He woke up, wincing at the pain in his head. It felt as though someone was playing the drums on the back of his eyes. He sat up slowly, running his fingers through his too-long red hair. His eyes flickered over the sleeping woman next to him. The sun that was streaming through the windows, fell on her peaceful face, framed by jet black curls. Name... What was her name? The thought lurked in the back of his mind, but, unable to get through the penetrating fog that was his hangover, it quickly fled.
He didn't want to piece together last nights events. He already knew what he would find. Another night, another bar, trying to drink away the constant pain, until he finally sought comfort in the arms of another poor substitute for the woman he so desperately missed. He stood up, dressing in the first pair of pants he saw strewn across the messy floor and quietly shuffled to the kitchen. He smoked slowly, standing over the sink, staring out the window at the small overgrown patch of grass that was supposed to be a back yard. Sun shone down on overgrown grass and weeds, which angrily choked the slats of a wooden fence.
I hate this part, he thought bitterly. The dreaded morning after. Let's just hope this one leaves quickly and quietly.
As he lit his second smoke, he heard her enter the kitchen.
"Good Morning"
Her voice was soft, raspy, and in it he could hear the pain of a hangover that surely rivaled his own.
"uhh.. Morning", he managed, scratching the stubble on his chin. He could see her sizing him up: hair unkempt and begging for a cut; blue eyes with dark, unsightly bags under them; pajama pants hanging off of a frame that was starving for nourishment other than the liquid fares of the nearest pub.
She looked his total opposite. Bright, dark eyes, smooth cocoa skin, hair that fell in ringlets to her shoulders,curves in all the right places.
She must have really been pissed last night, he thought to himself. Surely someone with her looks, could have done better than him. Not that he was complaining, mind you.
He saw a flush rise in her cheeks, at the same time his long-forgotten cigarette indignantly burnt his finger. He quickly threw it in the sink, the pain hardly registering in his brain. Fuck, say something, you git, and stop staring.
"I, uh, um... Breakfast?" He eloquently spat out.
"Um, no, thanks, I should probably go," she quickly replied, shifting her weight nervously.
"Right, right, of course," Ron said.
"Yeah, uh, I guess I'll catch you around.. " She stammered, blushing furiously.
She obviously doesn't do this often, Ron thought, while simultaneously trying to suppress his memories of how often he had done this.
The mystery woman quickly Floo'ed out of his house.
Thank God that is over.
A/N: *whew* This is my first ever fan fic. I've been mostly a lurker. Any thoughts/comments are appreciated. And if anyone wants to beta or help me find one, I'd be hugely appreciative.
