𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚜𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚗

She’s currently lounging on the velvet chaise, legs elegantly crossed. Her phone was pressed between her shoulder and ear, one hand swirling the ice in her half-finished drink, the other flipping lazily through Vogue. “And I told her, sweetie, no amount of filler is going to >

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ruby could almost sense a change in the atmosphere. “harry?” she asks, looking back over her shoulder. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ i’m my mother’s daughter. 🕷️💋 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ don’t think she hasn’t thought about those moments too . . . but she forces herself to forget about them. it’s painful knowing things aren’t the same. his question cut her off guard. “uh they’re good . . . ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀ His eyes would adjust slightly before he grabbed his glasses, putting them on the bridge of his nose, examining the book. ❝oh— my buddy ? No, I just take his picture from time to time. . Heh ❞ ⠀