#7th year reader

Reaching the greenhouse, she pauses and relishes the brief warmth of the sun. Looking up, her eyes catch on a cloud that looks like a dragon and her heart sinks to the pit of her stomach. Eyes fluttering closed, she takes a deep breath. Something small and delicate falls on her nose. 

Opening her eyes, she watches in amazement as the mist turns into small flutters. Her gloved hand up to the sky. An intricate snowflake landed on her palm before melting away – it was momentary, it was beautiful, it was gone. “Ghastly weather,” Lucian Bole scowls. Turning to greet her fellow Quidditch player, she puts on her best smile. 

“How was your summer?” Bole’s unpleasant attitude melts away at her words. “Probably the same as yours.” Bole looks around. Once he's satisfied there are no prying ears, he takes a step closer to her. To the approaching sixth and seventh years, they look like two friends seeking comfort in a hug. “Mum and Dad were running around like muggles without their heads. Preparing for Him.” 

Her eyes close once more, taking comfort in the little warmth that Bole offers. “They are acting as if he might walk in and sit at our table any moment,” he continues. She breathes out a shaky breath. Lucian’s arms wrap tightly around her middle. Burying her cold nose into his shoulder, she steadies her breathing. “You still have one more year. We will figure something out.” “I hope that's–”

“What do we have here?” Bole stiffens. He turns and blocks the twins' view, allowing a small window for her to wipe the stray tear off her cheek. “He bullyin’ you?” Fred asks. George steps forward and so does Lucian. “Bole,” she reaches for his arm, just as Professor Sprout shouts. “Time for class!” Bole’s cold demeanor returns—any remnant of warmth long gone. Yanking his arm away from her, he storms down to the greenhouse. 

“Hello, dear friend.” Fred says. Joy erupts across his face. George finally relaxes when Bole disappears inside the greenhouse. Walking down the hill, Fred gives Sprout a smile. “You must have missed us terribly.” George whispers when you find your spots around the room. “Most horrible company you found.” Fred says a little too loudly on your right. Across from you, Lucian scowls. 

“I did miss you, all of you.'' The voices of past conversations flood her mind. “Some of us more than others, right?” Fred goes to pick something up off the table. “Do not touch, Mr. Weasley! This is Greenhouse Three not Greenhouse One! One wrong move in here and I’ll be writing your mother another unfortunate letter.”

Snickers erupt around the room, but the twins ignore the chance to be the center of attention in favor of making their favorite Slytherin blush. “Especially Charlie,” George whispers. “Charlie?” Fred sighs. “I was talking about me, but I guess I have to come second to Charlie.” Fred narrows his eyes at her. “I am second, right?” “Bollocks. At best, you are third,” George argues.”But realistically you are fourth. Ginny beats us both by a landslide.” 

For the remainder of class, she tries her best to pay attention to Professor Sprout, but a certain redhead taints her thoughts. 

Charlie Weasley had been gone all summer to Egypt, and she had not received a single letter from him. The absolute audacity of that man. When they returned, she expected him to reach out, but he didn't. She only heard of his safe return through Potter. 

She was used to long periods of time where she did not see the handsome red-head, but the quiet was quite unusual, disturbing, and wildly irritating. 

Albeit, they had not left on the best of terms. They had exchanged words that she has tried to erase from her mind, but it seems they are carved quite deep into her heart. His departure and their harsh words only made what happened over the summer all the more unbearable. 

–

Tossing the quill on the desk, she crumbles up yet another piece of parchment. “Writer’s block?” Bole asks. Her eyes cut to her friend, who has decided to plop himself on top of her bed.

“Do you have to be an ass?”

“I’m assuming you are talking about my interaction with the weasels rather than my current actions?” He rolls his eyes and flips over onto his back. “I just don’t care for them.” 

“Well, I do and it wouldn’t hurt for you to show them an ounce of kindness. I am sick of everyone hating on Slytherin because a few of us decide to be knobheads!” 

“Hey,” Lucian rolls off the bed and pulls her away from the desk. The air has shifted, like he knew – knew that she was two seconds away from breaking. Her lips part and the words stumble out without thought. “I’m  not–we’re not evil.” Her eyes gloss over, causing Lucian’s heart to constrict. “No, you’re not. Where is this—” Lucian squeezes his hands into a tight fist. “I’ll try to keep it on the field, okay?” Lucian places a hand on the back of her chair and grounds himself. He focuses on the imperfections of the wood.. “Is this about Charlie?” His eyes were on the crumpled parchment. “Come on, love, I know you better than that. You think you could hide a boyfriend from me?” Lucian’s eyes narrow and he feels the wood push into his hand harshly. “Did he tell you that all Syltherins are Death Eaters?” 

When she doesn't answer Lucian turns her chair to face him.. His towering figure makes her lean back, he drops lower. “A stór,” darling. His eyes darken and she swears she can see a storm brewing in his green eyes. 

“No,” She looks down. “It’s just kind of how he made me feel.” Looking at the bottom of his shirt, she pauses as she wonders how much she would share. She and Charlie had been in a secret relationship for a little over a year now. At first, it was just because they wanted to stay away from prying eyes, but then it felt like instead of sharing their love between them that they were hiding it from the world. 

“I got mad at him before he left. I accused him of things that weren’t true–but it's how I felt. I said horrible things, Luc. And he said horrible things. Things that we didn't really mean. And then..” Looking up at the ceiling, she closes her eyes, trapping the tears. 

“And then you left home.” Lucian finishes. 

“Then I left home,” she agrees. 

This has been sitting in my drafts for a while now... there is more. If you are interested, please let me know. I'm tring to get back into writing.

My inbox and comments are always open for suggestions/requests. (actually would really love them <3)

As always thank you for reading,