CenturionEon: Not stupid at all, thank you for the suggestion. Ahaha, avoiding feelings is Alex's middle name at this point. He's so oblivious which is a teenage boy trait.
The sound of the portrait door opening drew Alexander's attention away from his book on Runes. He looked up, his legs sprawled lazily over the arm of the sofa and saw Hermione storming in with a thunderous expression on her face. He blinked slowly as she neared, practically spitting anger from her nostrils. He had never seen her this furious before so a spark of curiosity emerged into his chest as he raised an eyebrow at her.
"Hermione?" he prodded inquisitively. "You're a bit early. Aren't you meant to be in Divination? What's wrong?"
"Oh! That woman!" Hermione growled.
She scowled, her face as red as the scarlet tapestries hung around the common room. She threw herself onto the armchair near him and huffed, bringing out her Charms book. Her agitation seemed to permeate the air around her. She flicked open her book with more force than necessary, her fingers gripping the pages tightly as if she wanted to rip them apart. Alexander observed her with a mixture of amusement and concern, his lips quirking into a suppressed smile. Resisting the urge to laugh outright, he adopted a more neutral expression, though his blue eyes twinkled.
"Alright, Hermione, spill," he prompted gently, leaning forward slightly. "What happened? Did Trelawney manage to predict your impending doom again?"
Hermione shot him a withering glare, her bushy eyebrows furrowing deeper in frustration. "No, it was worse than that," she seethed, her voice laced with indignation. "She called me a mundane mind, can you believe it?"
The corners of Alexander's lips twitched, threatening to break into a grin. "A mundane mind?" he repeated incredulously. "Well, that's certainly a new one. What gave her that charming assessment?"
Hermione's scowl deepened, her fingers tightening around her book. "Apparently, I wasn't 'attuned to the cosmic energies' or some nonsense like that," she retorted bitterly. "She accused me of lacking the 'intuitive insight' required for the subject. Can you imagine?"
Alexander's attempt to stifle his laughter failed miserably as he chuckled, earning another glare from Hermione. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he apologised, though the mischievous glint in his eyes remained. "It's just. . . I never thought I'd see the day when Hermione Granger was told something was too complex for her. You have to see the irony in the matter."
Hermione's cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment, her frustration evident in the way she clenched her jaw. "It's not funny!" she protested, though her tone lacked its usual conviction. "I'm failing Divination, and I can't stand it. I study and I try and try and try but it's like trying to decipher the ramblings of a lunatic."
Alexander's expression softened, his amusement giving way to sympathy as he reached out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Hey, it's okay," he reassured her gently. "Not everyone is meant to excel at Divination. Besides, I think your practical mind is one of your greatest strengths."
Hermione sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she leaned into his touch. "Thanks, Alexander," she murmured, her anger dissipating a tad.
"So, go on what did you do?"
"What?"
"Well, you must have left halfway through, right?"
Her cheeks flushed in a way that caused him to momentarily lose his train of thought. "Yes," she admitted quietly. "I walked out, but you don't understand, Alexander. If you had to deal with Professor Trelawney and her constant predictions, you'd be throwing yourself off the Astronomy Tower in no time. It's such a woolly subject if you ask me."
She huffed, and Alexander burst into laughter. He was slightly impressed, to tell the truth. First-year Hermione, a strict, upright, stickler-for-rules type of girl, would sooner die than walk out of any Professor's classroom. The girl listened to Binns attentively for Merlin's sake and took copious notes. Fondness scratched at him as he stared at her with a wide smile, wondering at how far she'd come since then. He was also surprised at how rebellious she had become lately — punching Malfoy, walking out of lessons — and wondered if perhaps she had been influenced a bit by him, Ron, and Harry. They did have a knack for getting into trouble, those two more than others.
"Well, does this mean that you're dropping Divination then?" he asked hopefully.
Hermione sighed. "Yes, I suppose I will have to. I can't go on any longer, I've given up on it."
"Good, I'm glad. One less off your plate at least." He paused and then continued with a suggestive voice. "You know what would be even better? If you dropped Muggle Studies too."
Hermione frowned, crossing her arms. "What? No, of course not, I couldn't possibly. Don't be silly, Alexander. It's an interesting subject to learn from a wizard's perspective."
Alexander sighed. Well, he couldn't win it all.
∞ ϟ 9¾
As the Easter Holidays descended upon them like a sudden spring storm, Alexander found himself buried under a mountain of studying and homework. The weight of it all pressed down on him, suffocating him like a heavy blanket on a hot day. His bed and the common room table were cluttered with textbooks, notes, and endless assignments, each one demanding his attention. He could barely breathe let alone have time for himself.
But if the majority of their year were stressed then Hermione was close to collapse. She'd be the first one present and the last one to leave the common room. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she flipped through pages of notes.
Despite his own mounting tasks, he couldn't bear to see her struggle alone. Alexander resolved to alleviate Hermione's burden as much as he could. Each evening, after spending hours grappling with his own assignments, he would seek out Hermione in the library. There, amidst the towering shelves of books and the soft glow of reading lamps, he would find her hunched over her notes, the lines of fatigue etched into her face.
Without a word, he would quietly sit opposite her, offering a reassuring smile that spoke volumes more than any words could convey. Alexander patiently quizzed Hermione. Discouraging her would only make her angrier and would have no effect, he'd come to understand. The best he could hope for was lessening her stress. He prayed the exams would quickly come and go so they could all be free from this unbearable pressure.
Sometimes, between study sessions, he would gently coax her into taking short breaks, guiding her to step outside into the crisp evening air or simply close her eyes and let her mind wander for a few precious moments. Alexander couldn't shake the feeling that Hermione was like a pressure cooker on the verge of exploding. Her dedication bordered on obsession, driving her to push herself to the brink. And yet, he couldn't fault her for it; he understood all too well the relentless pursuit of perfection that often gripped their minds — his manifested in another form, meeting his grandfather's unspoken expectations.
"Oh, I've been there, Laurent," smirked Nia. "I understand exactly what you're going through. It's fucking horrible, I won't lie."
"I know," he grumbled with exhaustion.
"Look, once the exams are over, it'll feel like living again, honestly."
"I doubt that very much at this moment."
Nia let out a sympathetic sigh. "Yeah, it's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel when you're knee-deep in this mess. But trust me, it's there. And when it finally comes, it's the sweetest relief you'll ever feel."
Alexander managed a weary smile. "I'll take your word for it. Right now, I'd settle for just a decent night's sleep."
Ron had taken over the main responsibility for Buckbeak's appeal. He was poring over enormously thick volumes when he wasn't doing his own work. Alexander joined him wherever they could and they both agreed not to let Hermione take on the obligation. She couldn't deal with another thing on her growing list — she had enough to worry about. Alexander wondered in awe how she did it sometimes. He would've plunged into insanity at this point.
∞ ϟ 9¾
The upcoming Quidditch match took precedence over the next few days. The Gryffindor-Slytherin match would take place on the first Saturday after the Easter holidays. Everyone was borderline obsessed and the atmosphere was highly-charged. Even Alexander found it hard to avoid talking about it. They were so close to winning the Cup — they just had to beat Slytherin first, but they were determined to win.
Scuffles had broken out. Alexander was caught in the middle of one such altercation as he made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. He rounded a corner only to come face to face with a Slytherin student, their eyes gleaming. Without a word, wands were drawn, and before he knew it, hexes were flying in every direction. Another time, he cursed a sixth-year student after they tried to trip him over while he was walking past. He grinned in satisfaction at the memory.
Gryffindor had never reached the final before, and Alexander shared in the eagerness to win. They had to do it this time. They were so close he could practically sense the cold metal of the Cup against his fingers. This year, nothing held them back: no points were at risk for their nightly escapades, no petrified students unexpectedly appeared (he shivered as Hermione's glassy, stone expression flashed in his mind), and there was no chance of McGonagall cancelling the match. They would see it through — if only to stop Malfoy's taunts and sneers. The ferret needed to shut his mouth and what better way than this?
Harry had the worst of it, however, as he was the seeker and the Slytherins were hoping to put him out of action before the match had even started. Harry's short stature caused him to be dwarfed by most of the upper years in the hallways, making him an easy target. Harry needed to be escorted and have bodyguards around him all the time, a fact which Alexander deemed hilarious due to Harry's disgruntlement.
Still, there were some upsides to the matter. The night before the final match was due to start Alexander made bets with the Weasley twins, soaking up the competitive atmosphere. It was the most fun he could remember having in a while as laughter trailed from his mouth. He gazed around and spotted a tense Hermione coming down from the dorms, no book in sight. He cleared his throat and broke away from the twins towards her.
"I can't fully concentrate on my work," she sighed. "Not in this environment at least."
He nodded. "Sometimes a change of scenery can do wonders, you know? The library might have some hidden spots I could sneak you into. Or we could find an empty classroom. Just someplace quiet where you can focus if you want."
Hermione hesitated, her brow furrowing in contemplation. Then, she shook her head with a heavy sigh. "As tempting as that sounds, I think my brain is beyond salvage at this point. I've been cramming so much information into it, I'm surprised it hasn't started leaking out of my ears. And I'm still so far behind."
"I think you need a distraction," he said, smiling at her in amusement. "Come."
He took her wrist and led her over to where Harry and Ron were sitting on the sofa. Harry appeared rather nervous as his face was paler than usual.
"Cheer up, Harry, you'll be fine, honest," Alexander remarked, resting his left foot on the table as he took a sip of his pumpkin juice.
"Yeah, you've got a Firebolt!" raved Ron. "We're going to win."
"We'd better," snorted Alexander. "After all the fuss you two made over that broom, you're kind of bound to win at this point." Harry appeared grave at his words, sinking deeper into the sofa.
"Alexander!" hissed Hermione, shooting him a look.
"Woah, mate, don't jinx it," frowned Ron, and Alexander raised his hands in surrender as he snickered.
The night's excitement had tired him out and Alexander fell straight into sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Suddenly, in the dead of night, he was jolted awake by a firm shake of his shoulder. Groggy and disoriented, he blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the dimly lit room. Harry stood beside his bed, his expression urgent, his emerald eyes wide with something between anxiety and determination.
"Alex, you've got to come see this," Harry whispered frantically, his voice barely above a breath.
Ron, undisturbed by the commotion, snored softly from his own bed nearby, oblivious to their voices, and Alexander envied him. Despite his drowsiness, Alexander sensed the seriousness in Harry's tone. With a sigh, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
"What is it, Harry?" Alexander muttered, his voice heavy with annoyance. "Do you know what time it is?"
"Just come with me," Harry insisted, his sense of urgency palpable.
Reluctantly, Alexander followed Harry to the open window, his mind still clouded with remnants of sleep. He peered out into the darkness, expecting to see some imminent danger or urgent message. But all he saw was the familiar silhouette of Hogwarts against the night sky, serene and undisturbed.
"It's silent out there, Harry," Alexander muttered, frustration seeping into his voice. "What are we doing?"
But before Harry could respond, Alexander watched in horror as his friend climbed onto the windowsill, his movements determined yet reckless. Panic surged through Alexander's veins as he lunged forward, grabbing Harry around the waist with desperate strength and hauling him back to his feet.
"You stupid git! What in Merlin's name are you doing?" Alexander's eyes widened, his pupils dilating in a mixture of fear and anger as he shoved Harry back forcefully. His lips drew back in a snarl as he bared his teeth, a primal instinct surfacing. The question hung in the air, charged with emotion, demanding an answer. "You could've fallen to your fucking death! Is that what you want, huh?"
Harry shook his head, his eyes still fixed on something unseen beyond the window. "I saw something, Alex," he insisted, his tone unwavering. "I swear, there was something out there. Didn't you see it?"
Frustration bubbled within Alexander as he struggled to comprehend Harry's insistence. He ran a hand through his tousled hair. "It's the middle of the fucking night, Harry," he snapped, his patience wearing thin. "You're imagining things. It was probably a bird. Let's just go back to bed. You've got a match or have you forgotten?"
With a final glare at the empty expanse beyond the window, Alexander released his grip on Harry and turned back towards his bed, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. Harry lingered for a moment longer, his gaze fixed on the night sky, before reluctantly following Alexander's lead and retreating to his own bed. As Alexander settled back beneath the covers, the adrenaline of the moment slowly began to ebb away, replaced by a lingering sense of irritation. He closed his eyes, willing himself back to sleep, determined to forget the unsettling interruption.
The next morning, neither Alexander nor Harry mentioned last night's incident. Harry had his own problems to deal with and he was more worried about the upcoming match than anything else. Alexander ensured that his friend ate well despite his protestations. Wood then ushered the rest of the team out of the Great Hall. Alexander wished Harry good luck. He spotted Nia sitting with Helen from across the Hall wearing a blazing green scarf while the blonde-haired girl placed her head on Nia's shoulder. Nia gave him a nod as he caught her eye.
Ron trembled in his seat, unable to keep still as a wide grin pulled at his lips. "I can't wait to wipe the floor with those Slytherins. I wouldn't be able to stand it if Malfoy won. I won't have it."
"You should have more faith in Harry, Ron," frowned Hermione.
"It'll be okay I think," said Alexander, sipping tea from his goblet. "I actually have a good gut feeling about this match. Besides, Harry won't fall this time."
"Yeah, and we have the Firebolt."
"That too," chuckled Alexander. "But he'll smash it, I know he will."
When it was time, they gathered in the stands, the anticipation buzzing in the air like a tangible force, spilling out onto the lawn. The Gryffindor section was a sea of red and gold, vibrant banners waving and scarves fluttering in the wind. Hermione stood beside Alexander, her cheeks adorned with streaks of scarlet and gold. She had insisted on painting his face too, her fingers warm and precise as she applied the colours. His face still tingled from her touch, and he found himself glancing at her, unable to suppress a smile.
The crowd roared as the teams entered the pitch, and Alexander joined in, his voice hoarse with excitement. He could see Harry in the distance, a determined expression etched on his face as he mounted his Firebolt. The energy was infectious, and even Hermione, who usually approached Quidditch with a more reserved interest, was caught up in the thrill of the moment. Her doe eyes sparkled with excitement, a stark contrast to the dulled, frantic look she had been wearing lately. She was fully invested in the spectacle, her hands clapping rhythmically as she watched the players take their positions.
Alexander grinned, feeling a warm, pleasant sensation settle in his chest. Hermione caught his eye, her smile radiant and unrestrained, and he couldn't help but be drawn to her. She looked genuinely happy, and the sight of her like this — free from worry and fully immersed in the joy of the game — was a rare and beautiful thing. He wanted to tell her how pretty she looked when she smiled like that, but the words caught in his throat, overshadowed by the whistle that signalled the start of the match.
He turned his attention back to the pitch, his heart pounding in time with the exhilaration around him. The game began with a flurry of motion, players darting through the air, the Quaffle zooming back and forth as the teams battled for control. Alexander's eyes followed Harry's every move, his stomach twisting with every close call and near miss. He was at the edge of his seat, his heart stopping and racing with every goal, foul and dangerous manoeuvre.
Hermione squealed with delight and grabbed Alexander's hand, her grip tightening with every exhilarating moment. He welcomed it, the familiarity of her touch grounding him amidst the chaos and excitement. Her energy was infectious, and he found himself cheering louder, his voice blending with the roar of the Gryffindor supporters.
As he watched the Firebolt in action, Alexander couldn't help but be impressed. The broom was a marvel, and seeing Harry's effortless flying made him understand why Ron and Harry had been so devastated when it had been confiscated. The Firebolt gave Harry an undeniable edge, and it was clear to everyone watching.
"They're in the lead now," Hermione shouted, her eyes glued to the pitch. Alexander nodded, his heart pounding in his chest.
Harry made a dive, reaching out for the elusive golden Snitch, but just as his fingers brushed against it, Malfoy swooped in, blatantly cheating by grabbing the tail of Harry's broomstick. The crowd erupted in outrage, and beside him, Ron was beside himself with fury. He whipped out his wand, ready to hex Malfoy on the spot.
"Ron, no!" Alexander hissed, grabbing Ron's arm and yanking him back down. Despite the burning urge to hurl a curse of his own at the blond-haired ferret, he knew Ron would get into serious trouble.
"But he cheated!" Ron howled, his face burning as red as the scarlet streaks painted on his face. "It'll be worth it!"
"You can't, it'll cost us the game," Alexander urged, teeth gritted and his voice firm. "We can't afford to lose points over this."
Ron glared fiercely at Malfoy but reluctantly put his wand away, settling back into his seat with a murderous look in his eyes. The Gryffindor supporters were still buzzing with anger, but Alexander kept his focus on the game. He saw the resolute look on Harry's face as he regrouped and scanned the pitch for another chance.
Then, in a flash, Harry spotted the Snitch again. The crowd fell silent, everyone holding their breath as Harry and Malfoy raced for it. Alexander's heart was in his throat, his hand gripping Hermione's tightly. This was it. They were so close. Go, go, go!
With a final, desperate lunge, Harry's hand closed around the Snitch. The stadium erupted in a deafening roar as the realisation sank in: Gryffindor had won.
Ron was beside himself, tears streaming down his face as he pumped his fists against the seat in front of him in absolute joy. Hermione turned to Alexander, her face alight with happiness, and threw her arms around him. Without hesitation, Alexander grabbed her by the waist and lifted her off her feet in a jubilant hug and a squeal erupted from her lips, echoing closely near his ear. They had done it. They had actually won the Cup. The sensation was like being drunk on firewhiskey, a heady mix of triumph and euphoria that left him breathless.
Surrounded by the scent of vanilla, the warmth of Hermione's body pressed against his chest, and the tickle of her bushy hair brushing up against his nose, Alexander felt happiness beyond words. He wanted to stay in this moment forever, suspended in pure joy.
When they finally broke apart, Alexander kept her close, clutching her hips loosely as they continued to cheer with everyone else around them. Hermione clung to him, her hands upon his shoulders and her smile radiant, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of the win.
He felt a heat spread through him, an inexplicable sensation that seemed to anchor him to the moment, to her. He told himself it was the adrenaline, the high of victory. His hands, resting on her hips, felt the gentle curve of her waist, and he was acutely aware of every point of contact. Her fingers dug slightly into his shoulders as she steadied herself, her grip firm yet tender. He liked the feeling, the closeness, though he didn't quite understand why it felt so right, so necessary.
The euphoria in the common room was unexplainable. It was an explosion of crimson and gold, a living embodiment of Gryffindor pride. Cheers and laughter echoed off the walls, filling the space with an ebullient energy that seemed almost tangible. Every corner of the room was adorned with banners and streamers, shimmering in the light cast by the roaring fireplace.
Harry was at the centre of it all. His feet barely touched the ground as he was lifted and hugged almost every second. Friends and housemates took turns embracing him, their faces alight with joy and admiration. Somewhere in the crowd, the twins, Fred and George, grinned mischievously. Alexander raised an eyebrow. They had managed to smuggle firewhiskey for the afterparty beneath McGonagall's nose. He could tell by the distinctive, slightly spicy aroma that tickled his nose, its amber hue unmistakable. He wondered who they had to bribe to receive some — probably Sebastian. There were also jugs of pumpkin juice, bottles of butterbeer, Tongue Tying Lemon Squash, and simple water.
"Hey, Alexi," Fred said with a mischievous grin, approaching him with a small bottle in hand. "Fancy a swig of firewhiskey to celebrate."
Alexander hesitated, eyeing the bottle in Fred's hand. Memories of the last time he had tried firewhiskey flashed through his mind — the burning sensation in his throat, the way it had made his head spin and the unpleasant aftermath. He had sworn off the stuff, convinced it wasn't worth the trouble after how he'd treated Helen.
"Come on," Fred coaxed, his grin widening. "Live a little! We've just won the Cup, and exams are ages away. This is our night to celebrate."
Alexander glanced around the room. Fred was right; this was a rare moment of triumph and freedom. Maybe he could let go, just this once.
"Alright," Alexander said, taking the bottle. "Just a sip. But if I end up in the Hospital Wing, I know who I'm blaming."
Fred's eyes twinkled with approval as Alexander brought the bottle to his lips. The liquid burned on the way down, but he managed to keep his cough in check, swallowing the fire with a grimace. The taste was familiar, and as the warmth spread through his chest, he started to feel a pleasant, buzzing sensation, like he was floating on clouds. He took a deep breath, savouring the warmth and the sense of liberation that came with it.
Fred clapped him on the back. "That's the spirit, Alexi-boy! If you end up in the Hospital Wing, mate, I'll make sure to visit you with a bouquet of puking pastilles and a song. Consider it a Weasley special!"
As the buzz settled in, Alexander found himself relaxing. He glanced around, taking in the scene. The common room was alive with laughter and music. Seamus and Dean were belting out a song, their voices mingling with the crackling of the fireplace. Ron was joining in, his arm slung around Neville, who was beaming at Harry. The sight of Hermione caught his eye; she was leaning on the edge of a windowsill, her usual serious expression replaced with a rare, radiant smile.
The room seemed to glow, every corner filled with animated conversations and the clinking of goblets. Someone had started a game of Exploding Snap. Alexander watched as Hermione laughed, her eyes sparkling with a joy that matched the room's energy. He couldn't remember seeing her this relaxed, and it added to the warmth spreading through him. He couldn't look away, and perhaps it was part of the reason why his legs moved in her direction without him realising until he stood facing her. Her eyes seemed to brighten even more when they landed on him and his heart gave a sudden weird jerk like it had just remembered how to dance.
"Enjoying yourself?" she asked, her tone lighter than usual. She appeared to be slightly tipsy as well.
Alexander nodded, leaning against the windowsill beside her. "Yeah, it's quite the night."
"It's a wonder that Professor McGonagall hasn't burst in yet with this amount of noise. I suppose she must be turning a blind eye to it tonight. We have just won the cup after all."
"You think she's celebrating too?" he questioned, looking at her as he leaned against his elbows.
"Probably in her own way," Hermione said with a smile. She glanced at the bottle in his hand, raising an eyebrow. "What's that you've got there?"
"Firewhiskey," he said, holding it up for her to see. "Courtesy of Fred and George, of course."
Hermione's smile widened. "Of course." She reached for the bottle, and Alexander felt a peculiar spinning sensation in his chest at the thought of her lips touching the same spot he had. His head swam, but he quickly regained his composure and handed the bottle over, watching intently as she took a cautious sip.
She coughed immediately, her face contorting at the burning sensation. Alexander couldn't contain his laughter, the sound rising above the din of the common room. Hermione pouted, crossing her arms as she glared playfully at him.
"Stop making fun of me, Alex!" she protested, though there was no real anger in her voice.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Alexander said between chuckles. "It's just. . . you looked so determined. Like you wanted to solve a complicated question."
Hermione rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched with the hint of a smile. "Well, it's not exactly pumpkin juice, is it?"
"No, it's not," Alexander agreed, still grinning. "Burns, doesn't it?"
"Immensely," she said and handed it back to him. "Not trying that again, thank you very much." A soft smile crept onto her lips as she gazed around. "I still can't believe we've won. It feels more like a dream of some kind."
Alexander shrugged. "Eh, I knew Harry could do it. He wasn't the first seeker in a century for nothing." He smirked. "I bet Wood is beside himself with joy."
Hermione giggled. "Oh, he is. I saw him crying genuine tears of happiness when Madam Hooch let him touch the cup. I think if Wood gets any happier, he'll probably start naming his future children after Harry."
"Oh, I would have paid galleons to see that."
Seamus and Dean's singing reached a fever pitch, and the crowd joined in, butchering the lyrics in a joyous, off-key chorus.
Hermione tilted her head, listening to the song. "I don't know the words to this one," she admitted, her brow furrowing slightly. "Do you?"
Alexander shook his head, laughing. "Not a clue. It sounds familiar, though. Might be some wizarding song I guess." He nudged her playfully. "Honestly, I thought you'd be the one to disapprove of all this chaos."
Hermione rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I'm not completely insane, Alex. I know how to have fun sometimes." She paused, giving him a sidelong glance. "If you're wondering, I won't tell Professor McGonagall."
He was quick to deny it, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I wasn't thinking that! I know you wouldn't. You like to have fun too."
Hermione's frown deepened, though there was a twinkle in her eye. "Maybe. But perhaps I should get some reading done on Professor Vector's latest assigned chapter. It's still due next week."
Alexander sighed, leaning closer, his voice low and conspiratorial. "I'll throw it out the window if you pick it up right now."
She gave him a sharp look, but her smile softened after a moment. "Very funny, Alexander. Yes, you're hilarious."
"I try," he said with a grin, wondering if his cheeks were going to be stuck permanently from how much he was smiling. "But seriously, Hermione, it's one night. The books will be there tomorrow. Tonight, we celebrate."
She looked down at her hands, contemplating his words. When she looked back up, there was a gentle smile on her face. "You're right. Just this once, I'll let it go."
"Good," Alexander said, relaxing beside her. "Because I don't think anyone would forgive you if you left this party to go read."
Hermione laughed, a light, musical sound that blended perfectly with the ambience of the room. "Fair point. I suppose I can make an exception."
They fell into a comfortable silence, watching their friends revel in the victory. Alexander felt a strange contentment wash over him. He glanced at Hermione, her face illuminated by the flickering firelight, and felt a connection he hadn't realised he was missing. It wasn't just about the celebration or the firewhiskey warming his senses; it was about being here, in this moment, with her. The noise of the common room faded into the background as he became acutely aware of her presence beside him.
Hermione gazed out the window, her eyes distant and contemplative. The soft light cast a gentle glow on her face, highlighting the delicate curve of her cheek. Alexander found himself captivated, unable to tear his eyes away — not even for a king's ransom.
"The moon looks so big and bright this evening, don't you agree?" said Hermione wistfully.
It took him a moment longer to unlodge his tongue from the roof of his mouth. "Hmm? Oh, yeah, yes." He glanced out of the window too, the soft breeze ruffling his dark hair. "We can almost see a twinkle of the bright stars." He smiled to himself. "I sometimes think that it's crazy we don't stop and appreciate the moon for a second in Astronomy."
Her brow furrowed as she looked over at him. "What do you mean exactly?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.
"I mean just, like, the beauty or magnificence of it. Because it deserves to be appreciated." He sighed. "But no — we have to listen and list off boring, mind-numbing facts about each planet."
"But that's extremely interesting, Alexander. There's so much information and knowledge that we've yet to explore or learn about. So, yes, I do believe that we appreciate the moon in classes."
"That's not exactly the type of appreciation I had in mind," Alexander admitted, his gaze drifting upward to the moon hanging in the night sky. He couldn't shake the feeling that it was watching them, casting its ethereal glow upon their conversation, smiling down at the two of them.
"Oh?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, I meant soaking up its vast splendour once in a while. Still," he said, with a secretive smile, "It's not the moon's fault that people don't appreciate it more often. Perhaps they should." His voice became quieter as if he was talking to himself.
He became aware of Hermione's scrutiny, her eyes fixed on him with a mixture of curiosity and something else he couldn't quite decipher. It was only then that he realised how close they were standing against the windowsill, their arms brushing against each other in the intimate space. Her presence felt electrifying, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Caught in the intensity of the moment, Alexander studied her features with newfound fascination. Her doe eyes were dark and wide, reflecting his own bewilderment at him.
Ron's sudden interruption broke the spell, his out-of-tune singing shattering the quietude with a burst of laughter. Hermione's laughter was infectious, her face lighting up with mirth as she leaned closer, shoving her face into his shoulder. Alexander felt his heart race at the proximity, his senses overwhelmed by her closeness. In the soft glow of the moonlight, she looked impossibly beautiful, her features illuminated by its gentle radiance.
His heart was beating faster, and his eyes drifted down. He couldn't help but notice the way her hands covered her overgrown front teeth, a habit he found endearing yet unnecessary. Her teeth are cute, he thought and then wondered why anyone would think otherwise. Why would she?
And yet, he sensed a hint of self-consciousness in her actions, a vulnerability he longed to protect. She was so pretty. And smart. And kind. And did he mention pretty? Her and the moon, that is. Or were they the same? He didn't know much at this point. He had a sudden urge to remove her hand from her face.
"I want to see your teeth," he blurted out suddenly, startling Hermione.
Hermione blinked, confusion etched on her features as she processed Alexander's unexpected request. "What?"
Alexander flushed, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. Fuck. That came out so wrong. His heart raced, and he wanted to dig and hole and bury himself under it. No one seemed to be paying attention to them anyway. Harry was nowhere to be seen, probably already tucked up in bed, and Ron was engrossed in a heated game of chess with his brothers, their loud exclamations drowning out any chance of eavesdropping.
He cleared his throat, attempting to compose himself. "I mean, uh, sorry, that came out wrong. I just meant. . . you have a nice smile, Hermione. You don't need to cover it up."
Hermione blinked again, a shy smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Oh, um, thank you," she murmured, her cheeks flushing slightly. "That's nice of you to say." She bit her lip, a nervous habit that Alexander found oddly alluring. It looked so pink and inviting like a ripe strawberry begging to be tasted.
He swallowed hard, feeling a heat building low in his stomach. His head felt light and cloudy as if he was floating in a dream, his thoughts muddled by the potent combination of firewhiskey and Hermione's proximity. He couldn't pull his gaze away from her lips, the urge to lean in almost encompassing. The world around him seemed to blur and distort, like a painting smudged by unseen hands.
With a magnetic pull, he drew nearer, as though tethered to her by an unseen force. His lips met hers in a fervent kiss, an insatiable hunger seizing him, devouring his senses like a man lost in a desert craving water.
April 18th, 1979
A few days ago, I stumbled upon the truth, and despite its irrefutable nature, it feels as though my entire world has shattered into a million pieces. How am I supposed to handle this? How can I possibly juggle both responsibilities? I'm not sure I have the strength. Does anyone ever feel truly prepared for something like this?
I knew danger was part of the deal when Dumbledore first extended the offer to join the Order. From the very beginning, I accepted that I'd be risking my life, infiltrating the Death Eaters' plans and striking them where it hurt most. Every single day, I've been living a double life, spying right under my father's nose, monitoring his every move. For every devastating blow they dealt us, I made sure they felt our wrath in return. For every family they destroyed, I made certain one of theirs paid the price.
The unsettling part is how much easier it has become. Killing, I mean. When I push the thoughts aside, it feels almost like a stroll through the park. The whispers of conscience that once haunted my every move have grown faint, drowned out by the deafening silence of indifference. It's as though a switch has been flipped, and I've become numb to the consequences. This has been my reality since I graduated from Hogwarts: spying, killing, thwarting raids and ambushes. My life has become a relentless cycle of violence aimed at ending Voldemort's tyranny and cruelty.
I must keep reminding myself that this violence is a necessary evil, a means to a just end. Every act, every sacrifice, is for the sake of peace. I cling to that belief, even when the weight of it threatens to crush me.
But now. . . now that I am pregnant.
How am I supposed to continue? The realisation feels like a storm crashing through my mind, and I can't seem to find shelter. This news's weight is immense, yet I cannot allow it to force me from my role. Dumbledore and the rest of the Order are counting on me. I have seen too many good people leave, and I refuse to become another name on that list. This was never part of my plan. In fact, I had no plan whatsoever for something like this. It struck me out of nowhere.
Well, almost. I know whose it is. There is no denying that.
It happened during that one encounter with him. He looked so different, so utterly broken, and I couldn't help but feel something for him. It was foolish and dangerous to let my guard down, especially now when Voldemort seems unstoppable. Not that I believe the psychopath truly is — everyone has a weakness. It's just a matter of finding this. But still, this whole business is a complication I didn't foresee.
Yaz knows. I had to tell her. Keeping it a secret from her was impossible; she has always been able to read me like a book. But my father — he has no idea. I don't even know how to begin telling him. The thought of it fills me with dread. What will he say? How will he react?
The future seems so uncertain now, a tangled web of responsibilities and fears. I need to find a way to navigate this: to keep fighting, to protect this life growing inside me. It's a part of me now, a part of him too. And no matter what, I must stay strong.
Hello! Much earlier than the last chapter I'd wager. Hope it was good.
I'd apologise for the cliffhanger but then I'd be lying, ahaha. Alexander doesn't do well with liquor it seems. But first kiss, who cheered? Took a couple hundred words but we got there. I'm still a sucker for a slow burn I'm afraid.
Anyway, posting this before work tomorrow but it's half-term for us here in the UK so some silver lining at least. Praying that it's going to be quiet.
Hope you guys are having a good week. See you next time!