The outside air was cold, cold enough to make Donovan hold his coat tighter around his body as he fought his way against the wind on his way to the Three Broomsticks. Despite the freezing late November air his palms still managed to sweat as each step brought him closer and closer to his arranged meeting place with none other than Anya Zolnerowich. Just thinking her name sent a jolt of renewed fear through his body, and for a brief moment he wondered if he had made a mistake in agreeing to accompany her for drinks. It wasn’t often that Donovan let his guard down anymore, especially not around women as enticing as Anya was to him, but with the sudden doubts that were growing in his chest over the Ministry and what they seemed to be doing and lying about, Donovan thought that perhaps an exception to his normally strict routine was deserved and perhaps even necessary. He couldn’t help it that Anya just happened to be the first to offer to accompany him, though a small part of him wondered if he wouldn’t have been nearly as eager to bend his own rules if someone else had asked. He knew that entering the pub was stepping into dangerious territory that he wasn’t sure he was ready for, but the clink of the bell above the pub door that alerted the patrons of his admittance sealed his fate.
It took him no time at all to spot Anya sitting at the bar, and for some reason Donovan thought that he could have walked into the bar with his eyes closed and still have managed to find himself sitting right beside her once he opened them. There was something about her, something that drew him to her in a way that was so powerful it frightened him, that was unavoidable no matter how hard he tried to remember that he couldn’t trust himself around women, they simply broke him too easily and he knew that if he let her, Anya would be the worst of all. Sliding into the stool next to hers, palms still sweaty as he peeled his jacket off and slung it over the seat next to him, Donovan gave her a warm smile and nodded for the bartender to give him whatever she was having. “Evening, miss,” he nodded towards her, taking the chance to really study her face. She was as beautiful as he could ever remember seeing her, and it almost made his chest ache to know she would never be his. “I take it you’re used to the cold?” He was still shivering slightly from the freezing air outside, but with her Russian background he would have bet she hadn’t even worn a jacket at all. As the bar maid set down his drink before he, Donovan raised it to her with a smile. “I’m all yours for the teaching tonight, miss. Time to let my guard down.” The thought scared him more than he would have liked to admit, but he put on a brave face, waiting for her beautiful accent to meet his ears.
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justmeandmybaileys reblogged this from anyazolnerowich and added:
Donovan had never felt lips as soft as Anya’s, nor had he ever felt so conflicted by a simple kiss. He was not an...
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anyazolnerowich reblogged this from justmeandmybaileys and added:
Anya was very aware of Donovan. His voice, his body, his presence. First he was just talking but then he was moving ever...
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justmeandmybaileys posted this
