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I had known as soon as we started dating properly that we would have to deal with this problem eventually. It was obvious from the moment I met her that we had very different views on this issue. I’d tried to hide from it for as long as possible, but I knew it was only a matter of time.
Sunshine.
My evil nemesis, her best friend.
I’d been lucky enough to start dating her in winter, but now, now it was June, we were sleeping together, and that bastardly ball of fire was back to ruin my skin and my relationship.
The first sunny morning was a Monday. She couldn’t do anything in it, because we had work. Ah ha ha, I thought, one nil to me, you big yellow git. But, no, it persisted. Days and days of sun. Six, to be exact, and counting. And today, day six, is a Saturday. I know she wants to do something summery as soon as I open my eyes. Mainly because she’s brushing a quill feather against my ear to wake me up. When I can stand it no more, I flap a hand in her direction and the quill is retracted.
‘Oh, good,’ she says, ridiculously cheerful on this wretched day, ‘you’re awake.’
‘Against my better judgement,’ I mutter, from under the sheet.
‘Well, get up,’ she commands. ‘I’ve already packed a picnic-’
‘What the- Granger!’ I yell, fumbling for my watch and peering at the short hand. ‘It’s 9am, you mad woman!’ I burrow further under the sheet, taking extra precautions with my precious skin by hiding under my pillow.
She taps my hip with one neatly filed nail. ‘That is a perfectly acceptable time to rise,’ she counters. ‘Especially on a Sunny Day,’ she adds, imbuing the words with special importance. I peek out from the pillow and see her smiling out the window, her face tipped up towards the light. Great. Not bad enough that the bloody sun is trying to mar my beautiful visage, now it’s after my girlfriend, as well.
‘Fine,’ I declare, flinging the covers back and rising.
‘Fine?’ she asks, her attention drawn back to me. And just as bloody well.
‘Yup,’ I say, smiling at her. ‘Great idea. Picnic. Walk. Sunny. Day.’ I grit out. Bastard.
She looks at me oddly. ‘Okay,’ she says, grinning at me. ‘Get dressed, then,’ she adds, leaning up to give me a kiss. I press her to me, reminding myself why I’m about to court skin cancer. She complies willing for a moment, before she manages to pull away. ‘Dressed,’ she breathes, clearing her throat as she heads into the living room. I grin. Round one to me.
‘Couldn’t we have Apparated?’ I mutter, squinting in the death rays as she ambles along beside me, the picnic basket swinging against her leg.
‘What would be the point in that?’ she asks, peering up at me from under her ridiculous sun hat.
‘Getting there faster?’ I suggest. She laughs.
‘Getting where?’ she asks. ‘We’re just out. Enjoying the sun.’
‘So we’re just...walking?’ I ask incredulously. ‘Nowhere in particular?’
‘Well, the park, eventually,’ she concedes. ‘But there’s no hurry to get there. Just relax, Draco,’ she advises, squeezing my hand gently. ‘Feel the warmth of the sun.’
‘I can feel it,’ I retort. ‘I can feel it burning through my shoes.’
She grins up at me. ‘Oh, don’t be a spoilsport,’ she says, nudging me with her hip.
The sun seems to mock me as we wander on. One round each.
‘Here looks good,’ I suggest, dragging her to the shade of a tree as soon as we get to the park.
‘Draco,’ she protests, laughing, ‘that must be the darkest part of the whole park!’
‘Not the darkest part,’ I counter. The darkest part is the cycle path. This is the closest I can get.
‘It’s okay, silly ferret,’ she says cupping my cheeks as she kneels beside me. ‘I won’t let the nasty sun burn you.’
‘No?’ I ask, leaning forward for a kiss.
‘Nope,’ she says, dolloping something onto my nose instead.
‘What the hell?’ I ask.
‘Sunscreen,’ she explains, holding up a white tube with a picture of a smiling sun on the front. ‘Now, hold still.’
I sit very carefully as she gently rubs cream into my pale skin. Occasionally, her touch is more of a caress and I manage to get quite a few kisses in before she declares me “screened”. I’m about to call this another point for me, until she decides that since I’m wearing this glop, we can go sit in a more exposed area.
Maybe it’s a draw.
‘Having fun?’ I ask, some time later. We have feasted on her “breakfast picnic” and she’s now lying on one side of the rug, reading a book and wiggling her bare toes in the grass.
‘Loads,’ she agrees, looking up from her book to beam at me. I, however, am not having fun. Despite her assurance about UV filters, I’m still huddled under a tree, sitting on the very edge of the picnic blanket to keep my clothes off the grass. She bites her lip in amusement at the sight of me and puts her book to one side. ‘Why don’t you come over here,’ she says, patting the space beside her invitingly. I frown at her. She bats her eyelashes. I give in. As soon as I lie down next to her, she cuddles up against me and begins undoing my shirt buttons. ‘There,’ she says, three buttons later, ‘you must have been sweltering with your shirt done up like that.’ That done, she rests one hand on my chest, her fingers playing with the pale hairs now visible as she pillows her head against my shirt and murmurs, ‘Isn’t it a beautiful day?’
I look down at her, tucked lovingly against me, and then up at the clear blue sky, and sigh. ‘Yes, love,’ I concede, winding my fingers in her long curls, ‘it’s a beautiful day.’