'Cause I feel that when I'm with you
I know it's right
Sunday, August 20 • Late evening
About halfway across the grounds of Hogwarts it occurred to Vera that she should ask to be put down; she'd been cut deeply, yes, but she wasn't a fragile flower. She could stand on her own.
On the other hand, the glen where they had camped was right over the hill.
When they reached Hogwarts proper would be soon enough to assert her independence, Vera thought, and her grasp on Roger's neck tightened slightly.
The castle was quiet as they walked through its corridors. No errant poltergeists or cats crossed their path, for which she was grateful. The only sound was the slight squeak of a hinge as the door to her quarters opened. House elves had kept things dusted; except for the pile of correspondence on the desk it looked as if she'd just stepped away hours ago, not a fortnight.
Vera hesitated before entering. The rooms she had loved for their clean lines now seemed sterile, bloodless. Cold.
First order of business was to get out of the clothes from over there and take a shower, so that her skin would maybe stop crawling.
The moment the door was safely shut a hand flew up to the neck of the robe he'd transmogrified as a covering. Vera unfastened just enough to catch a glimpse of the bodice of the dress underneath. Roger had made a comment about it when they'd prepared to leave the chamber in which he'd found her. It was, if viewed objectively, a nice enough thing to wear in privacy. However ...
"I'm never wearing this again," she stated bluntly. But once everything had faded safely into the background ... "Maybe Gabby will be able to make another one?"
It was splitting hairs, perhaps, but it seemed a logical enough compromise.