Rita held the parchments in her hand for quite some time.
So, Ginny was going, and she and Neville...
Merlin. Fuck. Stupid bastard Ministry.
How was she...?
Fuck.
They'd slept together. And not just slept together, slept together. Tangled up in each others arms for a time (though at least Neville had made things a little easier by returning to his room before the morning). And now they had to cohabit not just the same house, but the same room, the same bed?
It wasn't that she didn't like him. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk him. It was just... Merlin, she didn't know. There was a reason why her relationship with Carmilla had fallen apart, a reason why she'd most emphatically not been in love since. She couldn't do it. Couldn't open herself up to people. Not after six years in Slytherin, not after Bellatrix, not after thirty years of ripping people apart the moment they showed any weakness
( ... )
Pretending to be married was one thing; and it might have been easier if it had been Ginny. But with Rita it was going to be absolute torture. Sharing a bed for half an hour was one thing - actually sleeping together, from dusk until dawn? It was going to be impossible.
Neville glanced up towards Rita appraisingly, then stepped away. "I'm going to be in the garden."
He had to think about this on his own for a while; give his shellshocked brain a moment to collect itself. He was down to the last two, but this week was going to be worse than ever. A true challenge.
He left Rita and the note behind, sweeping out into the garden and closing the door behind him, so as to put some kind of barrier between the two of them.
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So, Ginny was going, and she and Neville...
Merlin. Fuck. Stupid bastard Ministry.
How was she...?
Fuck.
They'd slept together. And not just slept together, slept together. Tangled up in each others arms for a time (though at least Neville had made things a little easier by returning to his room before the morning). And now they had to cohabit not just the same house, but the same room, the same bed?
It wasn't that she didn't like him. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk him. It was just... Merlin, she didn't know. There was a reason why her relationship with Carmilla had fallen apart, a reason why she'd most emphatically not been in love since. She couldn't do it. Couldn't open herself up to people. Not after six years in Slytherin, not after Bellatrix, not after thirty years of ripping people apart the moment they showed any weakness ( ... )
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Pretending to be married was one thing; and it might have been easier if it had been Ginny. But with Rita it was going to be absolute torture. Sharing a bed for half an hour was one thing - actually sleeping together, from dusk until dawn? It was going to be impossible.
Neville glanced up towards Rita appraisingly, then stepped away. "I'm going to be in the garden."
He had to think about this on his own for a while; give his shellshocked brain a moment to collect itself. He was down to the last two, but this week was going to be worse than ever. A true challenge.
He left Rita and the note behind, sweeping out into the garden and closing the door behind him, so as to put some kind of barrier between the two of them.
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