Falling For

Laying next to George on the floor of the room of requirement left me breathless and chilled, my skirt strewn lazily on the other side of the room like a broken body. Even though we had promised each other a tell-all tale of our lives, it had ended in a passionate romp on the strange wooden floors. The fireplace beside us crackled tiredly, bored of our unmoving bodies to the point where it began to speak with clacks and sputters.

I sat up immediately, though slowly, after I had gotten over my post-intercourse jitters and looked down at him, slumping to my elbows to look at him. He reached up, sweat mattered through his longing red hair, and kissed me on the mouth in a tired fashion. I grinned softly at him and collapsed onto his chest.

Tracing circles, I let out a small huff and pushed my hair off of my face to run my fingers down his pale, freckled body.

"Too be honest, I don't really like Potter all that much." I started off the secret spreading. He let out a small chortle and I swear he rolled his eyes.

"I don't really like Diggory either. Not after fifth year when he caught the snitch after Harry got attacked by Dementors."

"I snore really loudly." I then countered and he laughed again. I slapped him gently on the chest and he laughed even louder.

"I don't! I do dribble though."

"That's disgusting!" I shrieked with laughter and sat up, looking down at him and burst into uproarious giggles. He sat up and wrapped his arms around me, tugging me back down to his chest where I just crawled up and kissed him again. His fingers twined through my hair and his teeth grazed my bottom lip while I ran my fingers in circles around his stomach and brushed my nose against his. We broke apart and in fine breaths I whispered "I really like the idea of teaching Muggle Studies when we graduate."

"Fred and I are opening a joke store when we leave. Just need the money." He smiled and I closed my eyes, resting my forehead on his chin.

"My favourite colour is lilac."

"Green."

"I really love French Toast."

"Custard tarts."

"I can't sing or dance."

"I can dance." He pointed out and I smiled. "But I'm absolutely horrible at singing."

"My middle name is Vrij." I added. With this his brows rose.

"What?"

"Vrij. It's Dutch. My mother writes exotic novels and took the two names of her favourite characters, and I ended up with Mignon Vrij."

"How do you even spell that?" He suddenly wheezed with laughter and I rolled off of him, mockingly poking his nose.

"V-R-I-J. It means free, so shut up."

"Free as in 'cheap' or free as in 'free-free'?"

"'Free-free?" I squinted at him and he burst out laughing again, causing me to flop down on top of him and kiss his chest. "Stop it, you ponce. I don't appreciate you laughing at my horrid names."

"At least you have a middle name." He grinned at me and I pressed my nose further into his soft skin. "How come you're not a prefect?"

"I couldn't live up to Gwendolyn. Besides, out of the entire sixth year Hufflepuff girl dorm I am by far the most unintelligent."

"Somehow I doubt that." He pestered but I groaned a little in response. We lay for a moment until his fingers were back in my hair, massaging my scalp to make me feel better.

All I can say is that it did and we lay there for a while in silence; just thinking about each other and what we could share further. I kissed his chest again and yawned, forgetting our previous bicker only to replace it with the fond memory of a fireplace and fingertips.