Never Let Go

He hasn’t seen her, not really, since his brother’s wedding, over three years ago. Not that it’s either of their faults, with the war and her time trying to find her parents followed by his stint overseas for the shop. God, she’s fit. He doesn’t remember her being that fit. Of course, this is his sister’s wedding, so it might have something to do with that bridesmaid’s dress and the way it hugs her in all the right places. Or maybe it’s the way the setting sun catches in her hair – or the way her eyes sparkle in the twinkling lights that have come on as the sun left. Her grin is white and wide and happy, and her lips look soft and darker than they should be. He could have sworn he hated lipstick but now all he wants to do is test if the color on her lips is as long-lasting as she says it is.

He had told her he was coming. He wasn’t supposed to be back for a few months but this he couldn’t – wouldn’t – miss. The look on his sister’s face (not to mention his brothers’ and his parents’) at the rehearsal was worth not telling anyone else and he happily recounts his time abroad to all five of his brothers and his not-quite brother-in-law until they all fall asleep in the early hours of the morning. The following day is a whirlwind, but time seems to stop for a moment right before she walks down the aisle on the arm of his youngest brother. His mouth drops open slightly as he looks at her and he realizes he can’t quite breathe properly. She is breathtaking.

When his sister appears, his gaze swivels to the groom, back to his sister, and then over to her. He sees her glance at the groom as well, her brother in everything but blood, and then she looks down the aisle, not at his sister but his dad. There’s something off, almost pained, in her look, but as soon as he realizes she must be missing her own father her gaze shifts to his sister, beaming and happy.

There are pictures, ones his sister insists on, where he tells himself he isn’t as jealous of how his little brother is holding her as he is, and then a lot of standing around and idle chatter. He helps his brother, his twin brother, with the fireworks, their fireworks. The reception is in full swing now, with food and laughter and speeches. She tells a funny story about his sister and her now husband that he has yet to hear, and it strikes him just how much time has gone by since he left. His father mentions a surprise trip he has planned for his mother just before the dancing begins and he asks if there’s room for him to stay the night.

“Everyone’s staying,” his father assures and he decides to crash with his twin, knowing he won’t mind.

She asks him to dance, “for old time’s sake”, she says, but he knows she means for what they never got to explore before, and he is suddenly leading her in a two-step. He convinces her to stay with him for the next song, and then the next, and then it’s been over an hour and they’ve lost their shoes and salsa-ed and waltzed and slow-danced around the room in deep conversation. He forgot how much he enjoyed talking to her. She’s funny and asks the best questions and really listens and values his opinion. They stop only to send off the happy couple and resume dancing with the few that are left. His parents have disappeared and so have his brothers, all five of them, and he remembers his twin is married (eloped, if they’re honest about it), and of course he can’t crash with him like he has been thinking. He realizes he doesn’t have a place to sleep tonight, with the house being as full as it is, and tells her as much. She offers for him to stay with her because “it’s not like we haven’t shared a room before”, and although he wants to point out that there were a group of them sharing a room, she asks where he had initially thought he would be sleeping tonight before he can.

They’re making their way to her room when he claims it’s her fault she didn’t make the arrangements for him. She laughs, reminding him that he insisted he would bum off his family and that everyone is staying at the Burrow for the night anyway. He concedes and tells her he forgot his twin was married and was planning on bunking with him. She laughs harder at this, clinging onto him to stay upright, teeth bright against the darkness and he has never thought anyone more beautiful in his life.

He wakes up with her hair in his face and her breath on his neck. Her hair is everywhere, not just his face, and her head is on his chest and his arm is around her side and their legs are tangled – well, his are tangled with hers. She doesn’t appear to have moved other than to use his chest as a pillow. He seems to still be in his clothes from last night, minus his shoes and belt, and is laying on top of the covers. She is under the covers, which are pulled up to her chin, curled into herself. A blanket covers the bits of him not warmed by her and there’s a pillow at the foot of the bed. A quick glance around shows an assortment of items tossed off the foot of his side of the bed – her dress, his suit jacket, a blanket, another pillow, a couple of his t-shirts.

He lets out a breath as he remembers collapsing on the bed last night and nothing afterwards. It didn’t even register that there was only one bed in the room, and a double bed at that. He must have passed out almost as soon as he laid down. She must have tried to make a little wall to keep them separate, but, if the way their things were strewn about the room was any indication, his subconscious desire for cuddling had taken over.

He shimmies down so they’re at eye level and brushes her ridiculous hair out of her face. She is just as beautiful this way, make-up free in an old t-shirt and mouth hanging open slightly in a dead sleep, as she was last night. He’s forgotten that she has freckles this time of the year and lightly runs a finger down her nose. It scrunches in response to his touch, but her breathing is steady and she doesn’t move otherwise. She looks so peaceful when she sleeps. And young – almost as if she’s forgot all the horrors she’s faced and people she’s lost. He shifts to hold her close, purposely this time, and drifts back to sleep.

When he wakes again, she is staring at him, her hand on his jaw, eyebrows drawn together as if she’s confused. He supposes he looked much the same way when he first woke up. She doesn’t say anything as her face relaxes and neither does he, simply enjoying looking at her while she is looking at him. There’s something between them, hidden just below the surface, something that he has only ever hoped to see in her gaze, that is staring back at him. They are so close their breaths almost mingle and he thinks that if he tilted his head just right he could maybe … her thumb strokes his cheek once as she lets out a sigh and then begins to disentangle herself from him.

He allows her to leave his embrace and sits up slowly as she makes her way to the loo. This is the most prominent that … whatever it is between them, has been and it shocks him how much he wants to kiss her. He runs his hands through his hair in frustration as he waits for her to come back. When she doesn’t, he resigns himself to pining after her in silence, part of him wishing he hadn’t come home early, and makes his own way to the loo. It isn’t until he’s halfway through the massive fry up his mum cooked for breakfast that he realizes it’s one of his t-shirts she’s wearing.

It’s weeks, months really, before he notices the ring. The pretty, simple band glares from the fourth finger of her left hand – almost like an engagement or wedding ring. He wonders how he hasn’t noticed before. He hasn’t seen or heard of a fiance, and she hasn’t exactly been rejecting his advances. If anything, she flirts back. They’ve grown close since the wedding and he thinks she would have told him something like that. It’s another week before he works up the courage to ask her about it. Everyone in the room – his brothers, sister, sister-in-law – all tense at the mention of the ring. There’s something pained in her eyes, just as there had been at the wedding, and she looks down at the ring for a moment before stating that she doesn’t wish to talk about it. She leaves almost immediately afterwards.

Through pitying glances and whispers of conversation, he learns what she could not – or perhaps simply would not - tell him. She hadn’t found her parents, but she did find her mother’s ring. According to his brother-in-law, she had been alone on her trip and would refuse to talk about it beyond explaining the ring was her mother’s. No one says anything as he rushes out after her, not sure where she is or what he will say if he finds her but wanting to be there.

She’s throwing rocks into the lake when he finds her, pausing to rub her arms every now and then. It’s cooled significantly over the past few weeks and she has forgotten her jacket. He doesn’t say anything as she continues to throw rocks from where she sits, simply standing with his hands tucked into his pockets. He’s forgotten his jacket as well. Eventually, he plops down beside her, bumping her shoulders with his own. She bumps hers with his and he wraps an arm around her, thankful for the warmth she brings as she leans into his side. Her head rests on his shoulder and her hands still and they sit in silence as the sun dips below the horizon.

“It was my mother’s ring,” she says finally, her voice soft in the near darkness.

“So I heard,” he replies. They fall silent again as it becomes darker still and he takes one of her cold hands in one of his equally cold ones, threading their fingers together.

“I found my parents.” Her whisper shocks him and he looks down at her even though it is too dark to see. He squeezes her hand gently and she sighs. “I know they all think – I told them – but, I just – I couldn’t –”

He listens in silence as she stumbles over her words, telling him what no child ever wants to think of their parents. By the end she is pressed into his chest, nearly on his lap, his arms tight around her. Her parents died thinking she didn’t exist.

The stars have come out now. She leans back to look at them before her gaze rests on his face. He can see the light in her eyes despite the horrors she just told him, and he thinks that she must be the strongest person he knows, and he tells her. Her soft smile makes his chest swell. She is straddling his lap, and they are so close, close enough that he feels as if he’s crossing his eyes to look at her. It is truly cold out now, his fingers have nearly gone numb, but as their lips touch, he doesn’t feel cold at all.

They walk back to the house hand in hand and he finds that he never lets go.