Say my Name [ Destiny's Child – Cyril Hahn Remix ]
The photographs and the crockery next. You check off an item on the sticky note buzzing around your head and re-read it for a time. Again. All the breakables would be going in one of the bigger boxes in the front to make room for the Cushioning Charm.
You've already moved over the huge, old rug that you'd gotten on sale at The House of Oz, the one with the much loved Floo-ey shoe prints of your friends and all the people that had ever made it over to visit. It was supposed to charm the stains out of itself and for the most part, did an alright job of it.
The bedrooms were stripped of your things and they looked really naked. Most of the clutter was yours; books, candles, paintings and chewed-down quills. Stationery and more books, work folders and memos, the telly and most of the kitchenware.
You hear a snap and step into the second bedroom- cum -office. The bags were shutting themselves, some of them straining and you wonder at all of the clothing that you'd never seen before. You kind of had a uniform - thing going and some of the jazzier pieces embarrassed you into remembering your age. Well, that's all of the clothing. The green memo is snapping around your head and you check off yet another item.
The door creaks a little and Ron is standing in there with his arms across his chest, mouth hard and eyes soft. You swallow convulsively and spin away from him, fussing with one of the charmed latches on your luggage.
'' You were fast,'' his throat swallows around the words and they come out wet and thick. But still bitter.
You breathe a little faster and try to control your temper. '' Yes, well. No point in sticking around.''
'' Right. '' And you can tell he regrets the words, which surprises you considering that he's not really the regretful type. He's the happy - go - lucky, smooth - everything - over - with - a - joke type and you still love him even though you're only 19 and had no business finding your life - partner at that age. The recriminating voice sounds like your mother's and you shudder a little. You wished that she were here. You needed to ignore her advice in person and feel no guilt about it.
Harry was going to be painfully diplomatic about it, or he'd try. You didn't need that. You wanted him to choose you and that was selfish but you didn't care.
You were up last night in - between dreams of nets and the Burrow and someone spinning you way too fast. Everyone leaving you to fall.
'' - just other people. You know, we're young and this - '' he gestured between the two of you, '' - this scares me''.His hands wound in his hair and he sat back into the sofa , breathing slow and deep .
Your arms were gripping the arms of the chair across him. '' Right. ''
The tears came slowly, wrung out from your stony countenance and maybe the emptiness in your chest was heart - shaped. You brought a finger to your mouth and massacred the nub of nail left. All while trying to swallow your tears and not drown in them.
Ron's head was leaned against the back of the sofa and his mouth quivered. His face was wet when he met your eye.
Guilt. Expected, except that he looked at you pityingly and you knew ...
'' Who is she? '' You tried not to choke but you always prided yourself on getting those answers so you soldiered on. '' Do I know her? ''
'' Please, don't. '' He got up and fuck him for running even though this was his shitstorm and you were the one that had to pack up and leave.
You sprang up and chucked the mug of luke warm tea at the Cannons poster by the desk. The cracks in the wall showing against the milky droplets of Ceylon. You'd never noticed the cracks before.
High for This [ Ellie Goulding Cover ]
'' Hermione fucking Granger '', Ginny always bellows when she's drunk. You think it's from all those brothers barreling into each other, shutting each other up, screaming and shouting just to be heard above the house sounds, the people sounds, the magic sounds in the Burrow. She's even louder than the gramophone you've got on.
But right now, the last thing you need is your ex's sister hovering at your second-storey window on the deathtrap she calls a broom, in the middle of the night, sloshed out of her mind and demanding to be let in. You turn over in your bed and hope that she buys the act. You snuggle deeper into the sheets and calm your breathing. You should have drawn the curtains. The tears come hot and slow down your face, salt into your mouth before you can stop it. An itch at your tear duct.
Just fuck her and fuck everybody.
But then the intolerable banshee starts banging on the window hard enough for the panes to rattle as if you lived above a train station. Ginny casts a Lumos, but bigger, brighter, the kind they use to focus in on the lion act in a circus. You shut your eyes tighter.
'' Wake up, you pathetic excuse for a –'' . Your wand is at her throat before you realise that you're out of bed and on your balcony in nothing but your knickers in flippin' December.
'' Don't you dare finish that sentence you – '' But Ginny is grinning madly, wildly as she slaps your wand out of your hand, the light of her wand still blinding you, and kisses you on the mouth. And God, you're hungry, starving, really and you didn't even know. You, who held yourself above it all. You didn't know.
You didn't know anything.
She tastes like whiskey and cinnamon. Firewhiskey. Her tongue is insistent from the first, hot and probing, not even letting you get used to the invasion after months and months of being alone. She swipes against your teeth and nuzzles your nose. Her eyelash tickles your cheek.
She bites your lip, and that scares you. How much you like it, how much the slight tang of her drunken desperation and your plain old desperation don't bother you one bit. Your hands fist in her hair and you tug a little, her chest against yours, the wand in her hand still blinding you. You close your eyes and all you see is the pulsing of light starbright, and Gryffindor red.
Her lips are firm and tight against your own, you move your head too fast and your noses crash into each other, it burns and stings and your air supply is compromised. Compromised. That's a funny word, isn't it?
You laugh into her lips, into the vacuum that is not feeling anything but need. Your feet are freezing but your torso isn't. You nibble on Ginny's lower lip and she sighs hot, hot heat into the scant space between your mouths.
You're gonna draw yourself a bath with Firewhiskey in the water when you're done here.
Ginny disengages her hands from your shoulder and cups the back of your neck, pulling you forward into her. Slowly, she drags the hand down your neck, squeezing and your breath shudders. Rasps in your throat.
'' There,'' she says, taking your face between her hands. The one coming down to join the other. Gently, gently as soft as a mother's might.
'' Who knew you could kiss like that eh, Granger?''
Just.
Just fuck her and fuck everybody.