He was taking a lot longer than it had taken her to get up, she noticed. It couldnât possibly have been due to a more restrictive clothing choice. A dress was quite restrictive as it was, her legs could only move so far before the fabric held them from stretching further, her arms could only reach as far as the sleeves would extend. A suit, while still difficult to move in, was far more accommodating to this sort of venture (Holly couldnât help but feel cheated. Next time there was a formal occasion, surely, sheâd wear pants and a light blouse); so how Dirk still hadnât reached her this much later, she couldnât quite grasp.Â
     Drawing her knee to her chest, she dropped her chin upon it while her other leg hung loosely over the edge of the wide branch. Half of her warned against having the leg there for fear of Dirk playfully tugging at it, but the atmosphere was too tranquil for that, even despite the taunts being thrown back and forth. There was something so comforting, relieving, natural about being in this tree, so removed from the rest of the public. The only noises were rustles of leaves and Dirkâs voice, as well as her own, entering the night with playful attributes laced in each word. Nothing else bothered them, nothing was a cause to stir from this soothing environment. It was much like mornings in the shoppe, entering from the brisk chill of London, only a few other souls to stroll through her path prior to her arrival. The first hour or two would be spent watering and tending to the plants, planting seeds, maintaining the newly sprouted seedlings. All acts that happened everyday were ones that filled her with joy, regardless of how repetitive they were; there was something new to discover in that blank silence, every single time. Maybe she liked it so much because it offered time to think, to be pensive. Create plans for the day or the week; make goals for something in her future; or just as sheâd been absolved in earlier, a daydream or two. No matter how gray the morning and no matter how bleak the weather, it was always that same sense of serenity that swallowed her whole. It was just what she was experiencing now, aloft and above friends and strangers in the ballroom below. Every now and then, a stray note from the band would push past the crack in the door to the courtyard and Holly would recall where precisely they were and everything else that was not happening in her (and now, Dirkâs) tree.
     He was closer when he spoke this time; there was no muffle from the foliage, and when she looked down, she could actually see his face instead a dark shadow. âIâd build a platform first, of course. Then a small house.â She added with a crinkle of her nose, âIt would probably be bigger than my apartment, though. I think anything would be bigger than that.â Tracing lines over the bark, she noticed minute, millimeter-size drillings into the wood, âIâd have to figure out how to get rid of the carpenter ants. Theyâre not much of a problem right now, but if they multiply, those tools my neighbour,â clear emphasis on neighbour, âAllowed me to borrow will have been put to use for no reason at all. Iâd have to relocate the ants, I think. No pesticides - this home will refuse to allow any sort of killing to happen anywhere near it, whether it be purposeful or accidental.â
     As soon as heâd neared her resting spot, her head had lifted and knee straightened; she inched up the branch to give him enough room to sit, a beam erupting over her lips. âLook at you, Dirk Cresswell. Youâve finally made it. Took you some time, there - are you that out of practice of tree climbing?â Even in the dark, her eyes lit with impish pleasure.Â
     Tossing her legs over his lap, her body leaned against his chest, her cheek upon his shoulder. A bare foot lifted into the air, stubby toes wiggling at him in reminder of the shoe that she was missing. âCould you give me my shoe back, now? Itâs not polite to have a prisoner of war when the other side has none to trade with themselves.â Her eyebrow arched, expectant look settling upon her face.
      âYou suppose this is a decent view,â she scoffed, quite offended by his wording. âAnything would be better, more âromanticâ, as you say, than being in a room with old men whoâve nothing better to do with their lives than waste away judging others. Iâd prefer that either of us didnât have to return eventually, but thatâs unfortunately how it is.â Glancing up at him, she allowed herself a moment to memorize his friendly features, the kind eyes, the raised, smiling cheeks, the laugh lines whose depth she hoped sheâd added to in the far past. âWhatâ Dirk, no,â she protested as he abruptly offered her his jacket, attempting to wave him off. âI donât want it, I donât need itââ
The weight of Hollyâs body settled gently against his own, her legs draped over him and hanging precariously in the air, one foot bare. The way she leaned into him made his heart ache, as though a small piece that he wasnât quite sure was missing had been found, only to have a little bit off the end chipped off to mar the bond. Surely he wasnât the only one who noticed it? The nearly seamless way that she nestled into him, as though his shoulder had once upon a time been a place sheâd called home. His stomach wailed plaintively in his gut, twisted up in a way that he could only assume would look like the pretzels that sat in bakery windows. He felt himself pulling towards her, especially as he glanced down to find her wide crystalline eyes staring back at him, the light of the bright moon reflected in them. Dirk felt his fight clench beside him, taking every ounce of willpower to resist the magnetism heâd denied for months. He smiled back almost bashfully at her, his eyes pulled away to gaze upon the rooftop once more by the way his mind screamed out at him to pull back. One day he would have to tell her, face the ramifications of the truths heâd left half-answered, the realities of her life of which he knew but couldnât bring himself to share. But that day did not have to be this one.
âYour shoe!â He exclaimed in surprise, the unsettled feeling in his chest causing his voice to tremble more than he would have liked. âIâd almost forgotten about it. Lucky, it almost fell right on my head.â Dirkâs hands patted his jacket pockets before extracting the footwear in question, holding it up in the moonlight for Holly to see. âNow, are you sure itâs yours? Could be anyoneâs really. Suppose we need to see if the slipper fits.â With a dramatic flourish and a grin he slowly slipped the flat over her pointed toes, lifting the heel just enough to allow her foot to slide comfortably into the shoe. Dirk held Hollyâs leg softly at the ankle, as if to silhouette the shoe against the night sky. âSeems like youâre the one, mâlady,â he said once more, the subtext painful in his throat. He stared wistfully at her once more as his mouth opened, threatening to spill the words heâd kept carefully guarded since the girlâs lapse in memory. Just stop it, his mind boomed as his mouth snapped shut, and his hands set the girlâs leg down delicately onto his own lap.
âIâm not taking no for an answer,â he answered as his friend tried to push his jacket from her shoulders, protesting the gesture. âAt least Iâve got a vest and shirt on under this - your dress, while lovely, doesnât look like itâs much protection from the elements. The breeze isnât exactly friendly up here.â Careful not to knock either him or his friend backwards off their perch on the branch, Dirk wrapped the shoulder of his jacket around Hollyâs bare skin, tucking the fabric around her to shield her from the wind. He lifted the other shoulder and moved back from her briefly, allowing himself to drape the fabric fully around her before he sat back up once more. Even in the moonlight it appeared comically oversized on the girlâs slender frame, a costume a young girl might wear when playing dress-up. Still, the image of Holly wearing his sweaters at Hogwarts, or stealing his scarf at quidditch came flooding back to him, her impish smile the most consistent part of the memories. Dirk smiled kindly, accompanied by a quiet sigh he hoped that the girl wouldnât hear or notice.Â
âAs for the climbing, I am out of practice. I imagine most adult blokes are. I donât go around climbing every tree I can find. Although,â he said thoughtfully, staring out at the Manor grounds sprawled beneath them. âIf this is the viewing waiting for climbing, I suppose I should do it more often. And as dreadfully dull as that lot are, theyâre mostly co-workers. As much as Iâd like to hide up here, in your new home, for the rest of the night I canât be away for much longer. Duty calls, I suppose.â
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