𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑 || H.P

𝟔𝟑

TW; assault, drinking.
-

Harry POV;

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

It was a daily routine. He would wake up, and before wondering where Ron had gone, or what Hermione was off doing, he'd stare at the map.

She was often in the Gryffindor common room, he noticed. And today, she was off on the seventh floor, along with the latter.

Harry placed the map down on his chest and stared up at the ceiling. Hermione was outside, crying, as she often did. For Ron.

Perhaps he should cry. His heart certainly felt heavy, but no tears came. Instead, he turned onto his side and drowned himself into another hour of dreamless sleep.

"Mischief managed."
-

The amount of sleep I got was truly inconvenient. I was moments away from falling face-first onto my scrambled eggs, when my fork fell out of my hand and broke my slumber.

Our army was full of mostly sixth and seventh years. A couple fifth years joined as well, but we tried to keep the news minimal amongst the younger children.

I spent the night practicing healing charms and potions. How could I mentor without having been mentored myself? Which now leads me to now, where my eyes struggle to keep open every few minutes.

"How do those eggs taste, now that you've slobbered all over them?" Parkinson was late to breakfast, as she usually was. But now, she dragged Zabini with her. "Seventh year is treating her well, don't you think, Blaise?"

Zabini huffed and sat beside me. The first thing I noticed was his strong, almost repulsive scent. "Blimey, did you bathe in a tub of cologne?" I didn't want to acknowledge them, but it just spilled out. It was enough to wake me completely.

Instead of grimacing as expected, he chortled at my remark.

What kind of bloody joke is this?

Parkinson sat in the spot across from me and grabbed my muffin.

"What do you want?"

"A muffin." She pinched off a piece and tossed it in her mouth. "Studying Latin now, are we?" She reached under my bag and pulled out the book. "Head Girl and can't even afford to get into the restricted section. The pages are all teared up."

"I see that." I snatched the book from her and slid away from Blaise. "What do you want?"

"Do you still have that one party dress you always wear? The green one?" Zabini asked and it's the most i've heard him speak in a while.

"What do you care?"

He pushed a piece of parchment towards me, an invitation of sorts. Now I really thought I was going crazy, so I just laughed. "I'm sorry? You really think i'll be going to one of your parties after all the shit you've done? Why does it matter if i'm there, anyways?"

"I suppose it doesn't." Pansy shoved the rest of my muffin into her mouth.

Zabini cleared his throat. "Well we heard you're staying here for holiday. We thought it best to remind you of your roots."

"I think we're long past that."

Blaise sighed and shrugged. "All right. Have it your way." When they both got up to leave, he made an odd attempt to flip the parchment over, revealing some more inky words.

'A holiday much worse than death.'

It took me moments to realize that my grip had left a rip on the paper.