Symphony under the night sky
Queenie pulled Harry into the shopping mall next door, and Harry couldn't see how this was a place where they could kiss.
He was pulled into the fire escape stairwell.
July is the hottest month in London, and even though it's only the beginning of the month, no one is willing to give up the air conditioning and elevators in the mall to come here.
Queenie pushed him into a corner, and when the kiss, which had been interrupted for nearly ten minutes, came again, Harry displayed the passion expected of Gryffindor, as well as the kissing skills that Hermione had highly praised.
When no one else was around, Mr. Potter always managed to surprise Miss Campbell.
At first, Queenie held his shoulders and tilted her head back for a kiss, but then Harry was cupping the back of her head with one hand and supporting her waist with the other. Queenie wasn't idle either; she unbuttoned all the buttons on Harry's short-sleeved shirt—she swore she hadn't thought much of it when she got him his clothes, but now she had to commend her foresight. She meant, they were outside, after all; at home, his original T-shirt would obviously have been much more convenient.
The unique spatial design amplifies the sounds of breathing and swallowing, and the ambiguous atmosphere becomes humid and hot under the summer heat in the stairwell, quickly spreading all over their bodies, like being drenched in a dense, localized drizzle.
Queenie's freshly manicured nails left long, thin red marks on Harry's body. The slight pain was insignificant compared to his primal desires; his senses were focused solely on the softness between his lips.
During their passionate kiss, Harry was pushed slightly, and he released her lips and stepped back a little.
“What? The wizard doesn’t—” Queenie gasped, “doesn’t he need to breathe?”
Harry licked his lips, which were even more vibrant than the lipstick Queenie wore when she left the house, and honestly replied, "No, we need—"
"More." She didn't intend to let him finish. She caught her breath, grabbed his collar, and dragged him toward her. "Continue."
Harry may need air, but he doesn't need to think; he just needs to obey orders like a soldier.
Kissing will become his forte sooner or later, Harry thought shamelessly, perhaps even surpassing Quidditch.
Queenie was held against the wall, and they embraced each other to catch their breath. Their heat only intensified, but neither of them suggested separating, not even for half a minute.
A click sounded, and someone entered the stairwell.
Harry stopped stroking her hair, pulled her quickly down and hid behind a pile of cardboard boxes under the stairs.
It was a cleaner; he smelled the air freshener, and the person should be cleaning from top to bottom.
So why is he hiding here? He could have just walked out.
Wait, just walking straight out like that isn't right either, his buttons...
Harry glanced at Queenie, who was indeed covering her mouth and laughing. He couldn't resist biting the tip of her nose.
Queenie laughed out loud. She casually picked out two buttons and helped him fasten them. Harry picked up the scattered shopping bags, carried them with one hand, and took her hand with the other, leaving this place that was indeed very suitable for kissing.
The glass building reflected the orange sunlight; sunset was approaching, and Harry had booked two tickets for the Symphony Orchestra, which they needed to board before then.
Symphony?
Queenie laughed again, remembering Harry running away when they first came here.
"Uh, actually it was because my aging serum was almost worn out..."
"It really is Cinderella."
"This is just my first time using an aging product for so long, I have no experience..."
“Speaking of which—” Queenie tilted her head and asked curiously, “Using magic to temporarily become an adult means you can do everything an adult can do, right?”
"..." This question seemed familiar. Harry believed Hermione might be curious about knowledge, but Queenie certainly wasn't. He knew what she wanted to do; it was obvious, given that she never hid it.
It wasn't that he didn't want to—cough, he meant he was curious…
But he's still a year away from turning 18...
But Hermione also mentioned that many fifth-graders and even fourth-graders already...
“It seems Mr. Potter isn’t so sure after all,” Queenie said, leaning closer to his face. “You know what? Your handsome face is practically screaming ‘It’s not impossible,’ and your ears are red again.”
Harry's eyes widened, and he instinctively denied it, "I...I...I won't—"
--Really?
Queenie's beautiful face clearly bore the words.
He could no longer lie to Queenie, not even about the smallest things.
Harry lowered his voice and said honestly, "Well, I kind of want to..."
Queenie was about to laugh at him when she heard him say, "Because just as you like me, I like you too."
His face was flushed, and his green eyes shone brightly as if washed clean. He was shy and earnest, making him look like a cat that was teased by its owner but was both dissatisfied and obedient.
Queenie gasped. Good heavens, what was she doing? "Forcing" a sixteen-year-old boy to talk to her about 18+? Oh no, 17+? That was... kind of exciting.
Let's not wait...
He's still a minor... He's still a minor...
I'm not a pervert, I'm not a pervert, I'm not a pervert...
Queenie repeated it to herself several times, then pulled on their hands, which hadn't been separated, and said, "Let's go, the sun is about to set."
Harry followed behind her, his sharp eyes catching a glimpse of her blushing ears beneath her golden hair. Well, he'd better not point it out.
Another cruise ship approached, its whistle sounding clear and crisp, following the symphony-like ship, like two old friends exchanging greetings.
The afterglow of the setting sun bathed the entire Tower Bridge, and pink clouds hung in the sky. Harry and Queenie, like the other passengers, found a spot on the deck to take photos.
The sun had completely sunk, but left behind a last wisp of warmth, carried by the early summer evening breeze along the river, along with a faint scent of algae.
They each grabbed a glass of champagne and leaned against the ship's railing. Harry thought today was fantastic. Sirius wasn't there, Hermione wasn't there, and Ron wasn't there either. Although almost getting caught by Emily was a close call, looking back, it was still a wonderful experience.
Harry cautiously extended an invitation, "Perhaps you would like to come and see the wizarding world?" From Queenie's perspective, magic didn't seem to bring her many positive memories, but that was because she hadn't been to Diagon Alley yet. Harry felt that no one could help but love it—magical, surprising, incredible... At least when he first entered Diagon Alley, he was filled with immense joy, and he wanted Queenie to experience that feeling as well.
"But isn't the magical world very dangerous right now? You're still being hunted down? Savior?"
"...At least the Burrow is safe! It's wonderful there!" He had meant to say Black's old house, but then changed his mind about the environment.
"The Burrow?"
"That's Ron's house. I spent two summers there."
“Oh.” Queenie nodded. “So this is Ginny’s house. You’re taking me to see Ginny? How cold-hearted, Mr. Potter.”
"..." He had almost forgotten about this; before the holidays, Hermione had complained that Ginny refused to talk to her because she had kept Queenie's existence a secret...
The once calm Thames suddenly became turbulent, thick fog rolled in, and lights flickered on and off. The peaceful atmosphere vanished in an instant; passengers huddled together in panic, screams mingling with the crackling of shattering glasses and the crew's shouts as they tried to regain control. Harry reacted quickly, gripping the railing with one hand and holding Queenie tightly with the other.
Queenie exclaimed, "It's going to pour rain? That's so sudden!"
“I’m afraid not.” Harry looked solemnly into the air. This was the third time he had seen those black wisps of mist. The first time was at Riddle Cemetery, and the second time was at the Department of Mysteries.
The Death Eaters, now shadowy figures, swept across the Thames. As if amused by the sight of these Muggles, they turned and maliciously hurled a few spells around the Symphony Orchestra, causing the waves to surge even higher, before speeding away amidst the screams of the Muggles.
What are the Death Eaters trying to do with such impunity? What task did Voldemort give them? To torture and kill Muggles for fun?
Harry held Queenie tighter; the deck was in chaos, and no one would notice the "panicked" couple.
"I'm sorry, Queenie, the date is off."
"What—oh!"
The air distorted for a moment and then returned to normal. In the chaos, no one noticed that two people were missing from the ship.
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