Scratches (Fred Weasley)

(110) Sunday Doubts

Florence had not seen the twins all day after their encounter with Draco Malfoy, the way Fred had walked out from the pitch suggested that he needed a bit of space for him to cool off. She understood his frustration towards the situation, because if she was in his shoes, she, too, would have wanted to take a swing at that snobby blond Slytherin git.

She had caught word of their suspension—mainly Harry and George, but somehow Fred had been dragged in to despite the fact that he didn't even touch Malfoy— from Nicolai, who's direct source was Lee Jordan.

"I'm surprised that you didn't know about it yet, Fred would have told you almost immediately" said Nicolai, as she was seated at the library with Xander and Florence, catching up on homework.

"Yeah, well, I haven't really seen them since yesterday," she confessed, scribbling down a few words onto a piece of parchment, making Nicolai frown, "Are you two arguing or something?"

"No, not at all. He's still...angry...about the Malfoy thing. Hopefully not at me as well, since, you know, I held him back from all the action. I'll just give him time to brood over it, he might not appreciate me coddling him too much."

"It's a bit unfair, though," said Xander, "Fred barely touched Malfoy. Yet Umbridge punished him as well."

"It's a well known fact that she's a bloody bitch with a vendetta against Harry, and she's willing to sabotage him any way that she can." Florence huffed, "Now the Gryffindor team's lost three of their players..."

"Angelina's going to be frantic I bet. I mean, it will be pretty hard to find replacements who would fill the twins' and Harry's shoes. They're pretty good."

"And," said Nicolai, "I heard Umbridge has Harry's firebolt locked away in her office. It would have helped if he still had it with him, so he could lend it to the seeker who'll take his place."

"That's just wrong," Florence frowned, "It's their personal property. She should give it back."

"From the way things are going, I don't think she's going to do that any time soon.

Florence grumbled something under her breath, calling Umbridge a bitch yet again, before setting down her quill onto a scratch parchment, "Can we talk about something else? Bringing her up makes me so incredibly angry."

"I see it very clearly, Flo," said Xander, peering at her essay, "I'm pretty sure you meant to write hagfish oil, and not Umbridge the hag."

"Ah shit..." she muttered, "There goes my work. I'll have to rewrite it...Snape may not be a fan of the Inquisitor, but I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate me cursing at someone."

It was a painstakingly slow day for the three of them, as Sundays usually were, more so with the fact that they were holed up in their common room from the moment that they had walked up from breakfast. Around this time, usually, Florence would have been off helping out the twins in the snack box sale, but given the circumstance, she didn't even think they were open for business.

Eventually Alexander had to take a break from their study session, claiming that he had prefect duties to attend to. But Xander being Xander, was a terrible liar, and the two assumed that it was another Olivia thing, as it usually was, during the past few days.

There were significant changes in his mood, ever since he had started dating. He was no longer stuck to his books all the time, and now had something else to do apart from his studies and being a prefect. He hangs by the Quidditch pitch more frequently, when either Olivia or Florence held practices, and laughs a little bit more genuinely than he did before.