𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐦𝐞 | 𝐇.𝐏.

𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝟔 - 𝟖

Potter, Hermione, Ginny and I all stood with Madam Pomfrey around Weasley's bed in the hospital wing. He had finally fallen into an uneasy sleep just as Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Slughorn walked in, all wearing grim faces. The room was quiet as the four professors stared at Weasley in astonishment for a moment.

"Quick thinking on your part, Harry, using a bezoar," Dumbledore said suddenly. "You must be very proud of your student, Horace."

"Hm?" Slughorn seemed to snap out of a daze. "Oh, yes, very proud."

"I think we can agree, Potter's actions were heroic," McGonagall said. "The question is, why were they necessary?"

"Why indeed?" Dumbledore agreed, stepping over to Slughorn, who was still holding the bottle that contained the alcohol. "This appears to be a gift, Horace," he observed. "You don't remember who gave you this bottle? Which, by the way, remarkably possesses hints of licorice and cherry when not polluted with poison." 

The bottle was passed to Snape, who smelled it suspiciously.

"Actually, I intended to give it as a gift myself," Slughorn replied reluctantly.

"To whom, I might ask?" Dumbledore asked.

Slughorn averted his eyes. "To you, headmaster." 

The terrible silence was broken by a familiar squeal from the doors. "Where is he?" Lavender cried. "Where's my Won-Won? Has he been asking for me?" She barreled through Snape and Slughorn, and gasped when she saw Hermione sitting next to the bed. "What is she doing here?" Lavender demanded.

"I might ask you the same question," Hermione replied furiously, standing from her chair.

"I happen to be his girlfriend," Lavender retorted back breathily. 

"I happen to be his... friend," Hermione finished lamely.

"Don't make me laugh," Lavender said, absolutely livid. "You haven't spoken in weeks. I suppose you want to make up with him not that he's all interesting."

I winced, and Potter cleared his throat softly next to me.

"He's been poisoned, you daft dimbo!" Hermione said, laughing in disbelief. "And for the record I've always found him interesting." Then she looked around the room self consciously, most likely realizing she had just spoken out loud.

Weasley stirred under the covers, mumbling incoherently.

"Ah. See?" Lavender said triumphantly. "He senses my presence." She leaned down and cooed, "Don't worry, Won-Won. I'm here. I'm here."

Hermione looked up at me unbelievingly, and I sent her back a helpless glance. Lavender was far gone from the point of sense. She had just screamed "Won-Won" at least three times in front of four of her professors. I would have already shriveled up in mortification if I was her. 

"Her- Hermione," Weasley stumbled out sleepily, shifting his head against the pillow weakly. Potter and I looked at each other with identical, hilarious expressions. Ginny had a small smile on her face. Hermione looked like she might cry. 

And Lavender looked pretty ugly. She froze in shock for a moment, then ran out of the hospital wing sobbing. I felt a stab of pity for her, until I saw Hermione, who was now sitting on Weasley's bed holding his hands in hers. I had never felt more smug in my entire life. 

What had I been trying to tell her since fourth year? And did she listen? No. If I had known that all I needed was to get Lavender in love with Weasley sooner, Romione could have started years ago. 

"Oh, to be young, and feel love's keen sting," Dumbledore commented cheerily. "Well, come away, everybody. Mr. Weasley is well tended."

"About time, don't you think?" Ginny asked cheekily as she passed Potter and I. We grinned at her in agreement.