Love at First Sight (Harry Potter)

Book 2: Rescuing Harry Potter

|ALEXANDRIA WEASLEY'S P.O.V|

"Alex."

The summer after my first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was one of the best of my life, filled with memories I would never forget with the new friend I had made during the previous school-year.

The new friend was Hermione Granger, my bushy-haired dormmate and newly-deemed best mate.

I spent a decent majority of the time with her: I traveled in my father's Muggle car to her home (using the Floo Network was not an option in getting to their fireplace), where I spent a few days with her family — she did not have any siblings, and lived in a small house with her parents in a Muggle neighbourhood.

But now, after having stayed a weekend with the Grangers, I had returned to my own (much larger) family in our filled house — the house that my mother had given the title of the 'Burrow'.

"Alex!"

I groaned upon hearing the hushed voice, which was becoming harsher in the passing time as I attempted to ignore it. Without opening my eyes, I pulled the lumpy pillow from beneath my face and held it over my head.

I was tucked into my small bed; this was not unusual for the time of night, as the moon was still high in the star-ridden sky and the sun was not to be seen.

"Alex, come on."

My response became incoherent grumbles, for my mouth was pushed into the bedsheets over my mattress and the pillow covering my head muffled any escaping sounds further.

And then, words became actions when a pair of hands shoved me off of the bed: a small, surprised scream rippled through my throat as I tumbled to the wooden floorboards — my foot had become caught in the blankets, which caused for the soft, blue quilt to wrap around my body in midst of impact.

The blankets provided a slightly softer fall than previously anticipated, but there was still an ache in my skull as I slowly sat up. One of my hands was planted firmly atop my head, my sapphire-blue eyes narrowed into slits as I glared up at my attacker.

Stood on the other side of my bed, his body shaking with silent laughter, was my twin brother: Ronald Weasley. He had a hand clamped over his mouth to silence what would have been a roar of amusement, for our younger sister (Ginerva) was still sound asleep in her own bed across the small room.

"What do you want?" I seethed and slowly rose to my feet, but the anger subsided as my nose scrunched in a sign of the pain that was radiating through my limbs.

"Put on your trainers, hurry."

I blinked at the twelve-year-old, my eyes falling momentarily to my sock-adorned feet before returning to him. After a moment of the two of us standing in silence, he realized that I was not going to complete his command and so he further threatened, "I will actually sit on you."

My eyes rolled in annoyance, but I pushed my pride aside while heaving a heavy intake of air. I slumped to the entrance of the room, where the worn pair of low-topped trainers — a pair I had had for years — was placed.

"If this is another one of your nightly rendezvous to steal food, I swear to Merlin —"

"It's not," His blue eyes glared into mine, before returning ahead of us as he lead me out of the bedroom and down the many winding flights of stairs.