a buck tooth and a ferret

chapter 6.

My head was amid a mass of the softest chocolate brown curls, with slight highlights of chestnut- which by the way smelled as heavenly as petrichor, implying only one thing- I was in Granger's arms; or rather she was in mine. My long calloused fingers enveloped her skinny waist easily. So much so that they were almost touching each other. Not that her waist was like that of an anorexic model or something; she was perfectly healthy. Physically, at least.

I never wanted to let go. Because after so long, I was wrapped up in someone's loving embrace, someone who seemed to see past the prejudices, someone who didn't need so much convincing that I had left my old days behind; that the past was the past, and I was ready to embrace a new future. And I wasn't about to let that go of her so easily.

"Bloody hell, what the-"

She and I immediately released each other, and jumped as if we were electrocuted. My body immediately complained about Granger's absence.

I looked at the two dumb idiots that interrupted the one second of bliss I had the fortune to experience after several millennia.

Potter and Weaselbee. As usual. As though they could let me live my life in peace.

Weasel's face was such a brilliant shade of magenta that I barely stifled my laughter. Potter on the other hand was giving me a rather peculiar look.

Weasel, of course, being a complete moron, without even trying to think about just how weird and utterly freaking unlikely the situation was, lashed out at Granger. "What in the world were you thinking 'Mione? Fraternizing with the enemy? And here I thought you were smart! Guess all you do is swot. Really, you know what? I am so glad I broke up. I mean, look at yourself – a plain Jane – no looks, no curves, absolutely nothing to attract a guy. You're so thirsty for attention that you'll go out even with a prick like Malfoy. Always so damn needy, needing someone to cling to, acting like their mother, all fussy and no fun. I'm surprised 'Mione, you didn't realize I was with Lavender soon. The entire Wizarding World knew about it, and the signs were so obvious! But you were so desperately in love with me. You wouldn't have noticed even if I came home with her carried her in my arms. To be frank, looking back in retrospect-"

Wow, Weaselbee knows a big word. Effects of being with Granger, I guess.

I turned my attention back to Weasley, who by this time was scarlet and throwing out a steady stream of insults.

"Merlin's beard, 'Mione, how stupid can you get? Nobody loves you. You are not even worthy of being in the Wizarding World, you filthy little mudblood-"

Before I realized it my fingers had curled into a fist and had connected with the right side of Weasel's jaw, and I heard a very satisfying Crack!

Potter must've have done the same because his left jaw looked purple and bruised too. He deserved it. Rotten bastard.

How dare he degrade Granger like that? How dare he use that word? Weasley always had an explosive temper, but this crossed the damn line. And Granger, how was she even bearing it- her 'best friend' and love of her life abusing her so cruelly like that? I turned briefly towards her and what I saw tugged at my heart- her eyes were puffy and swollen and red and tears were streaming down her cheeks in a continuous torrent, and she looked so lifeless and lost, and just so... broken.

My anger was dangerously close to overflowing. Merlin's beard, I swear I will slaughter Weasel one day, and feed his bits to the dogs. I will torture him with the Cruciatus Curse so bad he's going to beg me to kill him. I will stab him with so many needles that when I'm done with them he's not going to realize which hole to breathe from.

Unworthy my foot; Granger is smarter than half the people in the Wizarding World combined, and rakes in enough Galleons to live in the Ritz for a lifetime. Scratch that, for twelve lifetimes.

Yes, I do know Muggle hotels; not the same prat, you see.

My mind was still racing, but I tuned all the voices off lest I hex Weasley so bad he'd be dancing around in a tutu doing hip-hop as a half gorilla and half merman with a squeaky voice.

I shuddered at the mental image conjured in my head. It was more of scary than funny.

Weasel must've been in shock while I was busy ruminating because all of this because he was completely silent, and was clutching his face. Oh right, I forgot the ability to speak like a decent human without garbling up the words or using phrases other than "Bloody hell!" after every sentence did not come easily to some people. My bad.

I looked at Potter's green eyes glistening with utter disbelief, hatred and contempt, and he had his wand aimed at his face. I did the same.

Weasel sneered, or should I say, failed to sneer, and instead looked like a constipated raccoon, and said, "Harry, I always knew you were too much of a goody-goody boy who was so determined to be the poster for needy and helpless people like that bitch. And Malfoy, she's truly got you wrapped around her little finger, hasn't she? Or should I say-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Ronald Bilius Weasley!"

I looked back to the absolutely calm, yet somehow terrifying voice.

Granger was brandishing her wand as if she were about to strike Weasley off the surface of the earth. Her eyes were filled with a murderous rage, but her face was passive. It was like the calm before the storm.

Except a full blown earthquake was about to erupt.

"You think you can aggravate me like that, and there will be no bloody consequences?" She laughed in a deranged manner, a high witch-like cackle, and I swear all the hair on my arms stood up. Merlin, I had never seen Granger so worked up like this before. Her hair seemed to be crackling with electricity and her eyes blazed with merciless mirth.

"You think I'm a good-for-nothing mudblood, don't you? Well, Mr. Weasley, I earn enough to buy off your whole stupid Quidditch team- if you could actually call those twats as players, I suppose everyone has their own perspective- about a hundred times. Your house is worse off that Mundungus' stupid little shack, and I live in the swankiest mansion in all of Wizarding Britain. Oh wait, a mansion, you must not know what that is, haven grown up in a filthy little undersized cottage yourself? You call yourself as handsome and you think every single girl is tripping for you?" She flashed a Malfoy-worthy smirk. I was duly impressed and thoroughly entertained. Granger certainly had a way with words.

"Let me remind you of the time we went to the Gala hosted by your moronic friends. If my memory serves me right- and it usually does- there was a certain Gingerhead who practically had steam coming out of his ears, and was positively fuming over all the rather suggestive winks and undivided attention all your friends, especially male ones were giving me. Oh believe me, it was a sight to behold! You looking like the engine of the Hogwarts Express, and your face mirroring your red suit- which by the way looked awfully horrendous- while every single man there was fawning over me. I rather fancied myself there, don't you think, Ronald? And who was the one who sent a Howler to Witch Weekly for not giving him any kind of ladies-oriented award? It was you. Meanwhile, I was on almost every cover of the Wizard's Delight. Who can blame them? You're a pureblood, yet more untalented than a Squib. You were the least of Molly's favourites, and you never managed to outshine your brothers. There is no Golden Trio, it's just me and Harry; you are a coward who left us when we needed you the most. You suck at Quidditch too, illustrated by all the thousand matches you've lost. And as for that vile Brown, enjoy while you can, because she's just a measly arm candy and gold digger who's going to ditch you, while you sit at your pathetic excuse of a home and cry like a baby. Oh, and by the way, I knew about the whole affair, I chose to give you another chance because I'm a better person. But as always, you blew it."

Granger finished her tirade and I was sorely tempted to clap. Weasel was literally sobbing and Potter was like me, struggling to hold back tears of laughter. Mahn, Granger absolutely roasted him!

Weasel, whose face surpassed any shade of crimson was stuttering and stammering, but Granger beat him to it.

"Tut tut, Ron, even your speaking skills are impaired. Merlin, you really are screwed aren't you?"

Weasel disapparated with a pop.