It just punches through her, right to the heart of her, making her suck in a breath quietly. The generosity of him. The casual consideration, the history behind it - was that Harry, when he was first taken to Diagon Alley? Small and hungry and aware that he couldn't afford a single book? Before Hagrid revealed he was richer than bloody Midas, with his Potter vaults and his inheritances.

She leans over in her chair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, before letting her arm drape over his shoulder and sliding so she can kiss his temple, his cheek. Quickly delivered, each kiss is a stamp of the overwhelming amount of love she has for this man.

"The fucking heart of you, Harry Potter."