- ᴀ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏ ᴍᴀʟғᴏʏ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ
Draco lifts his head up, shooting a glance towards his left to the witch staring shamelessly at him, his pale eyes settling on her, grunting irritably,
"Do you ever mind your own business?"
Oonagh pondered silently, tuc...
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𝕳ogsmeade isn't as Oonagh remembers it.
The small, quaint village that first and second years dream of venturing to for the first time was a shell of its former self. No happy laughter of students skipping down the cobblestone towards Honeydukes sweet shop or the hilarious picture of the sweet, romanticist girl and her horrified boyfriend rendezvousing in Madame Puddifoot's taffy pink tea shop. No one of a kind butterbeers from chatty Madame Romserta or melodious choruses from the goblin's Hogsmeade choir.
Gloomy. The village was gloomy, lifeless and glum, setting Oonagh's heart heavy in her chest. She fights the urge to mourn over the place it once was, deciding that it would be much more difficult to mourn Hogwarts and her loved ones if she didn't get there. Silently, she surveys the main street dark with the fall of night, hoping, rather naively, something will show itself and lead her the way. Or maybe something will give her that shove to take matters into her own hands.
A shove is what she gets, indeed.
To the dirty, cobbled ground she goes in a tumble, hands instinctively pushing out in front of her to prevent a harsh face plant that most certainly wouldn't be a great start to a battle. She swears under her breath, barely having time to take a look at her shover before she's hearing,
"Oonagh?! What are you doing down there? That's not the Hog's Head"
Hands scoop underneath her, not just pulling her to her feet, pulling her off the ground into a carrying position that Draco wouldn't like in the least. Bridal position. She blinks as Fred Weasley's face comes into view, grinning boyishly despite the circumstances that brought them here.
"Funnily enough, I think she knew that wasn't the Hog's Head" Another voice pipes up, an admirably fierce one she's gone without hearing for far too long.
A smile breaks out across Oonagh's face before she could stop it, tipping her head just enough to make out Ginny Weasley's, freckled face and wild hair the colour fire. And on her other side, someone she's not surprised to see given that you never see one without the other. She's starting to think she should've thrown on her orange jumper, properly support the wonderful Weasley population.
She glances back to the face of the boy who's arms she's bundled up in, biting her tongue against mentioning the severe case of déjà vu clouding her mind, instead wondering,
"I'm supposed to be in the Hog's Head?"
"We all are. There's a secret passage to Hogwarts" Fred informs, beginning to head towards the dingy pub a few doors down, not at all minding the weight of the Hufflepuff in his arms. It's not the first time.
Once through the door and inside the pub, Fred finally lowers her down to her feet, pointing to his cheek pushed in her direction for payment of transportation. Rolling her eyes, Oonagh rocks up onto her tiptoes, pressing a harmless peck next to the tip of his finger. He groans loudly in return, beginning to flutter his eyelashes and fan his face until a gruff voice Oonagh doesn't recognise rings out,
