Andrea leaned over the table of the library, whispering in her loudest tone, “I say you go for it!”

Nora twisted her lips, her eyes not on her friend, but on the boy down the aisle of books. She was rather terrible at keeping her gaze off of Octavius Pepper, and she responded to Andrea without turning her head.

“Do you think?” she said dreamily, entranced by how perfectly rumpled he was. She and Andrea had been trying to study for their charms exam for quite some time now. ‘Trying’ being the key word, because Drea could barely focus on anything that wasn’t a boy or a snitch for more than five seconds. Adding that to the fact that Nora had spotted Octavius enter the library ten minutes ago and hadn’t lost sight of him since, their charms exam was going to go quite dismally.

“He’s single, you’re very single,” Drea said with a squeak, earning a shrug of agreement from Nora. “After ending it with that nutter Fawcett, I think he’d be relieved to have you! Ask him to Hogsmeade!”

Her friend’s words were encouraging. Nora had always felt like there had not been a good time to pursue her feelings for Octavius, whether because he was dating someone or she was too nervous to approach him or on the rare occasion that she had someone else on her mind. It was an oddity, but it did happen. But Andrea was right; It was nearing the end of the term and a summer romance would be quite nice.

“You’re a brave and courageous Gryffindor!” Andrea balled her fists, attempting to pump up Nora’s nerve. She looked far more excited about this than Nora did, but she appreciated her friend’s enthusiasm.

“I’m a brave and courageous Gryffindor,” Nora repeated, her eyes not moving from Octavius as she stood, feeling more confident by the second. Andrea squeaked again, and reached across the table to slap Nora in the side to get her to go faster. “I'm a brave and courageous Gryffindor!”

“With a nice arse!”

Nora shot her hand out to keep Andrea from lifting her skirt and jumped away, towards Octavius. She was a brave and courageous Gryffindor, this was nothing compared to any other dangers she might come across in life. Nora was on her way to chasing chimaeras in Greece, or Nundus in South Africa. Asking a boy to go to Hogsmeade with her should be as easy as herding flobberworms.

‘Should’ being the key word in that thought.

She untied and tied her hair again, twisting it all into a bun at the base of her neck to keep most of her flyaways at bay. Thank Merlin she’d put some product in it this morning, or she would have had to duck away to ensure that she didn’t look like Medusa. Nora smiled widely as Octavius caught sight of her, and he beckoned her over.

“I was just thinking about you!” he said, opening up the book he had just pulled off the shelf.

“You were?” She was pink, she was already pink.

“Yes! Look at this,” Octavius said, pushing the book toward her. Nora recognized it as one of her favorite magical creatures research texts, if he pulled out the card at the back of the book he would see her name as the borrower for the past six weeks, “Did you know there were flying horses in Great Britain? I thought it was just a poncy French thing---there’s a whole reservation for them near Edinburgh!”

“Is there really?” Nora asked in her best attempt at feigned surprise. She peered into the book, recognizing the paddock because she’d been working there for the past two summers. Nothing to really brag about, as she was only working in the stables, but. “I’ll have to check that out!”

“I thought you’d like it,” Octavius said with a bit of pride, straightening his shoulders. Nora couldn’t stop her smile from widening. He’d thought about her, he’d recognized that she would enjoy the flying horses. Nevermind that he’d most definitely known at some point that she’d worked there over the summer, but Octavius had a lot on his mind! He was one of nine children, after all---it was probably very hard to keep all their stories plus his friends plus his school work together.

They stood in silence for a moment, Nora pretending to read the passage on the horses that she’d already read at least six times. She was a brave and courageous Gryffindor, she needed to stop stalling.

“So--I was wondering,” she began. Her fingers began to chip at her nail polish, a nervous habit she could usually avoid, but Andrea had requested to paint her nails before their study session earlier in the day (“To clear my mind!”), “What--what are you doing for Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“Oh! Hogsmeade!” Octavius let out, shifting the book under his arm, “I’d completely forgotten. When is that, Saturday? What’s Saturday...”

“The fifth,” Nora answered quickly, pushing up on her toes. “But I was thinking that---if you were going, that---I mean, I don’t know if you’ve decided you’re going, but if you are going, I was thinking----” Brave and courageous Gryffindor! “I was thinking that we could---get lunch together!”

Octavius blinked at her, and Nora was sure it was because her face had gone from rosy pink to deep red to a purple-blue with the lack of oxygen that was going to her brain. She let out a breath, dropping back down to the flat of her feet.

“Lunch would be great!” he said after a moment, and Nora let out a strange noise.

“Really?” she managed, and she could hear Andrea’s giggles from the next aisle over. She should’ve known better than to think she wasn’t being watched. “So---so Saturday, then?”

“Yeah! Saturday, it’s a---”

Nora was about to exclaim ‘I LOVE YOU!’ and was rather glad for the interruption of someone throwing their arm around her shoulders. Her thankfulness of the person quickly dissipated as she looked up and saw that it was Charlie Spinnet who was draped over her. Nora frowned and wiggled to get out of his grasp, but he held her to his side.

“Did I hear you mention Saturday the fifth?” he asked. Octavius nodded and Nora felt all the blood drain from her face. Wait, wait. It was May, Saturday would be May fifth--- “Are you two planning me and Delilah’s surprise party? Because you’re doing a shit job at it!”

Octavius went pink and darted his eyes down towards Nora quickly. She had never wanted to strangle someone as much as she did Charlie Spinnet in this very instant. She wanted to strangle him for daring to be born on the fifth of May, and she wanted to beat him for having a twin, who was Nora’s best friend because that meant that she did have obligations to make this Hogsmeade weekend a special one. There was no way getting out of it; she and Octavius would definitely have to plan something for the Spinnet twins. Charlie thought they were already conspiring, it would only be a matter of time before Delilah caught wind and demanded she be involved in the planning.

“We never expected to run into you in the library,” Nora drawled, finally able to slide out from under Charlie’s arm. Charlie laughed and Octavius worded a ‘thank you,’ for covering his slip of the mind. It would have been quite the scene if they had both forgotten it was the twins’ birthday this weekend. Charlie began to relate to Octavius his latest idiotic tale and Nora slunk away, feeling defeated.

Andrea bounded out from her hiding spot, looking scandalized. Nora put up a hand to keep her friend from shouting and simply dropped back down to their table, quite sure that she was never going to get any studying done.

“Spinnet’s such a prat,” Andrea muttered, accepting that their total avoidance of studying was finally over. Nora nodded in silent agreement, starting a list of what she’d need for the prat and his twin’s birthday celebration.

Frank Longbottom didn’t seem to know when to stop smiling at Alice Goodsmith. One would say that he was in awe of her, if one dared to use such feminine language with him, which most did not. No, he simply never realized that he was staring, because it was very easy for Frank to get lost in the shine of her hair, or the smell of her perfume, or the brightness of her smile. There were so many captivating things about Alice Goodsmith that Frank didn’t think anyone could really blame him for his lovestruck grin.

As it so happened, Frank found himself on a bench in front of the Three Broomsticks, staring across the narrow main road of Hogsmeade at Alice as she stood with her group of friends. He couldn’t make out what they were talking about, but he wasn’t at all interested in what the gaggle of girls had to say. All Frank could bother to notice was how Alice’s high ponytail exposed her long neck, and the shirt she wore was clinging to her body in a much tighter fashion than her school robes ever did. Her muggle shorts were in no way indecent, but to a bloke who had to deal with imagining what was under long, draping black robes, they were like a gift from God above.

He wondered if he should go and talk to her. Frank was friends with all the girls in the year, more so than any of the other Gryffindor boys, so it would not seem strange. Maybe he’d invite them to all get a butterbeer, his treat. Alice would then see how kind he was and that he had a few galleons to spare on his friends. She liked putting whipped cream on her mug, so he would make sure that Madame Rosemerta put an extra dollop or two on her pint. Alice would notice the little extra sweet and thank him, find his slight touch of generosity endearing, and say out loud that he was not like other boys.

No, no he wasn’t, Alice Goodsmith. Frank Longbottom was not like other boys, and he’d help her realize that even further if she so desired. Why, he’d even go as far to say----

“Frank?”

He let out a squeak of surprise at Alice’s suddenly close proximity. She was sitting beside him on the bench, and Frank had to look back across the street, then back to her, before he could accept that his mind had zoned out so deeply that he had not seen her cross the street and join him. He grinned widely, nervously, and sat hard against the back of the bench.

“Oy,” he said, hoping that his voice didn’t dare squeak again. Alice smiled and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, something she did a lot, especially when she was studying, or taking a test. She also bit her thumb when a particularly hard question arose, and when she wasn’t using it, her quill was stuck behind her ear and she often forgot it was there, and inked another quill. Frank blinked again; he could not lose track of what was going on in front of him, in this very instant.

“I feel like I haven’t spoken to you all week,” Alice said, crossing her legs at the ankles. His mother always said that a proper lady always knew never to cross at the knee, and Alice continued to prove why she in fact was the perfect girl for him. “You’ve been so busy with quidditch.”

“Ay,” Frank responded with a nod, or two, or three. It was suddenly very hot, and he put his hand up to block the sun from his eyes, even though it seemed to be behind a few clouds right then. Alice did the same, letting out a laugh. She put her hand down after a moment, and turned to face him more directly. Frank mimicked her action because he wasn’t exactly sure what else to do.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something, and I...hope it isn’t too personal.”

Frank felt all the blood from his face----from----every limb in his body----drain. Something personal? She wanted to know something...Alice Goodsmith, the prettiest girl in all of Hogwarts, in all of the world, wanted to know something personal about him? Merlin’s bloody beard, he was not prepared for such a thing. He didn’t have anything personal to talk about, this was going to go terribly!

“Er?” was all he managed, blinking rapidly. Alice looked nervous, and she tugged on the end of her ponytail that had draped over her shoulder.

“I was wondering if Professor McGonagall’s given you any more information about the auror program? I know we’ve got some time before N.E.W.T.s, and we haven’t even taken our O.W.L.s yet, but I thought maybe...”

“Oh.”

Frank’s face fell in disappointment, but at the confused expression that had arisen on Alice’s, he perked up and shook his head. No, McGonagall had not given him any more stuff about the auror program, Frank hadn’t even thought about it since their meetings with the head of house; there was a quidditch cup to win, why should he be thinking about exams and boring stuff like that?

Alice’s lips twisted into a frown and she shrugged, “Ah, well. I figured I’d ask.”

She stood then; why was she standing! Frank straightened up as well, and Alice looked down at him. The sun had come out from behind the clouds and it created a glorious halo around her already beautiful, shining face. She smiled and waved a little wave at him before saying she ought to get back to the girls. Frank waved weakly at her and watched her cross the street, back to where she had started.

Frank blinked a few times to get the sun out of his eyes, but it was fruitless. What a prat he’d just been. How many words had he actually said in that surprise conversation? Three? Four, maybe. With a groan, he tilted his head back, letting it hang over the back of the bench. He should just stick to smiling at her, that seemed to work out pretty well in his mind.

The scritch scratch of his quill against the parchment was loud in his ears, each jagged movement erupting and bouncing off the walls of the library. Elliot stared as he mindlessly moved his quill about, ruining at least a foot of parchment within the ten minutes he’d been waiting. He was slouched as low in the chair as he could be without falling off, and he didn’t look up when a pair of footsteps hurried toward him down the main aisle, small heels clipping against the floor.

“Elliot! Elliot, I’m sorry I’m late, there was this Gryffindor first year and she’d gotten lost, so I walked her back and then Professor Flitwick asked me to take over a study session tomorrow so that got us talking about---”

“Right,” Elliot interrupted, his eyes darting up to let Elsie Branstone that he really did not care about her misadventures on her way here. Still, she smiled and sat down across from him, pulling out her text books while she uttered another apology for her lateness. Her short blonde hair was pushed back with a headband, and her blue robes were ironed and pressed. Elliot scoffed.

His charms tutor was straight out of a fairytale, with her perfect hair and large, round eyes. What made it worse was that Elsie had no idea how sickeningly perfect she was, and that made her even more lovable to everyone who walked the corridors. It made Elliot gag. He’d been forced to take on a tutor (or three) after a miserable first semester, and he’d been even further punished by the presence of Princess Elsie.

“Is there anything in particular that you wanted to focus on?”

“Nope.”

His eyes had dropped back down to his parchment, but he could feel Elsie’s stare. Every week, it was the same thing, but every week, she came back for an hour of near silence. He knew she had to, just like he had to be there or Flitwick had promised he wouldn’t be allowed to sit his O.W.L. Not that it mattered; he was barely scraping by in all of his other classes as well, if he managed one decent exam grade at the end of the year it would be a miracle. He had no desire to make an effort at it, though, and his parchment unfurled to allow him more room to scribble.

There was a few more minutes of quiet, and Elliot hoped in vain that this would be the week she gave up.

“She looks like you.”

Elliot’s hand stopped its slow circle and he looked up at her, not understanding. Elsie was staring straight at him, the tip of her quill’s feather brushing against her lips. Elliot’s eyes stared as the feather waved back and forth.

“The first year, was she your sister? Eliza?”

Elliot rolled his eyes; of course it would be Eliza that was lost. It was bloody March, and the girl still couldn’t figure her way around the school. He’d have to find her and reprimand her, it was stupid that she was still losing her way.

“She’s ridiculous,” he muttered, shaking his head, his eyes going back to the parchment. He began to write out Eliza’s name, circling it slowly, repeatedly. “I’ve told her a thousand times to stay with the other Gryffindors, but she starts daydreaming and wandering and then I’ve got to find her. She’s going to end up in the lake or---”

His mouth shut as he looked up and saw Elsie smiling at him. “What?”

“That’s the most I’ve heard you speak in months. You care about her a lot, don’t you?” she said, and Elliot felt his ears begin to burn.

“She’s my sister,” he answered bluntly. Eliza was his responsibility now, but he didn’t have to enjoy the job. She was a little off her rocker, she always had been, and now she clung to him whenever she could. Elliot was actually surprised she hadn’t rushed into the library, she knew his schedule by heart---that just made him wonder how lost she really was.

“That’s good that you take care of her,” Elsie said brightly, folding her hands over her open charms text. She looked a little dazed, and Elliot had to dart his eyes away, “It must’ve been hard coming back to school after your mother---”

Her eyes widened and her mouth shut quickly, realizing she had said too much. Elliot sent her a hard glare, his grip around his quill bending it in half. He’d assumed that his tutors were aware of the reason behind Elliot’s academic decline, but they’d been too scared of him to say anything about it. It didn’t seem particularly wise to mention the suicide of someone’s mother.

“I’ll be going now,” Elliot said with finality, shutting the text he hadn’t noticed he’d flipped open, pushing his belongings in his bag. Elsie stood, looking frantic.

“No! I--Elliot, wait, wait it’s---you need to pass Charms!”

“I don’t need to do anything,” he said, shaking his head, “and stop acting like you care, this just makes you look good for Flitwick.”

“That’s not---do it for your sister!”

Elliot stopped, turning back toward Elsie slowly with a deep frown on his face. Elsie looked honestly mortified at herself, but she put her hand out in a pleading manner, trying to salvage the studying session.

“If you don’t work on your grades, then Eliza’s not going to,” Elsie said, shaking her head sadly, “She needs you to show her that you can get through this.”

He wanted to yell at her. He wanted to scream, who was she to tell him what he needed to do? He didn’t have to do anything, for anyone! No one ever did for him, no one cared that Elliot had to make sure Eliza was eating, that she was doing her homework, that she was actually speaking. No one cared about how he would feel, having this burden thrust upon him because his father was out of his mind and his mother----well obviously she hadn’t cared about him either.

But her words stung, and after a few beats of silence, Elliot dropped himself back into his seat. He crossed his arms, not bothering to pull out his notes or texts. Elsie hesitated, but then pulled her chair over to the adjacent side, looking eager.

“We’ll---we’ll start with silencing charms.”

Elliot couldn’t help but snort; those would be useful. Elsie pursed her lips in a smile. “Oh, be quiet...”

"Bloody Eliza, bloody stupid sisters, why couldn't she go and get the gloves that she forgot…"

Elliot continued to mumble to himself as he trudged through the snow of the grounds, heading toward the Care of Magical Creatures paddock where his absent-minded little sister had left her favorite pair of gloves. Elliot had been given no choice in the matter and was now the one that had to make the trek out in the cold. He hated the cold! The winter was the absolute worst, especially at Hogwarts. This February had been brutal.

In his irritation, Elliot missed the fact that he'd reached a hill, and slid down quite a few feet before catching his balance, only to drop down into the snow again. "Bloody fuck!"

"You have the filthiest mouth in the castle."

Elliot's head snapped up and he spotted Nora Peakes sitting on the fence of the paddock. Her bright red hair stuck out in a wild frizz from under her warm winter hat. He scowled, standing up and wiping the snow off of his pants.

"Where's my trophy?" Elliot grumbled, adjusting his hat. He made his way over to Nora, hoping that she'd already spotted the lost gloves and he could be on his way. "Please tell me you have a pair of---were you crying?"

His scowl didn't properly portray the actual concern he felt. As much of a, yes, grouch that he was, Nora was one of his oldest friends and actually hadn't managed to be written off by him. Elliot figured it was her ability to sit in silence with him whereas everyone else in the bloody castle seemed to find it necessary to start a conversation at every turn.

Nora jumped down from the fence, "I was, yeah," she admitted, voice still wavering. "Just caught my boyfriend in bed with my roommate. That tends to bring on the tears."

Her voice cracked by the end of her explanation and Elliot hesitated. Part of him felt like tearing back to the castle and punching Mattias right in the nose, but another part felt like acting as if he hadn't heard Nora at all. Damn it, damn it, damn it. After a slight hesitation, he stepped toward the fence, examining the cold weather creatures through the planks. Elliot had dropped the course after his O.W.L.s and he certainly hadn't missed the smell.

"With---who? Comstock?" Elliot asked, having recalled spotting her and Mattias together late one night in the common room. Nora's lips twisted.

"Was it really that obvious? Did everyone know but me?"

"No!" Elliot blurted, putting his hands up, "No, I just---she's the second prettiest, I guess."

Nora managed a laugh, "You don't gotta lie."

"I'm not! I don't think---I mean to say---"

"If I was prettier than her," Nora said, eyes welling up, "Adrian wouldn't have—"

Elliot put his hand out, stopping Nora from turning away. "Blokes don't think that hard. He's a bloody twat; you see how he is with everyone but you."

"So why did he---?" Nora put her hands to her eyes, taking deep, shuddering breaths. Elliot winced as she began to cry again and involuntarily looked around to see if there was anyone else that could comfort her, as he was doing a shit job at it. He knew he couldn't leave her, but what could he say? Mattias was a twat and Comstock a tart?

The Twat and The Tart, it sounded like they were meant for each other.

No, he definitely couldn't say that.

"Oy, come on," Elliot mumbled, and in a much too awkward manner, he reached out and hugged Nora. He honestly couldn't recall the last time he'd hugged anyone that wasn't Eliza, and those hugs usually were his little sister's arms clinging around his neck. But, he supposed that Nora was something like family, one of the few people who didn't instantly irritate him, and that qualified her as okay to hug. If some bloke had broken Eliza's heart like this…Elliot was already seeing red, so he definitely needed to be there for his friend.

This was progress, and he mentally awarded himself a few imaginary house points.

After a minute or two, Nora calmed her tears and pulled away. Her face was blotchy and red, but Elliot reckoned that she was in fact the first prettiest.

"What're you down here for, anyway?" Nora asked through her sniffles. Elliot scratched the back of his head, having forgotten he'd been on a mission.

"Oy, my sister left her favorite pair of gloves down here. Rainbow knitted, have you seen them?"

"Oh…Professor Kettleburn brought them back up to the Great Hall. You just missed him."

"Bloody hell."

Nora scurried up the rocky path from Professor Kettleburn’s animal pens, her eyes watching the cobblestones at her feet to ensure that she did not trip over a single one. Her unhemmed robes usually caused her to stumble, but she’d taken precautions with that as well. With a pinch of wire from a clabbert cage, she’d tied the bottom of her robes into knots at her side. They looked strange, like little ears poking out near her feet, but they kept Nora from falling flat on her face, which she was prone to do. Her feet just did not move fast enough for her! And she’d learned the hard way that riding a broomstick through the corridor was strictly prohibited!

“NORA! Over here! NORA!” the very familiar and loud voice of Delilah Spinnet shouted. Nora’s head shot up from looking at the ground and in that split second her toes hit jutting out stone and she went flying forward, face-planting in the dirt.

Brilliant.

By the laughter she heard in the not-so-far off distance, Nora decided that getting up as quickly as possible to avoid looking anyone in the eye was the best solution. Her knees were throbbing and so were her elbows, but she pushed up from the ground anyway---only to get caught in her robes and tumble to the grass once again.

“Are you all right?!”

It wasn’t Delilah that was voicing her concern, which made it even harder for Nora to get out of the mess of robes she was in. She froze, feeling all the blood rush to her cheeks and ears, and her hands magically found their way out of her sleeves and to her hair to furiously pat down the monstrosity that was her mane of curly dark red hair. She must look like a wild beast, and she didn’t have a hair tie in sight!

“Nora, are you all right?” Octavius Pepper asked again, bending over awkwardly in half to look her in the eye. She nodded furiously, avoiding his eyes as she finally managed to stand. Of course he was nearby, of course! But Delilah was nearby too----

Nora let out a yelp as she was tackled to the ground by her friend, hitting the grass hard enough to ensure that her shoulder had been properly popped out of its socket.

“Are you okay?!” Delilah shrieked, her hold on Nora not loosening even though they were now in a pile on the ground. As much as she appreciated her friend’s enthusiasm...she didn’t.

“Delilah---get off!” Nora said, struggling against the other Gryffindor’s grip.

“Oh!” Delilah yelped, “Whoops, sorry!” She scrambled to her feet and put her hand out to help Nora up. With a huff, Nora took her help. Delilah wasted no time in patting Nora’s robes down, trying to get all the grass out of the now filthy robes.

“Delilah---” Nora protested, “I’m fine, I’m fine---”

“Yeah,” a third voice crowed, the one that had been laughing in the background during the entire ordeal, “let her be! She likes smelling like her creatures.” Charlie Spinnet pulled a face at Nora as she sneered at him. All she ever wanted to do was kick him in his tall, gangly shins, and all he ever did was point out how short and awkward she was. It was a terrible mix. Charlie pointed at her head, “Look, she’s even got a bird’s nest in that hair of hers.”

“CHARLIE YOU ARE THE RUDEST PERSON EVER!” Delilah screamed, completely forgetting about cleaning up Nora and whirling on her brother, wand out. Charlie’s hands went up in defense as he backed away from his riled up twin, and the siblings began to loudly bicker on the steps into the castle.

Nora let out a breath, “I should’ve stayed with the clabberts,” she muttered, rubbing her shoulder.

“Kettleburn’s got clabberts?”

She felt her throat constrict again; she’d forgotten Octavius was standing less than a foot away from her because of the distraction the Spinnet twins created. He looked honestly surprised and interested in this news, and Nora decided that trying to break apart Charlie and Delilah would be a lot more painful than having to talk to the boy she fancied down by the animal pens.

“Yeah, they’re brill,” Nora said, managing to smile. Her animals always brought a smile to her face, and she was even happier to see Octavius grin as well, “I don’t think they’re asleep yet, if we hurry.”

He nodded and they started down the cobblestone path, away from the Spinnets, who were now taking turns pinning each other in the mud. Out of the corner of her eye Nora saw Octavius reach for her hair. She winced, but laughed when he pulled out a rather long twig,

“Sorry for ruining your bird’s nest,” he laughed, flicking the stick away. Nora flushed but smiled, deciding to add a slight skip to her step, even with her bad track record.

Mackenzie had taken a seat at the table closest to the door because while every prefect meeting was important, she still needed to squeeze in an extra half hour of Potions studying if she wanted to get a qualifying N.E.W.T. Although she was unsure with what she wanted to do after Hogwarts, it was very important to be prepared for any sort of career decision or change. Her mind had been so focused on the exams that she had surprised herself by actually making it to this meeting on time; everything else in her life had seemed like such a blur, such a complete whirlwind, that remembering a prefects meeting had not seemed like something she would have cared to recall.

She diligently listened to Vinny speak about the preparations that were necessary for the final Hogsmeade trip of their Hogwarts career, and barely noticed someone slip into the chair beside her. Mackenzie barely had to turn her head before she realized who had sat beside her and it took all of her strength not to let out a squeak. Sebastian had crept into the meeting late, a good ten minutes late, and he was sitting right next to her!

In public.

While she couldn't stop her ears from burning red as she forced herself not to glare at her secret boyfriend, her heart beat madly with excitement. This was the closest she'd been to Sebastian in front of other people since...in months! Had they all turned to look, when he had entered? Had they followed him to the table? Were they all focused on why she was so focused on the tardy Gryffindor?

Mackenzie pushed a quick breath from her nose and turned back to the front of the classroom, trying to keep up the image of not acknowledging Sebastian Goldstein's existence. It was hard, so very hard; the back of the classroom was further away from the candle light, it was darker and quieter, the next nearest person was four rows away and in front of her table.

"What I miss?"

His breath was hot in her ear, and Mackenzie instinctively fluttered her eyes shut. They snapped open immediately, however, and she twisted her head away from him, feeling her blush rush up her neck and to her cheeks. He should not be doing that, he should not be doing that!

When a soft snicker escaped from Sebastian's mouth, Mackenzie knew that she was going to pinch him later. She settled back into her seat and resumed her composure...she could pinch him now. Her hands had been folded perfectly on her lap, and the tables were high enough to hide any quick motions so---she pinched his thigh, quickly, but effectively. Sebastian squirmed in his seat and she felt a great satisfaction...that was until his foot nudged hers, hooking around her ankle and tugging her toward him. Thank goodness the chair didn't move, but---Mackenzie felt like she was going to die. They had never been so bold in public before, they had never tried to be so sneaky before, but----

---oh, it was exhilarating. She was flirting with her boyfriend, the boy she had to love in secret. Her secret Gryffindor boyfriend was playing footsie with her under the table, and she was reveling every second of it. Oh, why hadn't they thought of it sooner? No, it would have become too obvious, if they'd sat together during the prefect meetings, what would she be doing, allowing that Gryffindor to sit next to her all the time...

Mackenzie let her hand drop off her lap and a split second later Sebastian's fingers were brushing against hers, tugging at her hand and----oh, oh, the meeting was almost over. She quickly seized his hand in a great squeeze before the meeting was adjorned, and Mackenzie swept away from the table without a look back at Sebastian.

She didn't have to look back, he would know to meet her behind their favorite tapestry of St. Mungo the Healer.

He had to stand his ground. He was a brave and daring Gryffindor, he could handle a few agitated quidditch players.

“Stay back!” Charlie said loudly, pointing his wand stiffly at his opponents. His back was pressed against the broom closet and in his head his feet had been buried, cemented into the ground. There was no way they were getting in there. “The pitch is ours!”

“This is ridiculous,” Gabriel Corner, the Ravenclaw captain, snapped. He crossed his arms, “It’s clearly stated that Ravenclaw is on at seven. It’s seven o’five! We have the pitch!”

“No, we have the pitch,” the burly Drystan Fawcett grumbled. The captain of the Hufflepuff team glowered at Charlie, and the Gryffindor felt the blood rush from his face in fear. “Madame Hooch said that Hufflepuff’s on at seven.”

The two teams hovered behind their captains, their expressions a mix of confusion, annoyance, and intrigue. Gryffindor had won the cup last year, it would be a sight to see their Keeper get killed right before the first match.

Charlie kept his chin up, his wand shaking greatly. This was the stupidest thing he’d ever done in his life, and he had done plenty of stupid things. Like getting caught up in a tree, starkers. Like taking on a dueling champ to talk to a Slytherin’s girlfriend. Like that one time-----Adrian better appreciate this! Charlie had been ready to eat flobberworms for his quidditch team initiation, he had not been ready to deal with an ‘accidental’ muck up of the schedule that would cause another Great War among the Hogwarts quidditch community.

The youngest of the captains, a fourth year Slytherin, bounded onto the pitch, his team trailing behind him.

“Off! Off, the lot of you!”

“Shut it, Dearborn,” Gabriel said dismissively, shoving out his shoulder to knock the Slytherin away. “You’re not on until nine.”

“I thought Ravenclaws could read,” Caradoc Dearborn snarled, thrusting the schedule into Gabriel’s face, “Slytherin’s at seven, you ponce!”

Gabriel thrust his hand out and grabbed the schedule out of Caradoc’s hands, eyes scanning it over quickly. Drystan shuffled over to read the parchment over Gabriel’s shoulder. Charlie watched anxiously, his eyes not on the grouping of captains but on the stands across the pitch.

Hurry it up! he thought nervously.

The Slytherin raised his chin haughtily, looking far too smug for someone who’d read a quidditch schedule correctly.

“This is forged,” Gabriel said with a shake of his head, causing Caradoc to illicit a squawk of indignation. The Ravenclaw ignored him, “I didn’t notice before, but---” He jammed his hands into his front robe pocket and pulled out the Ravenclaw team’s schedule, “Hooch always signs in the House colors, to make it an official schedule.”

He turned the parchment to Drystan, who inspected it closely, “Her signature’s in red ink.”

Charlie really wished that would be his cue to leave. He watched nervously as Drystan went searching for the Hufflepuff schedule and Caradoc grabbed the Slytherin one back. Gabriel stared suspiciously at him, and Charlie felt like his end of days was coming.

“Red ink,” Gabriel said, stepping toward Charlie. He gulped, eyes flicking back and forth, but once again landing on the opposing stands. “Now, why would Madam Hooch sign all of our schedules in red ink?”

“Perhaps she was feeling feisty,” Charlie supplied, grinning warily and immediately regretting the comment.

Gabriel’s tongue twisted in his mouth, and a moment later Drystan and Caradoc stood at his shoulders. He reached out and snatched the quidditch schedule that was poking out of Charlie’s pocket. He quickly scanned it, and then looked back up at Charlie with a slight look of confusion.

Caradoc interjected, “You Gryffindors really are bloody idiots. You scheduled us all at same time! You morons!”

“But where’s the team...” Drystan murmured, looking around as the pieces started to fall together.

Charlie’s face went red as Gabriel’s eyes went wide.

“Unless you wanted all of us here---” the Ravenclaw started, but his words we lost as the pitch filled with screams. Charlie let out his own yell as he made his get away, just in time to avoid getting doused with red and gold paint and other rather hard to remove product. The Gryffindor quidditch team soared just out of arm’s reach of the other teams, emptying their buckets and crowing loudly at the shrieks and sounds of fury coming from their quidditch opponents.

“SPINNET!” Adrian Mattias, captain of the Gryffindors roared. Charlie ran straight toward his captain, hearing the furious roars of the other players and the thunder of their stampede coming after him. He reached out and grabbed onto Adrian’s outstretched arm, and with some grace he did not know he had, swung up on the back of the broomstick and zoomed off the pitch as fast as the Nimbus would take them.

“I’m going to get murdered in my sleep,” Charlie said, laughing maniacally. Adrian let out a whoop of success.

“It will be the most glorious of deaths! Welcome to the team, Spinnet!

The girls were being really obvious about their gawking, and the boys knew it. It was why they were ruffling their hair and tossing around a quaffle, making diving catches and saves. Miranda bumped her shoulder into Gillian’s, giggling behind her hand at the silly boys of Gryffindor.

“Shacklebolt fills out that uniform rather nicely, doesn’t he?” Ingrid Catchlove growled, earning a pinch in the side from her twin sister, Greta. The group erupted into shrilly laughter, the picnic blanket on the lawn of the Great Entrance the perfect place to lounge and stare openly at the rather fit boys that surrounded them.

It was the first really warm day of the spring, and while there were midterms and homework and other exams to be had, the Gryffindor girls could not be bothered with anything studious. The majority of people out on the lawn were Gryffindors, with a handful of Hufflepuffs milling about. There were a few Slytherins by the lake looking as if they were plotting something dangerous, but not a Ravenclaw to be seen. It was as if sunlight was counterproductive to their study habits.

“He’s the cutest boy in our year,” Ingrid stated, daring the rest of them to disagree.

“No way!” her twin argued, “Ludo Bagman’s bloody gorgeous!” Greta sighed dramatically and laid out on her side. Eliza looked over the top of her book and gave a quick roll of her eyes at the display. Miranda caught the look and immediately retorted,

“Eliza likes Ravenclaws with their heads in the clouds,” she said pointedly, and she watched her roommate's face turn pink before hiding behind her book. Miranda had seen Eliza staring quite openly at the Ravenclaw prefect, a boy whose name she couldn’t pronounce.

Gillian popped her hand up like she was in class and had the ten point answer on the tip of her tongue.

“Zach Sloper’s like---he's like carved out of stone,” Gillian let out, her voice lowering as if the boy could hear him from his spot by the lake. Her hair was streaked in purple and she managed to twirl just those strands around her fingers.

“Slytherin,” Miranda gagged. No matter how cute or fit a bloke was, she would never be able to find him attractive if he donned the green and silver robes, “That just means he’s slimy.”

“He is not!” the rest of the group, even Eliza, let out, scandalized.

“Slytherins are made to gawk at!”

“Just don’t marry one!”

“Or have their babies!”

“Their evil little babies.”

The girls burst into laughter, glad that the Slytherins were the furthest away from their picnic blanket and couldn’t hear their nonsense talk. Their silly chatter continued, and they went through the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff boys. Miranda was about to announce that Dirk Cresswell was her favorite Hufflepuff because of his Prince Charming-like smile when a red quaffle whizzed between the heads of Greta and Ingrid and smacked Miranda straight in the face. The girls let out shrill shrieks of surprise and confusion as Miranda teetered back onto the grass. Shouts and the thudding of footsteps were heard, but she’d shut her eyes to stop the spinning of her head.

She’d been hit with quaffles before, she had three older brothers to thank for that, but it still sent her into a bit of a shock. Her hand went to her forehead as she let out a groan, and soon she felt someone hovering over her fallen form.

“Hey, can you open your eyes?”

The voice was familiar, but in her addled state Miranda couldn’t put a name or face to it. She took in a deep breath and forced her eyes to open. The afternoon light was blinding and it took the blurry image of the face hovering over her a few seconds to come into focus. Miranda felt a silly grin form on her face at the sight of Ralph Merridew’s concerned expression. His hair was the perfect shade of red, his freckles were scattered over his cheeks as if splashed onto his face by a god. His eyes, his eyes were entrancing, and his voice was like that of an angel---Oy! His lips! She wanted to kiss those lips!

"You're the cutest," she mumbled. Ralph's eyes crinkled with his amused smile.

"That quaffle hit you harder than I thought," he said, putting out a hand to help Miranda up. She took it quite willingly and only wobbled a little when she was finally on her feet. Ralph put his hand on her shoulder to keep her steady and she was sure she was going to faint under his touch.

"I'll take you to the infirmary," he said with a stern nod, "Seeing as I was the one that kicked the quaffle and all..."

"It's all right," Miranda said, ignoring the giggles from the girls on the blanket below. "I think it actually knocked some sense into me."

Ralph's grin widened and Miranda's heart fluttered.

“Don’t you have anything better to look at?!” Carys snapped at the third year whose eyes seemed glued to her hair.

She threw up a fist and the kid skittered away, banging into one of the bookshelves of the library before disappearing. Carys glowered, dropping into a seat at the nearest table. She rummaged through her bag, muttering about stupid third years. It was so bloody infuriating to have to be in the library without people staring. Carys could honestly say she’d only spent a total of one hour in the past five years of schooling at Hogwarts in the library. Now with her sixth year starting and these N.E.W.T. classes her mother was making her take, she found herself actually using her free time to be here.

Terrible, just terrible.

Carys let out a breath and her shoulders sagged once the rage at the third year dissipated. Some of her hair fell into her eyes and she focused on the strands, eyes going blurry as they crossed. She took hold of her bangs, if you could call them that, and gave it a tug. Her hand ran through her hair, still finding it very surprising when her locks ended right at ears. Carys winced; last night it had seemed like a bloody brilliant idea to chop all of her hair off, but right now all she could think about was the looks she’d been receiving since she’d left her dorm room this morning.

It seemed like every Gryffindor in the school had been sitting in the common room this morning, and every single one of them happened to look up at the very second Carys descended the staircase. It had been the most embarrassing moment of her life, but Carys had just huffed and stalked out of the common room. It was just hair, it would grow back----why did they have to stare?

Thinking about this morning got her flustered, and Carys flipped open her Transfiguration texts to try and get notes for her essay The words bounced around on the pages because of her inability to focus, and she was sure she’d read the same paragraph ten times before she finally let out a frustrated sound and shut the text. Carys pushed her chair out and stood, heading into the Transfiguration section to find something that was written in proper English and not textbook gibberish. Her fingers trailed across the spines of the books, and it was when bent to look at some of the books on the lower shelves that she heard them.

“I heard she’s gone loony,” a boy’s voice said from the other side of the bookshelf. Carys froze, kneeling on the ground. Her face heated up, sure that they were talking about her.

“Wouldn’t you be a bit off if you saw your dad get eaten by a chimaera?” the other voice said. Carys could see their shoes and the bottom of their robes through the bookshelf. A Slytherin and a Ravenclaw. Did she have all of Hogwarts talking about her?

“Did you see her hair? I’ll give it a week before she has a complete mental breakdown in the Great Hall,” one of the boys said, and Carys unfortunately could not stop the tears from stinging her eyes when the other boy agreed to the wager. She hated crying, she hated seeming weak! She twisted away and dropped completely to the floor, wiping furiously at her face to stop the tears. She should go around and hex the bloody idiots, but that would just further prove that she was loony.

Carys let out a shuddering breath, ready to push herself up when another voice broke into the rude conversation that was happening behind her.

“Only a week, hm?”

Carys flushed, recognizing the voice. She stood and peered through the books, spotting Michal Conway Lynch confronting the two younger boys. Her face flushed a deep red and her hands flew to flatten down her hair, even though he couldn’t see her through the bookshelves. Why did he of all people have to hear those boys saying those terrible things? Carys watched as he pointed a stiff finger in the Slytherin’s face.

“How about I knock you into next week so you can see if you’ve won your wager?” Michal spat, shoving the Slytherin into the bookcase. Carys had to jump back as the force knocked a few books off the shelf on her side, and she spotted the two boys rushing away and out of the library a moment later. Carys, shocked by the confrontation, dropped to the floor once again to pick up the books. She saw Michal come around out of the corner of her eyes, and she busied herself with the fallen books.

“They’re idiots,” he said, dropping to one knee to help her clean up. Carys looked at him with a sad smile, trying to forget her embarrassment and that her face was red from her tears. She also could not allow herself to think about how Michal was looking at her with her atrocious haircut. What had she been thinking?

“Can’t do much about it,” she muttered. He shrugged, using his wand to send the books back into their proper places. Michal stood first, and though Carys was sure she’d rather stay on the floor, she accepted the hand he offered her. He grinned, reaching forward and pushing her hair out of her eyes. Oh, she was about ready to pass out.

“No, but it’s a hell of a lot of fun scaring the shit out of them,” he said, sending her a funny look. Carys let out a laugh and flushed once again. Maybe she wouldn’t mind if Michal stared at her, especially like that.