tears in heaven // g.w

⤍ part two

It's at 10 PM the next night that Valerie decides to leave her bed for the first time since arriving home from the Burrow - Hermione had jinxed her curtains to open at 7 every morning, hoping the sunlight streaming into the bedroom would encourage Valerie to get out of bed at a reasonable hour but it never worked. It's entirely too easy for her to bury her head back in her pillow, covers pulled tight over her body, ignoring the rays of light invading her room with the ease of someone who has had entirely too much practice, and she most certainly has.

She hasn't eaten, though, not since dinner at the Burrow. And she'd eaten more there than she usually did, sure, but it wasn't enough to nourish her for the day, and Hermione hadn't brought her oatmeal like she usually did. Perhaps she gave up, declaring Valerie a lost cause, or maybe she was angry over what had happened with Mrs. Weasley, or maybe she truly had forgotten -

Well, it doesn't quite matter. It's good for Valerie to get out of bed at some point, even if it's after the sun has gone down and her friends have gone to sleep, and she's entirely too awake to think of anything else but the rumbling hunger in her stomach. So she pulls herself out of bed - donning the sweater she'd worn nearly every day since the Battle, no matter how hot Grimmauld Place could get in the dead of summer, and a pair of pajama pants with her wand in its pocket, their length just a bit too high on her ankles - and shoves a pair of socks on her feet to mask the sounds of her footsteps padding on the wooden floor before she's off. The door creaks only a bit as she pushes it open, cringing at the noise as she steps into the hallway and slowly lets it close behind her before making her way to the stairs, palm sliding against the smooth bannister as she makes her way downstairs.

It's as Valerie gets to the second floor landing that her ears perk up just a bit - like a dog hearing a suspicious noise, she cranes her neck towards the end of the hallway where she knows Hermione's bedroom to be situated and she hears it again. A soft giggle, so unlike her friend's usual laugh, and it breaks off into something sounding distinctly like a moan -

Her stomach churns violently as she presses her back into the banister, eyes squeezing shut to try and erase that image from her mind. God, doesn't anyone bother with Silencing Charms anymore? Sure, Hermione's room is the only one on this floor, but still - anyone could hear - like her, or Harry, or Ginny -

(A year ago it wouldn't have bothered Valerie half as much - in fact, perhaps she'd have laughed at her friends' antics, or teased them the next morning about their volume - but now it makes her skin prickle, burning up like she has a fever, and it's all she can do to turn and stumble down the rest of the stairs, nearly slipping on the smooth steps.)

The hallway is dark as she makes her way towards the kitchen, mind still thinking of Hermione and Ron's endeavors upstairs as she glances wistfully at the clean patch of wall where Mrs. Black's portrait had been forcibly removed from the wall - well, she thinks, as she grabs her wand and flicks it wistfully so a bag of pasta flies into her palm, isn't it common courtesy to throw up a simple Muffliato? She could remember how diligent her and Fred had been about Silencing Charms when they'd sneak into the attic in the dead of night, summer before fifth year - how they were so nervous about getting caught he'd press his palm to her mouth to muffle her noises -

Valerie doesn't realize her hands are shaking until the bag of pasta slips from her grasp, hitting the ground with a sickeningly loud noise that reverberates through her entire body as she gasps, and the bag rips open, pasta just about exploding onto the floor. It's all she can do not to lean her head in her hands and burst into tears - she's so fragile, sometimes - but she simply swallows the lump in her throat as she glances up towards the ceiling, lips moving in a silent prayer that she hasn't awoken anyone (or interrupted Ron and Hermione, for that matter.) Teddy is so touchy nowadays, in his phase where the slightest noise sends him screaming and only Harry can calm him down, and she can't bear to see the look on her friend's face when he sees her in the kitchen in the midst of the night making pasta.