𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑 || H.P

𝟓𝟕

Harry POV;

It was his birthday, and her lipstick smothered around his collar was his gift.

Her lips, so full, so bright, so swollen against his own, until he let them escape. And he cursed himself for it.

When Harry awoke, her lips were no where in sight. He was sweating profusely underneath the covers of his sleeping bag. "Mm.. what time is it?"

"Almost noon." Hermione was sorting through some papers by the desk.

His eyes broke open and were instantly stung by the air. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"You haven't slept that well in weeks."

"I wouldn't say well." Harry yawned and stretched out of the bag. If he could, he would stay in that dream forever. The fact that it was a dream made him wish he'd never fallen asleep at all. "Have you slept?"

"Hardly. It was storming this morning."

He rubbed his eyes and placed his glasses on his nose. Next to a sleeping Ron, shadows of dew drops and and wet leaves stuck onto the entrance to the tent. Harry closed his eyes and imagined the scene in black and chalky ink smudged onto thick parchment.

He wondered if she sketched today. If she survived long enough to.

If she was alive.

The thought made wrinkles form on his forehead. Dead or alive, with ink or without, he sketched the rainfall in his head again. And he did it for her, because something inside him said he would never see the sketchbook again, nor the person of whose hands designed it.
-

I slept through breakfast the next morning, and would've slept through my first class if it weren't for the bird pecking at my windowsill. The letter it carried was in a crisp parchment, which was shockingly terrifying.

The gold and green seal was even more so, and suddenly I'm glad I was not there for the breakfast owl post.

"We have been patient with your idiotic tomfoolery for much too long, Alicia! The audacity you have, to show your face in that train! To speak up to your superiors!"

Could've been worse.

She continued, "there will be no more mercy, for you fail to show us proper respect. Believe me, the repercussions are far more unpleasant than death."

Worse, yes.

I tossed the howler beside my bed and stretched. I could stay home for winter, I suppose, but hiding in Hogwarts can not work out forever.

The wind blew the drapes aside, revealing the very vibrant sun.

"Shit," I breathed and my robes were put on messily over my night wear.

I stumbled out of the empty common room while combing through my hair with my fingers. My school bag was unlatched and my shoe laces untied. I hurriedly buttoned my robes while sprinting through the halls, avoiding the looks of ignorance from some fifth years.

In all my haste, I had forgotten that I never got my schedule. I leaned against a pillar by the corridor, exasperated.

There came the small sound of footsteps behind me. "Alicia?"

I turned, keeping my elbow on the pillar. "Harper. What are you doing out of class?"

She stepped close. "I can't find it."

I swallowed and kneeled down to view her schedule. The paper was so much more full, and the classes were shorter than I remember. "Transfiguration. McGonagall's room. C'mon, I'll show you."

She took my hand and followed me up the spinning stairs. Even they, no matter how much magic, have gone slow and dull.

"You're not as scary as they say," Harper remarked.

"You thought I was scary?" I looked down at her petite figure, skipping a little with each step, looking so content in her blue robes.

"I guess so... oh, but the Prophet's got it all wrong! You're lovely."

I smiled at her giddy tone. "Thank you."

At the brink of the Transfiguration classroom, Harper went silent. An entire room full young Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were chatting amongst themselves, while the Professor's desk remained empty.

"There you are, Harper."

She looked to me, then slowly back to the room. Nervous, I reckoned.

"Go on. I'll meet with you at the end of the day?"

She nodded shyly, and slipped away into the room. I watched as she chose a seat next to another Ravenclaw girl and sighed, thinking of ways to figure out my own schedule situation.

When turning the other way, there was a small tap on my shoe. I looked down to a see a fluffy, striped cat eyeing me intently.

"Oh. McGonagall-"

The cat rose until she was back in her human form. The professor dusted her traditional green robes and held her chin high. "First day of Head Girl, Miss Shallow, and you have missed breakfast. Has my judgment ever been so wrong?"

"I apologize, ma'am, truly. It's been a very different holiday- and I was just showing a first year to your class-"

"Have you really?" She asked and I nodded. Her lips pressed together into a solemn smile as she handed me a sheet of parchment. "Get to class, Miss Shallow, and get something in that stomach of yours, too."

I squeezed my eyes shut and relaxed a bit while she walked inside the room. The paper in my hands had six courses, and the first one was just oh so special.

8:45: Potions; Horace Slughorn.