Love at First Sight (Harry Potter)

The Quidditch Final

|ALEXANDRIA WEASLEY'S P.O.V|

"They can't do this. They can't. Buckbeak isn't dangerous."

It was long past curfew now, and the common room was completely deserted aside from the four of us. I was sat on the sofa, my elbow rested on the plush arm and my chin planted in my hand as I watched Harry pace back and forth in front of the fire. Hermione was beside me, leant over the small, glass tea table. She was scribbling something down onto a piece of parchment with a blue ink quill.

"Malfoy's dad's threatened the Committee into it," said Hermione with a sigh. She swiped beneath her eye using the sleeve of her jumper. "You know what he's like. They're a bunch of doddery old fools, and they were scared. There'll be an appeal, though, there always is. Only I can't see any hope. . . . Nothing will have changed."

"Yeah, it will," said Ron fiercely from the armchair to my left. He sat up straighter: a great contrast to how slouched he had been for last hour. "You won't have to do all the work this time, Hermione, I'll help."

I remember scoffing in disbelief. Was I invisible?

Before I could say something, however, we were all taken aback when Hermione launched herself off of the sofa so quickly that the springs made a whining noise beneath us. She circled the table and then jumped atop my brother's lap, wrapping her arms 'round his neck as she pressed her face into the R on his sweater. Ron's hands stayed glued to his sides, eyes as wide as saucers; he glanced between Harry and I for silent advice, his torso beginning to tremble with the weight of Hermione's cries.

"Oh, Ron!" the exclamation was very muffled, but heard nonetheless.

A crease of concern found its way between Ron's brows, and I found myself biting onto the knuckles of my fingers to keep from laughing. Harry fell down into Hermione's abandoned seat beside me, his head hanging over the back of the sofa as he laughed at the ceiling over our heads.

A warmth radiated off of him, most likely a result of standing close to the fireplace for so long.

Ron awkwardly raised his arm, motions so stiff that it looked as though he was incapable of bending his elbow, and then he began to pat the top of her bushy head. Hermione moved herself back a bit to look him in the eye, which left his fingers tangled in the locks of her hair. Ron visibly tried to tug them free, but Hermione hadn't seemed to notice.

"Ron, I'm really, really sorry about Scabbers . . ."

"Oh — well — he was old," said Ron uncertainly, a wave of relief washing over him as he finally pulled his hand from her hair. His blue eyes darted to her face now. It was blatantly obvious that he was trying to keep an acceptable amount of distance between them, for the back of his head was pressed uncomfortably tight to the chair and his chin had lines in it as he looked down at her. "And he was a bit useless. You never know, Mum and Dad might get me an owl now."

—————

The safety measures implicated at the castle to prevent another altercation with Black were thorough, which meant it was nearly impossible for us to visit Hagrid at his hut. Our only chance of starting up a conversation with him was during a Care of Magical Creatures lesson.

Compared to Hermione and I's chat with him the night prior, Hagrid was a new man that afternoon during class. Instead of sobbing violently on our shoulders, he stood tall: numb and cold with shock. We managed to get him alone at the end of the period, during our trek back to the castle from the grounds near the Forbidden Forest.

"S'all my fault. Got all tongue-tied. They was all sittin' there in black robes an' I kep' droppin' me notes and forgettin' all them dates yeh looked up fer me, Hermione. An' then Lucius Malfoy stood up an' said his bit, and the Committee jus' did exac'ly what he told 'em .  .  ."