𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐦𝐞 | 𝐇.𝐏.

𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝟏 - 𝟗

"What do we do now?" Weasley squeaked. 

"We wait," Hermione said firmly. "Let's go back to the common room. We'll be no use if we get in trouble for being out of our beds this late at night."

"You're right," I agreed, swallowing the lump in my throat.

When we reached the portrait hole, we had to wake the Fat Lady up from her slumber to give her the password. She was not at all pleased with us. When we were allowed inside, none of us left for our dorms. We all sat down on empty armchairs, lost in our own troubles.

What if Dumbledore was too late?

What if Professor Snape or the Dark Lord reached the Sorcerer's Stone first?

What if Potter was seriously injured? Or worse?

I felt sick at the mere thought.

I must have drowsed off at some point, because I was being shaken awake by someone, and then from across the room I heard the same thing happening to Weasley, along with his grumbles of protest.

I cracked open my eyes and saw dim light coming from the windows. It must have been dinner time. The feast might even already be over.

"Hermione?" I asked, saying the first thing that came to mind.

"It's almost time for the feast, you two," she scoffed. "Honestly, Ron. Wake up."

He groaned and forced himself off the chair. My whole body hurt from the odd position I had been in all night. Still in our robes from the day before, we trudged down with the rest of the Gryffindors into the Great Hall.

Of course, the entire room was decorated in green. Green Slytherin banners hung from the ceiling, and the Slytherin table was the loudest and happiest of them all. But I wasn't thinking about how much Draco would gloat when we got home.

"Is Potter here?" I asked worriedly. He wasn't in the crowd, nor at our table. I hoped with all my soul that nothing grave had happened.

The feast began immediately, but I couldn't eat, much less look at the beautiful spread in front of me. All my thoughts were concerned with Potter.

Potter, Potter, Potter. How terribly stupid he was. Only a complete psycho would go into an empty room where one of the Dark Lord's most devoted servants, and possible the Dark Lord himself, was waiting.

He had a true death wish.

Just when I was going to go up to Professor Dumbledore and ask him of Potter's whereabouts myself, he walked in. 

A fresh set of robes, a few cleaned cuts, and a bandaged hand. But it was still Potter. Hermione and Weasley jumped up, and I hesitated only a moment before following them. The three of us ran down the length of the table and practically fell onto Potter.

He stood tense for a second, and then wrapped his arms around all of us. We walked back to our seats as a group, and I found myself not caring for once how many eyes were on me. Or that I had to look perfectly pristine for all of them.

Or even that Draco was probably watching us too, pure disgust on his face that I had just been touching a blood traitor, a Mudblood, and Harry Potter.

I caught Professor Snape's eye as we sat down again. He was staring at me curiously, like I was a new student he didn't know. Even though he had known me since I was born. I broke away first, and turned to Potter. To my friend. To all my friends.

"We were terrified!" I said to him, like a scolding mother. "We thought you were seriously hurt. We thought you had died. We thought Professor Snape had gotten to the Stone and..." then I paused.