Love at First Sight (Harry Potter)

Beauxbatons and Durmstrang

|ALEXANDRIA WEASLEY'S P.O.V|

I awoke the following morning to a subtle, cool drip. Pitter, patter, pitter, patter — I thought my ears were deceiving me at first, hearing that consistent noise that was there but hardly.

That was until the pool that had begun to collect on the centre of my forehead overflowed. In a thin, gentle stream, the liquid flowed down the bridge of my nose and over my lips. It slid in between them, wetting the corners.

I squeezed my eyes tightly at the unusual feeling. My hand rose, half consciously, to swipe over my face. A definitive wetness plagued my palm as it rubbed over my hairline, soaking the locks near my scalp. Then, the controlled dripping turned into a sudden splash.

The liquid spilled into the cracks of my eyes and flooded my nose, going up my nostrils until I began to cough. I sat up immediately, my blankets falling off of my chest and onto my lap as the water traveled down my throat. I covered my nose with two fingers, then rubbed at my wet lashes with the back of my hands.

"What in Merlin's —?"

"Shh!"

I opened my eyes quickly. The room was still incredibly dark; shadows covered its details, the only light was coming from the moon outside the window but even that was blocked by something. When I turned in that direction, I found what that something was:

Squinting, I was able to make out the figure that was crouched beside my bed. I nearly jumped out of the four-poster from fright, my hands slamming against my chest and feeling the rapid beating of my heart.

I fumbled in the sheets, reaching for my wand on the table behind me. My legs became tangled and I nearly flipped onto the floor, curses flying out of my mouth. The voice hushed me again and again, the figure's head looking around quickly to see if any of my roommates had begun to stir from my loudness. The figure seized hold of my knees through the blankets, holding them down and in place firmly as I fought to move.

"Ria — stop —!"

Immediately, upon hearing that horrid nickname, my attempts to flee ceased. I turned from where I had been facing the table, my hand lowering from how it had been reaching for my wand, and I faced Harry Potter in the darkness.

Sure enough, it was him. I had to squint to make out his features, but they were all there: the shining of his glasses, the glow of his eyes, and his plump lips.

"Are you mad?" I said in a harsh whisper, slamming my fists onto either side of my thighs on the bed. They sunk into the mattress painlessly. He still held onto my knees, but the touch was much gentler now. "What the fucking hell are you doing up here —?" I glanced toward the door, then back to his faint, mischievous smile. "How the fucking hell did you get up here?"

Harry began to fumble in the darkness, clearly struggling to see himself. I rolled my eyes bluntly, then turned back around and grabbed my wand off of the table. I held it between us and casted, quietly, "Lumos!"

Harry's raven hair seemed to shine in the blue lighting, was the first detail that I noticed. It was messy from sleep, stuck in all directions and curlier than I had seen it before. He wasn't looking at me, instead using the wandlight to place the goblet of water that had been in his hand on the floor beside him.

He was just at my height, where he was crouched there and as I sat upright. I watched him in confusion as he leant back and retrieved something from where it was rested against Hermione's bedside table behind him. He showed it to me with a prideful, cheeky grin: his Firebolt.

"I flew up the steps," he said with an egotistical shrug. He leant the broomstick against the wall now, before returning his attention to me. His emerald eyes trailed over my face, focusing particularly long on the dampness of my hair and the water droplets that coated my lips. I swiped over them self-consciously with my thumb, which returned his attention to the subject at hand. "They can't turn into a slide if I don't touch them."