straightening sheets
then it's complete and utter silence.


They wake up with weary faces, the pain of the burdens they carry now weighing down their spirits and troubles inflict their hearts with pangs of swift beats of apprehension, the events of last night still fresh in their minds.

He can't seem to look at her anymore at family dinners and gatherings and reunions at the Burrow, because it hurts every time, just knowing that the temptation is too strong to resist. She's the type who never forgets, remembers every, single detail – even the way his pulse constantly rises whenever she's around, or how his face softens at a simple touch of her soft fingers – and the sin is just etched on the back of her not-so innocent mind, but, really, she can't decide if it's a blessing, or a curse. Maybe it's both.

They share one, last heated night – thump, thump, thump – their pulses matching every beat of theirs, a constant and upmost passionate thing they would share that would last for the rest of the world.

The end will come.

Much too soon, too.

/

They spend the last night together - fingers tangled in hair, the wisps of "love you's" to try to last until they part, and hushed promises that they know will be broken by the time they shut the door goodbye in the morn – and the sun rises too soon, a new day begun; a new beginning.

The last of the plates put away, the dust gathering much too soon, the linen sheets made with upmost care, and the door shutting behind them, new doors opening for both of them; separate and independent paths to success.

Even if it means letting who they love behind.

/

but, really, the end is just a new beginning … and this is theirs.


a/n: please do not favourite without reviewing, and thank you.