'And he's the best fuck that ever walked. He's beautiful - rich, in money and everything else; he's a rockstar to boot, trapped in the body of a fighter. And how he fought; at a state of turmoil with himself - somewhere inside his soul that only she...
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♱
'My raw hand, my fever blister, watch me Watch me, watch me disappear Here she comes, her pants undone All waste and void, all waste and void
In the dark I destroy What I began, what I destroy She's hanging in the blossom tree Babydoll just bleeds for me'
"How have you been, sweetheart?" asked Mrs Weasley as she pulled away from the dinner table and looked over at Hera.
Mrs Weasley always seemed to know what was going on, so Hera felt some of that usual nervousness. She was sure to hide her previous 'habits', but she couldn't give up smoking — what if Mrs Weasley smelt the cigarettes on her jacket or saw the bags under her eyes?
"I've been lovely, Mrs Wealsey. " Hera replied sincerely. A smile worked its way onto her features — it had been a while since she'd been able to say that honestly.
"Harry's already gone upstairs. I know you've already eaten but let me know if you want any more; the stove's still on, dear. " Mrs Weasley said kindly.
Hera made her way up the familiar stairs and bumped into Ginny on the way. She greeted her before continuing up the winding staircase.
"Quick, hide that— " George's voice carried through the second floor of the Burrow.
Hera pushed the slightly ajar door open. "It's just me, " she raised her arm in defence before bouncing on the left bed, pushing aside their sweets, magazines and joke products, "You should really start locking the door, you know. "
"Mum threw all our products out. " Fred said sourly, gathering the remaining joke products into a small box before hiding it in his underwear drawer.
"Your kidding, right? Shit, I'm sorry, guys... " Hera thought to inside her school trunk and the joke products she still had, "I don't know if it'd help, but I've still got the ones we worked on from before... Could you remake them?"
"You're a fucking godsend — those sold the best, so it all works out— " George jumped up from his seated position on the floor and rummaged under his mattress for a notebook or something, "I've still got it written down, here it is!"
