*All HP characters (minus OC's) belong to J.K. Rowling.*
I often wondered how I managed to find myself in a situation like these. It seemed like just yesterday the tall, raven-haired bespectacled boy and I met. And now...
Well.
I surveyed my surroundings with a sort of smug satisfaction. We had caused a lot of damage in a small space. A full force hurricane ripping through exactly 138.5 square feet of space. By the door, the beautiful clay bottle-green lamp I had made (without magic, I growled internally, he would pay for that) lay shattered, its wire innards poking through like fingers trying to escaped packed earth. The ivory lampshade, bruised and broken, lay several inches away. The thick, smoky grey drapes, heavily askew, allowed a fraction of early morning sunlight into the room. The small particles of dust swirled around in the line of light, glimmering like a thousand tiny diamonds, dancing gently with each breath that was exhaled. A few pictures and paintings hung crookedly above the bed. I stifled a giggle; the inhabitants of each frame looked moodily down at me, obviously displeased with their current gravities. Clothes we strewn haphazardly across the rich espresso colored floor. A jumble of cobalt, khaki, black, cream, burgundy, heather gray. I inhaled deeply, the whispering lingers of musk, my own floral notes, and his deep earthy ones filled my brain.
I looked to my left, admiring the warm body lying next to me. The strong, slight stubble of the jaw, tanned torso, the scarred hand and forehead. One more inhale, and I shook the covers from my frame, feather-light, so not to disturb him. Stretching felt fantastic; I clasped my hands together over my head, reaching towards the ceiling, my curls cascading down my back and front. I looked behind me, getting off the bed, to make sure I hadn't disturbed him. I hadn't. The hot water beat an unfamiliar symphony over my skull and body. It felt wonderful, I was thrilled he'd purchased a new shower head, I had grown tired of the solitary spray that had been here before, with its dripping lower half and sadistic temperature swings. The perfume of the night before washed down the drain, leaving me revitalized. And starving. I shut the water off; thoughts of a lavish breakfast filled my head. Getting dressed in the majority of the previous evenings clothing, I made my way to the kitchen, shaking my head at how sad and cramped the flat's kitchen was. It was depressing. A tiny sink that could hold anything larger than a few plates, a stove the size of a baking sheet and small, though quite well-made cabinets. I rummaged through them, growing hungrier in anticipation, only to be disappointed. There was nothing to make a delicious (and well-deserved, I might add) breakfast. Slightly irritated, I allowed the cabinet door to slam harder than I had intended. I heard him give a sleepy sigh. Damn. I should be quieter. My stomach gave a growl like a full grown dragon; no time to lose. Quickly going over to the door, I paused, long enough to yank on my shoes and grab the closet article of clothing resembling outerwear, and headed out into the still unfamiliar world that was Diagon Alley. The hustle and bustle still managed to take my breath away. I still couldn't get used to the feeling that everywhere I went, I was being watched. It hadn't been like this, back home. America. I missed the small beach side house I grew up in, with acres sand in which to lose myself. The wizarding community I had grown up with was minuscule compared to my current dwelling. London wasn't much to my liking; loud, smelly, crowded. Never being in a city before now surely didn't help matters. I longed for the scent of clean tang of the salty air, the wide open beaches, the squawking of the seagulls. Here, the only thing squawking were the wizarding vendors, inches from me, boasting their wares to passersby, then staring, mouths slightly agape when I turned to politely smile, no thank you. At the newsstand, plastered all over the latest edition of that goddamn "Witch Weekly", was my face. Harry Potter and Mysterious Beau Head Out to Leaky Cauldron. Seriously? Eager to get out of the now staring crowd; witches openly nudging one another and pointing at me, I ducked into Filop's Foods.
*A/N - Sorry for the lack of length; I'm new to this! Reviews are most helpful! :)