She shoved her body against the door with a huff, tossing her bag onto the hall table. The silence of the flat had her close her eyes and take a deep breath. Latching the door, she went to the chair by the hall table and pulled her shoes from her feet. The evening flowed the same way every day had been since she moved out on her own. There was always research and learning and plans. Nothing ever cause her to fret until he came around again.
He always had a way of throwing everything out-of-order. He would flash in every so often, take her to an expensive cafe in muggle London. They would chat idly for a while, banter current events. There would be looks, whispers across her brain about something being there, something keeping him here this time. He would wisk her to the same muggle hotel, whisper love to her as he praised her beauty. She would awake the next day, head on his chest, and beg him to stay again. After all, he loved her.
She would try to convince him that the world would accept them, and he would deny her that. He would hold her as she cried, kiss her forehead, dress and leave.
She would make a half day at work, snapping at her assistants and ignoring the calls from her friends who were worried. Finally, she would land here, at home. Left alone to continue on.
Only to whisper out into the night, "My love, why so we suffer this shamble of love?" as her cried tears to her pillows and orange cat.
