A/N—This begins the story of Hestia, who is, might I add, a canon character (ha!). There will be a lot more with Peter Pettigrew eventually, which I'm really excited to write about. Enjoy!
Professor Holmes began to pair the students off. Like always, Hestia waited with dread, prepared to have to face James for the first time since they broke up. She knew he would be so devastatingly collected and nonchalant that it would break her to pieces. She was truly over him, but having to talk to him face-to-face, even if was just to explain how to extract ovules from a daisy, would be too much for her to live through. She would be awkward and halting, and he would be cool and careless, stirring a cauldron while flirting with the girls at the next table over.
Hestia's muscles tensed, as if preparing for the mental impact.
"Hestia Jones and. . .Peter Pettigrew."
She smiled with relief and joined Peter at his desk in the front row. Dealing with Peter's bumbling would be a thousand times better, she was sure of it.
Peter smiled awkwardly and said, "I'm sorry in advance for whatever's going to happen." "Psh!" she said, "Don't worry about it, you'll be fine. Nothing's exploded for what? Three weeks now?"
"Even worse," he said glumly, "I can't keep it up much longer."
She laughed, "I'll help you. It'll be good, just watch."
"If you say so."
Despite her comforting words, Hestia knew that mistakes and minor injuries clung to Peter like a niffler to a gold watch. They were nearly inseparable. As they set to work, Hestia made sure to tactfully dole out the all the simpler tasks to him, like retrieving supplies and chopping roots at two-centimeter intervals.
Near the end of the period, when Professor Holmes complimented them both on the shimmering quality of the steam and the deep red color of the liquid, Peter's rather pointed features glowed with a little-boy pride that made Hestia want to hug him. She'd always found that she was happiest when helping others, no matter the personal sacrifice, and Peter's success kept her in a good mood the rest of the day.
He thanked her about a hundred times before the class was through, and then once more when the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors joined for Double Charms.
Charms was becoming Hestia's least favorite class. Her seat was right next to James, which made her uneasy and likely to forget what Professor Flitwick was saying. It had become a habit of hers to let her dark hair down before Charms so she could use it as a sort of shield from any unwanted conversation during which she was sure to turn bright red, feeding his ever-growing ego with the idea that she was still in love with him. It also stopped her from glancing at him at the wrong moment and making eye contact. But what she most feared was him making fun of her, like he did to countless others. If she started crying in front of James, she would never forgive herself.
What was worse was that Lily Evans, a pretty Gryffindor with bright red hair, and James' latest interest (as far as Hestia could tell), sat directly in front of him. As Flitwick squeaked on about various spells, or if there was a lull in the classroom, James was sure to whisper things into ear. Sometimes she would giggle, sometimes she would roll her eyes, and sometimes she would lean forward, as if taking vigorous notes, and ignore him completely. Though Lily was a girl who clearly possessed a good deal of sense, Hestia knew it wouldn't be too long until she, like so many other girls before her, started obsessing over his messy hair and heart-stopping laugh. And then there would be no hope for the girl.
Hestia regained her focus and began to write:
"When using Mayer's charm (invented in 1823 by Titus Mayer) on small objects, it may seem that it has no practical use. This is because--"
"Hey! Hey Hestia!" whispered James. Mortified, she closed her eyes tight and exhaled, keeping her curtain of hair firmly in place.
"Hestia!"
It was no use; he would know she could hear him. She swept the hair behind her ear, "Yeah?"
"D'you miss me?" he asked quietly, smiling in a way that would have melted her heart only a month ago. Now, however, it boiled it.
"What?"
"I said d'ya miss me? Cause I was thinking maybe you and me could, you know, go and—" She gave him a half horrified, half I'm-going-to-kill-you look and turned her head swiftly back to Professor Flitwick, letting her hair fall comfortably in front of her face.
What did he mean? Was he asking her out—again? There was no way she would say yes, but why would he ask her? It didn't make any sense. Then it struck her that it was probably just to make Lily jealous. She felt like something had punctured her stomach, and realized that maybe she wasn't as over James as she thought. She pushed the feeling aside and stole a quick glance at Lily, who gave her and empathetic cringe and got back to her notes. Hestia seriously considered a Cross-Eyed Jinx in the direction of James fat head, but knew she would never have the courage.
"Psst!" It was James again, "So what do you say?"
She gave him what she hoped was a scathing look and opened her mouth to speak.
"Miss Jones, Mr. Potter, five points from both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff for your chatter. Discontinue it or I will be forced to administer detentions," said Flitwick, but not very harshly, as he was fond of them both.
As the practical portion of the lesson began, Hestia hurried over to her cluster of friends, determinedly keeping her back to James, though she couldn't help noticing that he kept looking over at her and winking when their eyes met. Phyllis Edgecombe, another Hufflepuff, noticed and gave Hestia a questioning look. She just rolled her eyes, shrugged, and promised to explain in detail later.
By the end of the lesson the happy feeling from helping Peter, if not completely gone, was well on its way to being so.
She saw James again the next day, a few minutes before Defense Against the Dark Arts. She had been really excited about this lesson. Professor Yoflam (who had once been a Malfoy, but changed his name when his uncle was sent to Azkaban for murdering eight Muggles), was usually blatantly dotty with little or no direction in what he was saying, but his lesson the previous week on Boggarts had fascinated everyone, including Hestia, and, encouraged by the enthusiasm, he had promised to try and procure one for the following lesson.
Her excitement, however, diminished exponentially with each footstep James took closer to where she was standing with her friends. He had his three best friends behind him: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew, all of them looking distinctly uncomfortable, with James as cool as ever.
"You still haven't giving me an answer, Jones," he said.
She couldn't remember a single thing she had ever liked about him. And to think just a month before their mouths had been inseparable. Resisting the urge to give him a stinging slap across the face, she turned her back on him and said something so bland and irrelevant to Margie Ogden that no one could remember it five seconds later.
"Hey, Jones! You still—"
"C'mon James, let's just go," said Sirius quietly, "Please."
"Why?" James brushed him aside, "Hestia? Whaddaya say, huh?"
"Leave it," said Remus, "You've been rejected, get over it. Now let's get the hell out of here before you embarrass yourself."
Hestia, who had remained with her back turned until that moment, whipped back around.
"Even your friends think you're an obnoxious prick, James, so quit pretending you're in love with me," she snapped. It was probably the meanest thing she had ever said to anyone in her life (purely from lack of confidence), and immediately after she said it the anger that had inflated her words and pushed them out of her mouth was replaced quickly by a gnawing guilt.
As much as she now hated him, she had seen the look on his face after she yelled at him, and known it to be what many people had probably not recognized. He was clueless. Without something or other to keep his ego puffed, he had no confidence, no idea how to handle a situation where no one, not even his friends liked him. She pitied him so much in that moment she almost wished she could take back her words. If anyone could empathize with lack of confidence, it was she. Time kept going, however, and soon they were all huddled against the walls of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, eyeing a rattling trunk warily.
A/N—REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!!!! The more the merrier!!!!
Professor Holmes began to pair the students off. Like always, Hestia waited with dread, prepared to have to face James for the first time since they broke up. She knew he would be so devastatingly collected and nonchalant that it would break her to pieces. She was truly over him, but having to talk to him face-to-face, even if was just to explain how to extract ovules from a daisy, would be too much for her to live through. She would be awkward and halting, and he would be cool and careless, stirring a cauldron while flirting with the girls at the next table over.
Hestia's muscles tensed, as if preparing for the mental impact.
"Hestia Jones and. . .Peter Pettigrew."
She smiled with relief and joined Peter at his desk in the front row. Dealing with Peter's bumbling would be a thousand times better, she was sure of it.
Peter smiled awkwardly and said, "I'm sorry in advance for whatever's going to happen." "Psh!" she said, "Don't worry about it, you'll be fine. Nothing's exploded for what? Three weeks now?"
"Even worse," he said glumly, "I can't keep it up much longer."
She laughed, "I'll help you. It'll be good, just watch."
"If you say so."
Despite her comforting words, Hestia knew that mistakes and minor injuries clung to Peter like a niffler to a gold watch. They were nearly inseparable. As they set to work, Hestia made sure to tactfully dole out the all the simpler tasks to him, like retrieving supplies and chopping roots at two-centimeter intervals.
Near the end of the period, when Professor Holmes complimented them both on the shimmering quality of the steam and the deep red color of the liquid, Peter's rather pointed features glowed with a little-boy pride that made Hestia want to hug him. She'd always found that she was happiest when helping others, no matter the personal sacrifice, and Peter's success kept her in a good mood the rest of the day.
He thanked her about a hundred times before the class was through, and then once more when the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors joined for Double Charms.
Charms was becoming Hestia's least favorite class. Her seat was right next to James, which made her uneasy and likely to forget what Professor Flitwick was saying. It had become a habit of hers to let her dark hair down before Charms so she could use it as a sort of shield from any unwanted conversation during which she was sure to turn bright red, feeding his ever-growing ego with the idea that she was still in love with him. It also stopped her from glancing at him at the wrong moment and making eye contact. But what she most feared was him making fun of her, like he did to countless others. If she started crying in front of James, she would never forgive herself.
What was worse was that Lily Evans, a pretty Gryffindor with bright red hair, and James' latest interest (as far as Hestia could tell), sat directly in front of him. As Flitwick squeaked on about various spells, or if there was a lull in the classroom, James was sure to whisper things into ear. Sometimes she would giggle, sometimes she would roll her eyes, and sometimes she would lean forward, as if taking vigorous notes, and ignore him completely. Though Lily was a girl who clearly possessed a good deal of sense, Hestia knew it wouldn't be too long until she, like so many other girls before her, started obsessing over his messy hair and heart-stopping laugh. And then there would be no hope for the girl.
Hestia regained her focus and began to write:
"When using Mayer's charm (invented in 1823 by Titus Mayer) on small objects, it may seem that it has no practical use. This is because--"
"Hey! Hey Hestia!" whispered James. Mortified, she closed her eyes tight and exhaled, keeping her curtain of hair firmly in place.
"Hestia!"
It was no use; he would know she could hear him. She swept the hair behind her ear, "Yeah?"
"D'you miss me?" he asked quietly, smiling in a way that would have melted her heart only a month ago. Now, however, it boiled it.
"What?"
"I said d'ya miss me? Cause I was thinking maybe you and me could, you know, go and—" She gave him a half horrified, half I'm-going-to-kill-you look and turned her head swiftly back to Professor Flitwick, letting her hair fall comfortably in front of her face.
What did he mean? Was he asking her out—again? There was no way she would say yes, but why would he ask her? It didn't make any sense. Then it struck her that it was probably just to make Lily jealous. She felt like something had punctured her stomach, and realized that maybe she wasn't as over James as she thought. She pushed the feeling aside and stole a quick glance at Lily, who gave her and empathetic cringe and got back to her notes. Hestia seriously considered a Cross-Eyed Jinx in the direction of James fat head, but knew she would never have the courage.
"Psst!" It was James again, "So what do you say?"
She gave him what she hoped was a scathing look and opened her mouth to speak.
"Miss Jones, Mr. Potter, five points from both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff for your chatter. Discontinue it or I will be forced to administer detentions," said Flitwick, but not very harshly, as he was fond of them both.
As the practical portion of the lesson began, Hestia hurried over to her cluster of friends, determinedly keeping her back to James, though she couldn't help noticing that he kept looking over at her and winking when their eyes met. Phyllis Edgecombe, another Hufflepuff, noticed and gave Hestia a questioning look. She just rolled her eyes, shrugged, and promised to explain in detail later.
By the end of the lesson the happy feeling from helping Peter, if not completely gone, was well on its way to being so.
She saw James again the next day, a few minutes before Defense Against the Dark Arts. She had been really excited about this lesson. Professor Yoflam (who had once been a Malfoy, but changed his name when his uncle was sent to Azkaban for murdering eight Muggles), was usually blatantly dotty with little or no direction in what he was saying, but his lesson the previous week on Boggarts had fascinated everyone, including Hestia, and, encouraged by the enthusiasm, he had promised to try and procure one for the following lesson.
Her excitement, however, diminished exponentially with each footstep James took closer to where she was standing with her friends. He had his three best friends behind him: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew, all of them looking distinctly uncomfortable, with James as cool as ever.
"You still haven't giving me an answer, Jones," he said.
She couldn't remember a single thing she had ever liked about him. And to think just a month before their mouths had been inseparable. Resisting the urge to give him a stinging slap across the face, she turned her back on him and said something so bland and irrelevant to Margie Ogden that no one could remember it five seconds later.
"Hey, Jones! You still—"
"C'mon James, let's just go," said Sirius quietly, "Please."
"Why?" James brushed him aside, "Hestia? Whaddaya say, huh?"
"Leave it," said Remus, "You've been rejected, get over it. Now let's get the hell out of here before you embarrass yourself."
Hestia, who had remained with her back turned until that moment, whipped back around.
"Even your friends think you're an obnoxious prick, James, so quit pretending you're in love with me," she snapped. It was probably the meanest thing she had ever said to anyone in her life (purely from lack of confidence), and immediately after she said it the anger that had inflated her words and pushed them out of her mouth was replaced quickly by a gnawing guilt.
As much as she now hated him, she had seen the look on his face after she yelled at him, and known it to be what many people had probably not recognized. He was clueless. Without something or other to keep his ego puffed, he had no confidence, no idea how to handle a situation where no one, not even his friends liked him. She pitied him so much in that moment she almost wished she could take back her words. If anyone could empathize with lack of confidence, it was she. Time kept going, however, and soon they were all huddled against the walls of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, eyeing a rattling trunk warily.
A/N—REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!!!! The more the merrier!!!!