"For fuck's sake, Ronnie,"

I felt hands grapple around me as someone tried to hoist me up.

I couldn't work out where I was or what I was doing.

The movement of being lifted gave me the sudden sensation I was going to throw up.

"Down. Put me down - now!" I mumbled blearily; possibly incoherently.

But too late. I felt my body heave as a waterfall of brown liquid evacuated my mouth, spraying all over a pair of white trainers.

I was dropped back heavily down onto the sofa as Harry sprang back, yelping in disgust.

"They were my best pair!" He cried.

"Go fuck yourself," I muttered, turning over to go back to sleep. Memories of the previous night had come flooding back to me and the last thing I felt like doing was facing life.

And then my eyes flew open as I realised where I was.

I sat up, closing my eyes briefly whilst I allowed the room to stop spinning, before turning towards Harry.

"How did you know I was in here?" I asked, confusion pounding my head. Or that could have been the hangover.

"I looked for you on the map, but you weren't on it," he shrugged, "so I concluded you were in here and simply asked the Room to show me where you were."

"Well if you've come here to say I told you so again then you can fuck right off and leave me to die in peace." I snapped, lying back down.

But he didn't move, and instead, sighed heavily as he looked around.

"Ronnie, why are you in here?" He asked, frowning. "And why have you downed what appears to be a bottle of firewhisky? I mean, I know it was brutal about Dumbledore and all but you don't see me wallowing in self pity."

The memory of Draco turning his back on me after I confessed my love flashed through my mind. I felt my stomach twist violently and hot tears prick dangerously behind my eyes.

"Well maybe you should. It feels good." I sniped, rolling over to turn my back on him again.

"Fine, I'll just go get Hermione, then! Let her lecture you on the dangers of alcohol abuse!"

"Alright, alright," I moodily clambering to my feet, wincing in pain as I did so. Fuck, my head hurt.

Harry walked beside me as we slowly ambled our way along the hallways. Students had started rising for breakfast, giving us strange looks as they swept past.

"Guess most of then know what happened by now, huh." Harry shrugged.

"That, or they're wondering why your feet are covered in puke." I muttered dryly.

"Yeah, cheers for that." Harry scoffed, narrowing his eyes down at me. "You really shouldn't drink. It doesn't do you any good."

"Fuck you. I've only ever drunk once before and that only ended badly because fucking Malfoy poisoned it."

A nasty burning sensation went through my heart at the mere mention of him.

"What about the time you shoved your tongue down McLaggen's throat?" Harry annoyingly reminded me.

"Again, Malfoy's fault."

"You're calling him Malfoy again," Harry pointed out, looking startled.

"Yeah, well gits like him don't deserve first names." I muttered, blinking down at the floor, trying desperately to ignore the tight feeling in my chest.

I didn't say the real reason that I could no longer call him Draco - that I was afraid the pain of saying his name would make me cry and that I'd never be able stop.

The thing was, I missed him. I missed him so fucking much that my heart literally hurt. I kept going over everything in my head, trying to pinpoint the moment when I had stopped hating him and started falling for him instead. But I couldn't.

I guess I had been his distraction over the past year, a means of forgetting the huge task he had been set from Lord fucking Voldemort. How could I have not been able to tell? Had I been so hugely caught up in my own feelings that I hadn't noticed he was trying to hide this great big fucking tattoo from me? Maybe I did. Maybe I just didn't want to confront the idea because I didn't want to believe that Harry could have ever been right.

Either way, I could no longer look up at the Slytherin table during mealtimes, terrified to see an empty chair where he should be sitting. There would be no coming back for him now. No more snide remarks in classes, no more playing Quidditch against each other, no more flirtatious glances as we passed in the hallways.

And no more fucking.

"I'm not going back to Hogwarts next year." Harry stated to Hermione and me at Dumbledore's funeral.

Personally, I thought that was a tad dramatic. I knew he liked Dumbledore and all but surely throwing his educational towel in over a dead teacher reeked drama queen.

He said something about going traveling to 'find himself' or some shit. I don't know, I wasn't really listening.

Anyway, Hermione said she would join him, and seeing as they were both going to stick their fingers up at their education then I'd thought I'd tag along too. Perhaps a little adventure might take my mind off a certain Slytherin.

Who knows, I might even get laid.

*****

Mum went ape shit.

"Over my dead body are you missing the most important year of your education to go on a camping trip, Veronica Bilius Weasley!"

"But Muuuum, Harry's allowed to go! And so's Hermione! I'll be the only one!" I whined, completely ignoring the fact that Harry had no parents to give a shit and Hermione had wiped her parents memories off her entire existence.

"I don't care. As long as you live under my roof then you follow by my rules-"

"YEAH WELL I'M AN ADULT AND YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" I screamed, stomping up the stairs and slamming my bedroom door so hard that the entire house shook.

Fuck her.

Luckily, Dad was all for it, and even helped me turn the ghoul in our attic into a version of me with some gross skin disease.

"Means they can't interrogate us when they realise you're not at school." He said, dressing it up in pyjamas.

It had seemed, just like fifth year in Hogwarts, the Ministry had completely turned on Harry. Taken over by Death Eaters, Dad reckoned.

Which meant we had to get Harry to the Burrow in the freakiest way ever this summer.

They wanted six of us to become Harry bait. As I was already feeling suicidal thanks to my broken heart, I happily agreed to it.

Although truth be told, I was intrigued to find out how big Harry's willy was - I felt it was too inappropriate to simply ask now he was fucking my sister.

Annoyingly though, Mad Eye didn't let us have a toilet break claiming time was on our hands or some shit, so I had to make do with having a quick secretive grope.

From what I could tell it wasn't bad, I suppose. Not as big as Draco's though. Although that might be an unfair comparison seeing as Draco's had been hard pretty much all the time.

Was really pissed off to discover that my protector was going to be Tonks. I mean, yeah she's a laugh - but she's also fucking clumsy. Why couldn't I have had somebody like Kingsley? Now I wouldn't mind getting my arms around him.

At least I didn't have Mad Eye or Lupin. Could have died or lost an ear.

Poor George.

But on the bright side, I could finally tell my twin brothers apart.

*****

Mum was an insufferable bitch that summer.

Personally, I was glad when the Death Eaters stormed the wedding and we could finally escape that hell hole.

I mean, she had made me tidy my room and everything!

"Where the fuck do we go now?" I asked, as we walked down a busy Muggle street looking like complete twats in our wizarding attire.

"Let's get a rank cup of coffee in this dodgy looking cafe." Harry idiotically suggested.

I wondered why he was so keen until I saw him eyeing up the waitress.

"Don't forget you're fucking my sister, you fucktard." I snarled, slamming my lukewarm coffee down on the table.

"I was just trying to read her name badge!" He wailed pathetically.

"Why? So you can ask her out on a date?" I spat. "At least Dumbledore isn't around to cock block you this time!"

"No, it seems I have you for that instead!" He roared, going pink in the face.

"Guys!" Hermione cried, "Remember why we're here - to defeat Voldemort!"

It was at that point when two burly workmen walked in and tried to fucking kill us.

It still beat being nagged at by mum at home, though.

*****