“You’re joking….?” You glanced at the wizard with a small smile on your face, trying hard to stop yourself from looking a complete giddy fool in front of him. But, it was so hard when he stood in front of the large rock like that, holding a bottle of wine, and a basket full of delicious food you were sure he didn’t make. “You’re not joking?”
Newt chuckled nervously, shuffling a bit as he placed the two items on top of the rock in the mooncalf exhibit. “Sorry….no…”
He cleared his throat, walking towards you and grabbing your hand gently in his own. “Too much?”
You shook your head, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend’s neck and kissing him. “I love it. It’s perfect. You haven’t been back for some time and I’ve missed spending my days with you.”
Newt smiled widely at that, lifting you up in his arms in a tight hug. He had missed you dearly while he was away, and the only thing that got him through most of the nights were your letters.
He didn’t let you go the entire time he walked you both towards the blanket he placed atop the rock. Instead, he hooked his arm under your knees and pulled you up, kneeling down and sitting you just next to him. He was always the sweetest man, but being apart for months must have truly opened Newt up to such ideas.
“Er-I wasn’t quite sure which wine-”
“It’s fine, Newt. I’m sure it’ll be great.”
The wizard glanced at you, smiling when you picked up your glass and poured yourself a glass of the red wine. There was something even more stunning about you, basked in the light of the moon that hung high above the exhibit. It was a sight the Hufflepuff couldn’t bring himself to look away from.
“I love you…”
His words took a second to sink in, and you slowly turned to meet his gaze, eyes wide in surprise at his sudden confession. “Newt…”
His cheeks were tinted with a shade of red, fully displaying the many freckles that adorned his handsome face. He hadn’t intended to say that, but watching you in that moment had moved his heart in ways he didn’t think possible.
“Sorry, but I-” His green eyes sparkled against the moon, conveying the fear, and relief he felt from having exposed his true feelings to you. “I hope I haven’t frightened you off.”
“Never.” You smiled, cupping his cheek and taking in the handsome man before you. How you got so lucky was beyond you, but right now…you were just so happy. You leaned forward, your lips barely brushing his as you whispered out. “I love you, too.”
Whippoorwill is so bone simple, a lightness in the body, a memory still living in syllables that fly across the night And with each step I walk toward that music, with each step, I long to whisper bird song myself. Better yet, take my body, Lord, so that I might become the singing itself and fly over the moonlit waters traced
in little fingers of yellow, glimmering […] rivers that flow south, following gravity toward the Gulf. Is it too much to ask, to only ask, for an eternity of hollow bones, feathers, and beautiful whispers of whippoorwill?
Jesse Millner, closing lines to “Whippoorwill,” Gulfshore Life (vol.
42, no. 10, October 2012)
I will rustle, like the leaves that shiver lightly on moonlit trees, while you, surround me, gently like the breeze, flowing breath of the forest you are, a gypsy, always moving, and I am the stillness, that sighs at the memory of your touch.