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Delicate

 

To all those brilliant mathematicians, physicists and other scientists out there, who are almost always eccentric and sometimes just downright weird, but never the lesser men. My grandfather was one of them. 

 

Now

Stark naked Hermione stood in front of a shower and listened to the sounds from a man inside. She needed to think, or maybe, she merely needed to gather her vanished confidence, which she pathetically had lost a minute ago. Either way, she suddenly felt it necessary to pause and regroup. At that particular moment, she had no idea how it happened, how the hell she had gotten into this. How had she come to be standing outside of Xenophilius Lovegood's shower without a stitch of clothing, about to step inside? Honestly, Hermione had no idea, none, zero and zilch. Apparently, her mind had decided to turn blank. Well, at least she still knew how it all started.

Before

It all began when she decided to remove herself from the Burrow. Actually, to urgently evacuate from the Burrow would be a more accurate phrasing. Desperate to find a place to stay, Hermione was genuinely appreciative when Luna offered to shelter her, and therefore, she gratefully accepted.

Then when she first moved in, Xenophilius Lovegood was just Luna's father to her - an eccentric scientist with more than a little strange fashion sense and a peculiar habit of mumbling continuously. Who could've known that it wouldn't stay that way for long? Undoubtedly, Hermione couldn't even imagine anything between them, and yet...

She remembered perfectly well the moment when he insisted that she call him Xeno. He had raised an impatient hand in the air, causing a few unnerved butterflies to flutter out of his yellow velvet jacket's chest pocket and exclaimed, "Please, call me Xeno. There is absolutely no sense in formalities. We have known each other long enough."

So, he became Xeno to her, although he still was just an eccentric scientist with bright blue eyes and butterflies always fluttering around him. Hermione actually wondered more than once, just why those little creatures followed him everywhere. Unable to come up with any logical explanation, she concluded that they probably liked his yellow outfits. 

The next phase went undetected for her. She couldn't pinpoint when exactly she had begun to notice him, to actually notice him. Did it happen after he healed her paper cut, which was given to her by yet another letter from Ron? She really couldn't say. All she knew was that while Xeno was massaging a citrus scented salve of his own production into her hands, murmuring, "You have such delicate skin, Hermione. You have to be careful and take good care of it," she suddenly realised that his hands were warm and manly. Well, maybe not actually manly, but certainly much bigger than hers.

Hermione recalled that she had been unable to hold back a delighted half-sigh-half-moan of pleasure. Bluntly, she had uttered a moan and whispered a rather husky and breathy "Thank you," right into his ear and was flabbergasted by Xeno's sudden and hasty retreat. He had mumbled, "Yes, yes, of course," and sprinted away from her. She even had believed that she saw a shadow of a blush on the wizard's cheeks. Maybe, she just imagined that though. Her imagination did run wild sometimes.

However, she definitely did notice him during the summer solstice weekend, when Luna had to go fern-flower hunting with Neville. She woke up to Xeno humming some tune in the kitchen. When she went down from her room there were pancakes ready for her, although Xeno himself had a dandelion salad for breakfast, claiming that it's extremely healthy. After breakfast, the wizard announced that he had promised Luna to entertain her. And he did entertain her to Hermione's thorough surprise.

First, he fixed her hair into an elaborate French braid.  Then, he offered to colour her nails. Hermione was apprehensive at the beginning, but Xeno managed to convince her by saying that he had done it hundred times for Luna.  In the end, she wasn't disappointed - her nails looked fabulous. The wizard even managed to feature different species of orchids on each on of them.

When she asked him how on Earth he had learned to do all that, he answered with a wistful smile, "I am a single father, Hermione. I learned to do a lot of different things while Luna was growing up."

Those words unquestionably changed her perception of Xenophilius Lovegood forever. Hermione never thought about that side of the wizard's life before. How was it for him - to lose his beloved wife and having to raise his daughter alone? There was quite a lot of food for thought. The wizard did manage to raise a terrific daughter after all.

On that same day, at night, they sat on the doorsteps in front of the house, watching moths that gathered around a gas lamp. The wizard was telling her all about nocturnal insects, when a cloud of fireflies came into their view. A flock of little, sparkly creatures stayed suspended in the air right in front of them. Xeno extended his hand toward the cloud, and to Hermione's astonishment, one creature landed on his open palm.

The wizard took her hand into his and gently transferred the firefly onto her finger. "Do you see, Hermione," he asked quietly, "how delicate this creature is? How beautiful it is? You are even more delicate, Hermione, even more beautiful. Please, don't let Ron or any other wizard tell you otherwise. Witches are very delicate creatures that need nurturing and tender care. Believe me, I know, I learned it the hard way."

With that, the wizard drew a heavy sigh and went inside. Hermione sat alone for a while thinking about his words. Neither Ron nor any other wizards had ever called her delicate and beautiful. They had called her sexy, pretty, hot, but never delicate. Was she truly?

Yes, it was probably that night when everything changed between them. Next morning Hermione watched him tending to his flowers with entirely different eyes. He wore only linen trousers and his lean body shimmered lightly in the morning sun. He wasn't very muscular, yet not unpleasant to the eye. His flax locks were gathered with a string and an invariable flock of butterflies flapped around him as usual. Yet, something warm began to grow in Hermione's heart while she was watching him from her window, something unfamiliar. That something made her wonder if the wizard had been affected as well.

She received an answer to her query on the same day. Xeno took her to a natural spring that Sunday. There, when she casually asked him to swim with her, he rashly declined and, muttering something incoherent about wild berries for dinner, literally ran away from her into the forest. This time Hermione was absolutely sure that there was a bright red blush on the wizard's face. It was obvious that he was indeed affected as well.

Why did she choose to continue then? Why didn't she move out that very week? She didn't have an answer. Maybe she simply loved the way he made her feel - delicate and beautiful. And, frankly, the awe in Xeno's eyes was kind of addictive.

For the following few weeks, Hermione circled the wizard carefully, cornering him wherever she could with important questions such as Crumple-Horned Snorkacks' migration habits. She watched him intently while he dutifully answered to her inquiries, finding him more attractive by the minute. The fact that he was blushing adorably every time their eyes met only added to his allure. The poor wizard even began to stutter slightly whenever she was around.

It was incredibly sweet, really. Plus, he wasn't actually that old, and quite good-looking, apart from his fashion sense and love of everything yellow, of course. He had amazing hair with a slight wave, a straight Greek profile and full, sensual lips. His blue eyes were full of kindness with just a hint of sadness hidden somewhere inside. How could she not have noticed it all before? Day after day, that warm, unfamiliar feeling grew in Hermione's chest.

Finally, this last Sunday, the wizard delivered the final drop that overfilled the cup of fondness in Hermione's heart. It happened in the evening. It was hot and humid all day, bringing an unavoidable thunderstorm in the afternoon. Hermione was reading, and Luna was drawing something in her notebook, when the door flew open with a loud crack. On the threshold, stood totally soaked Xeno with his hands full of wet and exquisitely fragrant, bright purple lilacs.

"I heard they smell the best in the rain," he explained, smiling excitedly and locking his eyes on Hermione. Outside, the storm was still furiously raging, but inside the lilac scent filled the room in seconds. The wizard just stood there as happy as a child at the door, looking at her with joy and not noticing that puddles were forming around him. His hair was all over his face, his shirt was thoroughly wet and transparent, and his breeches clung to his lean, long thighs. Somehow, he looked so damn sexy and so sweetly naïve at the same time that Hermione's heart was forced to make a dangerous, acrobatic somersault in her chest at the sight. He was gorgeous. Absolutely, utterly gorgeous in his own unique, odd way and Hermione wanted nothing less than to snog him nearly to death and then some. And she probably would have done it, if only Luna hadn't been there in the same room.

And that was the moment that caused Hermione to have a talk with Luna the next day. Thank goodness that Luna was her usual unperturbed self and only said, "Of course you should go to him, Hermione. In fact, I think you better go right now because I am afraid you will burst otherwise." However, when Hermione hugged her and was on her way, Luna added, "Just be gentle with him. His heart is delicate, you know."

"I know, and I will," affirmed Hermione to her friend and Apparated.

Now again

"Agh, don't you fool yourself," muttered the witch. "You know exactly why you are here and how it has gotten to this. Now, don't be a coward and get on with it." With these words the witch stubbornly jerked her chin up and stepped into the shower. The stunned wizard only managed a stammered, "H...Hermione?" before she covered his lips with hers. He didn't fight her of course. Soon their bodies were intertwined in every possible way and his lips traced her wet skin, whispering with awe, "So delicate, so beautiful, so perfect."

 

Delicate like rain

Delicate like snow

Delicate like birds

Delicate just so

Delicate like air

Delicate like breeze

Delicate like you and me

A delicate advance

A delicate retreat

Delicately planned

Delicate like peace

Delicate like a touch

That's delicately brief

Delicate like you and me

Delicate like trinkets on her bracelet

Delicate like a bracelet on your arm

Delicate like sweet arms around me

Delicate like me on top of you

Delicate like words

Delicate how time

So delicately runs

Then delicately dies

Delicate how eyes

So delicately breathe

Delicate like you my dear

Delicate like me my love

Delicate like you and

Delicate like me and

Delicate like

Delicate like you and me*