The War left many grieving, those who would never get the chance to tell their loved ones that they loved them one last time. Iris Brown was one of them, her twin sister ripped away from her at just 18, she never got the chance to do the things with...
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The second Iris awoke that morning, she took a moment to realise she was not in her own bed. The biggest give away being that the bed she was currently lying in was much more comfortable than the one she had at the Leaky Cauldron. The mattress felt as though it had cost much more than the pub would ever spend on just one singular item of comfort. The sheets were also much softer, they felt as though there was an element of silk to them rather than the plain cotton sheets she personally owned. The comforter used when the sheets had been washed was also different to the one she used, this one smelling like coconuts in comparison to the fresh cotton one she normally used.
But the biggest give away that she was not only not in her own bed but was also not alone was the weight on her chest. Iris owned an owl not a cat or another animal which would have curled up on her to cause such a weight. And if the only thing she could clearly see which was ginger was any give away Iris very quickly worked out what was going on. And the events of the early hours of the morning came slamming back to the forefront of her brain, the hangover only seconds afterwards.
After all she had been the one to agree to staying the night, but if she was being honest she wasn't sure she could ever say no to George. Not now, not when he owned her heart entirely. She had agreed to stay instantly not thinking about the consequences, not thinking of how the night would go. But when she came to, the way she had awoken that morning she did not mind one bit. George's weight was a comfort and having the feeling as though in that moment he depended on her was a feeling of which Iris did not realise she had missed so much. Having been the older twin it was often her sister depended on her, and since Lavender had passed there had been no such thing as somebody depending on her. But in that moment she could kid herself that someone did need her. That someone did depend on her. George depended on her for comfort in that moment in time, he needed her to remain the way she was so he could continue to sleep. And so she remained as still as possible, firstly attempting to just go back to sleep. Though this did not seem possible, so for a while she feigned that she was asleep. But that too failed, therefore, she remained moving as little as possible only moving her hands to play with a small little section of his hair, curling it gently as not to pull or do anything to wake him up.
She knew not how much time had passed since she had awoken but eventually she was met with a groan as George woke. Though it appeared as though she had been a little luckier in the hangover department getting a little longer before it truly kicked in. George's hangover was present the moment he had woken as he tried to push his way into his 'pillow' only to find it harder than he expected. And that was the moment Iris felt him finally respond a bit more looking up to see what was going on. And it was humorous to watch him work out the last few hours of the morning before they had gone to sleep.
"Fuck me I had too much to drink." George groaned and Iris did let an audible laugh come out at this statement. Despite having spent so much time around people from the southern part of England it still made her laugh hearing them swear considering just how proper it sounded. She was much more used to the northern twang she had been surrounded by in her childhood and with her best friends.
