Too Good To Be True

Too Good to Be True

“Mad-Eye” Moody was lying in bed, his body fully relaxed, same as his mind. His only eye leisurely wandered the walls of the room, dimly lit by the light of a new day breaking through the curtains, while his thoughts drifted further. He wondered if all this could turn out to be just a dream? After all, can a person feel so happy outside of a dream? And if this wasn’t a dream, how on Earth then did he deserve to draw such a lucky ticket?

He ran his hand over the creased sheets on the other side of the bed and smiled, listening to the quiet splashing of water coming from the bathroom.

He no longer felt lonely. Since the moment he met her, she had never let him feel lonely again. She accepted him with all his scars and rough edges, with all his oddities and weird traits, and - as she insisted - with numerous virtues. Although Moody thought she was exaggerating, he chose not to dissuade her. The tenderness her eyes emitted as she listed his strong points, trying to prove there were plenty of reasons to love him, disarmed him. If she wanted to consider him a hero, so be it.

The door creaked open, and a neat silhouette of a woman appeared in the semi-darkness. She seemed even more slender in his large shirt that she borrowed. The old Auror’s heart raced. Still a little rumpled after sleep, with crumpled curls carelessly sticking out of the mane of her hair, she didn’t need to look flawless for him to consider her a goddess.

She gave him a gentle smile, so familiar, intended only for him, and he returned it gratefully. They needed no words to tell how much they loved each other - their looks, gestures and touches spoke for them.

With a soft fluttering of affection spreading in his chest, Moody watched her approach the window. She drew the curtains open to let some light in, and, leaning on the windowsill, as she usually did, took a moment to look out on the street.

When she turned around, her face lit up with a wide smile.

“How’s the weather?” he stretched out his hand, inviting her back into his embrace. “Seems fine.”

“It’s perfect!”

With a playful smirk she stepped over his wooden leg - only Merlin knows how it ended up in that corner after the previous night - and returned to bed. She crawled under the blanket, and sank into the hold of a man. He stroked her shoulder, that was left uncovered, and pulled the blanket up, squeezing her tighter. She snuggled closer to him and rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and absorbing the warmth of his body. She had never known a safer place than the grasp of his strong arms.

“I feel so good with you, Alastor,” she whispered.

It would never stop astounding him, how it had happened, but he knew she meant it.

“Me too, sweetheart,” he whispered back, planting a kiss on her forehead.

She looked up at him. Without that magical eye his features seemed so much softer. She reached out to caress his face, streaked with cobwebs of wrinkles and scars, but still attractive to her eyes, and he caught his breath at the tenderness of her touch. She was proud to have the privilege of seeing him in a plain and honest way - caring, delicate, sensitive. The warmth of his glance wrenched something inside of her - every time - and she felt the urge to assure him how much he was needed, how much he was loved - over and over again. She smiled fondly and leaned closer. Her lips covered his with sincerity and devotion, and he responded eagerly, just as tender, savoring her taste, her warmth, her love.

The longer it lasted, the more they needed. The sparks of passion twirling in intermingled flows of their hot breathing kept flaring with growing intensity.

Suddenly, a gust of wind hit the window with a loud clatter. They both flinched.

“So, the weather’s perfect?” Moody rasped suspiciously, displeased it made them break apart.

“It is,” she grinned, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Perfect for staying in bed the whole day!” She rolled over onto her back, drawing him along.

He laughed, doing justice to her successful attempt to outwit him.

“And what do we do then?” quite aware of her answer, he asked suggestively, looming over her.

Her arms wrapped around his nape, she pulled him closer, forcing him to press her to bed with the weight of his body. “Proceed with what we started last night?”

“I thought we left no unfinished business,” he whispered teasingly into her ear, slowly covering her neck with soft kisses, and she let out a sigh of enjoyment.

Fingers tangled into his hair, she held him close, guiding him up to face her. “You sure?”

“Well, I guess, there might be a few more different ways to do this,” he mumbled into her mouth before their lips merged together.

His grip tightened, and she gasped in desperate anticipation.

If this was a dream, “Mad-Eye” Moody wished he would never wake up.