Second chances *ੈ✩‧₊˚ (harry potter x reader)

The End of Another Year

Ron, Hermione and I left the hospital wing completely cured three days before the end of term.

Hermione showed signs of wanting to talk about Sirius, but Ron tended to make hushing noises every time she mentioned his name.

Professor Umbridge left Hogwarts the day before the end of term.

It seemed that she had crept out of the hospital wing during dinner-time, evidently hoping to depart undetected, but unfortunately for her, she met Peeves on the way, who seized his last chance to do as Fred had instructed and chased her gleefully from the premises, whacking her alternately with a walking stick and a sock full of chalk.

Many students ran out into the entrance hall to watch her running away down the path, and the Heads of Houses tried only halfheartedly to restrain their pupils.

Indeed, Professor McGonagall sank back into her chair at the staff table after a few feeble remonstrances and was clearly heard to express a regret that she could not run cheering after Umbridge herself, because Peeves had borrowed her walking stick.

Our last evening at school arrived; most people had finished packing and were already heading down to the end-of-term feast, but Harry had not even started.

"Just do it tomorrow!" said Ron, who was waiting by the door of their dormitory. "Come on, I'm starving..."

I stood just inside the door, thinking the same thing.

"I won't be long... Look, you two go ahead."

But as soon the dormitory door closed behind Ron and I, we put our ears to the door.

Harry made no effort to speed up his packing.

With a sigh, we turned off to start walking down to the Hall.

"No way he's gonna miss the end of year feast. No. way. If I were a house elf I'd be pissed if someone didn't come to a feast I cooked," Ron said.

I laugh softly, "Don't let Hermione catch you saying that."

"You reckon she's still batshit about elf rights?"

"Hm... Maybe not after the whole thing with Kreacher lying about Sirius not being home," I reply with a shrug, "Anyway, when are you gonna grow a pair?" I asked, nudging him.

"What do you mean?" he asked as we exited through the Fat Lady portrait.

"I mean, when are you gonna grow a pair and just ask Hermione out already?"

Ron's face pulled into an over exaggerated disgust, "Me? Ask- ask Hermione? Out?" he laughed very loudly, "You're barking, Diggory. I think I better check you into St. Mungo's myself. Like, this is a new level of crazy. What the hell got that idea in your head? You've lost it, absolutely lost it—"

"Okay," I smiled and nodded with a shrug, "whatever you say, Weasley."

And we continued walking.

The feast was wonderful, much better than last year's when I'd spent the brief time I was in the Hall sobbing into my soup.

The journey home on the Hogwarts Express next day was eventful in several ways.

Firstly, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who had clearly been waiting all week for the opportunity to strike without teacher witnesses, attempted to ambush Harry halfway down the train as he made his way back from the toilet.

The attack might have succeeded had it not been for the fact that they unwittingly chose to stage the attack right outside a compartment full of D.A. members, who saw what was happening through the glass and rose as one to rush to Harry's aid.