Golden Boy (First 10 Chapters) by boyifyouknew

The Beater and The Bludger

CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains mild gore and blood.

For the next few hours on that rainy day, Camellia found herself quite weak in the knees, both literally and figuratively. After their early morning tryst, the pair had tried going back to their rooms to get some sleep— emphasis on tried . Camellia had tossed and turned for two hours at least, as the combination of both her trembling legs and the persistent, jittery feeling of adrenaline kept her wide awake. She finally gave up trying at around eight in the morning, and she took advantage of her early rising to shower and make herself a cup of tea to enjoy by the window.

As she quietly made her way down the stairs, her hair still wet from the shower, her eyes fell on a sleeping Hermione with her head resting on the dining table, as well as a spotlessly clean and dry living room. Camellia smiled to herself, and she walked over and knelt down next to her friend, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder to wake her.

"Hmm? What—" Hermione mumbled, her eyes blearily opening and blinking in the morning light. "What's going on?"

"You fell asleep in the dining room, silly," she said softly. "Come on, let's get you to bed for some real rest."

Hermione nodded sleepily, and Camellia accompanied her up the stairs and got her into bed. "I found the spell," she muttered with a weak smile as she got under her covers. "I had it right all along, I was just mispronouncing it. And I didn't have the hand motion memorized, but... oh, well."

"I knew you'd get it," Camellia replied. Hermione smiled at her, then lay down and fell back asleep almost immediately, soothed by the gentle rainfall still softly beating down onto the now-repaired roof.

Camellia went back downstairs, hearing Ron's snores on her way past the boys' bedroom, and she made herself a hot cup of tea and sat in the armchair by the window, picking up Mrs. Weasley's copy of Pride and Prejudice and quickly becoming engrossed in it.

Before she knew it, she heard the footfalls of three boys trudging down the stairs, the clock on the wall marking eleven fifteen. Ron and George gave Camellia passing greetings on their way to the kitchen, but Harry came and sat next to her on the couch, and he smiled at her.

"Morning, Cam," he said. "Sleep alright?"

Camellia's stomach dropped, but his tone wasn't anything out of the ordinary. "No, I didn't, really," she said honestly. "Couldn't get to sleep for the life of me. Guess all the excitement from this morning kept me up."

"Yeah, I had a hard time, too," Harry said, turning his green eyes to the window and looking out at the peaceful countryside. "I was about to fall asleep after about half an hour when Fred decided to finally go to bed."

"Oh?" Camellia said innocently. "How come?"

She'd expected a knowing look from Harry and his signature sarcasm, but neither came. He simply shrugged. "No idea. He was breathing pretty heavy, though, so I assume he'd been downstairs still helping Hermione with the furniture."

Camellia bit back a smile. "Probably," she said shortly. "Sorry he woke you."

"S'alright. I think I was the only one awake, besides maybe Hermione, so it's no big deal."

At that moment, Ron and George emerged from the kitchen, one holding a plate piled with golden-brown toast and the other carrying butter and jam. They sat down on the couch and set their breakfast on the coffee table.

"Morning," said George, grinning at Camellia and Harry. Ron gave them a nod and a smile, already buttering a piece of toast.

They greeted them in return, and they chatted for a bit about the storm from that morning when Fred came trudging down the stairs, looking very unhappy, holding two letters in his hand. One, the neatly-printed one, had been torn open, and the other was still sealed and scrawled with large, looping handwriting.