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chapter seventy. ( one step closer to death )
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THE NEWS THAT HARRY POTTER AND ASCELLA BLACK were going out with one another seemed to interest a wide range of people — that being mostly girls. Not that Ascella cared. It was incredibly satisfying to see the look on people's faces when they walked around the castle together, but nothing much had changed. He was still her Harry, she was simply more inclined to kiss him in front of Ron as it made him incredibly uncomfortable.
"You'd think people had better things to gossip about," Ascella commented, her legs thrown across Harry's lap as her, Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Ron lounged in the common room. "Three dementor attacks in a week, and all Romilda Vane does is ask me if it's true you've got a hippogriff tattooed across your chest."
Ginny, Ron and Hermione roared with laughter. Harry ignored them.
"What did you tell her?"
"I told her it was my name," Ascella smirked. "Should've seen her. She was seething."
"Thanks," said Harry, grinning. "And what did you tell her Ron's got?"
"A portrait of his Aunt Muriel," Ascella snorted, as did Ginny. "But I didn't say where."
Ron scowled as Hermione and Ginny rolled around laughing.
"Watch it," he said, pointing warningly at Harry and Ascella. "Just because I've given my permission doesn't mean I can't withdraw it —"
"Bore off, Ron," Ascella scoffed. "You're not my dad." She glanced at Harry, "You're lucky he's dead. I don't think he'd be very approving."
"Well, as long as you don't start snogging each other in public —"
"You filthy hypocrite!" Ginny chimed in. "What about you and Lavender, thrashing around like a pair of eels all over the place?"
