Love at First Sight (Harry Potter)

Gryffindor Versus Ravenclaw

|ALEXANDRIA WEASLEY'S P.O.V|

It looked to be the end of Hermione and Ron's friendship, and I don't say this lightly. As many fights as the two had had over the years — I mean many — they had never yet managed to reach this level of disgust with one another.

Harry and I had long ago become accustomed to their disagreements: we would sit at separate tables, make conversation when the four of us were in the same room, ignore them. Whatever it took for that specific moment, we would do. This became almost too easy for us by the age of thirteen.

But not this time. Now, we hadn't a clue as to what to do.

" 'Mione, listen to me, please," begged Harry in desperation, one afternoon. The three of us were sat together at the Gryffindor Table in the Great Hall, but our lunch hadn't been very peaceful: how could it be with Hermione complaining about Ron the entire hour? "Perhaps — just perhaps!" he added quickly with a sharp look once he noticed that she had opened her mouth, set to defend herself once again.

"Perhaps Crookshanks has eaten Scabbers. . . I mean, Ron's been searching for him for ages, and he's nowhere 'round."

"Okay, side with Ron, I knew you would!" she yelled shrilly, standing from the bench in a flash. I placed my elbow atop the maroon cloth, hiding my eyes behind my hand as though that would pause the situation. "First the Firebolt, now Scabbers, everything's my fault, isn't it! Just leave me alone, Harry."

She spun on her heel, bushy brown hair whipping about in a full circle. I leant back quickly to avoid it smacking me in the face, not that she noticed during her stride out of the Hall. Harry and I simply watched her go, until she had left through the doors and we couldn't see her anymore.

"Come on, Ron, you were always saying how boring Scabbers was," Fred had tried bracingly, after another week of separation. "And he's been off-colour for ages, he was wasting away. It was probably better for him to snuff it quickly — one swallow — he probably didn't feel a thing."

"Blimey!" I interrupted with a loud exhale, before he could continue on. He turned to me with a proud, broad grin. "I didn't bring you over here for this, you're no help." I waved my hands at him, shooing him out of the seat beside Ron. He got to his feet in a jump, swooping his head down low to place a chaste peck at my cheek. I only rolled my eyes.

"Ron, think about it," I said as I sat down where Fred had once been, the chair only inches from Ron's now. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the portrait hole swing open to allow a few first years access to the common room. "Scabbers lived a long, happy life . . ."

George was stood over Ron's shoulder, beside his twin brother now. He clapped Ron on the back and added, "All he did was eat and sleep, you said it yourself."

"He bit Goyle for us once!" said Ron miserably. He shoved George's hand off of him, to which George fell back a step into Fred and the two did a rather dramatic faux trip on the carpet. "Remember, Harry?"

"Yeah, that's true," said Harry with an unhelpful shrug from where he was across the table. Ron and I both glared at him, although for different reasons, and his emerald eyes widened behind his glasses in surprise.

"His finest hour," said Fred in a bored tone, a slight chuckle rumbling in his throat. He choked it down. "Let the scar on Goyle's finger stand as a lasting tribute to his memory. Oh, come on, Ron, get yourself down to Hogsmeade and buy a new rat, what's the point of moaning?"