23rd February 1994
"D'you reckon we could convince the appeals committee that Buckbeak mistook Malfoy for another Hippogriff?"
Hermione gazed up from her book with an arched brow at Ron. "I'm going to need more clarification."
In all seriousness, Ron pointed to The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology resting on his lap as he read out, "Hippogriffs, being the very prideful creatures that they are, are extremely territorial regarding their mates. More so, when they encounter another Hippogriff attempting to steal their mate, they will lash out protectively but halt once the rival has fled or is out of their territory."
"So, the point of defence you want to make is that Malfoy was threatening his mate?" Hermione asked, the corners of her lips threatening to twitch into a smile. "Does Buckbeak even have a mate to begin with?"
"A fine Hippogriff like him that can spot the bad apples? He probably has one among all those Hippogriffs that day," Ron grinned. "Besides, with Malfoy's white, feathery-looking hair and that humongous ego, I'd say it's easy to mistake him for a Hippogriff."
"Somehow, making Malfoy into a Hippogriff feels like an insult to all the Hippogriffs in the world," Willow sniffed, snuggling into the couch.
"I feel insulted on their behalf," Harry muttered, bent over his Herbology textbook with a frown.
"And I can see the appeals committee twisting this against Hagrid," Hermione interjected. "Although there have been successful cases where the magical beasts were found not guilty as the wizard had been purposefully approaching their mates, they may potentially chalk it up to Hagrid's incompetence for using mates during the lesson despite knowing how territorial they could become."
Ron frowned, scratching out a few lines on his parchment. "Shame. I was already writing down a list of similarities between Malfoy and a Hippogriff." With one final stroke across the parchment, Ron slammed the book shut. "Now that's done, I'm calling it a night. Ready to go, Harry?"
Harry shook his head, furiously scribbling across the yellowed parchment. "I'm nearly done. You go on up first."
Ron rose to his feet with a nod, wishing everyone good night while he shoved his books and stationery into his bag. Willow waved Ron goodbye as he climbed the spiralling staircase to his dormitory. She turned back to her book, finishing the last few chapters. Preparing for Hagrid's appeal was a tedious process. Ron, Hermione and Willow have read many texts, ranging from complicated law volumes regarding magical creatures to thick tomes describing Hippogriffs' behaviour in great—sometimes disturbing—detail.
Harry tried to help out whenever he could, but with Oliver—the absolute menace that he was—increasing Quidditch practice to once daily, he could barely keep up with his homework. These late nights became a common occurrence as of late, Harry painstakingly completing each of his essays despite his bruised and battered body. Ron, Hermione and Willow accompanied him, tackling their piles of books while discussing points for Hagrid to present to the appeals committee. Harry half-heartedly protested he would be fine on his own; naturally, the three ignored him.
Willow's eyes roamed through the last few pages of Douglas Burberry's Through The Eyes of a Hippogriff, scribbling anything noteworthy into her notebook. The crackling and warmth of the fireplace filled the room, chasing away the midnight chill. Just as she reached the final sentence, she heard the rustling of clothes next to her. From the corner of her eye, Hermione was fidgeting, inching closer to her on the couch while casting furtive glances in her direction.
"Out with it, Hermione," Willow said, amusement colouring her tone.
Hermione's shoulders jumped up with a start, eyes widening as large as a Quaffle. A wry smile overtook her surprise shortly after. "That obvious?"
Willow barely managed to withhold her snort. "Extremely." She closed her finished book and placed it aside, angling her body towards the brunette. "What's on your mind?"
Hermione bit her lip, hesitating briefly before she asked quietly, "Have you—have you ever thought about talking to Cedric again?"
Willow started, twitching involuntarily at the name of the person she desperately tried to get over. She turned to the fireplace, not wanting to meet Hermione's all-too-knowing gaze."I've been too busy to think about him, Hermione," She said, keeping her tone light.
"I hardly believe that's true," Hermione said gently. "You miss him."
Willow bit her bottom lip, keeping her eyes trained on the dancing red flames, starkly contrasting her turbulent emotions. Hermione was right, of course. She did miss him. She missed sitting next to him in the library. She missed talking about school work, their days and everything in between with him. She missed seeing his smile, hearing his throaty laugh. She just missed him and it astounded her how much she did.
But she couldn't see him. She shouldn't see him.
Hermione reached out and took her hands. "Willow, I think you should talk to him. I don't think he and Cho are even dating, to begin with."
Willow shook her head stubbornly. "No, the rumours—"
"You and I both know that rumours are never what they seem," Hermione objected firmly. "You've heard the gossip surrounding the end of last year. It's hardly accurate and bordering on ridiculous."
"The timing makes sense," Willow refuted. "You know that. I didn't meet him until after the first match of the season. He had known Cho since the start of the year, maybe even before that. Cho is the only person Cedric could have feelings for right now."
"Still, you don't know that for certain. Willow—"
"Hermione, please." Her voice came out strained, in a pleading voice on the verge of breaking. "Just drop it."
Hermione paused, taking a moment to watch Willow's face. She couldn't understand why Willow behaved this way but couldn't bear to push the matter any longer. She relented with a quiet sign, squeezing her friend's hands before releasing them. "Alright. But, just think about it?"
Left with nothing else, Willow managed a short nod, her eyes still on the fireplace. Hermione uttered a soft goodnight before heading up to their dormitory first. Willow closed her eyes and released a heavy sigh. Taking a moment to collect herself and her thoughts, she only realised afterwards that it was extremely silent in the common room. There were no longer sounds of a quill scratching against the coarse parchment or thoughtful grunts filling the air.
"Harry? Are you done with your essay?" Willow asked, turning towards her brother with a quickly fixed smile. Harry was still cross-legged on the soft carpet, his essay and quill were untouched on the table. Instead, he was completely preoccupied with something in his lap. Something about Harry's expression—stiff and pale–alarmed her.
"Harry?" She repeated. He remained stock-still as if he didn't hear her. "Harry, what's wrong?"
She hurriedly kneeled next to him to find him clutching the Marauders' Map, eyes trained on one spot with such intense concentration. "Harry, what—?" She followed his line of sight, her jaw dropping at what she saw.
The words 'Peter Pettigrew' scrawled in a small bubble on the map.
The Potter siblings slowly looked at each other, sharing the same expression of mute shock.
Peter Pettigrew was alive.
And he was in Hogwarts.
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"How—?"
"I don't know!"
"Do you think the map could be wrong?"
"I don't know! Your guess is as good as mine, Harry!"
Once they snapped out of their stunned stupor, it was a flurry of quiet activity. Immediately, Willow whisked the Invisibility Cloak out of Harry's bag and threw it over them before they hurried out of the portrait hole. Harry fixed his eyes on the map, watching the bubble with 'Peter Pettigrew' written inside. They kept their whispers low, not wanting to alert any prefects or the professors, possibly still patrolling the halls.
Her heart pounded with each step she took. Her thoughts were in disarray and she frantically tried to arrange it into coherency.
How could Peter Pettigrew be alive? Why is he in Hogwarts? How is he in Hogwarts?
The longer she pondered about it, the less it made sense. He died. A streetful of muggles saw him die. There was an off-chance that the map could be malfunctioning but if he was alive, then—
"Ooff!" She slammed right into Harry's back when he abruptly halted at the base of the stairs.
She stumbled back, nearly tripping on the steps. She rubbed her squished nose, hissing, "Don't just stop like that!"
"He's coming our way."
"What?!" She nearly screeched, barely remembering to keep her voice down.
"He's heading towards the second-floor corridor. C'mon!" Harry grabbed her wrist and hurried along the empty corridors.
Willow allowed herself to be dragged, too busy nursing her sore nose. Not that it did her any good when she smacked her face into his back once again as he came to another abrupt stop.
"Harry! What did I just say?" Her nose, which had been feeling better, throbbed in renewed pain.
Harry did not hear her gritted admonition. His grip on the map tightened as his eyes tracked Peter's movement. "Willow, he's around the corner."
Her head whipped towards the end of the dark corridor, the ache in her nose (barely) forgotten. She hastily pulled out her wand and muttered a soft "Lumos".
The hallway was instantly bathed with a white light. Sleepy portraits grumbled at the intrusion but Harry and Willow paid them no mind, all their attention fixed on the bend before the corridor.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Peter's bubble moving closer on the map…making the turn into the second-floor corridor and—
Nothing.
Nothing appeared. No one appeared. No stout man with a skittish smile like the one she saw in the photo stood at the end of the corridor. And yet, Peter's bubble on the map was still moving, drawing closer to their fixed position.
Willow threw her free arm out, belatedly believing he could be using a Disillusionment Charm. However, she felt nothing in that narrow corridor even as Peter's bubble walked past where they were. She saw no one. There were only the snores of the now sleeping portraits and the soft squeak of mice that scurry through the castle.
"I don't—what—" Harry frantically searched the corridor, the bafflement clear on his face.
Willow was equally stumped. Could the map be wrong? Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to believe that just yet.
Willow grabbed Harry's wrist and began to tug. "Come on. Let's trust the map and follow him first. Maybe—"
A shrill yowl interrupted her and an orange blur darted towards them. Not a moment later, the cloak was unceremoniously yanked from their heads. Before Willow and Harry could react, the cloak was already long gone with the thief.
"What the hell was that?!" Willow shrieked, her disbelief mounting.
"Crookshanks." Harry seethed, checking the map. "That blasted cat. I'm beginning to think Ron had the right idea about that furball."
"Who's there?" An authoritative feminine voice called out from around the same corner Crookshanks and allegedly Peter came from.
"Our luck just keeps getting better and better doesn't it?" Willow groaned as she pressed the heel of her free hand against her eye in frustration. Thanks to Crookshanks, the cloak was gone. Neither knew how to cast a Disillusionment Charm so that was out of the picture. There was nowhere to hide.
"Quickly Harry, hide the map!" She urged, resigned to their fates at this point. It could not get any worse.
Harry's eyes darted from the map to her face anxiously. "Uh, Willow you should know—"
"Tell me later!" She interrupted him in a panic as she heard the prefects' footsteps drawing nearer.
Harry heaved a sigh. "Just brace yourself, alright?" He wiped the map blank and stuffed it into his pockets while she extinguished her glowering wand.
The darkness was only momentary before the same bright light lit the hallway once again, this time from the female prefect poking her head out from around the corner. "What in Merlin's good name are both of you doing out here? Don't you realise it's past curfew?"
"We—"
"Willow?" An all too familiar voice had her frozen mid-sentence. Cedric appeared next to the female prefect, looking as handsome and charming as she last saw him weeks ago. Her traitorous heart thumped in equal parts longing and pain. She averted her gaze instantly, keeping them fixed to the ground.
"'Well, what are you doing out here?" The female prefect repeated, sounding a touch impatient.
"We were feeling a little peckish," Harry jumped in, sparing a worried glance at his sister. "We wanted to get some food."
Bless Harry and his quick thinking. She heard the female prefect sighing exasperatedly, appearing to accept his excuse well enough. It seemed students sneaking into the kitchens was nothing new to her.
Cedric on the other hand remained silent. Not a moment later, Willow heard footsteps and his black trainers came into view, planting directly opposite her feet. She stiffened, keeping her eyes trained on the laces of his shoes.
"Is that true, Willow?" His tone was soft, similar to that night at the library months ago. "You didn't come here trying to find something else?"
She swallowed, her throat feeling absurdly dry. She didn't dare speak so she settled for nodding in agreement.
"Are you sure?"
Something about his voice made her look up against her better judgment. His grey eyes captured hers, startling her with a torrent of emotions—pleading, longing and hurt—clashing inside. It became too overwhelming and she broke away from his intense gaze, managing a small "Yes."
She could still feel his eyes boring into the side of her head but he didn't push the matter. He stepped away and her heart lurched at the newly found distance.
"10 points from Gryffindor each," The female prefect announced with another sigh. "We'll escort the two of you back to the Gryffindor Tower so you don't—"
"If it isn't Potter and female Potter." The sneer had Harry and Willow immediately on edge, Harry in particular turning to glare at the Potions Master behind him.
Professor Snape met his glare coolly, smirking with what one could only describe as glee. Of course, Snape would take great delight in catching them breaking any rules.
"Now, why are the two of you wandering the corridors after curfew?"
The female prefect answered on their behalf. "They wanted to sneak into the kitchens for food, sir."
"Is that so?" Snape clicked his tongue in mockingly. "Apple doesn't fall far from the tree, doesn't it, Potter? Strutting arrogantly around this castle as if you own this place just like your father."
Harry nearly rose to the bait but Willow stopped him with a tight clench of his wrist. Snape's lips pursed disdainfully before commenting, "Careless as ever, Potter. Forgotten your cloak, have we? One might think you'd learned to keep it close after all these years."
The implication was loud and clear. It wasn't surprising to her that Snape knew about her dad's Invisibility Cloak and at that moment, she never felt more thankful to Crookshanks. "We weren't feeling particularly chilly tonight, sir," She answered evenly, challenging his stare.
"Sir, we've already deducted their house points. Is it alright if we escort them back to their tower?" Cedric interjected, his calm voice slightly easing the tense situation.
Snape glanced at him briefly. "Did you check their pockets, Diggory?"
Cedric blinked, startled. "What? No Professor Snape, we did not."
Snape's attention snapped back to the Potter siblings, Harry in particular. "Turn out your pockets."
Harry glared defiantly, refusing to budge. Snape's eyes blazed with anger. "Turn. Out. Your. Pockets," He repeated, his tone dangerous.
Harry begrudgingly pulled out the blank map from his pockets and Snape snatched it from his hands.
"What is this?" Snape asked, opening and examining the map inch by inch.
"Spare bit of parchment," Harry explained with a shrug, keeping his voice as casual as possible.
Willow's heart was racing. Her nails dug painfully into her palms as she clenched her hands. She was more than aware of Cedric's inquisitive gaze but forced herself to ignore him.
"Is that so?" Snape said softly. "Then it seems that there would be no consequence to—dispose of it?" He gripped the map with both hands as if to rip it in half.
"NO!" Harry yelled.
Snape's eyes gleamed triumphantly like a cat who captured its prey. "So, what secrets are concealed in this parchment? We shall see…"
He slipped out his wand from his robes and tapped the map clutched in his other hand. "Reveal your secret!"
Everyone stared at the map in Snape's hand in tense anticipation but nothing happened.
"Show yourself!" He jabbed at the map with his wand harder.
The map remained blank. Willow was on the verge of passing out.
"Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master of this school, commands you to relinquish your secrets to me!" Snape growled, nearly denting the map with his wand.
The map finally reacted as words written in blank ink began to appear, much to Harry and Willow's horror. But their terror was only the beginning.
'Mr Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally humongous nose out of other people's business.'
'Mr Prongs agrees with Mr Moony and adds that Professor Snape is an ugly git.'
'Mr Padfoot extends his pity, wondering how someone so stupid could become a professor.'
Everyone in the vicinity froze, flabbergasted as they watched the messages appear on the map. But it still had one last thing to say.
'Mr Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day and hopes that he will finally wash his hair, the disgusting slimeball.'
Willow braced herself.
"So…" Snape muttered quietly, his eyes cold. "This is how you want to play it…We'll see about this…"
"Potter and female Potter! Follow me!" He barked, his robes flaring out behind him as he began to walk off. He halted abruptly as though he remembered something and turned towards the prefects. "Diggory, Stevens. I trust you will keep your mouth shut about what transpired here."
"Y-yes, sir," The female prefect stammered, still reeling from what happened.
Willow happened to catch Cedric's eyes one last time before Harry pulled her away.
Harry and Willow trailed behind Snape, following him into the faculty tower with trepidation. They were plenty confused the moment they stepped into the professors' sleeping quarters but their bewilderment only reached new heights when Snape rudely barged into a room—not even bothering to knock—to reveal Remus sitting inside.
Remus' head shot up with a start. He stood up from his desk, brows furrowing when he spotted Willow and Harry behind the Potions Professor. "Severus, to what do I owe this—"
Snape smacked the map—the words still written plainly for all to see on the otherwise empty parchment—at the centre of his desk. An odd expression crossed Remus' face at the sight of it.
"I caught the two Potters gallivanting the corridors after curfew and the male Potter was carrying this curious artefact in his pockets," Snape seethed.
It was difficult to wrap her head around what was happening. All she could do was watch Remus as he continued staring at the map with that strange look.
"Well?" Snape pressed Remus but her godfather remained silent. She could almost see the gears turning in his head.
"Well?" Snape repeated. "As the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, you can tell this parchment is heavily imbued with Dark Magic. Now where do you think the male Potter obtained such a thing?"
Remus finally looked up and his eyes met hers for a sliver of a moment, as though warning them to stay silent.
"Full Dark Magic, you say?" Remus said. "It looks to be a childish prank to me, spitting out insults to anyone who attempts to read it. Nothing dangerous about this, I assure you, Severus. I'd wager that it's from a joke shop—"
"'A joke shop'?" Snape scoffed, nostrils flaring in fury. He jabbed his index finger onto the parchment. "I've never seen a joke shop selling such atrocities. Are you certain he didn't receive it directly from the manufacturers?"
Snape seemed to be implying something that went flying above her head. However, there was just something in Remus' expression that gave her pause.
Remus' brows drew together, giving the impression of confusion. "Do you mean Mr Wormtail and these other men? I doubt Harry knows these people. Do you, Harry?"
"No, sir. Not at all," Harry replied quickly. "Ron gave it to me when he bought it from Zonko's ages ago."
Remus clapped his hands together with a cheerful grin. "Well, that settles that, don't you think? I'll take this"—Remus folded the map and tucked it inside his robes—"and escort the Potter siblings back to their dormitory. It is rather late after all. Excuse us, Severus. You know the way out—"
Willow valued her life too much to risk a glance at Snape. Remus herded her and Harry out of his quarters and the faculty tower. It was only when they were at the 3rd-floor corridor did Harry turned to Remus.
"Remus, I–"
"Nope," Remus interrupted. "Don't try and explain your way out of this. I cannot believe you…the two of you. I am aware of the fact that this map was confiscated by Filch years back. It astounds me that it ended up in your hands. Would you care to explain that?"
"Wait, you know?" Willow said in amazement. "You know that this is a map? How?"
"Yes, I do," Remus said. "I…knew the people who made it."
"Is that why Snape thought I'd got it from the manufacturers?" Harry asked. "Were you close with them?"
"We've met a handful of times," Remus said shortly but again, his expression felt strange for some reason.
"They must've been a smart bunch," She commented, carefully watching his face.
Harry snorted. "Not smart enough, after what we saw tonight."
Remus looked sharply at Harry. "What do you mean?"
"Earlier on, it showed someone who we knew was dead roaming the castle."
"Who?"
"Peter Pettigrew."
Remus' poker face finally cracked at the name of his deceased friend. "That's not possible…"
Harry shrugged. "It's what we saw. Maybe it became defective somehow."
Remus was oddly pensive but his mild expression slid back into place as they neared the Fat Lady's portrait. "No matter. I'm not letting you have this back. Now hurry up and—"
"What are you hiding from us?" Willow blurted, halting Remus in his tracks.
"What are you talking about, Willow? I'm not hiding anything from you," Remus said placatingly but it made her more annoyed.
"You've been hiding something since the day we told you that Black was after Scabbers," She pointed out, fighting to keep her voice calm. "You know why he is after Scabbers. I know you know. But you refuse to tell us anything about it."
"Willow—"
"You're doing the same thing right now. You know more than you're letting on—about the creators of the map, Peter Pettigrew's appearance on the map—but you refuse to say anything." She clenched her fists in pure frustration. Perhaps if it was any other day, she'd be able to ask more dignifiedly. However, the past few weeks had been emotionally taxing on her, from desperately analysing mountains of books to constantly avoiding her feelings and Cedric.
Remus looked pained. "Willow, I—" His throat bobbed as he tried to find the words. "All I want is to keep you safe. The last thing James and Lily would have wanted—"
"Do. Not. Bring my parents into this." Her voice quivered with—Rage? Frustration? She wasn't sure. All she knew was Remus still refused to admit a single thing.
"You promised that you were going to do better," She choked out, bordering on pleading. Please, talk to me. "You promised you weren't going to hide anything from us."
With the promises he made thrown into his face, Remus stood there helplessly. And yet, he still won't reveal anything.
"I see," Willow whispered, moving away from her godfather.
"Willow, wait—" He reached out his hand but she side-stepped it easily.
"I apologise for today, Professor Lupin," She said monotonously. "We won't venture out any more than we should. Good night, sir."
She pulled Harry through the portrait hole, letting the door slam close behind her, cutting off the calls of their names.
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24th February 1994
Another boring Care of Magical Creatures lesson on feeding Flobberworms came the following morning. Willow's mood was not the greatest but she pushed it aside. With the heightened security measures, meeting Hagrid in their leisure time was impossible. The lessons, albeit admittedly redundant, allowed them to talk to Hagrid. It had been weeks since the verdict but he was still grappling with the outcome, making him more emotional than usual.
Hermione pushed a sheath of parchment into Hagrid's arms. "Here are some of our notes for the appeal, Hagrid."
His smile—more like an attempt to—was wobbly at best. "Thanks, Hermione. All of yeh but the Committee is in Lucius Malfoy's pocket. S'was obvious from how they followed exac'ly what he told them the trial…"
"Don't give up just yet, Hagrid!" Ron exclaimed fiercely. "All of us are working on the appeal! Keep your chin up!"
They were returning to the castle with the rest of the class. Up ahead, Willow spotted Malfoy and his two cronies constantly looking back at them with gloating smirks.
Hagrid shook his massive head sadly as they neared the castle steps. "S' no good, Ron. S' best I prepare for the w-worst. Beaky should be livin' the rest of his time the happiest he can be. S' the leas' I can d-do—" His lips wobbled and fat tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. He buried his face and ran off back to his cabin, the sounds of his heart-wrenching sobs trailing off in the distance.
"What a pathetic excuse of a professor!" Malfoy exclaimed, standing before the opened castle doors with Crabbe and Goyle. "It's a wonder how someone so pitiful could have ever entered Hogwarts in the first place!"
Something inside Willow snapped. Her feet moved faster than her mind could catch up and—SMACK!
Her hand stung furiously but the red swelling on Malfoy's cheek filled her with a deep satisfaction. "Never call Hagrid pathetic, you overgrown twat. The only pathetic one around here is you."
"How dare you—!" Malfoy darted forward, his outreached hand moving towards her but before she could react, Hermione appeared in front of her and she socked him straight in the face. Malfoy stumbled back into the flabbergasted Crabbe and Goyle, clutching his right eye. "You filthy—"
Willow, Ron and Harry were equally stunned, staring at the enraged Hermione with gaping mouths. "I dare you to make another move or say something stupid, Malfoy. I just dare you."
She pulled up her wand in a warning. Fear filled Malfoy's uninjured eye. Crabbe and Goyle stood next to him uselessly, waiting for directions.
"Let's go," Malfoy muttered defeatedly and the three of them disappeared into the passageway leading to the dungeons.
"That was bloody brilliant!" Ron sputtered in equal parts awe and astonishment.
"Are the two of you alright?" Harry asked, coming over to examine Willow's hand.
"Right as rain," She said, gingerly clenching and unclenching her hand. It was still stinging but the pain was bearable and she could still move her hand. "Hermione?"
"Nothing a few spells can't fix," Hermione said dismissively, inspecting her own hand. "Harry?"
Harry looked up cautiously. "Yes, Hermione?"
"You'd better beat him in the Quidditch final. Make him sob like a little girl. I simply can't stand it if Slytherin wins because of him!"
That cracked a smile on his face. "You can bet on that, Hermione."
Hermione nodded gravely. "Excellent." She glanced at her wristwatch and gasped. "Good grief, we're late for Charms!" She grabbed Willow and Harry's hands in her right hand and Ron's wrist in her bruised one and began tugging them towards the Charms classroom. "Professor Flitwick mentioned the last lesson we'll be learning Cheering Charms today! He even hinted they might come up for our exams! Stupid Malfoy and his—"
The quartet were in such a rush to reach Charms that they never noticed the stares from their small group of spectators.
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"Ow…" Willow winced, carefully stretching her fingers. No one ever mentioned how painful the aftermath would be on their hand after slapping someone with all their strength. Her hand was still sore and there was a small cut on her palm she hadn't noticed before. Hermione's hand was no better, her knuckles beginning to bruise during lunchtime.
But no matter their pain, Malfoy had it much worse. She didn't see him during lunch time but she didn't doubt he was hiding. His humongous ego wouldn't let him tell anyone he was slapped and punched by two girls, one of them being a Muggleborn he so despised, even if he needed treatment.
Willow suppressed a giggle as she entered the library. Harry and Ron were at Divination and Hermione was at Arithmancy. She was free until Ancient Runes in the evening. She figured there was no better way to pass the time than to work on Hagrid's appeal. She headed to the Care of Magical Creatures shelves and browsed through the Hippogriff section, picking out a book she hadn't read before.
"Willow."
She froze, nearly dropping the book in shock. He shouldn't be here. She knew he had Herbology at this time which was why she came to the library. There was no way—
"Willow, please look at me."
Sweet Merlin, she could almost feel his body heat. After yesterday's encounter, she was still feeling extremely unsettled. Every un-Gryffindor nerve in her body urged her to run away but there was only one exit and he was blocking it. Silence fell between the two of them before she hesitantly turned around to meet those grey eyes she had sorely missed.
"Cedric."