RISE OF THE FALL | R.B.

BONUS CHAPTER I.

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter World belongs to J.K. Rowling.

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BONUS CHAPTER I.

Atlas had been making his way back to the Dungeons from the Transfiguration classroom, preparing to go lie down and do nothing for the rest of the day, when he found a familiar, blonde-haired Hufflepuff girl curled up against a window, sitting on a window sill, crying.

"Han," Atlas said quietly, catching the girl's attention.

Hannah's face was tear-stained and her eyes were red and swollen, sings that she'd probably been crying for a long while.

"Can I join you?" He asked gently, gesturing at the window sill, and Hannah responded with a nod as she used her robe sleeves to dry her eyes, even as the tears continued to flow.

Atlas pushed himself up onto the window sill, sitting beside Hannah and putting an arm around her shoulders as he said, "Hey, what's wrong?"

She didn't respond immediately, her eyes tightly shut, her body still shaking as she tried to hold in the heaving sobs that threatened to overcome her.

Atlas was more than happy to give her as much time as she needed, while he gently patted her shoulder and she curled up against him.

Finally, she whispered, "My mother was murdered."

The moment those words tumbled out of her mouth, she burst into tears again, the tears becoming uncontrollable as she seemed to face the same thoughts again, unable to hold them back.

"Hannah," Atlas murmured, pulling her into a proper hug as she cried into his shoulder, "Hannah."

She inhaled deeply, but didn't say anything, and Atlas didn't expect her to. Instead, he let her lean against him as they sat upon the window sill in silence, save for Hannah's quiet crying.

***

The next day, Atlas was reading in the library, while writing his Transfiguration essay, which he'd left until the last minute, something that he now greatly regretted doing.
He had been planning to finish it yesterday afternoon, but hadn't gotten the chance after he'd spent most of his day with Hannah; making sure that she was okay.

He didn't regret doing that, though. He'd much rather hand in his essay late than leave Hannah crying, alone, in the corridor.
Her situation reminded him of the situation he had been in just a few months ago—it still felt like yesterday when he thought about it. His mother had been murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange; tortured to death, which Caelum had been forced to witness. He and his siblings had left school for several weeks, unable to work productively, and spent time home with their family. Especially their father and Uncle Remus, who were both so quiet now.

Caelum had taken several weeks to recover—more so mentally than physically, but even now, after so long, he still screamed and cried in his sleep more often than not.

Atlas blinked away the thoughts, shaking his head and refusing to let the negative thoughts consume him again, as they had when his father had told him about what had happened, and several weeks after that.

Instead, he focused his attention to the textbook opened before him, the words becoming blurry as he started getting lost in his thoughts again.

"Atlas."

That voice caught his attention, because he knew it belonged to Hannah.

He immediately looked up and smiled, "Hey, Han."

"Hi," she said, a light pink blush rising to her cheeks as she sat down in the seat opposite to him, placing her books onto the table, "What are you working on?"

"Oh, just a Transfiguration essay," he responded, frowning as he accidentally smudged the ink on his parchment, "I left it until the last minute and now, well..." he gestured at the mess of parchment, quills and textbooks sprawled out on the table, running a hand through his hair tiredly.

"I've finished that," Hannah said with a small smile, her eyes brightening like the sun, "I can help you." She started to fish through her bag, pulling out a scroll of parchment.

As she unrolled it, Atlas groaned, "How is it so long? And so neat? How are you so perfect?"

Her cheeks became tinted with pink at that, and she replied, "I'm not."

Atlas shook his head, chuckling as he met her eyes and said genuinely, "You're pretty close to it."

They sat in silence for a long moment, Atlas admiring the glow of Hannah's eyes and the smile that graced her lips at his compliment.

"I...Atlas, I just wanted to say thanks," She said, breaking the silence at last, "Thank you for helping me. You didn't have to do anything."

He smiled, "Han, did you really expect me to just leave you in the corridor?"

She averted her eyes shyly, "I..."

"Hey," he said softly, gently lifting her chin with his fingers so that she met his eyes, "I'll help you in any way possible. If you ever need me, I'll be here. Don't forget that, okay?"

They didn't know what led to it, and neither of them remembered the moments before, but the next thing they knew they were in each other's arms, and Hannah pressed her lips to his and they were kissing.

The moment was so delicate; so incredibly precious. It felt like there was no one else in the world except for them.
Atlas had heard about descriptions of kisses—people described them like fireworks; filled with intensity.

But he'd describe this moment more like sunlight, gentle, warm and loving. When they pulled apart, they both had smiles on their faces.

It was Hannah who said coyly, "Can we please do that again?"

Atlas laughed, throwing his head back, before they did just that.