The Romanticism of Simplicity
Chapter Nine
Gemma collapsed on her bed, stretching out to ease the tension in her gut. Ron examined her carefully, trying to discern whether she'd been injured in any way. The only marks visible though, were tiny, finger print shaped bruises on either side of her neck.
"Anything I can do?" he questioned her, sitting at the foot of the bed.
Hearing the dispairing tone in his voice caused a tight lump to rise up in her throat.
"C'mere," she whispered.
He came closer, letting her guide him down to the bed and lay her body on top of his.
"I'm sorry," she cried.
"It's not your fault."
"You don't deserve this."
Her tears were warm on his neck. "Neither do you."
"I hate this."
Ron squeezed her a little tighter. "Did he hurt you?"
She shook her head. "No."
He breathed a deep sigh of relief. "I love you Gemma."
She raised her tear-soaked face up to his and kissed him softly.
"We'll get through this," he pledged.
"I know."
"We'll probably even be better for it."
She kissed him again. "I hope so."
"In the meantime though, how about a nice hot soak."
Gemma couldn't help but smile at his good humor. "Sounds good."
After the meeting the next morning at Hogwart's, Gemma felt drained. Embarrassment could be so tiring.
"Are you all right dear?" Molly asked her, encircling her tiny waist with one arm.
"Just peachy," she laughed grievously.
"Anything we can do?" Arthur chimed in, examining her dark eyes.
"It's nothing a little rest can't cure," she assured them.
"Well if you need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate. Ron knows how to reach us."
She nodded and gave them both a half-hearted little squeeze.
"Take care."
They waved to Ron and then dissapperated back to the Burrow, leaving Gemma feeling twice as alone as before. She glanced around the room, hooking her cloak and pushing her hair back from her face. The air seemed thick and heavy, hard to breath. 'Relax' she urged herself. 'Relax, relax, relax'. The urge to scream was overwhelming. She needed to hook her hands around something - anything. Something heavy that would crack nicely against the stone wall. The back of her throat burned, threatening to release a deep sob. 'Relax,' she continued, closing her eyes for a moment to ward off the unwelcome brightness of the sun. As she was struggling to slow her pulse, she felt a warm hand cup her shoulder and she snapped around, a bit shocked.
"I didn't mean to scare you," James explained, taking a step back.
She forced her sweaty hands into the pockets of her jeans. "Did you need something?"
"I just wanted to say good luck. I know this must be hard for you."
"You have no idea," she sighed.
He found her eyes. "I think I do."
She realized he was hinting at Ron and it caused her heart to sink deeper into her stomach. "It's not the same James."
"On some levels it's worse," he contorted.
"I don't see how," she exhaled sadly.
He came a bit closer. "He gets to hold you..""
"James..."
"I'd give anything to touch you," he breathed, making a concious effort to keep his distance. If he got too close, he might not be able to resist.
Gemma turned around to hide her face. She didn't want anyone to see her cry. She didn't want them to think she was weak.
"Please don't say those things," she pleaded, studying the misty, white frost on the windows.
He raked his fingers through his already messy hair. "You're right. I'm sorry."
"You should go."
He nodded. "Goodbye Gemma."
She listened to his footsteps echoing on the marble floor until the sound had grown so faint, it ceased.
"Gemma," another voice rang out from behind her.
She wiped her eyes vigorously on her cloak sleeve and turned around to find Ron.
"We should go home," he suggested.
"Yeah."
He reached out and pulled her tight to his chest and she melted against his soft heat.
"I love you," he whispered.
Her throat ceased up, choking her words. All she could do was hang on to him desperately and cry.
Chapter Nine
Gemma collapsed on her bed, stretching out to ease the tension in her gut. Ron examined her carefully, trying to discern whether she'd been injured in any way. The only marks visible though, were tiny, finger print shaped bruises on either side of her neck.
"Anything I can do?" he questioned her, sitting at the foot of the bed.
Hearing the dispairing tone in his voice caused a tight lump to rise up in her throat.
"C'mere," she whispered.
He came closer, letting her guide him down to the bed and lay her body on top of his.
"I'm sorry," she cried.
"It's not your fault."
"You don't deserve this."
Her tears were warm on his neck. "Neither do you."
"I hate this."
Ron squeezed her a little tighter. "Did he hurt you?"
She shook her head. "No."
He breathed a deep sigh of relief. "I love you Gemma."
She raised her tear-soaked face up to his and kissed him softly.
"We'll get through this," he pledged.
"I know."
"We'll probably even be better for it."
She kissed him again. "I hope so."
"In the meantime though, how about a nice hot soak."
Gemma couldn't help but smile at his good humor. "Sounds good."
After the meeting the next morning at Hogwart's, Gemma felt drained. Embarrassment could be so tiring.
"Are you all right dear?" Molly asked her, encircling her tiny waist with one arm.
"Just peachy," she laughed grievously.
"Anything we can do?" Arthur chimed in, examining her dark eyes.
"It's nothing a little rest can't cure," she assured them.
"Well if you need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate. Ron knows how to reach us."
She nodded and gave them both a half-hearted little squeeze.
"Take care."
They waved to Ron and then dissapperated back to the Burrow, leaving Gemma feeling twice as alone as before. She glanced around the room, hooking her cloak and pushing her hair back from her face. The air seemed thick and heavy, hard to breath. 'Relax' she urged herself. 'Relax, relax, relax'. The urge to scream was overwhelming. She needed to hook her hands around something - anything. Something heavy that would crack nicely against the stone wall. The back of her throat burned, threatening to release a deep sob. 'Relax,' she continued, closing her eyes for a moment to ward off the unwelcome brightness of the sun. As she was struggling to slow her pulse, she felt a warm hand cup her shoulder and she snapped around, a bit shocked.
"I didn't mean to scare you," James explained, taking a step back.
She forced her sweaty hands into the pockets of her jeans. "Did you need something?"
"I just wanted to say good luck. I know this must be hard for you."
"You have no idea," she sighed.
He found her eyes. "I think I do."
She realized he was hinting at Ron and it caused her heart to sink deeper into her stomach. "It's not the same James."
"On some levels it's worse," he contorted.
"I don't see how," she exhaled sadly.
He came a bit closer. "He gets to hold you..""
"James..."
"I'd give anything to touch you," he breathed, making a concious effort to keep his distance. If he got too close, he might not be able to resist.
Gemma turned around to hide her face. She didn't want anyone to see her cry. She didn't want them to think she was weak.
"Please don't say those things," she pleaded, studying the misty, white frost on the windows.
He raked his fingers through his already messy hair. "You're right. I'm sorry."
"You should go."
He nodded. "Goodbye Gemma."
She listened to his footsteps echoing on the marble floor until the sound had grown so faint, it ceased.
"Gemma," another voice rang out from behind her.
She wiped her eyes vigorously on her cloak sleeve and turned around to find Ron.
"We should go home," he suggested.
"Yeah."
He reached out and pulled her tight to his chest and she melted against his soft heat.
"I love you," he whispered.
Her throat ceased up, choking her words. All she could do was hang on to him desperately and cry.