Morning Love. (George Weasley)

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George's POV:

The bright sunlight burning through the parted curtains forced me out of my short and broken sleep. My eyes barely fluttered open before the harsh light made them screw back up shut.

I rolled over onto my front, my arm draped over the noticeably empty space beside me which was usually filled by an angel sleeping peacefully.

I took a deep breath in and sighed, the emptiness of my bed instantly reminding me of what had kept my tossing and turning the night before.

I peaked over at Fred, who as usual was sprawled across his sheets flat on his stomach, his mouth open with a quiet snore coming from it.

Fred had spent a lot of his night trying to reassure me it would all work out as I paced around, filling the room with stress and fear. No matter what my poor brother tried, I couldn't be convinced, and I let me worst thoughts and fears run away with me until I was completely drained.

I checked over at my alarm clock: '8:22am'. Not the most ideal time to wake up on a Sunday.

My plan for the day was a complete mystery; the only thing I knew I wanted to do was try and make things right with Arabella... I just had no idea how.

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Arabella's POV:

I barely got any sleep last night.

I had spent most of it crying, shouting, crying some more, overthinking absolutely everything, pacing around... all while poor Hermione tried her very best to comfort me.

All night I had felt my brain trying to convince me that I was overreacting, and that I didn't deserve to feel so hurt and betrayed; all whilst my heart ached in pain over the unthinkable became a reality.

I squinted my eyes open, licking my dry lips which still had remnants of salt from the many tears which had fallen from my tired eyes.

I peeked over at my clock: '8:22am'. Merlin, I was still exhausted.

I sat up, looking around the dimly light room from the morning sun sneaking through the curtains.

Hermione laid peacefully in her bed; her hand draped over the bed with a fallen book below it on the floor.

I chuckled lightly, it's not even surprising how often she falls asleep like that.

I remembered she had been reading aloud for a while upon my request, the soft spoken words of Louisa May Alcott's 'Little Women' finally sending me off to sleep.

My mind went back to last night, again reliving every humiliating, heart breaking moment of it. And the more I tried to push it to the back of my mind the more it fought it's way right back.

I sighed; my breath shaky as I ran my fingers though my messy hair. Gently swinging my legs off the side of the bed, I stepped onto to cold wooden floor and headed towards the window.

I quietly parted the curtains, turning my head anxiously to ensure the burst of light hadn't woken Hermione. She shuffled slightly, subconsciously grabbing and pulling up her blanket and turning over, facing away from me.

I smiled, turning back around to look out at the school grounds. The sun shone through the clouds, which was a nice surprise given we were only heading into February in a few days. Still, a classic winter frost lay like a blanket across the grassy fields, the air likely very crisp so early in the morning.

These sorts of mornings could always make me feel somewhat better, no matter how low I may be feeling.

I stood there a short while longer, observing the owls flying to other student's dorm windows delivering family letters, wondering how my own godparents were doing back home.