❝HOW COME YOU NEVER TRIED FOR SEEKER?❞
❝I ENJOYED AIMING BLUDGERS AT YOU TOO MUCH.❞
The Gryffindor Quidditch Team finally has some real competition. And Harry Potter is totally conflicted.
warning: this book has many mature, NSFW scenes that contrib...
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THE SUMMER AIR had thinned that afternoon. After a week of what had seemed like hellish heat, the air had been cooled by the night's rain showers, humidity dissipating and tall grass becoming dewey. The breeze trickled through the black sleeves of Harry's shirt, cooling down the scar-littered skin that had become heated by the July sun. The metal on his ring finger felt cool in comparison to the rest of him.
His socks and trainers had become damp from the wetness of the lush grass he stepped upon as he was led through the graveyard, eyes trickling across the various headstones with inscribed names he did not recognize. A step ahead of him was Indiana, gaze feverishly shifting across each headstone; he could feel her fingers twitching against his own, tightening and untightening as though she were unsure. He kept a steady grip on her hand, feeling the metal of her own engagement ring pressing coldly against his skin.
Her paces came to a halt. Harry took another step forward to stand directly beside her, elbows bumping from their closeness. Indiana's head was bowed, dark iris' pointed downwards at the average sized headstone less than a foot from the white leather curves of the trainers she wore. Harry felt her squeeze his hand again. He squeezed it back.
The headstone's epitaph read:
SERENA ANNA JONES
BORN 1963 DIED 1998
A LOVING MOTHER, SISTER, AND DAUGHTER
"Should've written more," Indiana muttered under her breath, sniffling. Harry's eyes shifted to her. "Father probably did this all. He should've written more."
Harry only breathed heavily and squeezed her hand again, tugging her closer to him. She leaned against his side, head drooping and lips pursing as tears pooled at the crow's feet of her eyes. They dribbled over those long eyelashes of hers and tipping over onto her dark cheeks, rolling down either side of her jaw.
"Did she like flowers?" Harry asked, reaching into his pocket to withdraw his wand. Indiana sniffed and wiped at her face.
"Poppies," Indiana mumbled, pressing her cheek to his shoulder and burying her face into the fabric of his blue t-shirt. He took his hand out from where it was intertwined with hers and brought his arm tightly around her shoulders, embracing her tenderly, fingers rubbing lovingly up her upper arm. "She used to put them all around the house..."
Harry swished his wand in front of the headstone, and three rather lively looking poppies bloomed, red petals sprouting towards the sun and brighting up the ground. Indiana hiccuped and wiped at her face again, staring down at the headstone. Harry bowed his head and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.
