I sit down in the seat Parvati has saved for me and sigh. I ladle some porridge into a bowl, stick my spoon in, and stir it half-heartedly.
Parvati rolls her eyes and looks up at me from her Witch Weekly, "Ok Lavender, what's wrong?"
"Nothing." I say dejectedly as I pour milk into my bland porridge. Parvati gives me 'the look' and I stop pouring.
"Nothing!" I say again as I reach for the sugar bowl. I'm about to put a heaping spoonful into my porridge when Parvati clears her throat and says, "Didn't you say you were on a diet?" I shoot her a death glare, put the sugar bowl back and dig my spoon into my porridge again. God! Does she have to be such a mother?
"Don't be mad, Lav. You just said that you wanted to lose weight and you're not going to do so by eating loads of carbs." She looks back down at her Witch Weekly and I sneak a huge spoonful of sugar into my bowl. I mix it in and stick my tongue out at the cover of her Witch Weekly. Two second-years at my right see this and erupt into giggles causing Parvati to look up at me over the magazine. She carefully appraises me and clucks her tongue. I know exactly what's coming.
"Lavender, did you put any make-up on today?" she says as she puts her magazine down, "It doesn't suit you to sleep in, you know. Have you even combed your hair?" She rummages through her bag and produces a blue compact. "At least you can put on some blusher." She says this loud enough to attract the attention of the two second-year girls. They look at me and giggle into their sleeves.
"Do you have a giggle disease or something?" I snap at them as I open the compact. "Mind your own business." I peer into compact to see how bad I no doubt look. My face is red as a tomato and my complexion has erupted into spots. My face needs a little more than blusher, it could use a whole makeover, but I click the compact closed defiantly. I slide it over the table to her and act as if I intended to look this way when I entered the Great Hall this morning. I ignore her scathing look by staring into my porridge intently.
Booming laughter invades my reverie and I look toward the source. There, seated at the Ravenclaw table, is the most beautiful boy on the face of this planet. His dark hair is swept over his chocolate eyes. He smiles at the boy next to him and lets out another booming laugh. A shiver runs down my spine. He is Roger Davies, Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, and the object of my desire. I stare a little longer at his adorable dimples until I notice Parvati is glaring at me.
"Could you be a little more obvious?" she says shaking her head and looking back down at her Witch Weekly "I thought you'd gone daft the way you were drooling into your porridge and staring off into space."
"I was not drooling!" I snap indignantly and shovel an oversized bite of porridge into my mouth, "I was just enjoying the scenery." Hermione Granger looks over at me and gives me a disgusted look. After I wipe my chin I wave to her meekly. She smiles in a deprecating way and continues reading her Daily Prophet.
I look down at the scarred table and trace the words Snape Sucks with my thumbnail. I sigh as my eyes wander over to the Ravenclaw table yet again.
Oh, my beloved! Why are you not mine?
I'm supposed to be brave, that's what Gryfindors are. But if I were to live up to the title of fearless go-getter Roger Davies would already be my boyfriend. I suppose if I just introduced myself to him things would not turn out so bad. But then again, why would I ever need to introduce myself to him? Would it not seem strange that after years of passing him in the halls and seeing him during mealtimes without even a nod or a smile that I suddenly feel the need to make his acquaintance? He may think I have a hidden agenda of some sort (which I do) to get something from him. He may back off suspiciously and I will be crushed.
No, that would not do.
I envy those who are Ravenclaw. At least they can cheer him on during Quidditch matches without feeling like a traitor toward their own team. I'd be able to see him in the common room, pat him on the back, and commend him on a superb performance. Instead I'm reduced to staring at him during mealtimes and waving awkwardly like a stalker after his games.
I suppose I should just stick to my own Gryfindors and leave it at that. I look over the table appraisingly and the first boy my eyes rest upon is Ron Weasley. He is rather good-looking: tall, decent haircut, a few cute freckles and nice eyes. Ron has a good sense of humor, but lacks conviction when it comes to doing his studies. His nose is a little long; he dresses poorly, and doesn't really take me very seriously. Anyway, everyone knows he's in love with Hermione Granger. Well, everyone except him.
The next boy I assess is Harry Potter. With his tousled hair and brooding green eyes, he is easily a very handsome boy. He's a little on the short side, but well built. He's a kind boy but a little too angry sometimes. He has a pretty troubled past and acts as though the world and their mother are against him. I like him, but he's a wee bit too high maintenance for this girl.
There's Neville Longbottom to the left of me. I look at him and I smile in spite of myself. What can I say about Neville? Oh, he's a rather sweet boy with pretty blue eyes and if I were to date him I can be sure he'd treat me like a princess. But his memory is so poor he'd probably forget we were dating. And his teeth! I can't even imagine kissing him without thinking that those teeth might get in the way. Poor boy. Someday he'll grow up and into his body and he'll find a girl who likes him for the clumsy guy he is. Some girls find that cute.
Sitting next to Neville is Dean Thomas. Dean is a decent boy. He's attractive and sweet, but even if I wanted to date him I couldn't because he's already with Ginny Weasley. Ah well. Can't have them all.
Speaking of unattainable, Seamus Finnegan sits down next to Dean and starts laughing about something or other. I once thought Seamus was the one for me. It all made sense, really. We talked all the time and he even took me to the Yule Ball that we had a couple years back. But, due to an unfortunate incident involving me trying to jump his bones and him admitting that he was gay, things didn't quite work out the way I'd planned. Parvati says that one of my main character flaws is jumping to conclusions.
I sigh again and Parvati slams her magazine down on the table in exasperation.
"Lavender, stop!"
"What?"
"Stop this self-pitying bullshit you've gotten yourself into. If you like him, go talk to him!" She's starting to get up from the table as she says this.
"Parvati," I say tentatively, "what are you doing?"
"We're going to go talk to Padma," she says, pulling me to my feet by my elbow, "We're going to deal with this crush once and for all."
Oh God! I'm not going over there. I'm not letting him see me like this. Why didn't I brush my hair this morning? I stay rooted to the spot in frozen horror.
"Come on Lavender!" she pulls on my arm harder, but I grab onto Dean Thomas' hand, causing Ginny to glare at me.
"Dean, don't let her take me away!" I ask him pleadingly.
"Where," he says, eyes twinkling, "to St. Mungo's? If you ask me, you two both belong in there."
"Ha-ha!" Parvati says as she yanks my arm free. She starts pulling me toward the Ravenclaw table. She's dragging me past other house tables, ignoring my protests, while other students look on and snigger. I'm blindly grabbing onto edges of tables, trying to slow Parvati down, only slightly aware that I'm making a fool of myself. We get closer to the Ravenclaw table and I can actually feel the blood drain out of my face. I can no longer breathe properly. We approach Padma from behind and I hide behind Parvati and out of Roger's line of vision.
"Hey Padma." Parvati says, "We need to talk." Padma looks up at us and smiles. "Sure. About what?" she says, her smile fades as she notices our strange position, Parvati standing tall and me cowering behind her.
"Lavender, what are you doing?" she asks. Parvati rolls her eyes and moves a step to the side. I move with her and she glares at me.
"That's what we're here about." She nods in the direction of Roger, "she likes him." Padma whips her head around and surveys the area Parvati indicated. She lets out a knowing ah, and then says, "Who doesn't?"
"Well this one here's got it bad." Parvati points at me, "Could you introduce them or something and put me out of my misery?"
"Parvati!" I barely manage to whisper, "Don't!" I want to smack her so hard. My face is so red, you could turn out all of the lights and I'd light up the whole room.
"Stop it, Lavender!" she turns to face me and puts her hands on my shoulders, "Stop acting like this, you're only making things worse." I'm making things worse? She's the one who's trying to ruin my life. I'll never be able to face the school again. I'll be in exile in the library, slowly turning into Madam Pince.
Padma gets up and takes my hand. My eyes are wide with fright. She smiles at me and gives me a reassuring squeeze. We start to walk; Padma leading the way and me trailing behind as one condemned. We circle the table and Padma sits down right beside Roger.
Oh, why don't I have her confidence?
She gestures to me to sit down next to her. I squeeze in between her and a seventh year boy. She waits until Roger's done telling his story and coughs loudly. He turns to her and smiles.
"Hey Padma! What's up?" He asks jovially, while running his hand through his hair. I sigh wistfully.
If only that were my hand stroking his chestnut locks.
"Roger," she says, leaning back to give him full view of my horrified face. "I want you to meet my good friend, Lavender Brown."
He smiles and extends his hand. I stare at it dumbly for a few seconds until I realize that he wants me to shake it. I do, turning bright red, and he laughs.
"Hi Lavender," he says, smiling brightly, "I'm Roger."
"I know," I say curtly.
"Oh," he says, smile fading.
"I mean…" I start, realizing I sound just like a stalker, "Of course you're Roger Davies. Who doesn't know you? You're the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain and…"
"Well, I'll let you two get acquainted." Padma cuts in. She stands up and is gone before I can protest and I'm left on my own with the man of my dreams.
"Soooo…" he says awkwardly, "You're in sixth year, right?"
"Correct." I say, feeling very creepy. I stare at his mouth in admiration. His lips look so soft and sweet and the way his mouth forms an 'o' drives me wild. He's saying something but I cannot hear a word he's said, I'm so spellbound. I nod my head and keep looking at his mouth, wondering how it would feel if we kissed.
"So which team is your favorite?" I suddenly hear.
"What?" I say, breaking out of my reverie.
"Which Quidditch team do you like best?" he asks again.
"Um…Gryfindor?" I say apprehensively. He laughs loudly and pounds the table with his palm. I laugh nervously and hoping to cover my confusion.
"You are a laugh, Violet!" he says, punching my shoulder good-naturedly.
Violet?
"I meant professional teams." He smiles at me, making me melt. "Of course you like Gryfindor, you're required to."
"Oh, of course." I say quickly, "Um…"
I don't actually like Quidditch. Other than house games, I've never even seen a real match. My dad and brother were never into sports. They liked things like art and music. Why does my family have to be so weird?
Think, Lavender, Think! What are some teams you've heard of? Something Cannons? But they're supposed to be a shoddy team, right? Who'd be a fan of a shoddy team? Arg! Think Lavender! There's a storm team. Something Hurricanes.
"I like the Hurricanes." I say suddenly without thinking.
"Pardon?" he says doubtfully.
"The Hurricanes." I say again.
"Do you mean the Tornados?" he says, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, that's what I said." I say, mortified. Oh God!
He smiles awkwardly at me and then looks at his watch. Suddenly he grabs his knapsack and searches through it franticly. He pulls out a sheet of parchment and scans it's content.
"Shit." he says under his breath and puts the parchment back into his bag. He looks at me as if he forgot I was there. He says hurriedly, "Well, it's been great chatting with you Violet, but…"
"Lavender."
"What?"
"My name is Lavender." I say slowly.
"Sorry. Lavender. Anyway, I've got to run. There's something I have to ask…um…Professor Trelawny about." He starts to get up.
"Wait!" I say, putting my hand on his arm. He recoils his arm slightly at my touch and I pull my hand away quickly. "I just meant to say that I'm pretty good at Divination and if you needed help I…"
"I don't bloody need your help!" he says angrily. He collects his books and stands up.
What the hell did I do? One minute he was fine, the next minute he nearly tore my head off. I look down at my fingers and fight back tears. I'm such a baby.
I feel his weight on the bench beside me as he sits back down. I keep looking at the chipped polish on my fingernails and try to ignore the way his cloak falls over my left knee. He puts his hand on my shoulder and I shrug it off as a tear slides down my nose and onto my lap.
"Aww, Lavender, I'm sorry." He says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ears. If he doesn't stop, I'm either going to burst into tears or try to jump him. Emotions are so weird.
"Lavender," he tries to catch my eye. "Lavender, I'm sorry I snapped like that." He sighs and places his elbow on the table and puts his face in his hand. I glance at him and he smiles wearily.
"Things are just so effed up right now." He looks down at the table and sighs again. I turn to face him and he puts his hand on my knee. My entire body goes rigid as my mind realizes that he's entering the danger zone. He looks me straight in the eye and I can see a miniature reflection of myself staring back at me. I know that if I look at them any longer I may possibly kiss this boy.
"I'm failing Divination." He says finally. He turns away from me and removes his hand from my knee. I try not to melt into a puddle and bring my attention back to his dilemma.
"I'm embarrassed." He says quietly, "I'm still doing fourth year stuff."
"Oh," I say, trying hard not to sound surprised.
The man of my dreams is failing Divination. My best subject is Divination. If I work things out properly and try not to screw things up, I may be able to use this to my advantage.
"Some of that stuff is hard," I say, treading lightly around the subject. "Divination is not for everyone, you know. Some people just cannot See."
Do I have to sound so much like Professor Trelawny?
"Are you saying that I am blind?" he says, clutching his chest and pretending to be offended.
"No!" I say quickly, "I just meant…"
"I'm just kidding, Lavender," he says, pushing at my shoulder playfully, all the while smiling brilliantly at me.
"You remembered my name." I say softly, looking up at his face.
"When did I forget your name?" he inquires.
"You kept calling me Violet."
"Oh! Well. At least I knew it was a color. At least I didn't call you Purple or something."
I snort loudly at this. His eyes widen in surprise and he starts to laugh. I laugh in spite of myself; half amused, half mortified. I've been called 'Purple' as an insult plenty of times and it hasn't been funny since I was ten, but hearing from his mouth just seems so amusing.
Still smiling, he rests his cheek in his hand and looks at me. I smile uncomfortably back at him, feeling awkward and weird.
"Ok, look, I really do have to go, but…" he trails off, picking up his knapsack and placing it in his lap. "I was hoping that if you aren't too busy this weekend, you and I could maybe…" he stops mid-sentence, fumbling with the buckle on his bag. I sit absolutely motionless, waiting in extreme agony for the rest of his sentence, hoping he'll tell me what I've been waiting to hear. I fight the urge to slap the buckle out of his hand, grab him by the lapel and say, "FINISH YOUR QUESTION!"
He looks up at me and says, "Um, where was I?"
"You were about to ask me something about this weekend." I say tensely.
"Oh yes," he gets up from his seat and I get up too, "I was wondering if you'd like to help me study this weekend."
I stand motionless and his face falls.
"Er…if you don't want to, I completely under-"
"I'd love too!" I say a little too quickly. I try to stay composed but inside I'm bursting with glee. Everyone knows that a study date is practically a real date!
Only with schoolwork involved.
And no real romance.
And all you do is study.
But, you know, it's a step in the right direction.
"Splendid." he says, grinning at me. "I have Quidditch practice until twelve-thirty, so how about one-ish on Saturday in the library?"
"Sure, no problem!" I say happily while my stomach does gleeful summersaults.
"So I'll meet you by the tapestry with the dragon on it?" he says, making his way toward the Entrance Hall, bumping into a fourth year boy.
"Okay." I call after him. "See you Saturday!"
He waves a hand at me and disappears into the hall. I sit back down at the table and sigh. I'm tutoring Roger Davies in Divination. We're going to be alone in the library for what may be hours!
"You're not in Ravenclaw," says the boy who was seated at my right. "Go drool at your own table."
Offended, but still floating on cloud nine, I make my way back to the Gryfindor table and sit down next to Parvati, who is finishing off her porridge.
"Well," she says, not even looking up at me, "what did he say?"
"I'mtutoringhimindivinationonsaturday." I say in one breath.
She looks up at me and raises an eyebrow.
"What?"
"I'm in love!"
"I'm going to be sick."