Flame Thrower (Blairon)

Professor Zabini: Part 3

I stirred and groaned. My head hurt like a bitch. I sniffed and my eyes snapped open, squinting as I struggled to adjust them to the light. My body was so sore and stiff it hurt to move. Suddenly, a head hovered above me and the owner of said head sighed in relief.

"Thank Merlin. He's awake," said a women's voice I didn't recognize.

"Huh?" I mumbled almost inaudibly. People began shuffling around whatever room I was in. My guess is they were being shooed away. I guess I was right for the woman said in a hushed hiss, "Go. Go! He needs some space! Fred, George, start on dinner will you?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. My vision was still blury but as I stared at the ceiling, feeling the object underneath my body I could tell I was in a living room, lying on an old couch. "Ron, put the towel on his head." Said the woman and it took a while for me to register the name through my head. Suddenly, my eyes widened and my heart leapt. With strength I didn't know I had, I sat up straight and everybody in the room froze.

I had never seen so much red in my life...

A plump, middle aged woman whome I guessed was the one ordering everybody around stood still with a blanket in her hands. Next to her, a tall, lanky man with greying hair and rectangular glasses watched me, concern in his eyes as he peeked over his copy of the Daily Prophet. Two identical ginger heads were poking out of a door frame and the closest person to me held a steaming towel in his hands. His face alight embarrassment that out his hair to shame.

"Ron Weasley?"

He flinched. Avoiding the confused gaze of whome I guessed was his family.

"H-hey Professor..."

I think I'd passed out at some point for when I opened my eyes again, the sun had completely set and the cluttered living room was empty. Or so I thought. Something shuffled next to my feet and I sat up with a grunt. Ron Weasley, the student who I had spoken to not a couple hours earlier sat on the couch, biting his nails, frustrated. It seemed he hadn't noticed I had gained consciousness for he continued to stare concerningly at a crackling, yet dying fire place. The red of the flames danced around his blue irises. The fire contrasting beautifully with the ocean in his eyes. Without knowing what to say, I mumbled;

"Comfy couch."

Weasley jolted to life and blushed, quickly removing his nails from his mouth. I chuckled dryly. "H-how are you feeling?" He asked and I closed my eyes, sighing as I sat up properly. "Sore. What happened?" I replied tiredly and his face went a darker shade of crimson. He tapped his foot against the ground and avoided my gaze as if his life depended on it.

"We might have hit you with our car,"

My eyebrows rose in surprise.

Suddenly, a painful realization hit me like a truck and I gasped.

"Is Bathilda okay?" I asked, my heart pounding against my ribcage. The ginger frowned. I pursed my lips. "My bike. Is it alright?" I repeated angrily and he stared at me incredulously. "You named your bike Bathilda ?" He grimaced and I narrowed my eyes. "Should you really be scrutinizing my choices after running me over?" I sneered and he frowned. The glare he was giving me was slightly intimidating but I made it a point that I glared just as menacingly back at him.

We stayed like that for a long time. I almost didn't want to look away from his intense gaze. His eyes bore into my own and I only saw necessary to let them. And then, at the worst moment possible, my stomach growled...

A sudden smile cracked on his face and he laughed. I felt an urge to laugh with him, but the smell of freshly baked bread wafted into the room and my stomach growled again. The smell was so heavenly I made sure to check I wasn't drooling.