AUTOPHOBIA - G. WEASLEY

Third Year: Nicknames and Patronus lessons

✯ CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX ✯

January 6th, 1994.

THE GREAT HALL roared with the familiar sound of the whole school chatting with their friends about all sorts of things. Everyone had returned from Christmas break a night ago, and Estella honestly couldn't have been more happy to see them all.

Even though she'd made up with Harry and Ron and was now talking to all her friends again, there was a very clear tension between the boys and Hermione because of what had happened with Harry's Firebolt, and of course Estella was the one stuck in the middle of it.

Ron, as great of a friend as Estella found him, was a follower. Whatever Harry did, he did as well. So because the Potter boy wasn't talking to Hermione currently, neither was he.

Estella, on the other hand, wasn't in the mood to fall out with either of them, especially considering her and Harry had only just worked things out. She could honestly see both point of views -- Hermione had only wanted the best for Harry, so she'd done what she felt was right, but Harry had been excited about that broomstick, just like Estella had been when she recieved hers, so she could see why he was so angry that his friend had had it taken away from him.

She did feel they were both dragging it out a bit, however.

And the conversation they were having was sort of making her mad at them all.

"Lupin still looks ill, doesn't he?" Ron was saying, staring over at the staff table, where Remus was deep in conversation with McGonagall. "What's actually wrong with him, Stell?"

Estella was about to tell him to mind his own business, but there was a loud 'tuh' noise from across the table. It was Hermione, who was sitting with them but until this point had been silent.

"And what are you tutting at us for?" asked Ron irritably.

"Nothing," said Hermione in a lofty voice.

"Yes, you were," said Ron. "I asked Estella what's wrong with Lupin, and you --"

"Well, isn't it obvious?" said Hermione, with a look of maddening superiority.

Estella glared at her; eyes turning to slits. She would never, ever speak to Hermione Granger again if she let slip Remus' secret. No, she'd quite happily punch her in the face right in the middle of the Great hall if she did.

"If you don't want to tell us, don't," snapped Ron.

"Fine," said Hermione haughtily, and she marched off down the table.

"She doesn't know," said Ron, staring resentfully after Hermione. "She's just trying to get us to talk to her again."

"Maybe, but its no one's business anyway," spat Estella. "He's fine. He's not dying. You don't need to worry about him."

At that moment, Ginny came and sat in the now empty spot which had previously been occupied by Hermione. She looked at Ron and Estella and sighed.

"Still hate eachother, then?"

"Nope," said Estella, "your brother is just a dickhead."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I only asked a question. What makes you think we hate eachother, Gin Gin?"

"Gin Gin?"

"Ronald!" yelled Ginny, her face going as red as her hair. "I told you to never call me that in front of anyone, ever!"