Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
chapter twenty-one. (she's a certified mindblower )
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THE NIGHT AFTER THE YULE BALL CERTAINLY LEFT MANY PEOPLE feeling overwhelmed with joy and excitement, and Ascella Black was easily one of them. She was in the 'Honey-Moon Stage' of her relationship ( as Rosalie had so wonderfully nicknamed it as ), where she constantly felt like her heart was melting and her cheeks were lit with a fiery red any time Renée complimented her.
A gold and red threaded blanket was tossed over her and Harry's legs, their warmed bodies resting on one of the maroon sofas in the Gryffindor common room. Ron sat on the carpet below them, fiddling with his quill as he attempted to write a particularly hard Charms essay, while Hermione relaxed on the armchair across from him with a book, adamant on ignoring his presence entirely.
"Have you figured out anything about that egg yet, Harry?" Hermione's curious tone broke the silence, and Harry glanced up, startled. No, he hadn't figured anything out yet, but he wasn't likely to tell Hermione that.
"Er — yeah, course I have," he replied, averting his gaze from Hermione's scrutinising stare.
"That's good, then. It's not long until the next task," Hermione said, pleased. Ron glanced up, affronted.
"He's still got two months!" he exclaimed.
"And, anyways," continued Hermione, ignoring Ron's interruption, "it'll be good for you to get a head-start. Y'know, unlike the other champions."
"What about Viktor, Hermione? Has he figured anything out yet?" Ascella chimed in, shooting Ron a smirk. Ron glared fervently at her, and Ascella winked slyly.
