𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱 | 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿

Share the Blame & Stake Your Claim

"Maybe it'd be better if just Charlie and I went," suggested Harry carefully, stifling a laugh.

Elaina pouted, "Aw, but that's no fun!"

The two Gryffindor boys shared an amused shake of the head, causing an uproar of laughter between the three of them.

And so, after a long day of classes, Charlie and Harry had said their goodbyes to a displeased Elaina, heading in the direction of the library before the sun began to set.

The two of them entered the multi-level library and were immediately greeted with the eerie silence, despite the amount of students crammed around the room. In order to match the atmosphere, Charlie and Harry's conversation was forced to be held in tone-deaf whispers.

"Any idea what we might be looking for?" asked Harry, while the librarian, Madame Pince, prowled the shelves behind them.

Charlie shook his head as they walked, muttering, "No, but I'll know it when I..."

He trailed off. Charlie and Harry had wandered towards the section of the library that was lined with couches and desks, enriched in warmth from fire that was radiating light in the corner of the room. There was a rush of vulgar memories that brought a mischievous smirk to Charlie's lips, but he quickly faltered when he caught sight of Hermione, who was conveniently sitting at the desk in which her and Charlie had once —

"Hey, 'Mione," greeted Harry, evidently trying to diffuse the tension before it had even arose in the air.

Hermione looked up from the parchment she was working on, her quill clutched firmly in her right hand. As her eyes focused upon the two boys, she visibly tensed, her bottom lip anxiously finding its way between her teeth.

"Hi, Harry," she responded nervously, shifting her eyes between the two boys. "Charlie," she added in a breathless whisper.

Her doe eyes raked Charlie for a moment, evidently taking notice of the scratches carved into his hands. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she gazed into his golden brown eyes, trying to read what laid beneath them.

Charlie's heart quickened under her gaze, despite his constant attempt to remind himself that he was meant to be mad at her. He bit his tongue to keep from cracking a smile — his confidence broke immediately, his head was pounding, and he felt as though he was going to faint.

He hadn't expected that after six years, Hermione was still capable of making his heart beat out of his chest. Even when they were dating, Charlie always had a difficult time staying mad at her, for the simplest of gestures would make him practically beg at her feet.

And now, as she sat with her bottom lip between her teeth and her caramel curls pinned back to perfectly accentuate her features, Charlie had difficulty breathing.

'She's done this on purpose,' he thought, eyeing her up and down. 'The slippery little minx, she's purposely sat in the place that we... oh, Merlin.'

"Hello," he managed at last, suppressing his thoughts through prideful reminder. He gave her a small nod before he excused himself, disappearing into the Research Section of the library.

Harry gaped at Charlie's guiltless action of leaving him amongst the silence, which now hung in thick tension-filled air. He glanced over to Hermione: she raised her quill and dotted an 'i' so ferociously that she punctured a hole in her parchment.

And yet, Harry said nothing. He thought his voice might soon vanish from the lack of use. Instead, he willed himself to take a seat opposite Hermione, opening his book bag to take out his copy of Advanced Potion-Making.