Flames Of Destiny : Conflicting Emotions // HJP [2]

Chapter Four : Prefects

"Ow!" (Y/n) groaned, clutching her leg as she tried to regain her balance. "What in the—"

But then she froze.

Her nose caught a familiar scent—clean, fresh, like the smell of freshly cut grass after rain. And beneath her, there was a soft, pained groan.

Oh no...

Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as she realised she had landed on someone. Someone with broad shoulders and a head of messy, untamed hair. Someone who was now breathing heavily, clearly startled by her sudden and ungraceful arrival.

Her heart skipped a beat, and time seemed to slow as she recognized him.

It was Harry.

He smelled really nice.

"Whoever you are—pl-please get off me," Harry mumbled, his voice muffled under her weight. His warm hands brushed against her wrists, sending a jolt through her as she realised, with a sinking feeling, that her arms were laying directly on top of him. On. Top. Of. Him.

She had never moved so fast in her life. In a blur, (Y/n) scrambled off of him, her face burning hotter than a cauldron over a fire. But in her haste to get away, she banged her knee painfully into the edge of the bed.

"OUCH!" Ron's voice cut through the darkness. "Oi, keep your voice down or Mum'll be back up here."

"You two just sat on my knees!" Ron grumbled from somewhere nearby.

"Yeah, well, it's hard to see things in the dark," came George's nonchalant reply.

(Y/n), still reeling from the mortifying moment with Harry, swore silently to herself. She was going to murder the twins... just as soon as her heart stopped pounding and her cheeks stopped burning.

Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, and she saw the vague outlines of Fred and George leaping down from Ron's bed. There was a creak of springs as George sat at the foot of Harry's bed, still grinning mischievously.

(Y/n) backed towards the door, still trying to process what had just happened.

"Who's with you two?" Harry asked, his voice strained.

"(Y/n)," Fred replied with a chuckle. "She said she needed to hear the info from you, so we brought her here. Harry, you tell her."

(Y/n)'s blood boiled. Her plans to kill the two were now tenfold.

"Couldn't that wait until tomorrow?" Ron grumbled, clearly irritated. His eyes were likely searching the room for (Y/n) in the dark. "We were going to tell you anyway."

"Oh," said Harry, sounding somewhat surprised. There was a strange note in his voice. "Alright then... I suppose I'll tell her."

There was a stifled snicker from the twins, who were clearly enjoying themselves far too much.

(Y/n) wanted to yell at the twins, to storm out of the room and escape this incredibly awkward situation, but she remained rooted to the spot. Harry was going to share the information they'd gathered from the adults' meeting. And as much as she wanted to disappear, it would be rude to leave when Harry was about to tell her something important. So she forced herself to stay.

In the dim light of the room, Harry's voice was low and steady as he explained. He told her that Voldemort was planning his return, that he was secretly gathering Death Eaters to his side, and that there was something—a weapon—that Voldemort wanted. Something Dumbledore was determined to keep out of his hands. If Voldemort succeeded, he would be unstoppable.