༻⚜️༺     

     "I'm a swan, you're a wolf. Go! You're a wolf!" Ainsley hits me on the shoulder, and I run.

     The trunks of the apple and peach trees pass by in a blur as I duck in and out, over roots and under branches. Ainsley follows close behind, shrieking with laughter.

     The chocolate frog bounces like a ball of mud in front of me, and I race after it. Ainsley appears by my side, and we both tear through the grass. Just as I'm about to grab it, she grasps my arm and yanks me back, and the frog narrowly avoids my closing fist.

     We tussle as we run, each determined to be the one who catches it. Ainsley speeds ahead of me, legs pumping tirelessly. I let her. The wind rushes around us as I look at her running figure, the pink of her palm, the calves of her legs. Sunshine in my eyes.

     "Whoever doesn't catch it is an ugly, stinky troll!" Her voice rings in the wind; church bells beckoning sinners to repentance and lovers to the altar.

     I take a small flying leap and catch hold of her waist. She cries out as we tumble onto the ground. Our faces hover inches apart, chests heaving.

     "Why a swan?" I pant.

     "Cyngus," her warm breath dusts my nose like steam of hot rose tea. "The poet Orpheus was transformed into the constellation of a swan and placed next to his lyre¹. Also, swans can't be bossed around. You're welcome to try, though."

     Something passes between us. An energy; the same unseen force that draws two metals together. It compels me to bring my face forward, and I resist it with all my strength. 

     Then, she rubs the tip of her nose against mine, giggling, and the moment is popped like a bubble. Shattered into oblivion. She sits back up and says, "Let's go find that frog."

     We hunt it down and eat it under the shade of the biggest apple tree. I leave each bite in my mouth, letting the sugary softness of the confectionery coat my tongue. Ainsley's hair is now up in that black ribbon of hers. Fractured fingers of sun rays flit through the leaves, begging for just one touch of her. Is the sun jealous of me, I wonder, that I might soak in her presence while it could not?

     "Draco, can I tell you something?" Ainsley says between chews. Her creamy legs are stretched out intolerably close to mine, incarnadine cheeks glowing. Anything.

     "I'm really glad you didn't pitch yourself off the Astronomy Tower that night." She sucks her fingers, cleaning off any last bits of chocolate. She doesn't say it was because she saved me, or that she had waited to make sure I was safe. Only that she's glad I hadn't done it.

     I look down at her. Curtain eyelashes, slender neck, onyx silk holding back her river of hair.

     So am I.

     My eyes fly open. I am in my bed with nothing but the serpentine shapes of the Black Lake on the wall and the sound of four boys snoring around me.

     I press the heels of my palms into my eyes. Fuck, I think. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It's nothing, it's just a dream. Think of something else, anything.

     Anything but that flash of white neck when her head tips back in laughter and the black bow unraveling under my fingers to unleash her carob waves and how her eyelashes might feel against my cheekbones.

     Anything but those things.