Reigen ran his thumb along the candle nearest him. Rain still pelted outside, a shivering chorus, as a last bit of water dripped from his hairline and curved along his scarred cheek. He lifted the candle and sniffed it, and the smell dragged him to a time when he’d been just a bit happier than he was now.
Imagine Harry dragging the Marauder’s Map everywhere with him, just so he can keep an eye on Malfoy at all times. (Yeah okay, you don’t really have to imagine this part, because it happened.) Ron and Hermione are so fed up with him, because Harry is so absorbed in his map, they can’t even have a normal conversation with him.
The only time Harry isn’t staring at the map, is when his eyes are fixed on the actual Malfoy, walking past him. Hermione jumps at the chance and grabs the map. She’s not planning on hiding it or anything. She knows all too well she would never get away with it. Harry would probably even threaten to hex her if she didn’t give it back. She instead doodles something on it and grins, when the little heart she made around Malfoy’s dot sticks and moves along with it.
As soon as Malfoy is out of sight, Harry’s gaze wanders back to the map.
“Guys, I really think he’s up to- What is that?” Harry exclaims. Ron looks over his shoulder and snickers.
“Well, I think Hermione nailed it, mate.”
After that, Harry blushes every time he looks at the map. He’s so flustered, he doesn’t even realize the heart-framed dot is approaching him rapidly, even though he’s staring at it.
“What is it with you lately, Potter?” Malfoy drawls, startling Harry. He’s standing right in front of him and Harry is so surprised, he’s too slow to react when Malfoy grabs the Marauder’s Map out of his fingers. “Are you turning into a bookworm? Wherever you go, your nose is always buried in… some… parchment…”
Malfoy frowns as he looks at the map.
“What is this?”
Harry doesn’t answer. He’s beginning to sweat and his heart is beating rapidly.
“Give it back, Malfoy,” he grumbles and snatches it from him.
But judging from Malfoy’s incredulous look, he already saw… it. Bloody hell! Why did Hermione have to do that?
“Dear Merlin, what are you, Potter, five?” Malfoy sneers. But it hasn’t escaped Harry that his cheeks have turned pink and his voice is a bit shaky.
“Would you rather I kissed your dot goodnight before I go to sleep?” Harry counters. But… wait…
Malfoy opens his mouth, but doesn’t say anything. He just stares at Harry.
“Wow, um… I really don’t know why I said that,” Harry murmurs sheepishly.
“Do you do that?” Malfoy asks in a high-pitched voice.
“No?” Harry doesn’t know why his answer sounds like a question, because it’s the truth. He has never done that, nor would he ever do it.
Okay, so he stared at the heart-framed dot, wondering if Hermione might actually be on to something. Maybe he even imagined what Malfoy’s hair would feel like if he ran his hands through it, what Malfoy would do if Harry pushed him against a wall, what his lips would feel like on Harry’s, what sounds he would make while Harry sucked on his neck…
They stare at each other some more until a sound at the end of the corridor startles them. Malfoy looks over his shoulder and when his eyes land on Harry again, his expression is determined. He grabs Harry’s arm and drags him into the next broom closet.
Hi babes! This is a marshmallow-soft story about the reader and Tom having a special inside joke. That inside joke being Tom dramatically falling down onto one knee to tease her after she accidentally tells him that it’s always been how she wants to get proposed to. The inside joke makes the both of them think a lot about their future and cuteness ensues! I hope that you like it!
Side note: The film was everything I wanted it to be and more? It owns my entire heart? The cast did so well and I’m so happy for all of them and my heart is just overflowing with love and I’m going to see the film again tomorrow!
I’m On My Knee
“He makes me want to wear a white dress and walk down the aisle.” She murmured to her boyfriend, utterly and completely inebriated. “I want to learn how to cook so he can always come home to a hot meal. He makes me want to learn more so that I’ll always have new things to talk to him about, and he makes me want to take care of myself so that I can look good for him. I wanna read every book on the planet earth and watch every film, just so I have stories to tell him before we go to sleep. But, mostly, he makes me wanna wear a white dress and walk down the aisle.”
Tom smiled, securing a strong arm around her waist before she had the opportunity to slip from the barstool she was trying to twirl on. Holding her still, he questioned, “anything else you want, darling?”
Lurching forward, she twined her arms around his neck and moved to perch on his knee. She shoved her face into Tom’s neck and breathed in deeply, dragging her hands across the expanse of her boyfriend’s chest. He smelled of french cologne, the fabric of his shirt felt soft beneath her cheek, and she was so close to him that she could count the beats of his heart. “I love you.”
Supporting her frame, Tom kissed the top of her head, “I love you more.” She sighed into his chest and Tom helped her to her feet, making sure that he still had her locked in his arms. “Let’s get you home now, drunky.”
“I want him on his knee like in the old films,” she added before she allowed Tom to guide her to their parked car.
Truly, Tom felt the same way about her, but there was no way that he wouldn’t tease her about her intoxicated confession every chance he got. He’d been dreaming about how beautiful she’d look walking down the aisle to meet him since their third date and it comforted him that she seemed to feel the same way.
She knew that she had majorly screwed up the next morning when Tom dropped down onto one knee, offering her a bottle of advil and a glass of water to soothe the pounding in her head that refused to be ignored.
“On my knee, baby, just how you wanted!” Tom smiled, his curls flopping down in his eyes in the most endearing of ways. She hated that he looked so cute while he was so successfully embarrassing her.
Groaning, she brought her hands up to cover her face, “Tom, stop! I told you that I was just drunk. Let it go!” She pleaded, blush spreading as far as the tips of her ears.
Her boyfriend feigned hurt feelings, “well, if you were truly joking, guess I’m out of here. Gotta go get me a girl who’s in it for the long haul.” Tom joked as he moved to walk out the door.
“Tom,” she whined before rushing forward to keep him in place with a hug. “Stop being so dumb and help me make pancakes. You flip them better than I do.”
Smiling down at her, Tom took of her hands within his own and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, “One day, I’ll be way more than just your boyfriend who flips pancakes better than you do. One day, I’ll be your husband who flips pancakes better than you do.” Tom laughed, picking her up to spin her around the kitchen.
She was happy that Tom was focused on not dropping her or running into anything because she was even pinker than she’d thought previously possible and she was positive that the smile on her face was so huge that her face would crack into halves. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have the greatest job, it didn’t matter that she was absolute shit at math, in fact, she couldn’t think of anything that mattered to her more than what Tom had just said. He was planning on a future with her and she was so elated that she spent the entire rest of her week floating from place to place on a bed made of cotton candy clouds.
The next time Tom dropped to one knee for her, it was in the flower shop while she was sifting through bins of tulip bouquets for their friend’s dinner party. “Because I love you,” Tom said, holding out a bundle of daisies.
Rolling her eyes, she took the flowers and bent forward to kiss Tom tenderly on the mouth. “Because I love you,” she repeated back to him before taking both bouquets to the register while Tom struggled to free his wallet before she could pay for her daisies.
The time after that, Tom fell to one knee when she had come home with smudged mascara and tears dripping from the corners of her eyes. Hurrying off the couch, he dropped to one knee in front of her, pulling her to perch softly onto his popped knee. “What’s the matter darling?”
Shrugging her shoulders, her lower lip trembled and she merely hid her face in Tom’s neck. Stroking her hair and mumbling the words to ‘Moon River’ into her ears, Tom waited for her to tell him what was upsetting her. He did his best to search his mind for anything he could’ve done, anything her friend’s could’ve done, anything at home that could have upset her and came back with nothing. Tom briefly had a fleeting feeling that he was failing as her husband until it clicked in his brain that he hadn’t ever gotten down on one knee before her to present her with an actual ring.
That night, while she snuggled into the crook of his arm, her face hidden so close to his neck that Tom could feel her lips press into his skin, he looked up some photos of rings. Each time Tom found a particularly nice ring, he’d zoom in and envision it on her lovely hands. Looking down at her hand that was loosely curled around his waist, he murmured to her sleeping form, “nobody, not even the rain,has such small hands.” His girl had been on an E.E. Cummings kick and clearly the poetry she read aloud to him had rubbed off on Tom.
Placing his phone back into it’s charging station on their nightable, Tom laid down and made sure to lace his fingers through her own before he shut eyes to sleep, agreeing with E. E. Cummings that nobody had such small hands. Such small hands that a glittering ring would only compliment.
The next weekend, as she and Tom strolled through the supermarket to grab some fresh vegetables and fruit, and maybe a loaf of bread to go along with dinner, Tom spotted the baked goods aisle. Getting completely sidetracked, Tom stood staring at the pastries while she carried on in search of the produce section. Glancing at her retreating figure and then back at the deserts, Tom grabbed an armful of cookies, cinnamon rolls and cupcakes before hurrying after her.
Her eyes widened when she saw her boyfriend nearly skipping towards her, arms overflowing with pastries. “Tom,” she started, cocking her hip and raising her brows, “that is ridiculous. Pick one thing, we already have too many snacks as it is!”
“No, no, darling, you don’t get it. We’d leave the cinnamon rolls for breakfast, and we could eat the cookies as a snack, and then the cupcakes could be after dinner.” Tom tried to ration.
“Tom, I’ll eat them all and then get bigger and you know I’m trying to look good this summer!” She whined, shaking her head and silently pleading for Tom to at least put one of the items he was holding back.
Shuffling the food around in his arms, Tom attempted to clutch all the food with only one hand. Gently moving her hair away from her eyes, Tom kissed her temple. “Darling, you know that you’re perfect. There’s nothing wrong with how you look, and nothing would be wrong with how you look even if you decided to inhale the entire pastry department on your own. I love the way you think, how kind you are to others, and you’re one of the smartest and least arrogant people that I know! I love you for your heart, and your brain. I thank the universe every night for your lungs and your kidneys, because they make you. You’re sweet-ass body just happens a perk of loving you.”
Tom kissed her one last time before dropping down onto one knee before her, “c’mon angel, please?” He asked one last time.
Rolling her eyes at her boyfriend’s cheesiness, she placed the cupcakes and the cinnamon rolls in her basket before leading Tom over to the fruit and asking him to pick out the crunchiest apples for their salad.
When Tom fell to one knee again, it was after she had gone shopping with her friends and was currently modeling her new purchases at his request. She had exited the bathroom in which she was changing in, wearing an extremely short, white dress that left very little, if anything to Tom’s imagination. The dress was littered with small, red roses and had straps that were tied into a bow. As she twirled for him, Tom could see that the straps were the only thing holding her new dress together and by the time that she’d stopped her spinning, Tom was on one knee.
“Should I take this off myself or do you wanna get up off the floor and help me?” She giggled, toying with the bow sitting atop her shoulder blade.
As Tom carefully untied her dress and watched it fall to the ground, he muttered, “pretty ring would go nice with the roses.”
She could barely hear what Tom had said, let alone comprehend it, as he began to pepper her exposed body with warm kisses. Stuttering out an barely audible, “uh-huh,” as Tom mouthed over the sensitive spot she had just beneath her ear.
As time went on, “I’m on my knee,” became a phrase that she would hear from Tom almost as frequently as he said “I love you.” He’d drop to his knee in public, private, essentially everywhere they went. She was nearly convinced that Tom on his knee wouldn’t ever mean anything other than their inside joke, but little did she know how Tom feeling.
Each time he dropped down onto one knee before her, it always made him long to obtain a ring to present her with. Considering that he was on his knee for her essentially everyday now, so much so that even the press was completely desensitized to photos of Tom on his knee before his girl, he was legitimately out and about looking for rings.
He’d recruited his mother to assist with the search, begged Harrison, Jacob, his brothers, his father, and even her mother to help him with the search, but none of them could find a ring that Tom felt was worthy of her hands. Each time someone would send him a photo of a ring that left Tom dissatisfied, which was often, he’d simply send back the verse from ‘Somewhere I Have Never Traveled, Gladly Beyond,’ regarding the smallest of hands. At this point, nobody was sure what he meant. Once Harrison had tried to clarify what exactly the rain having tiny hands had to do with the ring search, but he came back describing a look of genuine craziness in his best mate’s eyes and decided to drop it.
It was only after Tom had wandering into an antique shop with his mother that he found something perfect for her. The wedding ring was vintage and even came with an engagement ring, and after Tom had spent countless hours on the weekend thrifting and wandering in an out of hidden gem shops with his girl, he knew that she’d love it.
Tom could only hide the ring for about a week. He was utter and complete shit at hiding things, especially from her, and the ring felt as if it was burning a hole through his pocket. He couldn’t wait to let the whole world know that she was going to his forever and he’d be hers for just as long. Tom just needed to create the perfect moment.
Luckily for him, the perfect moment came the very next morning. Tom trailed behind her, kissing the back of her neck softly as she laughed and threaded her fingers up through his curls. They were deep within the poetry section of the most massive library Tom had ever seen and when she reached up to grab a novel, Tom felt as if the wind got knocked out of him. In her hands sat a copy of E. E. Cummings collected poems and while she sifted through the pages, Tom prayed inwardly to the universe for her to read the poem that he knew was destined to be hers.
Not allowing her time to chose a poem, Tom dropped down to one knee while her back was still turned on him. Digging the ring out from the confines of his pocket, he could only get the last few lines of the poem out. “I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice in your eyes is deeper than all roses.”
As Tom neared the end of the poem, she turned and opened her mouth to say the last verse with him. “Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.” She smiled, completely prepared to meet Tom’s eyes as she finally faced him.
At first, the only thing her mind could register was that her boyfriend was on his knee, as always. It took her a second to take in the ring that glittered off of the library’s bright ceiling chandelier. Pressing a hand over her lips, she struggled to breath, her small hands gripping the open poetry book in her hands. “Do you mean it, Tom?” She questioned, her eyes flicking down to the ring he was presenting her with.
His eyes were glassy in the light, and Tom smiled, “course I do, darling. I’m on my knee after all.”