Platonia

Chapter 4

xenization – n. the act of existing as a stranger

The first few nights had been hard. At first there had been times she had vomited at night, from nightmares that had plagued her sleep, of food she should have not eaten or because of remembering the things she had witnesse. Her insomnia had only worsened and her demons had followed her through time and space to torture her. Then there was the fact that she felt like a stranger at a place that was supposed to feel like home. She didn't belong here, didn't belong to this school, should have never been a part of this and she felt this constant tug at her skin, her magic and the scripts on her body urging her to be used. Because her life was not linear anymore. Her body, her soul, have stitched themselves into the everflow of life and with this came the feeling of forever feeling like a stranger. It didn't matter where she was or whom she was with. Weronika always ignored the tugging urge of her magic, her wand sometimes acting out and spurting out sparkles of sizzling light. But she couldn't leave. There was a reason for her presence and she knew why she was here, knew her purpose but at the same time didn't know any… anything, really. Everything had happened so fast and now she was here and now… what? What should she do? Sometimes she thought about just restarting her life. Just… living in the moment. At the Here and Now. Just letting her past behind her and taking up this chance at building a new identity and carving out a new life. And then she remembered his face, the pain in his eyes, remembered her tears, the scars on her soul, and remembered all her friends – her family – and came to the realization that she would never be able to betray them like this. Not that it would be possible to begin with with Grindelwald and Hitler slowly getting more and more power throughout the world, and owing a debt she had to repay at some point.

And if she was being honest with herself it felt otherwordly, being here, in this Hogwarts that wasn't her own, but at the same time was now a part of her life. Everything was and felt different but the same. She knew the halls, had been here before, in another life, a happier life. Before everything turned to shit.

Praying helped with the anguish she felt even though she had never been overly religious. Maybe at the beginning, praying every morning and every evening as she had been taught from an early age. The older she had gotten the harder it had been for her to believe in this invisible being. She believed less and less, and started to believe in her own Gods and Demons. At least not like the typical polish girl. Her mother had believed strongly in God, had believed in heaven and hell, and sins and purgatory, and had even said that Christmas was more important than her own childrens birthday. Because what was her birthday if not only a small drop, when the birth of Gods son was the ocean? Naturally it had hurt her. Then it had become worse. Her mother had started to go to church nearly every day, had started to buy things that were clearly just frauds, and had started to say things that were so outreagous that her mother had changed into a stranger. Her step-father, being an evangelist, played along with it, and whenever she and her mother were fighting he would jump into the fight and took the side her mother (of course, OF COURSE he would) and she would hear things that hurt so much her heart would bleed from old scars and new wounds. On such days, when she lied in bed at night, she had fallen asleep crying and hugging her soft toy. Being Czoch most time of the year had been a blessing.

After years of hurt and abuse she had stopped caring about her birthday and came to accept – no, not accept, but resigend to - the fact that she would never be as important to her mother as God or Jesus or the Holy Spirit.

Although, there were happy memories too. Going to church and listening to the choirs, to the music, being sucked into another world, as if she had stepped into Narnia, a magical realm all on its own. The kindness of strangers, children being celebrated and then her own prayers, secret wishes and wants and desires that only God knew about, clutching the golden pendant of her necklace in a tight grip. It was calming praying every evening as she lay awake in her bed, the privacy of her prayers helping with her anxiety. Even if the bigger part of her self had stopped believing in God a long time ago. Because God was dead.

Then the other students returned. It came as a surprise to her fellow Slytherins that she was here, a new girl, a new student. Ramona and Olive were especially excited about their new roommate. All of them were excited, asked her questions and smiled at her, while through all of this Weronika hated the attention. She wanted to be left alone, wanted to hide behind Tom, who was standing beside her, but remembered they needed to keep some distance. Not because she was afraid to fall in love with him, which was a ridiculous idea, but because she didn't want to depend on him. She wanted to be independent and strong as her loathing towards herself only worsened with every cowardly decision she had made. Which was way she was here, standing beside him, and trying to carve out a new identity in this strange world that was different but so much like the world she had left behind. Even if she felt like a stranger in her own skin, her body and magic not her own anymore.

Regardless her notions and musings she couldn't help herself and stepped more onto him as she had been in a conversation about runes and old scripts when the students had started to swarm into the common room. Without realising it, nor wanting to, she looked for the sense of safety by being in close proximity with him; so she put her hand on his arm, pressed her body slightly against his own as if she was trying to shield herself from all these teenagers and the unwanted attention she was being presented with now. Minutes passed and people rambled and talked and shared their experiences while her anxiety grew with every passing second. At some point Tom must have realized her discomfort.

„Enough.", instantly the conversation came to a halt and all the eyes were pointed at him. The authority in his voice was so commanding the students surrounding them had even stopped moving. He released her grip on his arm and put his hand on the small of her back: „Miss Kucharska and I have a few things to talk about. I would be grateful if you would give us some space." That was all it took before the students took off and left them alone, here and there a word of encouragement and greetings, some people stating they had missed Tom. When they were finally alone he put some distance between them and Weronika… Wernika blushed in emberrassment: „…thank you."

At that he looked down at her but she hugged herself and stared down on the floor. She didn't like all the attention, her heart racing and the tightness in her chest making it hard for her to breath.

„You're welcome."

After that Weronika tried to keep to herself. Which was easier said than done because the Slytherins sought her out and actively looked for her. Never had she hated attention as much as she did at the moment. She was a broken person, but only now did she recognize how broken she truly was. At some point she had fled the common room to the shared dorm room and went inside the bathroom to hide her panic attack. Breathing was getting harder and harder and it felt as if a ton was pressing down on her lungs. Tears were burning in her eyes without falling and she just felt as if she was fucking dying. Quietly she used the tricks she had learned throughout her life, counted backwards from ten, hummed a song, or used her senses by distracting herself from her inner anguish and instead focusing on the feel of the floor underneath cold fingers or the smell of water and lake in her nose or the feel of her teeth under her tongue.

Then there were Olive Hornby and Ramona Zabini. The two girls loved having another girl by their side and they shared the gossip with her, asked her about being alone with Tom, but Weronika tried to keep to herself. Only the two girls wouldn't let her. One night, only few days after the arrival of the other students, when a nightmare was torturing her, they found out. As soon as Weronikas eyes had snapped open she had seen Olives worried face hovering above her own. A gasp left her mouth and she felt her body tremble and twitch, her muscles having a life of their own and her nerve endings buzzing with the need to survive. She had nearly jumped out of the bed, but the two bodies beside her made her press herself against the end of the bed instead.

„Niki, it's alright… hush…", Olive carefully reached out to her and softly stroked her hair as Ramona sat beside them in Weronikas bed. Ramona was reaching out to her as well, took her hand into her own and holding on to her hand as the pureblood witches shared worried glances with each other. Tears were streaming down Weronikas cheeks leaving a salty taste on her lips and she couldn't stop herself, couldn't help herself, when sobs were wrecking her body painfully.

It took some time until she had finally calmed down enough.

„Do you… have them often?", Ramonas soft voice, ladden with her mild italian accent, broke the silence and sniffling Weronika nodded. „It's alright, you know? To have nightmares. To cry."

„Ramona's right, you know?", Olive hadn't let go of her, neither had Ramona. Weronikas response only ended in more tears, having missed the caring touch of another human being.

She didn't remember when she fell asleep. Then the days merged into weeks until the first month of the year was ending.

Students were buzzing with excitement about the nearing Quidditch match. Ravenclaw versus Slytherin. Bets were exchanged and words of encouragement to the rivaling teams. Weronika wasn't particularly interested in Quidditch, had never been, and she wasn't a fan of getting onto a broom either. She had nothing against flying per se, but on a broom? No, thank you. She just felt uncomfortable on one. But when she found out that charming Tom Riddle was also a team member of the Quidditch team she developed a new found interest in the sport.

In the little time she had been here and observed him she had found out that he liked being alone, that he was nice and charming to everyone, that he was attentive and never raised his voice. He just seemed like the steretypical popular teenage boy. There was nothing wrong with him. Nothing. He laughed with the other students, joked around and he smiled. All the time she had thought the only thing he was interested in would be his academics and magic. But the more she thought about it the more his popularity made sense. Quidditch was a beloved sport and many students attended the games. Not only was it well liked at school but also throughout the world. Being a part of a Quidditch team in an institution like Hogwarts would gain some points, more so if one was already as handsome and charming as Tom Riddle.

So, now she found herself at the Quidditch field, standing in the cold and observing Tom flying on a broom and discussing strategies with his teammates. At first no one realized she was watching, as other students were watching, too. Mostly fangirls giggling and making heart eyes at Tom. She couldn't really blame them. If she had been at Hogwarts from the very beginning and had grown up with him through their teenage years she probably would have fallen in love with him, too. Or at least would have had a little crush on him. But she hadn't been here since first year and only arrived in December after Christmas. And the possibility of her falling in love was minimal. Tom was captivating and, yes, she had to be honest with herself. Because he was incredibly alluring. It was alluring watching him, observing him, and trying to find out the riddle that he was. Heh… Riddle. She had to snicker to herself at that.

During her stay here their relationship had been… strange, to say the least. He had taken care of her, showed her around and had helped her with homework and lessons. He had been attentive and forthcoming, he also had been instructed to have an eye on her health, and reminded her more often than not when it was time for one of her appointments at the hospital wing. He was strangely caring. But maybe that was all just an act. Because now, after the holidyas had ended he had put some more distance between them. It didn't matter that he had warned her he wouldn't have as much time for her anymore, she ignored that particular fact, because honestly? She was saddened by the distance he put between them. Which was really fucking great.

„Weronika?", she came out of her musings and looked up at him as he was walking towards her, broom in hand. She hadn't payed attention and he probably had spotted her standing on the sidelines. There was a scowl on his handsome face and she already knew he was not happy about her presence.

„What are you doing here? You shouldn't be outside, your health-„ „Yes, yes, I know.", she rolled her eyes at him and she saw his jaw tensing. No one really ever interrupted him, which was one of the many things she had observed. Students respected him to the point of him not being just some kind of student. Some respected him even more than they did most of the teachers. A very selected group had even shown fear towards him, which had at first confused her but at some point made her understand how much influence he truly held in this school. No one dared to oppose him, and that included interrupting him. Which she had just done. And she had always liked playing with fire and stucking her nose in things that had nothing to do with her, didn't she? How did the saying go? Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back. He probably didn't like how she could get noisy and ask question that really were no business of her. But she had warned him hadn't she? She had poor impulse control!

„But I didn't know you were part of the Quidditch team until now so… I got curious.", she shrugged at that and hid her cold hands in the depth of her pockets, „I wanted to see you play, I guess." Weronika heard him sigh and she looked up at him.

„I am responsible for you.", he told her with a tone she couldn't quite grasp. For a moment he seemed to be surprised at himself before he masked his expression into a perfect mask no one could breach. She only shrugged again: „Well… yeah… but I don't think you have to be responsible for me for the rest of the school year. I'm fine, really. My wounds have healed and I have gained some weight. You don't have to look after me anymore, really. Not that you have looked after me much lately, but still…"

He raised his hand and rubbed his fingers along his jaw as he was mulling over her words in his head. In a way, she was right. However, she was still an enigma to him, something he had no control over. Because he still wasn't able to read her mind. Of course he had researched as much as possible but he just couldn't find anything. Why couldn't he look into the depths of her mind? He did it all the time to other people, most of the time to unassuming students, which is how he had been able to become as popular as he was. Well, partly. Being handsome helped a lot in that regard.

Weronik, however, had the sudden urge to be petty. And then it came to her. A bludgher could have as well hit her in the head, because Oh. Her feelings were hurt. She felt as if he had just thrown her aside. He made her feel like a nuisance, but maybe it was all in her head? It might be. She had never been that good at knowing peoples true intentions, always assuming the worst while at the same time believing naivly into the goodness of people. She was a person full of contradictions. At least she had been like that. Her friends, she had left behind, had helped a lot in shaping the person she was today. They taught her the ways of reading intentions and trusting her gut.

She dropped her gaze and as he stepped towards her she saw his shoes. They were wet and full of snow, but clean and looked after. He took care of his things and was always organized. The complete opposite of her. Everything she touched became a chaotic mess and she was envious of him being able to stay tidy. Weronika wished she could be as organized and tidy as he was, but she knew that was only wishful thinking.

„I told you I wouldn't have much time for you."

She nodded at that but didn't answer him. And then she wondered about herself. What did she want to accomplish? Just because he had been nice to her, more patient than anyone before him, it didn't mean she had any claim over him. It was ridiculous, really. Blood rushed to her cheeks as shame made her eyes burn.

„…sorry. I'll… I'll leave you alone.", without looking at him she turned around and left him standing there. His eyes burned a hole through her back as she fled his overbearing presence. She stepped inside Hogwarst halls and lost herself in thought as she wandered aimlessly, trying to reflect on her choices and the life she was living now.

With a gulp she stopped walking. She really was a fool.

Following him to the Quidditch ground, observing him on his broom, looking at him with some sort of adoration as a few strands of wet hair had fallen into his forehead, and just being her awkward self. And it really was unfair how goodlooking he was. No wonder all the girls (and few boys) were lusting after him. Alright, she had to admit she was one of those girls too, imganing what it would be like if she were more intimate with him. Weronika shook her head and proceeded her walk. A list, she thought to herself, is what I need. A pro and contra list, everything that would help ease her mind and order her thoughts. One thing that she definetly needed to do was to put some distance between Tom and herself, not physical but emotional distance. Maybe she should befriend other people. But what she needed the most at the moment was a place to stay, a place were she could hide from Tom, from Olive and Ramona, from Dumbledore, from everyone. A place that would feel like safety and comfort. A place she could call truly home.

From the corner of her eyes she saw a strange movement and when she looked up a door started to appear in the wall. Wary of any witnesses she looked around but she was alone. Licking her lips she decided to find out what the school wanted to show her and so she reached out her hand and opened the magical door. As she stepped inside the room her eyes widdened at the interior of the place, her heart quickening in her chest.

„Niesamowite…", the word left her mouth in wonder and the door behind her fell closed as she stepped further into it.

It was dark outside when she stepped back into the common room. Some of Tom closest friends stood with him and they were talking with each other. One must have told some kind of joke as they either laughed or smiled or chuckled. Walburga was pressed against Tom on the armchair. They looked like a couple. As soon as Tom discovered her arrival he dropped the conversation and before she knew it he was walking towards her. The smile had left his face, instead he seemed quite unhappy. With her? When he came to a halt before her he crossed his arms across his broad chest and his eyes burned with anger.

„What?", had she done something wrong? No, not really, she quickly deduced. She had just fled a shameful situation she had put herself into. Tom probably hadn't expected her reaction to his anger and she saw the tensing of his jaw. This little habit always happened when he wasn't happy with something, or when he was angry; one of his habits she had picked up on.

„Where have you been?", he asked her and for am moment he reminded her of a overprotective father. She rolled her eyes at him as she had done hours ago when they had met on the Quidditch field: „Dancing werewolves, kissing dementors, the ususal. Why?" Oh, she should not have said that. Because he really had not liked that. Before she knew what was happning he grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the common room. Probably for a more private place were they could discuss why he was so angry with her. And probably to murder her and hide her body. It did seem like a plausible possibilty of him murdering her in cold blood. His minions would probably hide the body, too.

Weronika let him drag her behind him until he stopped before the empty potions classroom. Slughorn had already went to his own chambers for the night. He pulled her into the room before he followed her inside it. He closed the door behind him before he leaned against the door fram, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

Neither raised their voices. The silence stretched into something she couldn't understand. His eyes didn't leave her face as she shuffled her feet awkwardly and compeltly out of her element. He made her feel as if she was a little girl. Weronika dropped her gaze, again, and was quite fascinated by the stone pattern on the floor. She started to draw the pattern, following it with the tip of her shoe.

Minutes passed, and then a sigh. Without looking up she knew he had pushed himself from the door frame as his steps echoued in the silence they had created. He stopped before her and she had to stop redrawing the floor pattern, and still, he said nothing. What did he want from her? But then he touched her. Fingers brushed her cheek and her eyes widdened at this sweet gesture. The look on his face was not one she had expected. He looked at her as if he was calculating something, as if he couldn't figure her out. Which was ridiculous because she was so easy to read. But then she remembered a particular conversation where she had been told that no, she was not so easy to read as she liked to believe. Slytherin house was perfect for her. In more ways than one.

Slowly his palm was pressed against her cheek and she froze under his touch. She had stopped breathing and he seemed to be deep in thought. Well, it didn't like as if she was going to get murdered any time soon. The words escaped her as she opened her mouth to say something, but all she could think about was how long it had been since she had been touched like this. No, scratch that. No one had ever touched her like this. She had gotten hugs and kisses but no one has ever pressed his palm against her cheek as if she was something delicate. As if he still had to figure out in which ways to approach her. But she was just a human being and not a puzzle, so why did he look at her like that?

„Tom-", before she could ask him what this was all he interrupted her: „You should be more careful." His hand left her skin and he dropped it to his side as his eyes focused on her face.

„You are still recovering.", he told her, „Professor Slughorn reminded me today that, as Prefect, you fall under my responsibilty. We share all the classes together, so it's easier for me than for any teachers to look after you. And when you just disappeared… I got worried. I tried to look for you but you were nowhere. No one had seen you after our meeting outside. You are my duty, Weronika. And I take my duties very seriously."

„Oh, fuck off Tom!", the venom she was spewing was something she wasn't able to control, and neither of them would have been able to predict her reaction, „I survived forbidden magic, survived the fucking Nazis and fucking Grindelwald! So believe me when I say that I am perfectly capable of looking after myself! In Hogwarts! Because Hogwarts is the safest fucking place to be! And I am NOT your duty! I am not just… some homewor! I am not… not some essays to write or book to read. So, don't bullshit me. You were worried about me? Fine! Then tell me so! But don't try to spew this… this bullshit! Don't act as if you really cared about me. Because you only care about your reputation."

His fingers twitched at her words. He wanted to grab her, to scream at her, but he refrained himself. Control was something he needed, craved even, in all aspects of his life; more so when it came to emotions of anger and rage. Then he aksed himself: Was he worried about her? No, it wasn't worry. It was about getting more information out of her. And forbidden magic? Grindelwald? Had she met the man? She held more secrets than he had first expected, because there had to be a reason for his inabilty to access into her mind. The little outburst also wasn't something he had expected. In all those days he had known her she had never seemed like the angry type. As if she had no energy left to get angry. In all the time he had known and observed her she had always seemed timid, small and shy. Never angry.

While Tom was trying to think of the correct way to react Weronika was shocked. Awestruck. Flabbergasted. Because she had just now yelled at Tom Riddle, the guy who had been by her side since she had arrived. Oh god. Tears sprang to her eyes and shame bubbled inside her core. Now angry at herself she wiped the first tears with the back of her hand.

„…you are wrong.", Tom quietly whispered and slowly approached her as if she was a scared animal he didn't want to scare. In a way she was. She felt like prey, like a victim and she hated it. She didn't want to hide anymore, didn't want to fall into the dangers and comfort of blaming everyone else. She needed to take responsibilty for all her actions, she knew that. More tears spilled over and the next thing she knew a sob was leaving her body and a warm body embracing her.

Weronika found out another thing about Tom Riddle as she cried in his arms. He was good at comforting people in distress.

Neither knew how long they stayed in the potions classroom, but when her tears were mostly dry and her anger had left her body she pulled away from her. His arms let go of her and fell to his sides. His embrace had never been crushing or painful, but warm and soft in a way that reminded her of sunshine on a warm spring day.

„Sorry…", she mumbled, smiling shyly and feeling incredibly awkward.

Tom just waved it off, worry still etched onto his features: „It's quite alright. But, are you feeling better?"

Shyly she nodded and stared at the wet spot on his clothing her crying and sobbing had left: „Yeah, thanks… but… I do feel a little hungry."

„No wonder, you were absent at dinner. You shouldn't skip any meals.", the worried look she had started to know so well passed his feature and, again, she nodded, as he waved his hand without much thought removing the stain her tears had left on his clothing.

„… you're right. And… I do feel a little weak…", she tugged at the sleeves of uniform as she felt the exhaustion deep in her body. Which was strange, because hadn't she relaxed just an hour earlier? Apparently, not really. Holding control on her emotions, on her magic, her body, was so fucking exhausting.

Suddenly her hand was grabbed and Tom started to pull her towards the door: „Tom!"

„You're hungry, right?", he threw her a disarming smile over his shoulder and any protest she might have had left her body. Stupid handsome teenage boys with their stupid pretty smiles.

Weronika should have expected his decision of bringing her to the kitchens. The house elves happily gave her a late dinner, and at first she thought Tom would leave her, but instead he stayed with her, drank some tea while they kept their silence. It wasn't uncomfortable though. It was the kind of silence one held when reading books with strangers in a library. Only, Tom and her weren't strangers. School buddys? Maybe friends. But Wernoika didn't ask and kept her silence while she ate her meal. After that he walked her to the dorms until they had to part ways. They told their good nights, Weronika went to the bathroom for a hot shower and when she went to bed she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She dreamed of nothing.

Of course they had won. Having a strategist like Tom was a huge advantage full on its own. She hadn't watched the game, but she was present as the students came back from the match, howling and cheering, Tom amidst them grinning a triumphant grin. Never had she seen him as relaxed as he was now. Maybe this was a good opportunity? Decision made she tried to make it through the crowd which was easier said than done but when she had reached him Walburga Black was hanging on his arm and looking at him as if he had hung the stars at the sky. A person had to be blind not to see the adoration Walburga held for the Slytherin Prefect. And most of the time he let her cling to him.

„Tom!", when Weronika reached him she smiled brightly at him and he turned his gaze towards her. She tried to forget their last conversation and simply decided to ignore it altogether. He was smiling at her, which was a win in Weronikas book. His smile never wavered, too, but Walburga? She looked at her as if she had bitten into a lemon when Weronika had came tot hem.

„Congratulations!", Weronika pushed away a few strands of her hair, „I wasn't at the game, but…" She gestured towards the crowd and grinned: „I can guess our team has won this match. So… congrats."

„Thank you.", he nodded at her and their eyes met. Her smile softened. He really was just a teenage boy enjoying his life. It was unfair of her depending on him as she had done from the beginning. He really could have a great future ahead of him and with his intelligence and talents he could do so many things. Maybe - and she knew this was hopelessly naive – she could help him. Because she liked him. As a friend. Even if he already had all those friends surrounding him. Yes, Weronika really wanted to be his friend.

There was nothing more to say, no more words to exchange as she felt the shift of the atmosphere turning into something awkward. Walburgas gaze felt like acid.

„So… I'll… be going now.", she started to go backwards and she raised her hands, a grin growing on her lips, her eyes twinkling through the glasses as she fingergunned the couple, „Have fun." Suddenly hot emberrassment washed through her and she blushed furiously. She fled the scene instnatly. Because, fingerguns? Really? Had she not fled the scene in emberrassment of her own actions she might have seen the amusement in his eyes.

As the celebrations continued she left the common room, hugging herself, and a fierce blush still adoring her cheeks. She still couldn't get over the fact that she had fingergunned Tom fucking Riddle. She groaned as the scene played before her eyes over and over again, her feet carrying her towards the library. She knew she wouldn't be able to look into his eyes ever again. He probably was confused, but… did wizards acutally knew about guns? Well, Tom must know. Him, growing up in muggle London and all, knowing about it because of Olives and Ramonas gossiping. Deep in thought and emberrassment she didn't watch which way she was going and suddenly she collided with a hard body.

„Uff.", she stumbled backwards, nearly fell, but quickly a rough hand grabbed her arm and then she was looking at the tallest student she had ever seen. Slowly she realized that despite his size he looked more like a young kid.

„Sorry…", he let go of her when he was sure she wouldn't lose her balance, „Wasn't looking were I was goin'…"

„Oh, it's-it's fine, really.", she blinked up at him and it became clear he was a Gryffindor student, red and golden colours adoring his uniform, and before she could stop herself she introduced herself, „The name's Niki by the way. And I wasn't exacty looking were I was going either, soo…" She shrugged her shoulders and was rewarded with a shy smile.

„Name's Hagrid.", the kid looked cute in his own kind of way and she felt her motherly instincts crying out for him.

„You're huge.", she told him out of nowhere – poor impulse control – and she saw how he suddenly tried to be smaller, shrugging and pulling up his shoulders, leaning his head forward; and then he was mumbling an apology. Weronika frowned: „Why are you apologizing?"

Now he seemed genuinely surprised: „Because… I'm huge? A-An' scary?" She scoffed at that: „You don't seem scary to me."

„…I'mma half giant.", he explained as if that would say everything, as if that was reason enough to be scared of him and she tipped her head side ways: „Do you want me to be scared of you?" Now, that question surprised him.

„…no?", he seemed so unsure and shy and pure she wanted to protect him even more, if that was possible.

She giggled: „Are you asking me?"

„…no."

„You're cute.", she told him with another giggle and he probably had never met a person like her before, but experience had made her tolerant in many things. Growing up as a polish kid in a small bavarian town could do that to a girl.

„So, Hagrid, where are you going?"

„'was just…", he rubbed the back of his neck, his clothing barely fitting him. As she took him in some more she saw how some parts of his clothing were ripped and dirty, but he was dirty as well, as if he had rolled around in the mud. What had happened to him?

„… well, on ma way to the 'ospital Wing.", he finally confessed and she nodded: „Want me to accompany you?"

A/N: I hope you liked this chapter!

And I love reading your comments!

With time you are going to learn more about her and her reasoning. WWII was a jarring experience for her...