the energy after the game is nothing short of electric. the afternoon is fading into evening, leaving the fires burning around the celebration to brighten the scene. despite the open landscape, voices and music and cheers create a dissonant harmony, and ron finds that he’s sucked into the excitement. ( somewhere behind him he hears several voices start chanting for gisela. as he weaves throughout the crowd, ron almost expects to see harry caught ahead of him in conversation -- it’s all so reminiscent of ireland’s victory. he chases the rotten taste in his mouth with the bottle of dragon scale he’s gripping by the neck. ) every so often he’s pulled aside by a friend, a family member, a stranger commenting on ginny’s plays ; two hours later and just as many drinks deep, he’s barely beyond where he started the evening.
of course, ron’s attention is repetitively dragged to the surrounding crowd beyond the circular glow of whatever fire he’s standing by. like he’s looking for someone -- and on some level, he is. it’s almost odd not having found her already ; ron’s always so aware of her, like time has pulled him into whatever sphere of gravity she’s on. this time, he spots a flash of dark hair, and there’s just a moment before he ducks away from his company to catch up to her, reaching to capture her wrist in the process. there’s a certain untroubled breathlessness to him as he spins hermione once, his grin a mirror of the ones seen on his family since ginny’s win. “it’s fuckin’ mental out here, i was wondering when i’d find you.”
one (1) happy thread for @dolors
