𝐈. Maladies Were Such

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THE SUN WAS A NUISANCE

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THE SUN WAS A NUISANCE. Such was a rare thought for Ciaran Byrne. Yet, as he trudged through the burning and congested London streets with his Hogwarts trunk being dragged behind him, he found himself praying for the abusive sun's disappearance.

Where even was 12 Grimmauld Place? He was on the given street and saw no such place. He began to wonder if it was a made-up practical joke. Yet, Cecilia Auclair and Hermione Granger were far from liars. Ronald Weasley? Potentially. But his dear Cee and Hermione? Absolutely not.

They had all written him all but two nights prior to the current day, begging him to come join them in the London residence. He knew the plea was because of Cecilia's worry, Ron's friendliness, and Hermione hopeful attempt to comfort him after his. . loss, but he figured he'd go regardless. They were a group of his closest friends. Who else would he rather be with in times such as these?

After five more minutes of treacherous walking, he was near giving up. Sweat was dripping down his forehead and his blonde curls were beginning to stick to his face. Not fun. Just as he was about to turn around and begin drafting his letters of fury to the three, the building to his left began to move. He halted, raising his brow as he turned on his heel.

There was 12 Grimmauld Place. Of course, it was enchanted. While he was slightly frustrated, he was more so relieved. Ciaran bolted toward the building and knocked on the door with haste. How he needed water.

His fist hardly needed to make contact with the door before he saw a blur of brown curls, vanilla, and lavender perfume hit his senses, and felt the wind knocked out of him by an enthusiastic hug. He knew it was Cecilia for after years of friendship, he knew her hugs all too well.

"Oof! Cee, hey!" He grinned holding his best friend close to him. They had only been apart two weeks, yet, it was two weeks too long in their books.

"I'm so happy that you're here," She mumbled into his shoulder before pulling away to examine him. While he always looked fabulous, he had been looking slightly less fabulous in past the few months. It was to be expected after such a trauma, but remained nonetheless, worrisome. His face was pale despite the sun, he had bags beneath his glossy eyes, and his visage screamed solemnity. On top of that, he was sweaty and obviously exhausted.

Cecilia gasped, realizing how awful the journey must have been. Guilt washed over her features, "Cece, I'm so sorry! I didn't know it would be so hot! Oh, I'm so, so sorry. 'Mione and I would have made an order member come get you if we had known! Come in, it's cool. I'll get you ice water and some lunch." She grabbed his hand and led him into the townhome.

"Cee, it's okay, none of us expected the heatwave. But lunch and water, especially water, sound divine," He said before breathing a sigh of relief at the coolness of the dark home. He played back Cecilia's sentence in his head, taking in what she had said more carefully. "Wait. .what order? You began a whole department last year, don't tell me you've started an order too! How'd you get this house?!"

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 || H.P. APPLY FICWhere stories live. Discover now