Angel of spring ✩ HP

𝚈𝟼 ࿐ 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚘𝚝

ᴀɴɢᴇʟ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴘʀɪɴɢ - 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙭

The cold october air of Hogsmeade hums with the chatter of students enjoying their weekend break from the castle. Angel walks with Kate, Harry, Hermione, and Ron down the streets, the village alive with the sounds of laughter and clinking cups from the bustling Three Broomsticks. The golden late afternoon sun hits the streets in warmth, casting long shadows in the snow as they head towards a corner, where a small group of students emerges from Zonko's, giggling over their purchases.

Angel breathes in deeply, feeling a rare sense of freedom. Hogsmeade always had that effect—a brief escape from the tension that often lurked in the shadowy corners of her life. She exchanges a glance with Kate, who nudges her playfully, their laughter mingling with the cheerful noise of the village.

"So, Butterbeer, anyone?" Ron suggests, his tone enthusiastic as they walk past the sweet shop.

"Definitely," Kate agrees, her eyes bright with excitement.

As they stroll past the rows of shops, Angel catches a glimpse of platinum blonde hair ahead of them. Draco, hunched slightly as though trying to avoid attention, strides purposefully towards the Shrieking Shack path, his robes billowing behind him. There's something secretive, almost furtive, about his movements, and Angel's stomach tightens instinctively.

She notices immediately when the others see him. Hermione's brows furrow, and Ron opens his mouth, no doubt ready to comment. But before anyone can speak, Angel interjects, her voice light and quick. "Did you hear about the new line of prank sweets the twins are making?" she asks, her tone too casual. "The two wrote me about it last week—something to do with chocolates that make you sing like a troll."

Ron, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic, raises his eyebrows. "Really? Trolls? Sounds like something they'd make me eat."

Harry's gaze lingers on Draco's disappearing figure for a moment longer, his expression thoughtful, but he doesn't say anything. The conversation drifts into laughter as they start debating the merits of magical prank food, but Angel can feel Harry's eyes flickering toward her, as though he's already piecing together something unspoken.

As they laugh about the twins' potential pranks, Harry's hand reaches for her arm. His grip is gentle but firm as he tugs her to the side, away from the group.

"Hey, what—" Angel starts, but before she can finish, Harry pulls her into the narrow alley between Honeydukes and Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop.

"Are you alright?" His green eyes are filled with concern as he searches her face, but it seems like he's asking more than that, he's asking for an explanation that he has been trying to find since the start of the term. "You've been acting strange ever since we saw Draco."

Angel forces a smile, shaking her head dismissively. "I'm fine. It's nothing."

Harry doesn't buy it. "Don't do that." He shakes his head, closing his eyes slightly before opening the, again to ask her. "What's going on? I know there's something you're not telling me."

"I said it's nothing, Harry," she repeats, her voice firm this time, though the tension beneath it is clear. She tries to move past him, but he steps in front of her, blocking her escape.

"Don't lie to me," he says, his voice more frustrated now. "I know something's up with Draco, with your family. You're shutting me out, and I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

Angel's eyes narrow, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "I never asked for your help," she snaps, folding her arms tightly across her chest. 

Harry exhales, his voice rising slightly. "That's not the point. I care about you, Angel. I can't just stand by and pretend nothing's wrong when it's obvious there is. I worry. Too much, perhaps. And it's killing me not knowing what's happening. Because I need you to be away from all that."