stronger. "You'll tell me, though?" He asked, inferring more with a thoughtful expression than he had said with his words.

Still leaning back from her, hands on her waist, he kissed her quickly before she could change her mind, not that he thought she would. His hands inched upwards from her waist, finding the edge of her sweater but not daring to go underneath it. Instead, he toyed with the fabric, tugging on it playfully, making sure to give her every chance to stop him.

She caught the smirk and just felt a bit more flustered in response. It wasn't the usual sarcastic-talking-crap-about-a-teacher smirk, either, there was something else to it entirely. A different sort of smugness. Her cheeks felt hot; she was sure she was blushing. She knew him pretty well by now, but there was a whole different side of him to explore in this context. Billie would give this whole house away to be able to know what he was thinking right about now.

She nodded again when he spoke: you’ll tell me though, but she wasn’t entirely convinced. He wanted her to say if something felt bad? Or wasn’t okay? At this point in time, she couldn’t imagine him doing anything that wasn’t okay, so it felt like a bit of an abstract promise to make. There was also the element of, like, him doing it. Was there anything that he wanted that she wouldn’t want? She didn’t think so. She hoped not.

He was kissing her again then, though, and she didn’t have time to overthink anything. It was funny how, as soon as her eyes were shut, her brain just absolutely hyper-focussed on all the parts of their bodies that touched. The way his lips felt. Where exactly his hands were. Funny and kind of frustrating in a totally other sense. She could feel the window ledge digging uncomfortably into her back – that wasn't that bad, either.

His hands at her waist, playing with her clothes this time, was a kind of alarming thing. A part of her wanted to tell him the shirt underneath was tucked in; he'd have to untuck it if he was trying to touch her skin. But she was faaaaarrr too shy for that sort of boldness, and besides, she didn't even know if that was what he wanted.

Phillip moved to kiss her neck again and she opened her eyes, a little surprised that it wasn't nighttime by the ocean or something. She moved one hand to the back of his neck, tentatively exploring upward. She was breathing heavily, so obvious in every little reaction. She was embarrassingly easy to read sometimes. "When did you know?" she breathed, the question slipping out suddenly. She'd been thinking about it since he kissed her that very first time. "About – that you wanted –" that you wanted me, she wanted to ask. She was distracted by his lips on her skin. "This, you know?" she finished, flustered.

While he hadn't quite waited for another reply, nor had she said anything, Phillip felt like she would stop him if he went too far. Or at least he hoped she would. But more than that, he hoped she wouldn't need to stop him. Despite the ideas that were swirling around his head like a forest fire, he would only take things so far, regardless of whether she would of let him continue. The teenager couldn't stop himself from pushing up against her. His hands were forging a path to her blouse as he kissed her eagerly once more. With his eyes closed and his lips kissing her neck, Phillip waited for her to push his hand away, hesitating briefly, but when that movement never came, he inhaled sharply—excited by the prospect of it.

He moved to tug at the fabric, finding an undershirt tucked in and keeping his hands from where they were intent on venturing. Distracted by the idea of touching Billie's skin Phillip was surprised when she began to ask him a question. Her words fell on his ears in between his movements, one hand pulling at the fabric until he felt it come free and tracing kisses along her neck. It wasn't until she'd finished the thought that he stopped for a moment, really thinking about an answer.

Pulling away from her neck, he kept his hands at her waist, they were mere inches from touching her bare skin, and he was so aware of it. Phillip looked at her face and felt his cheeks burn a little. When had he known? That was a complicated question to answer. He had started recognizing the feelings last year, but then the love potion he'd accidentally drank had him all sorts of confused about it. And then he'd started to feel it again, that same stirring, months back when he'd realized that any day he went without seeing her, he was especially grumpy. It wasn't until a few weeks ago when she'd called it a date that he'd allowed himself to open that door. Until then, he'd suspected it was one-sided, assumed that all of the little ways she had about doing things were just part of her personality. The way she touched his arm when she wanted to tell him something, the way she stared up at him with those sea-green eyes, the way she worried her brow when she thought she was going to say something he'd disagree with. As much as he wanted them to be, Phillip had convinced himself that they weren't things she only did for him. Now he wasn't so sure, and that idea filled him with such strong emotions

Saying it wasn't until he'd kissed her didn't exactly sound romantic though, Phillip thought to himself in the splitting seconds since she'd ask. Some part of him had felt an attraction to her from the very start, and while it wasn't always quite as powerful as the one he was feeling now, it had always been there. It had paved the way for them to become so close, for him to open up to her as he had. He wanted to tell her that, for her to know how deeply he cared for her, and that he had felt for so long, but the words failed him. He sucked in a breath, trying not to seem as put off by her inquiry as he was, and finally spoke. "I've felt it for a while now," he admitted, giving her very little information but not on purpose. Phillip had never been very good at expressing himself with words, well, at least while he wasn't raging with anger, he did just fine then. And he hoped she would remember that at this moment as he gave her a half-smile.

"I guess I've sort of always felt it?" He told her, the end of the statement turning out to be more of an apprehensive question than he'd hoped it to be. Inwardly he cringed, knowing he was failing this test, but not knowing how to fix it. He felt like he was drowning in this tiny question, giving it so much more weight than it probably deserved. His heart was racing; his body flung into overdrive; it was hard not to overthink every little thing. There was a worried look playing on his features, his eyes focussed on her's as he clenched his jaw a little. Silently he hoped, pleaded really, that she wouldn't be disappointed by his response.

“Oh,” she responded, a little breathless. A while now. He looked nervous, and for a moment she felt a bit confused – had she done something wrong? She hadn’t really wanted him to stop, the words had just slipped out. She knew that he didn’t really talk about his feelings – couldn’t, maybe – they way that she did. He was most verbose when speaking about interest topics. Research things. A new book he’d been reading, or a new idea, that sort of thing. Least verbose when speaking about his feelings.

Billie blinked, watching his face as she tried to decipher his expression. It was strange that he could shift so quickly from that kind of smugness that made her feel like she was melting into the floor, to this more thoughtful, troubled expression so quickly. She was still breathing kind of heavy, and her shirt was untucked, and the whole thing had her in a little bit of a haze. The other day he’d told her she was perfect, and naturally, she’d tucked that memory away to be replayed a million times later on. Every line he’d ever written to her that made her heart beat a little faster was saved in her head too; she couldn’t help it:

Honestly you're the only reason I am looking forward to going back for another term.

Don't apologize; I feel the same way.

Anywhere you want to go just name it.

... But still, none of them were quite as explicit as her own confession, and when they were speaking in person, like now, he wasn’t nearly as explicit as when he was writing. Billie slid her hands up his chest tentatively, then rested her forearms on his shoulders, crossed at the wrists behind his head. She wasn’t quite tall enough. She thought he’d misinterpreted her, but it was her fault for not being explicit. “I’ve thought about kissing you… for a long time,” she admitted, giving him a small, self-aware smile that she hoped was reassuring. She still felt a bit flustered, but was trying to be open and honest. "All my friends knew how I felt, too. I just never thought that you..." She gave a tiny shrug.

Her "Oh" had him worried, and even though he tried to keep from looking it, his face betrayed him. His eyes never left her face as she wound her hands up around his neck. It felt right, it felt nice, and it was comforting. If he had utterly disappointed her with his half-answers, he supposed she would have moved away, or at the very least, been less likely to initiate more contact. It brought the faintest of relief across his face, but her words brought more. He blinked at them, mouth slowly turning back to that smirk, as he understood what question she had been asking. As he often did, Phillip had thought to far into the subject, letting his anxious thoughts get carried away. He relaxed a little, his shoulders falling slightly under her arms, and he nodded.

"You have?" He asked, still a little out of breath, because even though she'd just said it, the teenager kind of loved the way it had sounded from her lips. He very much wanted to hear it again, and more. The confidence starting to return, Phillip leaned into it, knowing the constant and ever-changing emotions were sure to leave him feeling exhausted later. It was always intense when he was around Billie because they shared a real connection, no small talk, but this was an entirely new kind of intense, and he was already addicted to it. The smugness reached his eyes as she mentioned her friends knowing how she was feeling, and they sparkled a little at the idea of it. He didn't have many friends besides her and Wini, but if he had, he suspected they would have figured it out by now too. It was easier to see these sorts of things from the outside than it was when you were wrapped up, and in the center of it, he supposed. "That I what?" He asked, urging her to finish her sentence and then finding himself wanting to finish it for her.

A hand on her waist moved upward, under her sweater onto the soft material beneath. The fabric was thin enough that it felt like some sinfully sweet middle ground between her shirt and her skin. It was uncharted territory, all of it was, and Phillip felt like there was electricity connecting them at his fingertips. He let his hand move further up her shirt, to her rib cage, and his thumb traced another semicircle across it, fingers so close to where the bottom of her bra was. "That I'd want to do this?" He asked her, eyes searching for a moment before he kissed her again. More passionately this time as his mouth moved past her mouth, nose nudging her chin lightly. "Or this?" Phillip breathed before kissing her neck again.

She nodded, still with that small, self-aware smile. Wasn’t it obvious? Hadn’t she implied as much when she’d told him that she liked him in a more-than-friendly way? ”Ages,” she added, still feeling compelled to honesty. Between the more explicit confessions, and all of this new physical stuff, she felt vulnerable. She wasn’t shying away from it, though; it felt right to be open like this with him. Safe.

“That you...” His hand was moving, she could feel the material of her shirt bunching a little. She hesitated, lips parted halfway through a word, her eyes searching his as her pulse sped up. Her smiling expression shifted to something else. Surprise, maybe. “Um.” Blank brain. “Yeah, pretty–” she stopped talking as he kissed her again, with more intensity this time. She closed her eyes and didn't open them when he started kissing her neck again. She shivered a little when he spoke against her skin, all of her attention zeroing in on his lips, the hot air he breathed

For some reason, the memory of a conversation they’d had at the start of last term popped up in her head. They’d been talking about sorting, and the way they’d felt when they’d been sorted into Ravenclaw. Billie remembered having the thought that if he wasn’t in their house, he might be a Gryffindor; he had a fiercely stubborn streak, unwavering convictions and he was confident, though perhaps that last part wasn’t always apparent upon first knowing him.

Now, she was even more convinced that he’d be in the lion house in another world. He was so forward, so totally sure of himself. It was surprising, actually. She’d spent so much time with him, she thought she could have imagined this kind of situation with relative accuracy (and it certainly wasn’t for lack of trying). Merlin it felt good. His assertiveness made her feel all kinds of things – nervous being amongst them.

He found a particularly ticklish part of her neck and she suddenly shied away from his kisses, instinctively pushing him away with her hands, making him take half a step back. She was laughing now though, unable to keep all of the tension and excited nerves inside. Billie shook her head, a disbelieving smile appearing as her laughter died off. She felt a little like she had when she’d gone inside after he’d dropped her off the other night; like this couldn’t possibly be real. It couldn't possibly be happening to her.

She placed her palms on her temples, her elbows touching his chest, as she shook her head, her eyes meeting his. She felt all fluttery, like she might actually just fall over at any moment. And so much disbelief. "Merlin, Phillip." she said, still smiling. Her hands slid to cover her face for a second before she let them drop, and she took a deep breath, moving out from the small space between him and the wall. She pushed him lightly with one hand on his chest, but her fingers trailed lines and lingered there as she took a couple of steps away from the window. Her back was a little sore, she noted. She was still smiling, still with her gaze locked to his.

She felt embarrassed, but amused at herself. A little relieved to have a second where she could actually think straight, but tingly from her neck to her knees and reluctant to move away. She felt a lot of things.

"You didn't really answer," she complained, a little teasing in her eyes as she tucked some hair behind her ear.

Phillip felt like he was floating, like the rest of the world had fallen away, and it was just the two of them here, it was a dizzying sensation. As he kissed her neck, his hand continued to wander, along with his thoughts. There were so many things he would have loved to tell her, but he was better at this than he was at those sorts of words. When she laughed and pushed him away, he smiled brightly all the way up to his eyes. Feeling her squirm a little beneath him made him chuckle, and the wizard knew he'd have to remember where that spot was on her neck going forward. Even though she'd moved him away from her and now her hands were on her face, he didn't feel like he'd done something wrong. There was a way about how she was laughing that reassured him it wasn't a bad thing. Hearing her speak his name as she covered her face made his heart skip a beat. He had always loved it when she called him Phillip, she was the only one who did, but hearing her say it in this context was somehow so much better. It had so much more to it, and Phillip loved how it sounded.

Backing away from the window as she pushed him, he gazed down at her finger, trailing along his chest and then back up. With a sheepish grin, he shrugged his shoulders, aware he hadn't answered her question. He'd been too busy listening to what she was saying, too preoccupied with trying to get her to say it more. He knew he should probably answer her, tell her how he was feeling, and how long he'd been feeling this way. The urge to spill every emotional thought to her was building in his chest with an intensity he'd never known. The idea of giving her what she wanted, of making her feel the way he'd made him feel with her words, was overwhelming. Licking his lips, he hesitated again, knowing his words wouldn't sound nearly as poetic as hers had.

"I've thought about it a lot. About kissing you." He finally told her with his eyes locking onto hers. He wanted so badly to go back to doing just that, to put his hands on her again, to explore new skin, but he waited. "It's better than I imagined," he confessed, his cheeks burning from the admission. He should have felt embarrassed, maybe even guilty, for how much he'd thought about kissing her, but at this moment, he didn't. Despite his hesitation and the hotness on his cheeks, he still felt oddly comfortable here. Like they were in the same space, sharing these feelings, and the fact that they weren't one-sided made them far less scary. "You are amazing, Billie." Phillip smiled lightly at her; it was a new kind of smile, endearing, and full of hope.

“Have you?” she asked, still with that stupid grin on her face, still teasing. When he met her gaze, she imagined the whole world stopping around them, and then almost laughed again at the ridiculousness of her own brain. Maybe she’d been reading too many romance novels… They’d felt more relevant recently, for some (totally unfathomable) reason. “Is it?” She tucked her hair behind both ears out of habit, for something to do with her hands, but there weren’t really any stray strands to tuck away. She took a couple more steps away, feeling a lot more clear headed as she turned and leaned against one of the corner posts of her old bed, her hands behind her back.

She gave a little laugh as he spoke again, but nothing was funny, it was just an outlet for all of the things she was feeling; all of the stupid dramatics going on inside her mind right now. For example – she’d always thought he’d been handsome, but right now she couldn’t possibly imagine someone better looking? Which was ridiculous? She felt giddy, and it was a lot. She just wanted him. She wanted his reassurance and his little looks, and the smile he had right now. She wanted him to care about her, to want to share things with her, and to want her too.

And he did.

She pressed her fingertips against the wooden post behind her back, her eyes not leaving his face, swaying a little. Her smile dimmed a touch, settling back to something more normal and characteristic. "Why didn't you do it earlier then?" she asked, the adrenaline in her veins making her more brash.

"Yeah," he said with a heavy breath, "It really is." Phillip had imagined it, more than he should probably admit out loud, but the real thing was ridiculously better. As she moved further away, he felt his heart rate returning somewhat back to normal, his breathing was slower now, but his lips still felt tingly. Phillip felt an invisible force wanting to pull him closer to her again, his need to be close like a rush of gravity. It pulled at him, making it hard to focus on what she was saying. Something about the way she was standing against the column of her bed made his heart race again; he had to blink away the distracting thoughts playing in his mind.

Phillip's hands slipped into his pockets; they were anxious to touch her again. When she laughed, he laughed, getting caught up in everything about her. They may have stopped kissing, but Phillip's mind was still laser focussed on Billie, and he was so aware of it. Every little movement, every smile, he noticed all of it like it was happening in slow motion. He smiled at how encompassing it all was. The roof could have caved in around them, and he wondered if he'd of even noticed. Not when she was looking at him like that, he knew, not while she was swaying a little with her hands behind her back. Standing further away from Billie, he could see all of her at once, his eyes tempted to move down from her face.

Caught off guard by another question he couldn't help but smile at Phillip chuckled, the laugh was low in his throat and hearty. There was a new kind of tone in her voice, something he'd never heard from her. He wasn't sure if it was boldness or bravery, but he was hungry for more of it. He liked this version of her, telling him how she was feeling, what she was thinking, and asking him questions that put him on the spot and made his heart skip. He had so many adjectives to describe what he liked about Billie: thoughtful, intellectual, beautiful, but now he was adding challenging to the list.

"Honestly?" He replied, stalling for time, as he took a few steps toward her again but not as close as he had been standing before. "I wasn't sure if you'd want me to." He admitted, a twinge of shyness in his voice, a vulnerability. "I almost did a few times..." he confessed, recalling not only the dance but other times over the last term when he'd been so close to convincing himself it was right. Telling himself, she was giving him all the signals, that he was reading things right, only to talk himself out of it instead. He wondered if his admitted apprehension made him sound weak but tried to stamp out those fears before they took hold.

"Better late than never, right?" He grinned at her playfully, hoping she'd agree, verbally or physically.

She liked this laugh – the real one. The dimpled one, that reached his eyes. It seemed completely absurd to her that she’d seen him most days for two years and was only just seeing this particular laugh now, but she made sure to memorise it, and note the things that brought it out. A part of her knew that she’d be reliving this afternoon later on, and she wanted to keep all of the best details. Besides, she just sort of cherished every new part of him he shared with her.

“Wow,” she said, raising her eyebrows a little as she tried to recall a time before she would have wanted him to kiss her. Her crush had developed sometime during her third year, but it had been a lighter sort of thing, more of an appreciation. A growing understanding and care for him as a person, quite outside of her own feelings and wants. Her fourth year, however… Things had only intensified. From the way he’d been there for her after her aunt had died and she’d had to move again to the Christmas break where things had gotten a lot more intimate, at least for her. She’d wondered if it would just build forever, never properly acknowledged, until she burst.

“When did you almost?” She asked, the tease fading a little from her tone, and her expression as her thoughts calmed. It was replaced with a hesitant sort of curiosity; truthfully, she wanted to know! There had been so many times where she’d looked at him and imagined it, but she’d never almost kissed him. She’d never have been brave enough (another reason he’d be a Gryffindor in an alternate universe, she thought).

The word almost held a lot of weight, but in reality, he'd always stopped himself before he got too close. Phillip's thoughts about kissing her had happened more and more since she'd stayed for Christmas. He found himself picturing it, imagining it, while he was staring at her across the table in the study hall. Or thinking about what it'd be like as they walked the familiar steps up to the astronomy tower. It probably happened most when they were up there. The darkness around them, lost in the stars, in so many ways the roof had always felt like their place, and he let his daydreams build up a little bit more when they were up there. Still, even though he'd thought about it, he'd never gotten close enough to be able to say he'd almost kissed her, but he'd said it anyway. He had always talked himself down from it, convincing himself it was just him thinking these things. Now Phillip was stuck wondering if maybe she had been thinking it too, he consumed by the idea, yet another thing to over-think later.

When she asked for specifics, he chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, trying to pinpoint one specific time as all of the memories swirled around in his mind. They were fleeting moments, times when he'd thought he should, but then stopped himself from thinking about it for too long. Until very recently, he hadn't wanted to let those feelings take root, because he didn't want to sit alone with them. He didn't want their relationship to change, even if it was only how he felt because he didn't want to complicate it. Phillip rarely connected with others and never as much as he had with her. He stopped himself from confronting the way he was feeling, or the things Phillip knew deep down he wanted to say and do because he was afraid. Now that it had happened, he felt silly for being fearful of it, stupid for not doing something sooner.

During the first year or so after they had met, it had been a friendship, it had turned into a close one, but it had been just that. Partly because they were both young at the time, her years under him, but also because he hadn't known Billie well enough to feel anything more than friendship toward her. If they hadn't shared so much over the last year, grown so remarkably close, he might not have ever gotten to this point. He needed the solid base they had built to feel these things. Now that they were here, though, the wizard felt so strongly, so intensely, that it was like he had thought it all along. It didn't feel like a new thing; it was too strong to feel that way.

"A couple of times," he began, repeating what he had said only moments ago, that shyness returning to his voice. It was easier to follow his instincts when his hands were on her, more natural to show her how he felt than it was for him to tell her these sorts of things. He looked from her to the ground, hesitating. Turning, he moved from where he was standing to lean up against the desk that was across from her bed. His hands gripped the edge of it, and he used the solid surface to steady himself physically and metaphorically. "Christmas Eve," Phillip finally told her, his face and tone matching the more serious one her's had taken. "And that time, we were in the astronomy tower well past curfew." Remembering how she'd tried to fight back from yawning that night made him smile.  Phillip's eyes had moved on from the ground and found hers again as he finished, "In Hogsmeade once, when you found the book we needed."