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'She wasn't given wings to see the world from a tree'
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"You don't know where they are? How?"
"I don't know—everyone said she just started coughing into this napkin and ran out of the room and Harry and Hermione ran after her. They were gone before I even got there—the napkin was covered in blood, and—"
"Did you look for them?"
"No; Slughorn made me stay. The dinner ended a few minutes ago, so I came straight here. I thought you might've seen them, I thought they would be here!"
"No-they haven't been back!"
The two glanced around the common room anxiously; Gryffindor students crowded around the various windows looking onto the grounds—it was hours past curfew, but now was the chance to leave unnoticed. They glanced to each other with the same idea in mind.
"Let's go," He mumbled.
Stealthily, they creeped to the exit and slipped out of view, the Fat Lady serving a disapproving look as Ron and Ginny tip-toed past the sleeping portraits. It was a wonder they had fallen asleep in the first place—the storm outside resembled the sounds of a war; lightning struck like explosives; thunder rumbled like distant artillery; the wind wailed like a lost child, stumbling through the crossfire.
Scaling down the everchanging staircases with light feet, the siblings stepped onto the start of one of the long, main halls, swiftly moving behind a nearby wall to scout for any threats to their search. With the coast clear of possible commotions, the two stepped into open once more, unbeknownst of which new hall to take out of the many.
"How are we supposed to find them? They could be anywhere!" Ginny whispered, looking behind them at the empty hall every few moments as they wandered into one, flinching with any small sound.
"Just keep looking...they can't be that far?" Ron spoke, though it sounded more like a question, keeping his head forward and strides long, peeking into each hall they passed, the duo hyperaware for any movement.
Rain clouded the windows; the aged glass submerged in droplets from the everlasting storm, distorting the shapes of the outside grounds. These windows continued along the wall closest to Ginny, each one a glimpse as she and Ron speedily walked past them. At first, Ginny could only see her cold reflection, as it was brighter inside than out. Before she looked away, however, a small flicker of light from the grounds caught her eye. She stopped.
Ron, seeing her stop in his peripheral vision, nearly spoke out in an urge for her to hurry up, but as Ginny walked up right next to the window, wiping away condensation to press her face against it, hands around the outskirts of her face to stop the inside light from leaking in, he bit back his words.
