Harry Potter X Reader {1}

~8 - Quidditch~

 November approached and fell upon us all faster than anticipated. By now, the mountain peaks are thick with snow from the quick-cold, and the mornings and evenings both are rarely without a dense fog. Students of all ages have taken to wearing their warmer clothes, even within the castle, some even slipping thick jumpers on under their robes for classes.

I overheard one of the poor Hufflepuff boys fell into the Black Lake yesterday, and now he's chattering a few rows over. His friend said he was pushed, but it was deduced to simply be the strong gusts of wind.

The stone paths leading around the castle are like packed-ice with how cold they are to the touch, and each window's glass holds frost around its boarders. It was only a few days ago I was staring out the same windows and thinking back to mine and Hermione's day in the castle's gardens that lovely, Autumn afternoon. Now we'd be lucky not to catch our death staying out there for so long.

Since our incident with the troll this passed October, Hermione has been much happier with being within the boy's presence, and for that I've been grateful, because I've been able to hang around all of my friends at once rather than Hermione one moment and Harry and Ron another. They've been appreciating it as well, as I know Harry would be terribly behind with his homework if not for my best friend.

Today, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and myself are out in the courtyard, with Mione's help of course. She conjured us up a brilliant-blue fire that sits inside a jam jar that we can carry around with us to keep warm.

We're all stood and keeping warm around it when Snape suddenly begins his approach, and immediately I feel a sigh of discontent flow through my being. Snape still hates me with a fiery passion, especially seeing as I won't back down when he's bullying Harry or I, or sometimes he'll even have a go at Hermione, and he hates it. I've earned many detentions over it, and I'm sure if McGonagall would allow it he'd have gotten rid of me already, but luckily for me, she still seems to like me, regardless of the incident with the troll, and insists that Professor Snape is being ridiculous in his inquiries of expulsion.

Today, it seems, he has a limp. I kind of hope it's hurting him to be frank. I am not a mean person, nor have I ever been, but Snap brings out the exception in me that I never thought I'd have. Him and a few of the Slytherins, that is.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?" Harry's currently reading Quidditch Through the Ages, at mine and Hermione's recommendation. He shows Snape the book. "Library books are not to be taken outside the school," he sneers. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

"You've just made that rule up!" I exclaim loudly drawing the attention of a few other students. "You can't be serious!"

"Deadly, Miss Amethyst. I advise you keep your mouth shut for once or I'll be forced to make you."

I scowl at him as he lumbers away, the limp in his step.

"Please stop making him hate you more," Hermione sighs from my side. "You know you'll only make this worse for yourself."

"I don't care much about that, Mione. I don't care much for him being a prat, either. When he's being one, I'm going to pull him up. It's how I was raised. To respect my elders unless they're undeserving. And he, Hermione Jean Granger, is undeserving."

"I wonder what's wrong with his leg?" says Harry after passing me an appreciative look.

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," Ron answers, to which I nod in agreement.

As the evening rolls around, the four of us are now sat by the Common Room windows within Gryffindor Tower. I'm looking over my Potions and Transfiguration work while Hermione checks over the boys' Charms homework for them. It's rather loud tonight, though I suppose that comes with the excitement and anticipation of tomorrow's coming Quidditch game.