Potions of Ari's Love

An Encounter

Ron's POV
The familiar scent of green apple, tangerine, and strawberry wafted from down the hall.
We have a free afternoon, and I have to know who it was. I'd left Harry and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room, eager to scope out the grounds.
I set off in the direction of the scent, which leads me to a girl with hair as red as the rest of my family, with a black undertone. It has to be her, petite frame and all. Her blue skirt swishes away, oblivious to me. Why can't she look this way?
Then I notice who she's with. Or following. I try to see her expression as a one shouldered white shirt disappears around the corner, towards the front doors.
I run after her, desperate to keep up with Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco's pace.
I spot them walking towards the weeping willow. It boils my blood every time Goyle turns around, pulling her hair or flicking her arm or yanking her other sleeve off of her shoulder. But she just goes along. It can't continue. I have to defend her.
I pump my legs harder, reaching them as they reach the willow tree. I stand there, watching them. She views them shove and push each other, then turns in my direction in thought. Unsettling brown eyes sweep over me. One can only guess at what a Ravenclaw is thinking. She has to be, from the looks of her demeanor. She stares at me expectantly, fully aware they're still themselves back there.
I blush, staring at the ground, looking back up at her. I redden farther, beginning to turn around, and without any thinking, fumble out, "You, uh, um, I like the, mm uh, nice smell."
She squints and turns back around. I want to leave, but I can't, for some reason. What did I do wrong?
Since I can't leave, I turn my attention back to Draco and his goons. She's looking at them too, but she doesn't seem to be paying attention.
Draco: "Such a stupid tree. No reason for it to be here. Crabbe, I bet you can't tear off a branch."
Crabbe, not to be a direct fool, went over and snapped off two, one in each meaty hand.
I came for her, but the willow's important too.

Ari's POV
Where did he come from? Why would he tell me I smell nice if he's already pointed that out? Has he connected the dots? Would he be with me even though Harry's girlfriend is my old best friend? She doesn't know I had to. What would Ron risk; Even a Gryffindor has limits.
*SNAP!*
Refocusing, I catch the horror of Crabbe breaking the weeping willow and my heart.
I'd been trying to hold back, not do anything stupid. Draco certainly doesn't care about anything but obnoxiously snogging me twenty four seven. They could hurt me, but they couldn't break my spot of refuge. It helped me think, take control, and stay sane through the OWLS last year, since I have no friends for that.
"Stop! No! What are you doing, you're hurting it?!" I dig in his flabby arm with my fingernails, drawing blood. Rearing back, I whip out my wand," Immobulus!"
Draco, enraged, yelled, " Finite Incantatum!", springing Crabbe back into action, letting him race after me.

Ron's POV
Without a moments hesitation, I leaped in front of her, letting Crabbe plow into me instead of her. I feel the trickle of blood flow from my nose, as we fall domino style. We throw punch after punch, casting our wands aside and going full muggle. I don't know how long we go, but my legs start to go weak, failing my efforts.
Lost in the moment, I hear a faint shout of, "Episkey!", and feel a tingle as my wounds close up.
Crabbe is tiring too, so we break apart between heavy breaths. Before we start back up, I grab her hand and take off.
We quickly lose the three guys behind us, speeding up the stairs into the castle.
Coming back to my senses, I realize I let go of her hand, but she's still squeezing mine, causing me to blush during a sense of pride.
We continue to walk through the halls, killing time.
A door starts to open, and a lock of greasy black hair begins to emerge. She stops dead in her tracks, panicking.
Snape's a creepy guy, but why would she be afraid of him?
Rebooting, she slips a piece of folded parchment into our clasped hands and takes off around the corner, leaving me standing there puzzled. As Snape turns the other corner, an image of her fifty fifty hair streaming behind her pops into my mind. Another piece falls into place. She left because Snape hates me. Snape is her father.
How could such a beauty be the next generation of Snape?
Glancing at the paper in my hand, I don't know what to do.