Miracles

- for

I was the first to see it for sure.

He had brought with him a miracle and left us all blinded by the light and beauty of it, of their unlikely friendship, but most didn't understand what it all meant.

Looking into their faces as they drunk each other in with brushing fingertips, carefully spoken words and supposed unseen glances. I saw them however. I saw the real them.

They hid in shadows, whispered sweetness into the others mouth, spoke of love with tongue and steady hands and flushed touch. They were masked by the waving moon and kaleidoscope stars, their faces entangled, hearts gently sewing together with time and patience. I was in awe of them.

It was as if they had brought with them a miracle, their hearts calling to each other in the infiniteness of space. One day they would reach the other, hold out a hand with a prayer that it would be taken, without regret, without hesitation. Or had that day already come? Already passed us by why we weren't paying attention.

Even before they admitted it to me, I knew. If it wasn't love, it was a lust so powerful that it could be perceived as love, a fire so bright in their bellies and tender loins that it could be forgiven for being enough. Some couldn't understand it. I didn't condone it, but simply put up with it.

I put up with their faux of sleeping apart, but knowing that within ten minutes of my own retreat, they would be wrapped, entwined, in each other's arms, hearts, mouths, souls. I knew their talks by heart, I knew the kisses and the longing looks, and I knew the rough touches.

They made love constantly. Noisily, recklessly, ruthlessly, passionate and with complete abandonment. I would open my ears and listen to their love, not wanting to, but unable to hear anything else. I would hear Harry's muffled gasps as Draco ran his tongue up the inside of a tender thigh. I would hear Draco's moans as Harry spread himself like butter over the fair skin and tried to devour him whole. The echo of their adoration shot through me like a silver bullet and I would mend myself while they tried to pretend the truth away.

They were a miracle in themselves.

They had youth on their side, and a tender kind of longing that comes with facing down dark enemies, fleeing nightmares and chasing down an endless dawn. They unravelled each other by night, denied each other by daylight, except when I went out for the day and they made their excuses to stay, pretending, pretending for just a day longer. Sending delighted glances is some private Morse code made up of nudges, winks, elbows in the back, sliding touches and fast, sweeping kisses whenever I would leave the room.

I would stand on the sweeping porch of my summer house, a thin elegant cigarette to my lips and listen to the rough and tumble of sexual play on the inside, torn. Torn about going, torn about missing him and how I swore that I would never be sad over his leaving, about how it would be best for them. Best for the two young men kissing hungrily in each others arms at that very moment, who moulded together in private ways with no fear of their own, who strip the sheets hurriedly from the bed with the exaggerated sounds and clatter of my return.

I would stand out on the porch again, smoking another of his cigarettes, giving them a chance to tidy their clothes, the bed, to get their muddled suggestions of stories straight.

I walk in. Draco's sitting at the table, flushed and trying to blindly concentrate on the essay in front of him. Harry's in the kitchen, singing off-key and poking around for a tasty morsel. The house has the scent fresh sex rising from Harry's bedroom and I make a mental note to give the sheets a proper tuck in before they retire for the night. Tonight there would be no more sneaking.

Harry meanders in and they are the unspoiled picture of contentment. At least I may not have to listen to their enthusiastic lovemaking tonight. Draco has more colour to his cheeks, Harry has this unconscious sabre-tooth tiger smile and a spring in his step.

I fold my arms, lean against the door-jam, ask how long it's been.

They look confused; blank stares.

"How long have you two been going out?" There is a smile to my tone, but my mouth barely quirks.

With just one question, I've turned the tables, I've changed the rules mid-way through the game and they're not sure how to handle it. Harry almost drops the plate with his sandwiches, Draco lets the quill he holds fall onto his parchment and one of his carefully presented summer essays has a brand new blot.

"So?" Confident this time.

They start by lying, but they both know, deep down, that I know for sure, I must do, or I wouldn't ask like this. This was too planned, too confident for it to be simply laid down to coincidence. Slowly the truth spreads out before me. They've been going out, more or less, on and off, for nine months, nine months, the school knows, they were discovered just two weeks before school was let out. And now, they're tyring to pass it off to families that they're just friends, but gossips work hard these days. This, being here in this haven I've off-handedly been able to provide for them, is the only place they really have right now.

We talk for near on an hour; about who knows, about the teachers' reactions, about, while I blushed like a teenager, safe sex. I make a point of saying that I'm okay with the relationship, I'm not happy about the fact that they didn't trust me enough to tell me outright, but now everything's out in the open it's okay. I also do some thinking out loud, muttering to myself about silencing spells and moving them into the same room.

They share looks of delight through their embarrassment.

They were, by now, sitting next to each other now, the sandwiches picked up and eaten, Draco's hand laced through Harry's. He brought it up to his mouth to kiss, concentrating on the warm, thick skin of his lovers fingers.

After our chat, while Harry did the dishes and Draco began scribbling once again, I stood out on the porch and watched the stars start to come out.

I traced the silvery skies with my eyes and thought about what we would eat tonight, about how grown-up they both were getting, and how I missed him.

I called up to the stars in silent tongue, the wind carrying away my loneliness with its fresh summer breath.

My miracle never has the chance to arrive. I turn, go inside and close the turning world out with a steady click.

They were kissing in the kitchen, soap bubbles in Harry's unruly black hair, Draco with two wet hand marks on the back of his silky green shirt; my own love stepping lightly away from the door.

- finished -