Delirium

Chapter 13 - Spontaneity

a/n hiiii everyone! here's a lil late sunday chapter for ya. i hope you enjoy :) 

happy reading!

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The following day—a Lazy Sunday, or Sunday Fun-Day, as Daphne liked to call it—Jolie and Madeline settled into their dorm after lunch, quickly joined by Pansy and Daphne.

Daphne had immediately begun riffling through Jolie's various vinyl records. She ended up choosing the only one that wasn't actually Jolie's, but rather a vinyl that Madeline's grandmother-figure, Ms Whitby, had sent a week or so ago.

The music was somewhat familiar, though Jolie didn't yet know all the words to the songs. She only knew that it was some Swedish group from the 1970s called 'ABBA'.

Jolie quite liked it. Daphne simply adored the album. As did Madeline, mouthing along to every word of the first song.

Jolie could only assume it was called 'Waterloo' since it was said so often. So far, the singular word was also the only lyric Daphne had memorised, so she sang along to that part of the song, and that part only, humming the rest of the melody.

Whilst the music played, Jolie sat at the desk, scribbling last minute runes into her notebook.

Yesterday's studying with George hadn't exactly gone to plan. Not that she was complaining, however.

Being in his dorm, his bed, alone with him had been a rush in itself; the sheer secrecy of him sneaking her in making both of them pink in the cheeks. But the moment he had closed his bed hangings, Jolie had found herself lost in him.

She had never loved something, someone, so deeply.

She didn't think he'd realised it, but after their... antics, she had secretly practised her runes, drawing them with a finger gently upon his taut chest.

They were not the particular runic vocabulary she was meant to be memorising, no. But runes she'd already known. Runes that were meant to proclaim protection. Proclaim devotion. Love.

After spending so many weeks in a near spiral, Jolie's mind wreaking havoc within her, she found that, without even seemingly trying, George made her feel alive. Grounded.

She wasn't all that skilled with being candid about her feelings, so she tended to pronounce her affections through compromise and gentle touches.

George wasn't as subtle.

He declared his affinity and endearments with his lips; speaking his love for her outwardly, whispering against her neck, into her ear, kissing every inch of her skin.

George Weasley was everything she had never known she'd needed.

The sudden memory of his lips on her chest, his strong hands pulling her to settle atop his mouth, his long fingers intertwining with hers as his tongue—

Jolie cut off the reminiscence with a small shake of her head and a secret smile, her cheeks growing a bit warm.

Madeline leaned against the wall at the foot of her bed with her stuffed dragon, Patrick, in her lap. She was nodding over at Pansy who sat upon Jolie's trunk, giving the girls a rundown on what she'd planned so far for Blaise's upcoming birthday party... in November. Pansy seemed to choose to ignore Tea Kettle as the cat weaved around her ankles, rubbing her furry head against her legs.