"A tradition?" The question slipped past Riddle's lips before he could stop himself.

"Yeah, from Harveston — or so I've heard." Trey smiled as he placed a cup of herbal tea before the Housewarden. The night was young, yet sleep eluded them both. "At this time of year, they hang mistletoe branches in doorways. The rule dictates that any two people caught beneath it have to kiss."

A rule... The conversation from days prior swam around Riddle's mind as he stared at the plant hanging between you and him. He could feel the blood rushing to his face, but he justified it to himself as a side effect of the cold weather.

He was unsure of the proper course of action. Am I meant to initiate? Have they noticed, or do they simply not know the tradition? They were deep in the maze of roses; interruptions were out of the question. Frankly, his concerns lay with what to do in case you actually wanted a kiss from him.

Romance was one of those trivial matters he was never allowed to dream of. That time he wasted craving company could be spent honing his magic, his mother would say. But since his overblot, he had learned that not everything his mother preached was law.

He was allowed to want, to feel, and right now, what he truly desired was a kiss.