Disclaimer: I hold no ownership over any characters except for my own.
My leg instinctively contracted as I blearily registered a wriggly sensation on my foot. The sensation continued to grow in intensity until the itch had become unbearable, my irritation overwhelming my drowsiness.
"Wakey wakey, my little Gwennie-poo," chirped a quirky voice and I groaned, taking deep breaths to prevent myself from strangling my best friend.
"Just five more minutes, Rose," I mumbled, dragging my pillow over my head in an attempt to escape reality for a while longer.
"Not a chance," she chuckled, forcefully dragging my pillow away. My blankets were thrown off unceremoniously, exposing me to the early morning chill that always seemed to creep into the house no matter how many spells we cast to counteract it. I fumbled about sluggishly, trying desperately to return to the warmth of my covers, only to have my curtains drawn open, the sun effectively blinding me with its brightness.
I hadn't signed up for this when Rose begged me to move in with the Granger-Weasleys five years ago. Of course the situation back then had been drastically different and I was forever indebted towards the Weasleys' kindness and understanding.
After my first year at Hogwarts, it had become painfully evident that returning home was not an option. My drunk of a mother, Marietta Edgecombe, disgraced amongst the wizarding community after her betrayal to Dumbledore's Army, had only managed to acquire more debt while I was away and I couldn't even remember the last time I had seen my Muggle father. The few relatives I had left had turned a blind eye to my troubles but Rose had offered the perfect solution and I had resided with the Weasleys ever since.
Our friendship was an odd one of sorts and had been appropriately unexpected to say the least. I had entered Hogwarts as the quiet, intense, and admittedly dark Ravenclaw while Rose was quite the opposite, easily achieving a more popular status with the help of her warm, outgoing personality. It was our high-achieving standards that thrust us together and in a way, we balanced each other out.
"Come on, hurry up," Rose pulled on my leg, bringing me out of my thoughts, and sighing in exasperation when I flopped back down to stretch languidly. "The Potters are going to be here any second now. Please do attempt to make yourself somewhat presentable."
That snapped me to attention, as I forced my eyes to blink owlishly at the redhead.
"The Potters?" I cried indignantly.
While the Potter and Weasley households normally spent summer vacation in close proximity, this summer had been an exception. Mr. Potter had been summoned for business somewhere in Eastern Europe and the entire family had accompanied him for his travels. Aside from the occasional owls James sent Rose and I, containing pictures of his adventures and letters from Lily to Hugo, I hadn't heard much from them for a few weeks. Which was fine by me, considering my profound dislike for the infuriating middle Potter child.
"Yes, of course, you prat!" Rose rolled her eyes. "We're going to the station together this year. Something about horrid muggle traffic. Anyhow, they're barely twenty minutes away and you have got to do something about that hair of yours, it's positively dreadful. Please tell me you've washed it-"
"Twenty minutes?!" I squeaked, catapulting myself out of bed and scrambling towards my closet.
"Yes, stop making me repeat myself! Mum's made breakfast so come down whenever you're ready," Rose called over her shoulder as she descended down the stairs.
I muttered curses under my breath as I rummaged through the hangers, haphazardly exchanging my pajamas for a pair of joggers and a Puddlemere United jersey. I dashed to the bathroom, furiously brushing my teeth and rinsing my face with a splash of cold water before running a comb through the thick expanse of chocolate atop my head.
"Rose!" I bellowed after I got the comb stuck in my waves for the fifth time, wincing as a particularly rough tug only led to further entanglement. "A little help?"
I turned just as she appeared, my grey eyes meeting her bewildered brown ones as they quickly scanned my appearance.
"I really don't understand why you refuse to cut it," she wrinkled her nose as she took the comb from me, maneuvering it gently so that my hair would obey her movements.
I kept quiet, too embarrassed to admit that I liked the feeling of the wind blowing through it whenever I rode my broom around the Quidditch pitch. Besides, it wasn't normally a problem. Of course, normally I'd be able to cast a simple charm and call it a day but we were technically still underage and since I'd rather not go against the law so early in the morning, especially since Rose's mother held a big role in... I digress.
"Also, would it kill you to wear a skirt once in awhile?" Rose's voice seeped through my reminiscing, and I could only roll my eyes at the scandalized expression she wore on her face.
"They're just highly inefficient," I shrugged. "We're going to have to change into our uniforms later on anyway."
"I don't see you wearing the standard skirt issued for the girls either," she snorted before placing the comb down and letting her eyes roam over me in one final assessment.
"You're decent, I suppose," she shook her head, indicating otherwise. "But one of these days, I'll have my way with you."
"How'd you get sorted into Gryffindor anyway? The only thing you'd be concerned about during a duel is if your robes were ironed nicely and if they matched your shoes," I chortled.
"Hey, that's not true! Besides, who said witches can't have a sense of fashion?" she protested. "Witch Weekly just published an article on the latest trends for the new school year and-"
"-and cue Gwen zoning out," I interjected, smirking as Rose huffed. "Witch Weekly is a load of rubbish if you ask me. You ought to read more textbooks if you've got so much time on your hands."
I drifted back to my room, grabbing my wand from its place on my nightstand and stuffing it into my trunk. Rose sauntered in behind me, about to chew me out for criticizing her favorite source of all-things-glamour when the doorbell rang.
"Merlin's beard, how are they here already?" The sound of muffled greetings filled the air as I flew around the room, the Ravenclaw in me mentally going through a check-list and trying to remember if I had forgotten anything of importance.
"Didn't you already triple check everything last night?" Rose said.
"You can't ever be too sure," I shot back, rummaging through the contents of my trunk one last time before my eyes widened in realization. "Raven!"
I made a mad dash out the door, looking for any telltale signs of the furry black creature. I could've sworn she had fallen asleep on my bed... "I forgot to pack Raven!"
"Gwen, you don't pack cats." Rose murmured as she joined me in my search.
"Details!"
I sprinted my way through the upper levels of the house, still no Raven in sight. I reached the stairs and tumbled down the steps, panting as I tripped over my own feet and holy hippogriffs, I should've held onto the railing.
I braced myself for the impact, praying that the floor would have mercy on me and-
I spluttered as my cheek landed against something soft and warm, quite unlike the wood that carpeted the Weasleys' foyer. A mixture of sage and amber evaded my nose and I had only started thinking that it was quite a lovely combination when two firm hands gripped onto my shoulders and pushed me back roughly.
"Hey, let g-" I froze mid-sentence, my face flushing as I realized the rather compromising position I was in.
A blur of black hair flashed past me and I mentally cursed myself for my clumsiness.
Please let it be James, please let it be James.
My gaze flickered up to meet the steady one of my savior, briefly taken aback by the intensity of the blazing emerald that met my stormy grey. His eyes remained unreadable and searching, the corners of them crinkling slightly.
Had they always been this pretty?
"Miss me, Mellow?" his amused voice broke through my haze and I couldn't help but sneer reflexively.
Oh sod off, Potter. Sod off.