Lemon Grass and Sleep

BRIDGING THE GAP

"So this is 12 Grimmauld Place?" Glinda clarified after we reminded her about how we spent our last summer. "I can see why it was so sucky."

"Yeah, it's a lot better now than it was, though. I imagine Sirius hasn't had much else aside from cleaning to do."

"Well, it doesn't seem like he was doing a good job," I mumbled.

"Should I ask Hermione and Ginny if I can just share with them?" Glinda asked, "I'd rather not get looped into such a long conversation again, no matter how interesting it was."

"Probably, Ginny's smaller so I would ask her first," George said lamely.

"These beds are pretty big," Glinda spread out eagle style, earning an irritated grunt from George, who she smacked in the face with her foot.

"Yes they are," Fred said quietly, sliding his hand around my waist. Apparently only I heard what he said, as Glinda and George devolved into bickering back and forth about whether she meant to hit him or not.

"Stop," I whispered hoarsely, "They're literally right there."

"Mm," Fred reluctantly let his hand rest innocently by my hip. "Fine, but you know how long it's been. I know you've got to be itching as well."

I didn't respond, only pressing my lips into a thin line as a blush burned across my cheeks. He was right. It'd felt like forever. How did we keep doing this--this slipping into dry spells without realizing it until too late. We definitely need to stop making a habit of it.

"Later," I muttered, and I glanced out of the corner of my eye to see that familiar glint in Fred's satisfied eyes.

"Glinda, would you like to go with us to the hospital?" Fred asked. "You don't have to, but we thought we'd ask."

"Oh, I don't want to intrude," she dismissed, "Plus, I imagine Sirius will be lonely. I can stay here and keep him company."

"More like keep him from sneaking out," George laughed, "He's worse than us, I swear."

"Impossible, you two are the absolute worst," Glinda rolled her eyes.

"Does Sirius make dinner?" I asked, "I haven't eaten since breakfast."

I glanced over to the window at the pitch black darkness outside, and wondered what time it even was. 12 Grimmauld Place was sort of like a time pocket, with the lack of clocks making it feel like time simultaneously passed infuriatingly slow and insanely fast.

"Well, we've sort of just been making ourselves food," Fred mumbled, "It's not like Kreacher does anything."

"Kreacher?"

"His house elf, wretched thing."

"Oh, what's wrong with it?"

"It's racist."

"Ah."

Guess what we had? Sandwiches. Of course. I hadn't missed Grimmauld Place sandwiches at all, but nobody else complained. I didn't want to seem snobby or anything, so I ate mine without a peep.

"Tomorrow's Christmas," Glinda mumbled, "My first without being with my family, is that odd?"

"No, we haven't had a single one without," George mumbled, "I imagine it feels weird."

"It does," she responded, "Like it isn't actually Christmas."

"What do they do for holiday at the castle?" Fred asked, nudging me with his elbow.

"Oh, well," I murmured, feeling awkward with everyone looking at me, "There's a feast on Christmas Day, and sometimes the House Elves pass around cookies and treats during the week."