The headboard rattled as the sun began to rise. Five in the morning, possibly six, but neither of us seemed to mind it. Despite the calmness outside our window there was only chaos and panting inside our formerly quiet apartment. Had it not been for the obnoxious red glare of my alarm clock pestering Ron into pushing it off the edge of the box it had been resting on, neither of us would have noticed. The fact that both of us had been hammered didn't hurt, but we had reached a realization: we were adults in every sense of the word. "This is ours," I had grinned, quite foolishly, from a stool top, a cheap bottle of wine raised as close to the ceiling as my elevation would allow. "We can do whatever we bleeding want to! This is our flat. No one can tell us what to do and no one can come in pestering us about what we choose to do. That sure as hell is worth drinking to, don't you think, Ron?" Lost in giggles and a step past tipsy I was, and Ron was right beside me, his face more red than the flaming locks of every Weasley I had met. It didn't take long for us to lose ourselves in both the moment and the liquor. Perhaps it got to our heads that we had gained all of this sudden freedom, and as cautious and mature as I usually was, I allowed myself to let go.
One thing lead to another, as you might've been able to gather, and the next thing we knew we were mauling each other like rabid animals on top of the undressed bed George and Ron had thrown haphazardly in the middle of our bedroom. Terribly romantic, I know --- excuse the sarcasm. A bottle of wine from a convenient store, a bare mattress, and our first night in our very own flat. I know it's not the most glamorous scene to imagine but trust me when I say that night could not have been better even if it was in a five star hotel and we had been drunk off of vintage wine. Everything still strings together like a daydream--- a bit foggy, passionate yet numb in our drunken state, but lovely all the same. That night was our declaration of independence. A reminder that the war was over and that we had proven we were ready to live our lives. Four hours later I awoke with a throbbing headache and a one-armed embrace. There was nothing like the sight of my love to give me my first smile of the morning. I put a hand over my forehead, sighing as I made a mental note to fix some coffee to go with my Advil. There was probably a magical remedy for the common hangover, one that a certain someone would probably beg me for when he woke up, but not only did I lack the supplies to do so, I still held a firm stance on using magic only when necessary. That should also explain the numerous boxes crowded in our small apartment.
Even in its emptiness the apartment was hardly the size of a walk-in closet. In fact, it could supposedly fit into any room in the Burrow at least three times. "Slight exaggeration", I had admonished when such a 'fact' had been brought up. "It's a starter flat. Plenty of room for the two of us."Not to mention perfect for the price. Anyway, between the two of us and the people bound to pop up, I figured we would have everything unpacked and organized within the next three days. When I mentioned this to Ron he grimaced, but I think he knew that it would be better to do this sans magic. I didn't want to mention it, out of fear of sounding too girly, but it felt more special doing it, what I considered it to be the normal way, the muggle way. The pounding of my head was enough to remind me of the note I made. Within minutes I had dragged myself out of bed and thrown on Ron's discarded button down shirt, and fixed a full pot of coffee, a piece of yesterday's store-bought apple Danish, and three Advils to start the new day. I wasted no time finishing my breakfast and soon after I had a cup of black coffee in one hand and a book in the other as I sat before our living room bookshelf.
"Let's see…" My finger was dragging alongside a few books I had placed the night before. "Numerology and Gramatica…Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century…Curses and Counter-curses..." Exhaling softly, I ran my fingers through my hair. We were far from finished, and all of the cardboard boxes around me seemed like they were mocking me and my bibliophilic ways. The chuckle behind my back did little to ease my frustration, but I knew who that laughter belonged to. I turned my head and found reassurance that I wasn't going crazy. Ron was leaning against the bedroom doorframe, looking barely awake and more disheveled than my quick glance from earlier had led me to believe. "You do realize it's only 10:30, right? This can wait, I'm sure. Let's just go back to bed and relax a bit," my beau-turned-roommate suggested, attempting to persuade me with nearly successful results. His hair was tousled and he seemed none too shy about venturing out of the room in only his jeans. Not like that seemed to be a problem between us. Despite the pale pink blush on my cheeks, after out last encounter it seemed fair to say we were comfortable in various state of undress. "Ronald, we can't. I'd love to spend the day lounging around but your mum would have a fit if she found out we hadn't done anything," I said with a sigh. Lounging sounded nice, but I had no desire to face Molly Weasley in one of her moods. "Not very responsible, is it?" Ron said with a frown. I could tell by his look of dread that he had read my mind. I gave him a half-smile and shook my head.
"There's a fresh pot of coffee if you're interested, and we've got a few things to eat. Nothing special, I know, but I do believe your mum said she would be bringing some food over today." Nodding his head with a slight and understandable absence, Ron held his hand to his own forehead and shuffled into the kitchen, our kitchen. My eyes followed him over to the room, my grin hardly subsiding as I watched him sift through boxes and tear apart the cabinets in search of something to relieve his headache. "Over by the bread," I said knowingly. Indistinguishable mumbling came from the kitchen, Ron's way of thanking me, "Nice shirt," he said with a smirk as he found his way next to me. "I know we should get these things put away," he began, gesturing around us to the boxes surrounding us. "But I think my mum would understand if we had some time to ourselves. I mean, we're going to be spending a lot of time together, right? We might as well get things off to a good start." Before I could protest, my red-headed beau lifted me into his arms, leaving my coffee and books behind, and silenced me with what I would call the perfect kiss. I didn't see the point in fighting when I was so quick to surrender. Besides, it wasn't even eleven o'clock yet. A few hours without work wouldn't hurt, would it? Sighing contently, I buried my face into his shoulder as he murmured something I couldn't quite make out, and out of the corner of my eye I saw the books I had been ready to organize place themselves on the shelf and box flaps opening themselves as they set off to do their own work. For the second time in 24 hours, I let go.