Harry Potter love story. Years 4-7.
Mature content.
Ruby & Harry swore up and down they would never develop feelings for the other. That would be disgusting! Until they started their 2nd year relationship... They may have had that spark in the past...
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"Make sure Ron doesn't throw his dress robes in the bottom of the lake!"
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My father had our tent packed up rather quickly the next morning. The day light had not even scratched the surface of the skyline and we were already making haste out of the clearing that was half in ruins, and half full of people doing the same thing we were: Getting the fuck out of here.
The peacock tent from across the dirt walking path was gone long before us, and I couldn't help the rage and turmoil that flowed through my blood as I thought of that loathsome git that attempted to call himself a human being. What a fucking wanker. A sorry excuse for a person, is what he is.
I immediately went to my room when we had returned to our house. The sun was starting to light the sky that hovered over us, and my stomach was still nauseous from the hangover thudding inside of my skull. My father didn't question it, and he scurried off to the kitchen where I could hear him filling my mother in on my worrisome condition, and the crazy events that had taken place the previous night... minus the part where he had almost hexed his own child...
The days of laying in bed with a stomach ache grew longer, and the lonely hours late in the afternoon seemed to be the worst of the lot. When I would force myself to nap so I could finally shut my brain off, and I could get the sadness to finally leave me alone for a few hours.
The ill feeling in the pit of my stomach wasn't from a lazy hangover from aged liquor anymore. That had subsided almost immediately after the bile I expelled all over Mr. Diggory. This was guilt. Or heartbreak. I wasn't sure which one I felt deeper in the pit of my stomach.
But the naps made me stop seeing the hurtful look in Harry's eyes, or to stop thinking of the words that left his mouth when he had seen Draco and I, or the way his mouth quirked up at the corner each time I made eye contact with him. Anything to stop thinking of Harry. Just for a few more days. Just until I could go to school and distract myself with other things and get away from the pain of him.
The worst part was that each time the depressing naps to avoid loneliness took over my brain, there were his emerald eyes and messy hair, ready to greet me in the other reality.
~⚡️~
"Will I get to see dad again before I leave?" I asked my mother softly, but the way her lips pursed in a defeated grin, I knew that the answer was disappointing and that it wasn't what I would want to hear. Just another thing to take on to the list of gloomy things happening. Summer holiday ending, heavy rain beating on the windshield, no dad at the station, and coming face-to-face with the boy I have the most awkward relationship with on the planet. What else could go wrong?
"He said it's been quite... hectic, to say the least. People are furious about the lack of security at the match the other day, and your father is still trying really hard to get to the bottom of who was behind the incident." She explained with a slow nod of her chin. "I know he doesn't want me to give details on this, HOWEVER," she continued, "I can't stand that look of heartbreak on your face." She chuckled as she continued driving along the twisting roads that would eventually lead us to King's Cross station where I would be boarding the 11 a.m. train and leaving for a few months. I looked at her out of the corners of my eyes, and she giggled lowly at the scrunch of confusion that took over my nose.
