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008.
FOR THE REST of Esme's week, it was relatively quiet. She managed to make it through her classes okay, although all of her professors were prepping them for the O.W.L. exams at the end of the term. In Charms and Transfiguration, both Flitwick and McGonagall gave them heaps of homework in accordance to the fact that what they were learning would most likely show up on their exams. Esme normally looked forward to Care of Magical Creatures, but since Hagrid was gone somewhere unknown for who knew how long, Professor Grubbly-Plank was teaching the course.
They shared that class with the Slytherins, which meant Esme could join Amara and Daphne. It would have been nice, but that put her within hearing distance of Draco Malfoy, and every sentence that came out of his mouth seemed to be something awful about Hagrid and how long he had until he was fired. It took Esme all of her willpower not to practice her Vanishing Spell for McGonagall on him.
By Friday, Esme was exhausted and a little discouraged. The incident with Professor Trelawney still weighed heavily on her mind, and aside from her letter to Lupin, she hasn't been able to talk to anyone about it. Between classes, homework, and studying, she hardly had a moment to herself, let alone search for Dumbledore. And the Headmaster didn't make himself easy to catch – Every time Esme thought she saw a glimpse of him down a corridor, she would turn the corner and he'd be gone. Harry was too busy to chat with as well – Umbridge had given him detention every evening for his backtalk on Monday.
Later that evening, Esme was walking with Andrew back to the Gryffindor common room, after forcing him to stay in the library with her to work on homework. She had mountains of it, and by the time she was mostly done, a searing headache had planted itself on the left side of her brain.
Andrew wasn't really helping. "I don't understand why I had to miss Quidditch tryouts to study with you."
"Because you're a good friend," Esme supplied as they reached Gryffindor tower. "And you like spending time with me."
"Is that so?"
His answer was rewarded with a sharp jab to the stomach that made him groan as Esme approached the Fat Lady's portrait. She managed to say the password amid choked laughter, ducking away from Andrew's bag as he tried to hit her with it. Her mood lifted slightly – Andrew always seemed to brighten her spirits, even if not necessarily meaning to.
When the door swung open, they were both taken aback by the raucous sound of people cheering and chattering. The common room was pulsing with Gryffindor students, and as soon as Esme stepped inside, she was greeted with a bottle of butterbeer from Fred Weasley. The room looked as cozy as ever – a fire was going in the grate, casting a warm glow across the maroon armchairs and patterned carpets below their feet. Andrew immediately grinned, accepting his own drink from George. Never one to pass up an opportunity to kick back.
