𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 | DRACO MALFOY

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫. new soul

  Harry rubbed his eyes sleepily as he shuffled to a place that had been laid out for him. The dining table was livelier than usual, his elbow bumping against Hermione's as he buttered his brown toast, golden light streaming through the large picture window held up by the thinnest frame.

  Hermione was intensely discussing the issue of House Elf abuse with Arthur and Bill at the head of the table, while Ginny seemed to be complaining about something or the other to Molly. Ron, eyes still half-closed and groggy from sleep, chewed on his scrambled eggs open-mouthed. Meredith, on the other hand, was engaged in lively animated conversation with Fleur Delacour in French. Harry hadn't known that she could speak French but he did suppose she would have picked up on the language from studying at Beauxbatons for four years ( "She's half French Harry, what did you expect? For her to speak German?" )

  As it turned out, Fleur and Meredith were friends in Beauxbatons ( "If you can call occasionally acknowledging one another along the hallway 'friends', then I suppose we are friends. Although, we were evidently very different people so I wouldn't be surprised if Delacour loathed me." ) and Meredith coming to live in the Burrow for the summer was an unexpected but pleasant reunion for the two. Meredith was not fazed in the slightest when Fleur swooped in and pressed two kisses on both her cheeks in greeting, Harry snorting as he recalled Ron's flaming red face the first time he had been greeted in that manner. Meredith was particularly fascinated with Bill Weasley, grilling him about his job as a curse-breaker in Gringotts Bank.

  " 'Arry! You should 'ave seen this girl back in Beauxbatons!" Fleur laughed delicately, her spindly pale silver-blonde hair swishing as she clutched her chest, turning to address a stunned Harry in English, "She was such a 'oot—am I using that word, right? Hoot?—back then. Always getting into trouble and that incident with—" Meredith hurriedly cut across her, panic evident in her eyes, "They don't need to know about that incident—" "Eet was very funny! She stayed up one night and—" "Delacour, so help me—"

  Harry chortled, eyes crinkling up, taking another forkful of his scrambled eggs as Meredith tried to cover Fleur's mouth with her hand, preventing her from sharing any further, much to the older's shock. The scene had caught the attention of the rest of the table and everyone was chuckling along as the two squabbled, Bill watching his girlfriend amusedly as she smacked Meredith right in the nose, causing an outpouring of swear words that made Mrs. Weasley huff in disapproval. For now, everything felt right in the world. No Voldermort and looming threats, no school and exam stress, no Dumbledore and cryptic messages. Just pure unadulterated happiness.

  "I'm warning you Potter, if you ask me to hit that ball one more time I will do it, but it won't be a Quaffle."  Meredith snapped as she dropped the heavy red ball onto the field of thick grass, slumping down into the relief of the shade provided by the large leafy tree that stood atop the hill. She glared up at Harry, who couldn't help but hide his smug smirk as he leaned onto his broomstick, inhaling the sweet sharp smell of wild flowers and grassy plains, letting it wash over him like a tidal wave.

  Over the summer, Harry had taken it upon himself to teach Meredith how to play Quidditch. It was mainly for their ( being Ron and Harry, the two Quidditch fanatics ) benefit, for they needed another player ever since Fred and George moved to their apartment in London, but he wouldn't lie to say that he didn't quite enjoy spending a lot of time with her, relatively alone. Ron always seemed to be busy with chores and such while Hermione preferred reading indoors to "sizzling in the awful sun like a couple of red-bottomed baboons" outside, even with Meredith's normally effective persuasion.