WHO: Christian Entwhistle & Ingrid Catchlove
WHAT: Sad goodbyes :[
WHEN: Backdated to the end of Christmas holidays
WHERE: His apartment

Dark eyes darted up from the page, fingers clutching his pencil coming to an abrupt halt; there was laughter dancing in those orbs as they lifted to gaze at his newest model. "You have to sit still," he reminded playfully, and used his free hand to push some hair from his eyes. However, the gesture resulted in a charcoal smudge across his brow, one that went completely unnoticed.

It was night time, still winter break, and the two had decided to stow away at his place to warm up. His landlord had finally fixed the boiler, and the cramped space was actually warm for once. He was wearing an old band teeshirt and a pair of dirty-looking jeans, his socks bearing a hole by his big toe. He glanced back to the paper then up again, quirking a brow and chuckling. "OR you could continue to squirm about, I guess..."

"Hey now, no criticisms out of you until you sit up here and have to be all still," Ingrid returned, giving him a pointed look. It realy wasn't much of a problem at all to sit still, truth be told, but this wouldn't be half as fun if she didn't give him a little trouble. Quickly--as to not actually get on his nerves--she got rid of an itch on her nose and then returned to the pose she'd been in before.

It was only a few more seconds, however, before Ingrid moved again--only slightly this time, but her brow rose as if she was peering over to see what was on his paper. "You almost done over there?"

He pulled the top of the canvas so that she wouldn't be able to peek, giving her a cheeky half-smile that was reserved only for those he felt completely comfortable around. "Patience is a virtue, Miss." He made an impatient gesture with his hand for her to resume posing, and after a minute or two finally set down his pencil, flexing and cracking his fingers in front of him with a sigh. "Ah. There."

He took the canvas and rose from his chair, going to sit beside her on his bed and sheepishly handing it to her for her inspection. "Like it?" His gaze searched her face for signs of displeasure as he reclined back against the wall.

The sketch was all done in blacks and whites, and was slightly abstract in its angles; her eyes were the most prominent feature, and he'd accented them with darker lines than the rest of it. "If it's a bit wrong it's only because you don't know how to sit still."

Ingrid sighed in mock relief, finally being able to relax her position. She stretched her arms over her head as her eyes followed Christian over to the bed, stopping only to take the piece of art from his hands.

A smile slowly spread across her features as she traced the lines over in her gaze, and handed it back to him after a few long moments. "Even if it was wrong, I wouldn't be able to tell," she said. Leaning over, Ingrid gave him a soft kiss, playful and thankful both. She maneuvered to sit behind him on her knees, putting her arms loosely across his chest and speaking into his neck. "But as it is, it's perfect anyway."

He smirked as she dissapeared behind his back, liking the way her voice purred against his neck. He took her wrist gently in his hand and kissed her thumb. He wanted to say something along the lines of You're perfect, but knew that the words would never quite come out how he wanted. He'd just have to continue showing her with his art.

He took the canvas and set it aside before craning his head to peer back up at her. "I'll just have to make the next one better. I don't think I'll ever get tired of drawing you," he admitted, shifting against her and closing his eyes for a moment. "What time did you have to go?" It was getting later, and the last thing he wanted was to get her in trouble. He glanced at the window; it was frozen, snow still viseable on the sill.

"Good," she answered with a little chuckle. "I wouldn't want you to get bored with me and move onto some other girl. Then I'd have to take her down and there would be blood and all that... hardly a lovely picture to draw. Everyone would lose."

Ingrid shifted, moving her legs out from under her so that he was sitting inbetween and leaning her cheek against his back. It felt nice, warm skin beneath soft cloth, and she liked the way she could feel the vibrations from his chest when he spoke. She closed her eyes for a long moment, wishing she could fall asleep like this--but as he reminded her, she couldn't just stay forever.

She had parents. Who didn't know she had a boyfriend. Because they were going to freak out when she told them, because telling them included telling them that he was half a decade older. Which was what they would really freak out about. Ingrid sighed and opened her eyes again, as if the nasty reality had snapped her out of a pleasant dream. "I've got another half hour before they start to get suspicious that I'm not really out shopping with Greta. And my sister isn't a great liar."

"Ay, well we certainly wouldn't want blood. Peace love and happiness, and all that, yea?" He was clearly joking.... even though he was adamantly against wars of any kind, he was far from being a hippy. He was realistic, grounded in facts... the curse of the Ravenclaw.

He grinned ruefully; this was just another reminder as to why he shouldn't be falling for her the way that he was. Blokes his age didn't date girls with curfews! He was quiet for a few minutes, distractedly running his long fingers over the skin of the arm draped over his stomach. "Wish you could stay," he finally muttered, but it was more to himself than to her. It was almost as though he hadn't realized he'd said it.

Finally he tired of not being able to look at her or hold her properly, so he gently pried himself from her grasp and twisted to face her, reaching out and gently pushing his fingers through the golden hair just above her ear. "We'll just have to make the best of it then... what does milady wish to do?"

Ingrid bit her lip and turned her eyes to the ceiling as if thinking hard about his question, like it were some difficult test. "Oh gee, I don't know," she drawled. She looked back to him, then leaned her head forward, touching his forehead to his. A smile drew her lips upwards and she let out a quiet laugh. "Maybe something like this..."

She trailed off, the last word going into Christian's mouth as she kissed him. Some people could say that she kissed him too much, jumping at every chance, but could one blame her? He was bloody gorgeous, and sweet as hell to boot. Not a bad snog, either, as snogs went. She chalked it up to experience--and bloody hell, if it was that, she was never going to be able to kiss another Hogwarts boy again.

She had this fantastic ability of making him forget to breathe, the small hairs at the back of his neck rising as her lips met his and drew the air right from him. There was always that moment when she kissed him when he would hesitate, simply enjoying the sensation and taste of her mouth before he responded to it, bringing his other hand to the back of her neck and pulling her closer. And that's when he'd remember to breathe, a shaky inhalation that was released only when he drew away from her, half-hooded eyes peering at her face dumbly, always with this slightly bewildered look in them; he just couldn't understand what it was about this girl that made him feel the way he did.

He felt like he should say something, but nothing came to mind. So he just went right back to kissing her, the charcoal on his fingers leaving faint smudges on the pale expanse of her skin. In between kisses, he mumbled without thinking, his voice slightly breathless: "Stay. Can't you?"

Where she would have laughed normally, Ingrid's response to his question was a quiet sigh--then a kiss--then another--and, "I want to, but..." It was evident in her tone that she wasn't happy to tell him that--and why would she be? If she could choose to stay there on this bed with him until the end of the universe, she'd do it in a heartbeat.

Time seemed to be running so short lately, and especially now. She had to catch the train back to Hogwarts tomorrow, and after that... she wouldn't see him until Easter, an unbearable idea in the least. And don't think she hadn't thought of just staying behind and forgetting about school and--and these were crazy thoughts, but those were the thoughts that she had when she thought about him. He had her under some kind of spell or something, it was the only explanation for why she was so head over heels in--well, obviously not love, but... what was less than that? Struck? Yes, she was struck by him.

Completely.

He frowned and shook his head. "Sorry," was all he could think to say. "I mean, it's ok. I shouldn't keep asking you like that. Of course you have to go." He tilted his head so he could kiss her right at the curve of her jaw before straightening, reluctantly pulling away from her. If he kept snogging her like that he was afraid his insistance that she stay would turn to all out begging. Even starving artists had their pride!

Running a hand over his face, he sighed, turned his sights on the large mural sketched on the opposite wall, and then, after a few moments of lingering silence, gathered enough composure to look at her and smile. "Going back to school tomorrow, aren't you? Don't miss that for a bit."

This was bloody torture.

"Next holiday is Easter, no?" Hell, that was a long way off! He leaned back against the wall, hands folding on top of his chest. He was restraining himself. "Try not to run off with any strapping young Hogwarts boys until then, yea?"

She tried her hardest to keep the disappointment off her face at his comment about school. Somewhere, she'd been hoping he'd tell her not to go back... she couldn't, and she couldn't afford to hear it, and it would just make things harder, but. But... oy.

Ingrid nodded, forcing a smile that came out ten times more bittersweet than she had hoped, but twenty times less than she was feeling. "Yeah," she confirmed. "Yeah. A while away, but" --a tinge of a smirk touched her face, sweetening her expression just a little-- "not long enough to forget about you. Don't worry on that."

He chuckled and quirked a brow at her. "Well, I wasn't worried about that," he lied, putting on an aire of cocky confidence that was completely uncharacteristic and therefore slightly awkward there on his boyish countenance. "I'm pretty unforgettable, you know."

He winked and then settled into a slightly more serious mood, wiping the charcoal from his fingers onto his jeans, a sideways smirk still lingering on his lips. "Still, helps to know you're not easily entranced by booftie boys in red and gold." Mischief played in his black eyes and he even laughed a little, leaning into her to kiss her forehead.

"If you weren't worried, then you wouldn't have had to mention all the other boys," she answered, her smirk falling a little more natural now. Maybe it was mean of her to exploit the awkward way he was trying to act confident--oh well, she was only teasing. "But I can totally understand why you'd be nervous, I mean... Merlin, I've just practically got a harem of them following me around back at school."

Ingrid shifted her weight, and arched an eyebrow at him. The look on her face was wicked, cocky, but most of all playful. "What do you have to say to that, Mister Entwhistle?"

He ran his tonuge over his teeth, lips twisted to the side in a smirk, slowly nodding along as she went on to point out the holes in his faux confidence and describe the 'harem' she had waiting for her back at home. He didn't say anything for a while, simply stared at her, clearly amused, his dark eyes never wavering from her face. Then, without a word, he reached out and pulled her in for a searing kiss, crushing his mouth against hers with all the passion and intensity he could muster. Then he pulled away, pressed his lips into a thin line and raised his brows at her. "I think," he said slowly, "that no one in your harem can kiss you like that. And I also think that you know that."

When Christian pulled back from the kiss, Ingrid found herself stunned into silence. Whatever jab she'd had worked up to respond to whatever he had to say was lost in the air, coming out only as a small noise of longing as the heat from his body seemed to disappear all too fast. She even leaned forward a bit to perchance catch his lips once more, before realizing what he had just managed to do to her--then blushed in the realization and pulled back.

Damnit, he was good.

Finding there was nothing else she could do to save grace, Ingrid laughed nervously and ran a hand through her hair, her ears burning. "Okay. Maybe... maybe you're right."

He nodded once, satisfied, and rose from the bed, walking the entire seven feet to the kitchen. Only when he was sure that his back was completely to her did he allow himself to smile, pleased with his improvisation. When he came back he was carrying two cauldron cakes; he jumped back onto the matress beside her and set one in her lap before tearing his open with his teeth.

After devouring the cake in all but two bites (he was quite the skinny thing... it wasn't easy being a starving artist!), he rolled onto his side to face her again. He wasn't sure what to say, really... he couldn't very well keep mentioning how much he didnt want her to leave. Made a bloke sound pathetic.

She glanced at the watch on her wrist while Christian was in the kitchen, and quickly wished that she hadn't. Time was moving all too quickly, and the short fifteen minutes that the watch told her they had left was an annoying reminder of that. She hated that she was dwelling on time more than she was using up this time to the best of her ability, but Merlin's beard. If he kissed her again like that, she was pretty sure it'd be impossible to stop from cuffing herself to the bedframe and refusing to leave.

Ingrid took the cauldron cake, but didn't eat it, just staring amusedly as Christian devoured his. The smile disappeared quickly as it came, though, and she found herself frowning in discontent as she stared intently down at her hands, unwrapping the cake. The silence went on for several long minutes, and then, quietly, "I wonder what my parents would do to me if I didn't go back to school."

He blinked, realization dawning on him a little slowly. He narrowed one eye suspiciously and shook his head. "You can't not go back, Ing," was his reasonable response. "And besides, a growing witch needs her education."

With that he reached for her, pulling her against his chest in a warm hug; it wasn't really fair, this predicament, but it wasn't the worst that could happen, right? Right. What was worse was what her parents would likely say if they found out she was dating an older guy. "I'll be seeing you on holidays and things. Don't worry."

She made a sound of reluctant agreement as he pulled her against him, wrapping her arms around him and making a pout (even if he couldn't see it). Basically, she'd known he'd say something like that, but that didn't make it any eaiser to hear. "Right. Hols." The next holiday was bloody Easter, that was bloody months. Damnit.

Ingrid squeezed Christian for a second, then pulled away. "I've got to get going soon. Walk me down to the street?" Of course she could just Apparate back to Diagon from here, but that was just about the last thing that she wanted to do right now. It was too quick for a moment that she wished she could linger on.

He nodded soundlessly and scooted to the edge of the bed, throwing his legs over the side and propping his elbows on his knees. Hunched over, he rubbed one hand over his face, sighed, then finally pushed himself to his feet, turning to help her to hers before going to fetch his shoes and her coat from the next room (or, more appropriately, the next 'section' of the cramped apartment).

Once she was bundled and he had crammed his feet into his worn boots, he took her hand and led her to the door and down the five flights of stairs to the front door of the building. It wasn't until they were out on the sidewalk that he turned to face her again, grinning even as his scrawny shoulders hunched up around his ears to defend against the chill. "Well," he murmered, "I guess this is goodbye 'til Easter then...."

Ingrid didn't respond (couldn't respond, bloody hell). Instead, she rose up on her toes, grabbing his face in her hands and pressing against him in a hard, sudden kiss.

In her mind, she counted down from ten--the number of seconds she told herself she'd allow this to go on--and managed to pull herself away from Christian in great reluctance. Her hands only lingered on his cheeks for a split second more, as she grabbed her wand from her coat pocket and brandished it.

Ingrid offered him a small smile, and Apparated, her quiet "goodbye" lost on the empty air left in her wake.