We kiss through the entirety of my trip down memory lane, our bodies twisting together underneath the blanket as she climbs into my lap and begins to hump me in a similar fashion that she did that night. That night was the beginning of our relationship. It took me a few weeks to take her virginity but we did everything else up until then. She loved my mouth between her legs, and if I was honest so did I and she sucked my dick with such enthusiasm despite my size. And then one night, when I’d whisked her to a hotel under the ruse that she was sleeping at a friend’s house, I took her virginity on a bed of rose petals atop satin sheets in a room full of candles.

The first time I made love to her, soft and slow and worshipped every inch of her beforehand to try and temper the pain of losing her virginity. But after we’d finished, seeing the blood on my dick made me feel almost feral as feelings of possession bloomed in my chest and I took her almost brutally the second time.

For what it’s worth, that time she came.

“I’ve missed this so fucking much,” she moans as she pulls off my shirt. She pulls hers off immediately after leaving her in a lacy white bra that I can see her nipples through. I run my tongue over my teeth and I immediately want to suck them into my mouth. I reach around her and unhook her bra letting them spring free and I let my eyes flutter shut at the visual.

“Jesus, Whitney.” My eyes immediately go to her clavicle where the words are written in light script. It’s dark, only the light from the fireplace and the string of tea lights illuminates the patio so it’s hard to make out. “When did you get this?”

“A few weeks after you left.” She leans down to give me a better look and while I assumed it had to do with me, I wasn’t expecting it at the same time.

In script, it says, “after all this time?” and just beneath it, “always.”

She swallows and leans back. “I told myself one day you would come back to me. That you still loved me and we’d find our way back to each other. But, in the off chance you didn’t, I would just look like a normal Harry Potter stan, which I am.” She shrugs with a faint smile on her lips. This was true, she was one, but so was I. It was something we bonded over when she was growing up. We read all the books and watched the movies together and had been to Harry Potter World more than once. So, the tattoo has many different meanings which I’m sure made explaining it easier.