Harry Potter: Reunion with the Enemy

Love at first sight is probably one of the cheesiest plots in the world.

If the eighteen-year-old Lancelot accidentally saw this kind of plot in a book, he would probably express disdain and sneer at it at the first moment.

But if you ask Lancelot now what love at first sight means, he will only remain silent for a few minutes, seriously thinking whether he belongs to the above category because he began to fall in love with someone after the second or third meeting, and then he will feel at ease and exonerate himself from the ranks of ordinary people.

The great philosopher told the world that matter determines consciousness, and thinking does not precede existence. But there must be something in the heart first, and physical contact can make people's heart beat faster. In the few minutes after Lancelot finished speaking, the air solidified like a frozen meringue cake. But he watched Ed's face gradually turn red, then his neck, ears, and a small piece of chest under the unbuttoned buttons.

It turns out that his whole body turns red when he is nervous. Lancelot couldn't connect the man who was avoiding his gaze with the unscrupulous reporter who had sneaked into his house before. Both of them were still in the air, and even the wrinkles on the pillow didn't dare to extend an extra centimeter.

The eyes that betrayed Animagus were now looking for a place to rest in the wall forged by Lancelot's arms. Lancelot did not say that cats were worshiped in ancient Egypt very early. The royal family regarded cats as sacred animals, and their eyes were considered to be the place where the sun's rays were stored at night. In order to carry everything he loved to eternal life, the pharaoh would also make cats into mummies.

Unable to resist Lancelot's gaze, Ed simply pulled out his hand to cover his face, and covered Lancelot's eyes with his other hand, as if his skin would be burned by this gaze for another second. "Don't look at it." Ed said vaguely, biting his lower lip with his white teeth.

The palm that was extended to him was slightly damp with moisture. The summer night was still too hot, Lancelot thought.

A plot even more cliché than love at first sight is the meeting and separation in summer.

In such a season, they accidentally broke into each other's lives, established a brief emotional connection, and shared a wonderful time. When the summer ended, the story should have stopped. Their story should have stopped at a certain moment in the Duchess's house, or at least the early morning of Brick Lane, or the time of discharge from St. Mungo's Hospital, a night in the forest, and then the wedding photos. The ever-extending intersection time allowed the originally unclear ideas to take root and gradually become clear.

"Aren't you tired of keeping your hand raised all the time?" Lancelot found Ed's shoulder along the back of the hand that was covering his own. He leaned down, and the breath of the owner of the shoulder became very close. Between their eyes were Ed's two hands.

Lancelot imagined that Eddard, whose whole body had turned red, would shrink into a cat at some point and quickly escape back to his room, or scratch his daring self with his claws that could scratch through the wooden boards.

But it didn't. The moment his hand was pulled away, the light returned, and the faint mole on Ed's nose, which he was always happy to observe, was right in front of him.

Without seeming to think any further, Lancelot stroked Ed's cheek and kissed him.

The moment their lips touched, Lancelot seemed to remember that the shaving utensils he asked Ed for because of his stubble were still placed aside. He didn't know whether the pressure, pain and temperature were appropriate now.

It seemed like a long time before they separated. Ed seemed to be suffocated. After he separated, he turned his head and breathed deeply while pinching Lancelot's chin. "I think..." Ed touched his lips with an unsatisfied look.

"Hmm?" Lancelot's originally restless arrogance had been half extinguished, and he waited for the answer cautiously and eagerly.

"If you follow my breath," Ed dug out the shaving utensils and began to help Lancelot clean up the fine stubble, "you can last longer."

Lancelot, who had been unable to tell whether his action was a caress or an offense, breathed a sigh of relief and obediently let Ed fiddle with his chin.

"Should I teach you?" The redness on Ed's face had not yet faded. He lowered his head and held Lancelot's lips, as seriously as if he was going to complete a unique and beautiful report.