In which James Potter
is a pyromaniac
and realizes
there is something
more scorching
than Lily's red locks.
because if Lily's bright hair were a burning flame, Ella's blazing blue eyes would be found at its centre, where everything turns to ash...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝔸𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕒 𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕜 back at the castle, the excitement of the sixth-years had died down. Their pile of homework kept growing, and for some, the pressure of starting the year off strong was maddening. For others, six years of moving staircases and friendly ghosts had rendered everything quite bland.
But, as Dumbledore used to say, "One has never fully gone through all of what Hogwarts has to offer."
Ella Summers reminded herself of that as she poked the fire in the Slytherin Common Room a week after the banquet. Her feverishness of the first night had rolled away upon Monday morning—she had neglected to meet Evan in the dungeons, after all, and had been paying the price ever since.
Hogwarts or not, she thought, glancing at her boyfriend, misery will follow me for as long as I stay with him.
But the prospect of leaving Evan wasn't offering her much respite, either.
Ella swirled the poker, playing with the embers, her mind drifting to her father's disappointed scowl, to the daggers in his eyes. She felt the familiar excruciating pain creeping up her arm and bit back a cry. A metallic sound resounded when she accidentally dropped the stick.
"Always the clumsy," Evan laughed, startling her by encircling her hips with his arms and pulling her in his lap. The image of Albert Summers faded as Ella tore her gaze from the fire to stare at her boyfriend's hand, inconspicuously pulling up her skirt. A knot formed in her stomach.
Evan snapped his fingers in front of her nose, making Ella jump. "So, what do you say, El? Will you do it?"
She scanned the room, noticed a few pairs of eyes staring at her, and cleared her throat. "Do what?"
"Prank that redhead mudblood," Evan replied. "Follow, Honey."
"All looks and no brain." Mulciber's mockery rose to general hilarity among Evan's friends.
Ignoring them, Ella gazed at the only boy not laughing, but Ulrich had diverted his eyes, his fists clenched on his thighs.
"I can't," she mumbled, barely covering the boisterous laughs.
"Honey," Evan began, rubbing small circles on her back. "It's not that hard. I'm sure even you can do it."
