The kitchen clock read twenty-two minutes past eight. He watched in silence as the seconds ticked onwards, the quiet 'tick-tock' of the hand was the only noise in the room.
She was supposed to be home at seven, she had promised.
But no, once more she had lied and now Harry was sitting here, alone at the table.
The dinner he had prepared had long since gone cold. He had spent hours in this kitchen, preparing this perfect meal, her favourites; slow-roasted pork loin, dripping in fat and covered in herbs. Then macarons for dessert; homemade macarons that had required hours of waiting patiently for the discs to dry, then constant attention to ensure they rose and baked evenly without burning.
It all lay untouched on the well-dressed table.
Harry had lit a candle, at five minutes past seven, to really set the mood when she arrived—it was now half the original length and its wax continued to drip onto the table.
At one point, he would have cared about the mess, the waste, but now, all he felt was hurt. The room that had held a warm feel before was now a dark, cold embrace.
The delicious smells of his cooking were now only a passing, lingering scent.
He had forgiven her, forgiven Ginny, so many times. Harry understood that her job was important and she was important—there was never a doubt of either in his mind.
But just once, he wanted to be seen as important in her eyes.
He had never once complained about how the quidditch tours took her away so often, how she always stayed for late training, how she always needed to go to team meet-ups to help with morale.
Harry understood that she was a goddess in the air. A truly spectacular flier that people travelled from all over the globe to see.
Today though, just today, was supposed to be special. A special moment just for them to enjoy.
They had been together for almost three years all he had begged for was just one evening for it to be them.
But no.
His eyes drifted back to the clock over the food left on the table. The hand ticked onwards, closer towards the half-past mark.
Harry smiled. It wasn't a big jovial smile, nor did it light up his eyes. He smiled because he didn't know what else he could do at this point.
He stood up from his position at the table and looked around the kitchen, the only light illuminating the room was the lone candle flame.
He picked up the plates in silence and threw away the food. He thought about leaving them under a stasis charm, but what was the point when the plates were already long cold?
He glanced at the clock one more time; the hands ticked on dutifully. He looked over to the fireplace, still dark and dusty; nobody was coming through it any time soon.
He turned back to the candle and blew it out, the wax around it had solidified to the table and was stuck in place.
He shook his head and smiled again, and he tried to ignore the tears that were welling in his eyes.
He glanced once more around the kitchen; the table a mess, but everything else perfectly in their places.
He tried not to think about the metaphor.
Harry made his way to the spare bedroom, the smile breaking as the darkness of the night could no longer be held back.
He ignored the weight of the ring in his pocket and the gnawing ache in his heart.
Ginny would have said no, anyway.
THC/The Houses Competition.
Round 2 - Drabble
House - Ravenclaw
Class - Potions
Prompt(s) chosen -
[Location] Kitchen
608 words (wordcounter .net)