Rating:
R
House:
Astronomy Tower
Characters:
Angelina Johnson Fred Weasley
Genres:
Romance Angst
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix
Stats:
Published: 07/12/2004
Updated: 07/12/2004
Words: 588
Chapters: 1
Hits: 956

Ice Cubes Melt Over Time

FalseEyelashes

Story Summary:
"I double check my locks at night." Angelina keeps herself more heavily guarded than the prison of Azkaban and when Fred leaves she is forced to deal with the memories he's left behind.

Ice Cubes Melt Over Time Prologue

Posted:
07/12/2004
Hits:
951



I hate confessing secrets. Nothing good ever comes of it. I don't feel any lighter. If anything I feel heavier; heavier knowing that someone knows the truth about me. I feel panicked, nerve-wracked, ugly. Letting people in only makes me want to find a way out.

I double-check my locks at night.

- - -

Misty mornings on the moor and a knight without chivalry or his steed: I awoke and dreamt to each of these. I opened eyes upon a morning alone; I fell asleep to the rise and fall of him. He never woke up next to me. I convinced myself it was what I wanted. I believed it for awhile. Sometimes I still do.

Charades was our game, and we alone were the champions...

We were friends. Best friends. At least that's how we appeared. I was me, and he was he and that's all we'd ever be. And that's all I ever wanted.

He left today. Not on a horse; instead, upon a broom. He didn't kill the dragon that threatens my every breath, or rescue me from the tower I foolishly imprisoned myself in. He saved himself and wrecked a fairy tale I had so carefully crafted. For me. To believe in.

He has that way about him, that ability to ruin things. Destruction and disaster always lay in his wake. And he always walks away with that rueful grin of his. That grin that makes me ache. And makes him smile all the more.

I didn't want to be destroyed.

I'm sitting here, in the dark, on the couch, with a fire painting shadows across the walls. The Gryffindor common room has never been this silent. My steady breathing is all I hear. It's late. Early morning kind of late. This used to be our finest hour.

Undulating hips and labored breathing; muffled groans and wandering hands; I see quick flashes in my head. Under him, lying on the couch, panting in my ear. In his lap, purring in contentment. That adrenaline rush: the thrill of his motions, the fear of being caught. Lip caught between teeth, tongue trapped down my throat. I sit there silently, painting the mural inside my head. I trace one finger along my knee, and stop when it hits the scar. That scar. He chased me down a hallway once. I fell and scraped my knee. I forgot to put a band-aid on, and I'm left with a scar to remind me. That was six years ago. We had only just met. He had already left his mark on me.

I never told him about that scar.

I never told him how I like to look at it and remember. Him.

"We only fucked," I murmur softly into the empty room. The sound bounces off the wall, and strikes back; the weight of my words hitting me square in the face. "It was all about sex." My voice, stronger this time, emphasizing the word
sex. I am convincing myself, or attempting to at least. This last year has been nothing more but an animalistic mating. Nothing more. I am not hurt. I am not sad. I have no fear of being alone. I'm merely imagining the lump forming in my throat.

It is then that I know I hate him. I hate Fred Weasely.

It's now just me. Me, the fire, and an arsenal of memories that are attempting to knock my feet out from under me.

And I think I want to fall...

- - -


Author's Note: This is my first time actually writing fanfiction. Let me know what you think and if I should continue on with the story. Input is greatly appreciated.