silence | r. weasley

chapter 7

It was early in the morning, not quite 7 when Beatrice was met by the two boys at the common room fireplace. Harry looked exhausted, but Ron looked ready to kill someone. The bags under his eyes somehow emphasized the freckles over top of them, even in the dim light. He seemed to be staring at something on the floor, but his gaze was too forced for him to be zoned out. Both of their heads snapped towards the girl as she stumbled on the carpet they stood on. 

"Morning boneheads." she yawned. "What's on the menu today?" 

"Morning - er - we don't really have much planned... Did you have an idea?" Harry mumbled, voice still sleepy. 

"Maybe just walk until we find something? Most stores are open by now anyways, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem." 

They all seemed to agree that their brains were still running slow and that walking in the cool air would be the best first step. Harry knew of the passage behind the witch statue, which was even faster than the one Beatrice had suggested. The tunnel was long and dark, with a moist earthy smell emitting from the rocks. 

They were only in Hogsmeade for an hour and a half at most - they had classes starting at 9 - but they managed to get to Zonkos, Honeydukes, the Three Broomsticks, and Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. Ron and Harry had been confused why Beatrice insisted on going to a quill shop, especially since McGonagall had boxes of quills for the students who broke or lost their own. 

She wanted special ink though, and she had heard rumors of a device that you put on your wand to disguise it as a quill until you actually needed it. Unfortunately, they had just been rumors, the owner acted as though the girl had gone mad, and after she paid for her rainbow and purple ink pots, they rushed out of the store. 

They had gotten an extra butterbeer "to-go" for Hermione, as well as some chocolate frogs, and her's and Beatrice's favorite, a "salt 'n caramel" chocolate bar. Ron had bought a bag full of supplies for his brothers, muttering how they "must pay him back" the entirety of the time they spent in Zonkos. Harry had assured him they would and explained to Beatrice that Fred and George had received the money he won from the tournament last year. 

Ron didn't know, of course. He clearly hated that his two best friends had more money than his family, and he wanted no "donations." Beatrice could understand that. She would probably feel pitied as well, and there was nothing worse than receiving that feeling from your best friends. 

They arrived back when the sun was on its way into the sky, pushing away the cold air and beaming down on them. It was obvious how Beatrice seemed to float more than walk while in the sunlight. It was like it shone for her, and only for her. 

Ron knew she was pretty, in fact, she'd heard multiple gryffindor boys talking about her in the short time they'd been back to school. Most comments were backhanded compliments, but the backhanded part was always directed at Professor Umbridge, while the compliments were for Beatrice. She wasn't conventionally pretty; her hair wasn't perfect, it was messy and untamable, but she didn't shy away from the windy days, she let nature push her hair wherever it wanted to. She wore her robes carelessly, even after seeing the way her mother's eyes nearly popped out of her skull from the sight. Her dress shirt was never fully tucked in, just a part of the front, always on her right. Her cape usually just rested on her shoulders, but she sometimes folded it and held it on her shoulder. Her tie, untucked. 

And she didn't have a button nose or big blue eyes. Her nose was slightly crooked from when she broke it in her third year. She had brown eyes, unremarkably brown. They weren't colored like honey, or blue as the ocean, or nice sage green. They were just brown. She didn't have small, perfect little freckles lining her nose and cheeks, just some random dots here and there. Her smile was uneven as well, and she rarely smiled with her lips open, her teeth made her nervous. 

But there she was, strolling the long pathway back to the castle, a small smile, eyes fluttering closed every once in a while, just breathing in the air. That was beautiful. Just her existing. 

Harry suddenly nudged Ron with a look that said he'd been speaking the whole time. 

"Were you even listening?" Harry grumbled. "I was saying that Angelina was saying-"

"Um hello? Guys we have class in less than an hour and still at least 15 minutes until we get back to the castle. Hurry up, yeah?" Beatrice called back. 

"Nevermind." Harry and Ron caught up with Beatrice, and talked about quidditch until they reached the castle. 

Transfiguration had been their first class, and luckily Beatrice had been smart enough to change the to-go cups into mugs for her and Hermione before McGonagall could confiscate and potentially find out about her leaving the grounds. Hermione had been focused during the lesson, and Beatrice tried to take notes but found the most she could write was a few words before she began doodling at the top of the page again. 

By the end of the lesson, she had even drawn on Hermione's page too, which the girl wasn't too pleased with. Ron and Harry sat at the table next to theirs, as always, and it didn't seem like they were getting much done either. 

The rest of the day passed by rather pleasantly, they didn't have potions that day, which always brightened the Griffindors' moods. Dinner was chicken pot pie, with the amazing surprise of ice cream for dessert. Maybe Merlin had heard Beatrice's please for the delicacy. The Weasley twins had joined them and found it hilarious how much ice cream Beatrice could devour in under five minutes. 

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ok I think I'll leave it there because oh gods this chapter is dragging out. it's short, but i had to get them SOMEWHERE and now i'll be able to *hopefully* be more productive in writing this now that this dreaded chapter is out there in the world. yikes.