WHO: Professor Hagrid & Alexander William WHEN: Saturday night/Sunday morning WHERE: Hagrid's hut after this WHAT: Apologies RATING: R for language, anti-women/pureblood sentiments
Alex started awake at some strange sound (just a fox passing by) and realised that he was stiff and aching, cold and shivering from having fallen asleep outside. The lapping at the lake edge had soothed him under and the exhaustion after all that emotion had sedated him enough that the shivering cold hadn't woken him; the screaming fox was another matter entirely.
He looked up and saw how dark it was, the moon standing brazenly in a sky without clouds, spattered with stars. Alex was slightly scared. He got up with difficulty, confused as to what was going on - some effect of the cold and his just woken status. He fumbled to get his bearings and stumbled away into the forest, lost in the eerie chalk light of the moon. He should have gone back to the school and snuck back into the dorm where he was supposed to be - but he just couldn't. He didn't want to go back there anymore. Didn't want to have to face Jimmy again or to have to put up with nosy girls and condescending purebloods. Couldn't he just leave? He'd done alright for himself considering, right, with no one around to help him out? He'd found shelter, stayed fed, budgeted the small money he had coming in from his inheritance.
He'd done alright but it hadn't been easy. The solitude crushed him, the difficulty of living like that coupled with his age (making it seemingly impossible for anyone to take him seriously) powdering him further. He thought of that darkness and he thought of Hagrid and he curled his hands into a fist in anger against himself despite how they were injured.
Stupid, ungrateful, lazy little shit. His aunt had always told him so and he saw that she'd been right, this time. Hagrid hadn't deserved that and now that he'd slept on the shock that losing his Billywig (or so he'd thought) had caused he realised that he'd bitten the hand that had fed him. The one adult that had taken notice.
The only drive in his head now was to apologise. He trudged on in the direction of Hagrid's hut, sniffling and shivering, rosy cheeked from the cold and a flush that wasn't an external warmth. He swallowed and it was dry and far too noticeable and Alex growled a little at himself for doing this because he wasn't getting sick, no fucking way.
He made it to Hagrid's hut and spent a good ten minutes dithering, scared of knocking, scared of not. His guilt got the better of him after a while and he steeled himself for a kicking before knocking at the door.
Sure it was what the fuck o clock in the morning, but he wasn't thinking about that at the time.