Come Undone
Chapter 8
Sorry for the cruel cliffie. Hope posting a little early makes up for it a bit. Fluff lovers: be patient ... ;)
Warnings: more drug stuff & a tiny bit of grossness.
*
Harry doesn't come back for almost thirty minutes but Warren's not there either and I'm having a great conversation so I'm okay. Then the room tilts sideways. It feels strange, but it's not unpleasant. I'm just very aware all of a sudden, of voices, of my skin. It's not scary, but the part of me that promised myself I wouldn't drink too much is alarmed, I look around for Harry.
Then he's there, by my ear.
"You okay?"
My tongue feels slightly too big for my mouth when I go to answer him.
"I think so."
He looks into my eyes, searching.
"Seth Special?"
I nod, marvelling at how flexible my neck feels.
He smiles, though I see his eyes are not that amused. Then he's distracted while he coughs for a moment and I look at the room over his head, seeing the whites of Warren's eyes as he stares at me again.
"Come here."
I'm only just aware of Harry's hand on my neck, and how sensual his touch is, before I turn and feel his lips on mine.
They're warm, and soft, I close my eyes immediately. His lips part against me, gentle but insistent.
I feel like all the bones in my body have melted and I stumble into him slightly. His hand on my ribs steadies me, but he doesn't pull back, in fact he deepens the kiss.
I think I make a noise in my throat as the kiss takes over, the sensation of his tongue running slowly over mine leaving no room for thought. Heat rushes through me, making me melt again.
Through the haze I register something. A capsule, like a pill, passing from his mouth to mine.
My eyes flutter open in surprise, but I close them again quickly. He's giving me this for a reason, I know it. I take the pill from him, deeper into my mouth. He makes a satisfied noise against my lips, which I might've thought was about the kiss if I didn't know he was just using it to pass me the pill.
I pull back to swallow and his lips are just an inch from mine. He locks eyes with me and it's kind of remarkable that it's then I realise, seemingly for the first time, they are the greenest eyes I've ever seen. I feel him smile rather than see it, because he's still so close. Then he leans in and kisses me again.
Even though I expect it this time, this one takes me more by surprise.
His fingers on my neck grip me quite firmly and I fall into him readily now, pressing up on my toes to taste him more.
His mouth opens against mine, and it's a little ...savage, like he's trying to steal all my breath.
Then he breaks contact, abruptly and I'm disorientated, it's lucky he still holds my waist. But he doesn't look at me again; moreover he wipes his lips briefly and takes a deep drink.
I touch my lips too, gently; they feel bruised or at least swollen though that's not possible. I gaze up at him and he slides a glance at me, appearing indifferent. I straighten my clothes self consciously.
"You should go to the bathroom. Splash some water on your face."
His voice is husky. I murmur in reply and turn and walk blindly away, the flush creeping up my neck. But I feel steadier the further I get, the room isn't spinning anymore. I manage to locate my clutch purse on the way out.
My heels click on the tiles as I make my way down the hall to the bathroom, the sharp sound breaking through the fog in my brain. But the fog has lifted a bit, I notice, leaving behind just a warm, confident feeling. I touch my lips again, wondering at what Harry gave me.
The cool water on my face is just what I need. I stare at myself in the mirror.
This role playing is really messing with my head.
So that was a kiss that wasn't a kiss. I work out for myself that the pill he gave me must have been some kind of remedy for whatever Seth had put in my drink. I close my eyes, remembering his tongue on mine.
If that's the antidote, I want more of the poison.
I shake my head, trying to be stern with my reflection, as I reapply some makeup. But I can't help my thoughts from straying. The first kiss yes, that was necessary. I can't help but think the second kiss was drawing it out a little.
There's a light tap on wood. I call out 'just a minute' while I fluff my hair.
When I yank open the heavy door, it's blue eyes I see, instead of the green I hadn't realised I was expecting.
"Alright?"
My blood runs cold at the sight of him but I manage to pin on a smile that I hope looks genuine.
"Yeah fine. Just needed some air."
Warren watches me with that intense stare and I keep smiling, playing innocent. His invasion of my brain is less aggressive this time and I'm glad, after everything that had just happened, I don't feel up to having to block too strongly, though I'm pleased my automatic defences don't let me down.
I'm a bit worried when he appears momentarily frustrated, but then he speaks again.
"Where were you raised, Jean?"
Here we go then. I feed him my learnt by heart story, being unnecessarily chatty and forthcoming. I've been planning, and Harry agreed, that by being a bit of an open book, I'd lose some of my intrigue to him.
But he's smiling at me, that same smile that doesn't touch his eyes but I get the feeling it's as warm as he gets. It unsettles me slightly that he's moved to block the hallway so I can't get past.
"I was brought up not far from there too." He appraises me. "I never went to school with girls as gorgeous as you though."
I frown, involuntarily. "You're just saying that."
"I don't 'just say' anything. I only say what I mean." His eyes are intense. He moves forward slightly, and it takes all I have not to step away from him. He drags the back of his finger briefly along my jaw.
"You have no idea how insanely sexy you are, do you."
I take a shuddering breath. I'm not sure what the correct answer for that is, and thankfully I'm saved by answering from a disturbing holler from the entranceway.
"Jamie...Fletch!! Fuck!! Fuck - somebody!!"
Seth's sandy blond head appears in the hall, his eyes wide and hysterical, searching. "Gripper - fuck, it's Ang!"
Warren turns to follow him just as Harry walks in the other end of the hallway and strides towards us too. We lock eyes and I start walking instinctively to follow.
Seth hurries to the upstairs bathroom, taking the steps two at a time.
"Hurry - fuck! What do we..."
Angie is lying on the floor, eyes rolling in her head, vomit down her front.
"Jesus Christ."
The healer in me lurches forward on impulse, but Harry is quicker. He pushes past me and scoops her up, easily, cradling her on his lap as he sits on the edge of the bathtub.
"Ang. Come on Angie girl..."
He grabs her face, clearing her mouth with his fingers and slapping her sharply. She groans slightly, but her response is minimal.
"Seth - what the fuck!?"
Seth is anguished. "I don't know Jamie, I swear, I was just going to my room and I heard her, I don't know what... I don't know what she's been taking. I stopped giving her anything hours ago; I told her she'd had enough!"
I register Warren standing by the door, regarding the limp girl in Harry's arms with disgust.
"Stupid bitch."
My mouth falls open at the contempt he pours into his words. Seth turns to him with wide eyes.
"What do we do Gripper? We gotta get her to hospital!!"
"Don't be a fucking idiot. She can't go to a hospital."
Harry is watching them, a muscle flexing angrily in his jaw. I catch his eye, willing him to read my unspoken question - asking if he has anymore of what he gave me to reverse the effects of whatever she's taken. He shakes his head, the movement barely noticeable, telling me that whatever it was, that was the last of it.
My words are out before I know I'm going to speak them.
"I can help." Three heads turn to me. "M-my ...Dad. He's a doctor."
Warren's expression is interested, like I've just made an amusing joke at a dinner party. Seth is shaking his head a little frantically, so I speak directly to him.
"He'll be fine - he won't say anything. He can help her."
Seth stares wide eyed up at Harry who stands and hoists Angie up with him. Her head droops on his shoulder, her arms falling slack.
"Let's go."
Fletch appears at the door then and Warren finally does something helpful - presses him back as he tries to clamber for Angie.
"They've got it Fletch. They're gonna help her." He manages somehow to sound bored.
"Like fuck! I'm coming!"
"No you're not. The less the better." I know from his tone he's not expecting any argument. He grabs my wrist.
"You're sure - your old man. He's good?"
I know that he's not just questioning his skill but his ability to keep a secret. I nod once, trying hard not to wrench my arm away.
"Pity you have to go. Another time."
I just stare at him in astonishment before Harry yells up from the bottom of the stairs.
"Come ON!"
I feel Warren watching after me as I hurry away.
*
The night is warm and the street deserted.
Harry heads straight for his car, parked opposite, I run to keep up. He's muttering under his breath all the while.
"There you go - you're gonna be alright. Stay with me Angie girl."
He goes to lay her in the passenger seat and I call out.
"No, in the back with me."
He doesn't glance at me, just follows my instructions. Within seconds we're winding through streets, dangerously fast; I'm vaguely aware of horns blaring but they die out before we have a real chance to hear them.
"Don't die on us Angie. Don't die."
He calls to her from the front seat as I examine her, all my training slotting into place. We had to have an in depth knowledge of muggle medicine from the outset, and I start with using the wandless magic I know for calming and stabilising her blood. I think it helps but she's frighteningly pale and unresponsive.
Harry's eyes are tense in the rear view mirror.
"How's she doing?"
"I need my..."
I trail off - still not wanting to say 'wand', even though Angie isn't anywhere near conscious enough to hear it.
He turns a corner sharply and I put my hands out to steady the two of us in the back.
Quicker than I imagined possible, we're outside my house.
He's at our door in a flash, heaving Angie out of the back seat and into his arms while I fumble for my keys in my purse.
"Hurry, hurry" he mutters, and I finally get it open.
Crookshanks eyes us grumpily as light floods the room, and darts from the couch and up the stairs. I follow, overtaking him to get to my bedside drawer, nearly diving for my wand. I'm so desperate for it; it flies into my fingers from halfway across the room. My medicine bag is by the door, I grab it on my way out.
When I get back downstairs, Harry is leaning over her on the couch, clutching her face again.
"Angie. It's Jamie. Come on, wake up."
I brush him aside.
"Get me two bowls, one with water and one empty, and some towels."
He takes off to follow my orders and I tend to Angie. An assessment scan with my wand shows she's taken a concoction of drugs that could fell a Hippogriff. I shake my head and speak to her loudly.
"Come on now Angie. Stay with us."
She moans a bit and I take that as encouragement.
Harry delivers my requests and then kneels by her head.
Now it's my turn to mutter, to myself, as I'm prone to do when I'm working. "Combined Drug Intoxication, amphetamines, alcohol, monoamine oxidase inhibitors..."
"Can you speak English..."
"Drug cocktail. Either knowingly or not I don't know, I think maybe ...not. There's the alcohol, some ecstacy and some antidepressants I think..."
"Jesus, Angie." He dips the edge of a towel in the bowl of water and wipes her face tenderly. I delve into my bag and start preparing a needle.
"You use needles?"
I glance at him. "There's no better way to get things into your bloodstream, magic or not."
"What is it?"
"A poison neutraliser. Like liquid Bezoar. More concentrated than what you gave me I think." I avoid his eyes when I say that, thinking inappropriately of how he gave it to me. I go on. "I'm not 100% sure if it will work. But it's going to hurt."
He nods, and puts his hands either side of her face, murmuring in her ear and stroking her hair.
I administer the potion and she instantly tenses, arching her back against the reaction it causes in her body. Harry holds her as still as possible and mumbles comforting words while I try and help hold her down too.
Eventually the pain eases and she lays motionless, her face slowly relaxing. She moans, and finally makes out a word.
"...Jamie..."
"Shh. I'm here. Rest."
"Jamie... I'm sorry..."
"It's okay Ang. Quiet, now."
I busy myself cleaning everything up, putting away my kit. I make some tea, giving Harry time with her.
When I come back she's sleeping, Harry stroking her temple.
"How's she doing?"
"Seems okay, thanks to you."
I hand him a mug. "She might be sick again."
He puts the mug down then, and pulls his shirt off over his head, checking if his undershirt is soiled too but it isn't. He makes a face and I automatically send the shirt to the laundry with my wand without thought.
"Oh...sorry."
He shakes his head and picks up his tea. "Don't be. That's enough pretending for one night."
His words grate me for some reason but I just bury my nose in my mug.
He rests his head back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. "I should've known...I should've seen that coming."
I shake my head. "I don't think even she did. She just ...got the mix wrong."
He nods, closing his eyes. I nudge him.
"You should sleep."
He shakes his head, adamant. "No, you sleep first."
I interrupt. "No, I need to stay with my patient. And I'll need you alert later. So go rest - you can have my bed."
He's going to protest so I push him away, settling in beside Angie.
"Go."
He moves reluctantly, but stands, and then drops a kiss on the top of my head, his fingers lingering in my hair.
"Thank you. I don't know what I was ever thinking, pretending I could be without you."
His words are so candid, I can't even look up. I just stare at my hands until I hear him climb the stairs to my bed.
*
Lost in everything about you
So deep.
*
Angie makes for a surprisingly good patient. She responds well to the neutraliser, and the draught I give her when she wakes up to keep her sedated. Her eyes are so big and round, just staring at me, slightly fearful through the fog the medication has her under. I try and reassure her.
"Jamie's here. He's just sleeping. You're going to be okay." She just watches me through huge dark eyes, which eventually fall closed.
I wonder at Harry's relationship with this tragic, pretty girl. He's clearly fond of her, but I can't tell how far it's gone on his behalf. It's much easier to see how she feels about him at least.
And how do I feel about that? I tap my quill against my temple, pausing in writing my medical notes. I feel the way I always have. I love him regardless. Years pass and things change but it always remains.
I get it. You choose him.
Those words sum us up. And it's always been that he's never chosen me.
I know he loves me, he's said as much. But not in that way.
A nagging voice in my head is asking for attention to the memory of the kiss, the second kiss. I push it firmly away. Nothing good comes from those delusions, Hermione Jane.
Angie stirs and I move to the armchair, setting up wards to wake me if she regresses. Despite my best intentions, I fall asleep with a sharp recollection of his warm mouth against mine.
*
Harry leaves a few hours later.
I hear him speaking on a cell phone in the hallway once I turn off the water from my shower. When I'm out and dressed, he says he needs to check in with Gripper - apparently Fletch is going out of his mind not knowing anything.
I hang back while he says goodbye to Angie who's sitting up now, sipping on the draught I've given her. Their heads are bent close, he's speaking in a low voice and she just nods quietly, then smiles warmly into his eyes.
He kisses her on the forehead and stands up. He seems awkward when he approaches me, and I plaster on one of my trusty smiles that reminds me sharply of the night after his first kiss with Cho.
"I won't be long okay?" He stops short of me, an unnatural distance away. I can see he feels uncomfortable and it hurts slightly. "Thanks, Jean."
"Don't mention it, James."
His smile is crooked, but it's the first real one I've seen in the last twenty four hours. Then he steps towards me and leans down awkwardly; he plants a quick kiss on my cheek. I think it's for Angie's benefit, who's watching us shrewdly from the couch.
His hand hovers by my arm but doesn't touch it. "Will you two be alright?"
I glance at Angie, who's still staring but there's none of the hostility from last night. "Sure."
"Great." He turns quickly and heads to the door. "I won't be long."
*
He is gone all day.
Angie drifts in and out of wakefulness; thanks to the draught I'm having her take. I tell her that my father popped in to check on her while she was asleep. I can't tell if she believes us that he was ever really here.
It doesn't matter. She is quiet, a bit sheepish I think.
She doesn't eat anything, which is fine because the draught is providing nutrients. In the late afternoon, I ask her if she wants to move to the sunroom and she nods; I help her walk slowly out. I wish I could levitate her; it would be much quicker and easier.
But I keep up the charade, getting almost used to it now. I couldn't imagine how Harry lived without magic before, but now I think I'm getting the hang of it.
Crookshanks jumps heavily on her lap and I go to scold him but she shakes her head, stroking his ears. He glares at me and purrs.
"It's okay. He's a lovely cat."
"If only he knew he IS a cat, and not the boss of the place."
She makes a small smile, still stroking him. We're silent for a bit and then she speaks.
"You don't have to be nice to me, you know."
I turn to her in surprise. She's still looking at Crookshanks.
"I know" I say. "You don't have to be nice to me either."
She looks up at me then, smiling. "I think you've treated me slightly better than I've treated you."
I shake my head, but keep silent, making up another draught. She keeps on, in her slightly musical Irish lilt.
"It's just, Jamie. I don't want...anything to take him away. My life only became bearable once he came into it."
I look at her and I think I know how she feels. I nod and she continues.
"And he likes you. I can tell he really likes you." She closes her eyes and presses her head back into the chair. "I can see why."
I walk over and kneel on the floor by her. "He cares about you. Loves you even." The words are surprisingly tough to say.
Her dark eyes study me. "But he's not in love with me." She takes a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling.
"He's told me as much. He's always there for me, he looks after me. He lets me sleep in his bed when I need the comfort."
My heart leaps a bit at that.
"But that's it. And when I asked him, he said he can't love anyone." It's almost like she's talking to herself now.
"He said he's in love with someone else, someone he doesn't see anymore. I asked him why not and he just said it was too hard to be around her. But she's the one he loves."
All the feeling in my limbs seems to have gone; my mouth feels really dry all of a sudden. It's stupid, but my eyes start to prick with tears, I frown down at my hands, angry at myself.
Get it together. You've known this for how long? Hell, you were probably the one that got them together. Ginny and Harry are the great love story. You're just a bit player - and just when did you start to let yourself believe it might be any different? Just because she hasn't been in front of him, doesn't mean he doesn't still love her - no matter how he thinks she feels about him.
I realise it's time for me to talk now, so I blurt out the first thing I think of.
"I kinda figured he was a bit emotionally unavailable. He seems like a nice guy, though."
She nods fiercely. "The best." She looks at me, and I must seem a bit forlorn, because she offers me the first kind words she's managed.
"But who knows...maybe he just needs someone else to take his mind of this...her." She smiles at me with something akin to camaraderie and I squeeze her arm, grateful, even though I realise how misled she is.
I give her the draught and she gets sleepy again, for which I'm glad so I can mope in silence. I don't know when I let my guard down, but I admit now that playing the role of Harry's girlfriend has not been good for me.
Crookshanks has followed me inside and he rubs himself against my legs, making a whining miaow which, if I didn't know better, sounds suspiciously like, 'I told you so.'
"Oh, shut up."
I swear he smirks, before trotting off.
*
Harry doesn't arrive till that night. He brings takeaways, and to my horror, he has a split brow and cuts on his hands.
"Harry - what..."
I put my hand to my mouth and swivel quickly to look at Angie on the couch; luckily she's still asleep. He follows my eyes to check she hasn't woken too, then takes off his jacket, wincing slightly.
I whisper. "What the hell happened this time?"
His smile is grim. "Fletch."
"He hit you?" I help him out of his jacket, immediately regretting it as I'm leaning too close to him now, catching the scent of his skin. He has just a black singlet on underneath, fitted to the outline of his body.
I pull the jacket gently over his injured hand. "What a prat."
He raises his eyebrows at me, smiling. Then he shakes his head. "Nah, he's just worried about Ange. Doesn't believe me that she's best where she is, but then, Fletch has never trusted me." He flexes his hand gingerly. "Smart guy."
I take his hand to look at his knuckles, unhappy that he's hurt but glad that it means he got his own back.
He clears his throat and I realise he's uncomfortable again.
It's been that way between us since...the kiss, I realise. He's horrified - he must be. It was far more difficult for him to pretend than it had been for me. I drop his hand gently.
"Come and eat then."
*
Angie is thrilled to see him. She seems a lot better tonight, and I'm pleased with her progress.
Her string of profanities - once she hears that Fletch had a go at Harry - is impressive; that's one relationship that is most definitely lopsided I think. Harry quietens her down.
"He's just worried about you Angie. You gave him a fright - you gave all of us a hell of a fright."
She sniffs and folds her arms.
"You need to get out of there Ang. That place is not good for you."
She looks up at him in abject horror, eyes even wider than normal.
"I can't! Where will I go?"
"I know a place. But you're gonna have to trust me. And you're gonna have to stop with the drugs. All the drugs."
Her eyes are still wide, but I have a feeling this girl would jump off the proverbial bridge if he asked her.
"Will I still see you?" Her voice is quiet and hopeful.
He reaches out and holds the back of her head, looking in her eyes.
"Sometimes, yeah. I promise."
She nods slowly, her huge eyes filling with tears. "Whatever you say Jamie." He pulls her in for a hug and I stand up and clear the dinner away.
*
One more night just before you break me
Hold me safely
Stay just a little longer.
*
Angie sleeps soundly in my bed.
She tried to object but with a bit of cajoling from both of us she relents, and the sleeping draught takes over her almost instantly. Crookshanks curls up in the crook of her legs as I slowly close the door behind me.
Harry is in the kitchen, washing up. I lean against the doorway and watch him, which I find unreasonably pleasant. The muscles in his arms are so defined; they twitch under his skin at the slightest movement. I remember seeing a weights room in Warren's house the other night, and I feel pretty sure he must be using it.
He glances at me as he dries the last of the cups in the dish drainer.
"She okay?"
I nod. "Yeah, asleep already."
There it is again. His back goes faintly rigid; I feel that strange tension from him. Like he's uncomfortable being alone with me now. It makes me feel terrible.
I decide to ignore it and keep talking, crossing to the cupboards to tidy stuff that doesn't need tidying.
"Crookshanks is a bit smitten."
"He's always been a good judge of character." He glances at me. "You've seen the worst of her. She's really not a bad person, just a little ...messed up."
My throat aches a bit, like the tears I've been angrily holding back all day are going to make their way out at any moment. I frown and shut a cupboard door too hard.
When I look back at him, he's folding his arms across his chest, leaning on the bench, his legs crossed in front of him. He seems lost in thought.
I catch sight of the grazes on his knuckles and grab down my muggle first aid kit again, grateful for something to busy myself with.
He doesn't notice me approaching until I take his hand.
"You don't have to..."
"Shush."
He holds his hand out obediently as I dab at the scrapes on his knuckles, but his whole stance is uptight and edgy - so different to the last time I was tending his wounds in this kitchen.
I bristle at that. It's not my fault that we kissed. The whole idea was what he thought was best, not me, I didn't suggest he pretend to like me, pretend to want me.
"What's wrong?"
His words take me by surprise. I look up and he's staring at me intently.
"Nothing." I have to look away to pull off my lie.
"Liar."
Okay, so I didn't pull it off. I close my eyes and brace myself to meet his gaze again.
He's frowning down at me; his look is almost one of irritation. With his head bent so close over mine, I feel the breath from his nostrils drifting over my face.
I open my mouth to speak - not that I have any idea what to say - but then I find myself staring at his mouth. I've forgotten already how his lips feel on mine. Not forgotten so much, more just cynical that it really could have felt as incredible as my memory tries to sell it.
He shifts then, just slightly closer and I would be sure that his breath was coming quicker than usual if I didn't know better.
I'm still holding his hand; I know I should drop it.
But ripples of heat flood my stomach and on through my body as I realise he should have spoken by now too. But he hasn't, and we're both standing too close, the electricity between us is too noticeable for me not to realise that something is happening.
It feels like an eternity that we stand there, close, the current between our bodies becoming nearly tangible.
He bites his bottom lip, sucking it gently as he keeps staring down at me and I look at his face only below his eyes.
"I better go."
His voice is thick with emotion and I wonder if he actually hears my silent answer, because my every sense is screaming so loudly no, don't go. Do anything but go.
I wonder vaguely through the haze that maybe he's testing my self respect - or at least my sense of self preservation.
Whatever it is, he hasn't moved, and I fear I'm going to fail whatever test this is.
But I take a deep breath, not sure if it shuddered. I lick my lips before speaking.
"Okay."
I'm determined not to beg him to stay. The hurt from his rejection will be too much, I know that. I'm almost proud of myself, or at least I would have been if I could have stepped away.
But I stand there frozen, staring at his mouth still, silently committing it to memory this close, because I'll never see it like this again.
And then his hand finally pulls out of mine but instead of dropping to his side, it travels up to my face, hovering by my jaw but not touching. His head tilts to the side, bends closer to mine, but the whole movement feels involuntary.
There's a pause, a brief, suspended second where I'm sure we're both thinking this is either crazy or inevitable. I can't work it out, can't even hear my own thoughts with my pulse thundering in my ears.
And then he decides for us, finally grasping my jaw, his fingers digging in to my neck, and crashes his lips to mine.
My body responds instantly, gripping him tight, the first place I reach, either side of his waist.
Both his hands are on my face now, kissing me so desperately I forget entirely about breathing; thinking only of the heat of his mouth and the frantic note that's so obvious in the way I kiss him back.
It's so consuming I don't really register what we're doing, don't notice him stooping to lift me up against him until he's sitting me almost roughly on the bench and standing between my legs, though our mouths don't lose the slightest bit of contact. His hands trail over me, burning where they touch, even through my clothes. He yanks me closer, against his waist.
All I can hear is my own breath, sounding almost comically loud now, though I'm vaguely aware his is coming just as harsh and fast.
Then my hands are moving of their own accord, over his firm stomach, around to his back and shoulders and bunching in his singlet before I have any idea that they're going to begin to tug it off him.
This, I think, is what makes him stop.
"Wait...stop..."
He drags his lips from mine and my eyes open reluctantly. His hands are now planted on the bench either side of me in fists, and he leans forward so just our foreheads are touching. Our breathing is loud and ragged, and his lips are still so close to mine that I have no control over my own hands when they grab his jaw and pull him in to kiss me again.
He responds, his kiss slightly slower and more sensual this time but still desperate tasting. And then he stops again.
"Wait...this...we shouldn't do this."
His words break through my incoherent thoughts; I let my hands drop to his shoulders, trying to still my breathing.
I look into his eyes but they're squeezed shut.
"What's wrong?" My voice surprises me; I didn't know I was capable of speech yet.
He meets my eyes then, and when he speaks, it's still through uneven breaths.
"I know it's not like I've been a good friend to Ron for a while...but I'm still his friend." His eyes are pleading. "I'm still his friend."
I feel instantly disorientated, trying to jump on to his train of thought.
"Ron?"
His looks at the ceiling. "I can't do this to him."
I frown, still wholly confused. "To ...Ron?"
I shouldn't have said his name again because he pushes off the bench then, taking the heat of his body away, just a step. His hand goes to his mouth and he rubs his jaw, not looking at me.
"I'm sorry."
It feels like I've been woken abruptly in the middle of a dream. I grip the edge of the counter I'm still sitting on.
"Harry." It's all I can manage as I watch him grab his jacket and shrug quickly into it. He runs a hand through his short hair, frazzled I can see, and starts backing to the door.
The words tumble out of me.
"Ron and I aren't together. We haven't been, for months."
His eyes widen, in genuine shock I think. Then they shut down again, and he rubs his face with both hands, before they drop to his hips.
He stares at the ground. "I still...I'm sorry 'Mione. I've gotta go."
I barely pick up the mumbled words before he turns and is gone.
*
Lyrics credit: Too Lost in You by The Sugababes, Stay by Little Big Town.