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↱ in which everything is loud
"YOU'RE A SLYTHERIN."
Scarlett glared at the tall ginger boy. "Well spotted."
"If you're just here to poke fun at him, we won't let you," the other identical ginger boy spoke up, which in turn caused the whole Gryffindor Quidditch team to put their input in.
"You caught me. I guess I'll just leave."
The team chattered in victory, shooing her off.
As they did that, Scarlett merely stared at them blankly, before moving around them and opening the door to the Hospital Wing.
She swiftly made her way over to Ron and Hermione, who were crowding over a hospital bed, just as Madam Pomphrey told the group of Gryffindors off for trying to follow her.
Scarlett peaked over Ron's shoulder, moving her way in between them to get a better look at Harry.
"At least you didn't die," she shrugged.
After Harry bumped into her that morning, the two of them had been separated. She'd quickly wished him good luck before walking away to where Ariah and Daphne stood.
She was immediately met by a bunch of absurd questions, all of which she denied.
"This is serious, Scarlett," Hermione warned, giving her the kind of glare Sue Harper would've given her if she said something out of line.
Scarlett turned her head to look at Ron, who looked to be struggling to hold in his laughter. This failed as soon as they made eye contact. Hermione couldn't help but smile as well.
"Yeah, okay," she nodded cheekily, a smile gracing her features.
Harry had a matching grin on his face, before it faltered slightly. "Were you watching the match?"
"Do you think I have a death wish?"
Harry scoffed playfully, leaning back on his pillow, the broken parts of his broom scattered at his feet. His smile dropped.
Scarlett gulped. She was never good at comforting people that weren't children. She had lots of experience giving a crying kid a hug and a piece of candy, but Harry wasn't sad over a broken crayon, this was far more sentimental and well— expensive.
