Ron twiddled the letter in his fingertips. He had spent hours re-reading the script and not once did he find anything out of line. This letter had to be from Hermione. The redhead sat on his bed in pure disappointment. Half of his heart was excited for the fact that she was still alive, another part was angry of her vagueness, and the rest was terrified for the fact that his friends had given up on her. But he would show them; he would prove that she was still alive.
Ron stepped out from his bed and put on his boots. Walking over to the other side of the room, he placed on his thickest cloak and picked through Harry’s belongings, careful not to disrupt anything from its proper placement…besides one item. Once he obtained Harry’s cloak, he clutched the letter to his chest while he surrounded himself with the invisible barrier. It was five to nine thirty, enough time to exit the castle and walk towards the Flutterby bush. Unlocking the dorms door, Ron stepped out in a mission to find his best friend and bring her home.
Grace couldn’t help but laugh at the three most aristocratic students of Hogwarts that were lying upon the Slytherin couch. She clutched her stomach with force to keep herself from falling over, tears simultaneously making their appearance in front of her dark brown irises.
“Stop laughing.” Blaise whined as he held an icepack to his groin.
“I even agree it’s not funny.” Draco said as he rubbed the calluses on his palms.
“You said people transport everyday on those things?! Why not use a bloody broom?!” Pansy cried from her awkward stretching.
“Brooms are magical dimwit.” Draco said.
“I don’t care, just never put me on one of those muggle things again.”
Grace interrupted, “Actually brooms aren’t considered magical in the muggle world. They are used for cleaning…”
The three Slytherins looked at her in confusion, completely aware of their ignorance for non-magical things.
“It’s just funny to see you suffer that’s all.” Grace gave a comforting smile.
“Ugh-I need a bath.” Pansy got up and pointed at Grace, “I warn you, if you ever make me do that again, I’ll make your hair ugly the next time you let me fix you.”
“My sister doesn’t need fixing.” Blaise smiled from the other end of the couch, Grace smiled back.
After Pansy closed the girl’s door, the rest of the group chatted for a bit. Blaise was the first to get up. “I’m going to change.” Grace and Draco gave him similar nods in response. He swiftly picked himself from the couch and exited the room.
“Your friend must’ve had a blast introducing you to muggle things.” Draco laughed as he watched Blaise leave.
“Your muggle-born friend.”
Grace blushed in embarrassment, “Oh-uh, yes.”
Draco turned and flashed a brilliant smile. “I assume you’re accustom to the muggle world then.”
She could feel her eyes grow wider and the tips of her ears get redder, “Erm-yes. Is…Is that a problem?”
“No,” the blonde started, he looked straight into her eyes, “It’s different that’s all.”
“Is different good?”
His head teetered back and forth as if trying to weigh the options, “Yes.” He smiled again, “It’s not everyday you see a pureblood with an interest for such things…besides the Weasel-bees of course. Is that why you fancied him?”
Grace choked on saliva in her throat, “Um…no. The Italian’s palms began to get sweaty and she felt a shiver of nervousness run down her back, “We’ve…we’ve been friends for a good amount of time…”
Draco sat back and stared into the distance; “You and I have been friends for a good amount of time.”
Grace’s jaw hung open, unable to pluck the courage to respond. A thick silence grew between the two and lasted for a while, until the noise of the boy’s door creaked open and the sounds of a certain Italian descending the stairs.
“I-” Draco lied when he felt the quietness become awkward enough, “I think I’ll change before going on patrols.” He effortlessly picked himself up and slowly walked over to Grace. As he did so, Draco felt his heart race when her scent captivated his senses and their eyes connected for a mere second. He quickly placed his lips on her cheek. Draco then walked past Blaise, simultaneously giving him a respectful nod.
When her brother entered the couch area, Grace could be seen clutching her cheek affectionately.
Blaise sat down in Draco’s seat, “Love is in the air isn’t it?”
“Oh shut it.”
Blaise chuckled as he wrapped his robes around him, “Well, I’m off.”
“Home. To get the file, remember?”
Grace nodded as an afterthought. “Yes, right.”
Blaise kissed his twin on the opposite cheek. “Love you sis.”
“Love you too.”
Before Blaise was out the door, he heard his sister call out for him, “Yeah?”
“Make sure not to touch the wound whenever it imprints itself, it only makes it worse.”
Blaise swallowed a lump in his throat; he really was too good of a brother. He left towards McGonagall’s office.
Grace got up and walked into her dorm. She sat on her bed running over the files with her fingers, carefully touching each family crest. As she got to the Weasleys, her mind began contemplating of what she said was true. Why did she love Ron? It wasn’t for his ignorance or his eating habits for one. Maybe it was all the time they had spent together growing up. Or how he and Harry saved her from the troll in first year. Or the way he constantly needed her. Or the Christmases and Birthdays she would celebrate at the Burrow. That was it. Grace paused, her thoughts taking in the clear view.
Hermione loved Ron because he was family. The Weasleys would take her in every year despite her blood. They would invite her during holiday and have her stay the last couple weeks of summer. They stayed by Harry’s side during the war. They would’ve died for him…for her. The loved her and she loved them.
Grace brushed the forming tears with the sleeve of her sweater and quickly opened the Weasleys’ folder. She spread everyone’s parchment in front of her in a pedigree-like web and began to read.
On the other side of the wall Draco finished shrinking his dress robes and placing them in his pocket. With the determination of finally doing things right, he exited the common room to go to McGonagall’s office.
Across the castle, Lavender just got to the Flutterby bush a little past 9:30. “Won-Won?”
“Ron?” She whispered into the chilling wind.
“Ron, come out this instant.”
Lavender turned to leave, cursing the air, angry at the missed opportunity to ‘obliviate’ her friend.