First drink: a glass of wine
There was one box in the front entryway, that's all it had taken. One box to remove all of her things, to eradicate herself from the place she called home. It had an undetectable expansion charm on it and all, but still, it was just one box.
Second drink: a shot of firewhiskey (she thought that might dull the pain a bit)
She was sitting on the couch, staring into the fire. The television that she had insisted on getting (but he had bought so it wasn't in the box) was off. A little black puppy was sleeping next to her, its head nestled into her lap. She couldn't decide who would keep him.
Third Drink: a mug of butterbeer (the fire had died out and she was cold, it did little to warm her)
Her family, and friends, had told her, warned her, that this would happen. Doesn't it just suck to admit they were right?
Fourth Drink: A shot of vodka (because the muggle that lived next door to her old apartment told her it cured all heartbreaks)
He should be home soon, he was never out too late. He would come in, not drunk probably buzzed, smelling like some other girls perfume. The ring on her finger mocked her as it sparkled, it was still perfect, unlike them.
Fifth Drink: A sobering potion (because she didn't want to be drunk and weepy and pathetic when he got home)
The pictures were out of the envelope, spread across the coffee table. They weren't the kind of pictures that paparazzi took, from behind bushes and building, no these were taken by family and friends of her. They were loving, the kind of pictures you put in photo albums. She wonders if he loves her, the girl in the photos, and if he had ever really loved her, Rose.
Sixth Drink: another glass of wine (because really her hands were too empty as she waited on the sofa)
She heard the door open and close as quietly as he could manage, he thought she was asleep.
"Oh hey love, I didn't realize you were awake. What's the box in the hall for?" She stood and smoothed out her dress, the one she knew he liked best on her, before replying .
"Those are my things."" She held the almost empty glass of red wine (very poetic isn't it) and slipped her shoes into the black heels that matched the dress. They were Patil originals, they felt like you were walking on clouds instead of five inch spikes.
"Your things? Rose, what's going on? Why are you up so late, I told you not to wait up for me." He was nervous, she could tell. She just gazed at him like he was a child before scooping up the puppy on the couch.
"Yes, dear, I know, work is just so hectic lately. Tell me, Scorpius, was it dark wizards that left that lipstick on your collar? Oh wait, don't tell me that they were the ones who sprayed you with Chanel number 5 as well!" He gulped and her heels clicked as she walked towards him.
"I don't know what your talking about, Rose, why don't we just go back to bed, you've obviously been drinking." She smiled at him, the red lipstick making her teeth look even whiter. It struck him that she hadn't been this done up since they're last date (which was quite some time ago).
"Oh, I think you know what I'm talking about Scorpius," she came even closer and leaned in. "the divorce papers are on your desk and by the way, I gave Yappy a sweater." She whispered in his ear. She continued toward the door and with a wave of her wand the box had vanished, already at wherever she was going. She was almost at the door when she paused.
"Oh I almost forgot," She turned and flashed him a bright smile. "Happy anniversary darling."