Oʀɪɢɪɴs: The genesis of the DrabbleVerse was first created by celiatully (on Tumblr) and we owe our greatest thanks for her generosity and compliance to employ her brain child for our amusement. Thank you so much Celia for inspiring a system of storytelling like no other.

Wʜᴀᴛ ɪs Dʀᴀʙʙʟᴇᴠᴇʀsᴇ? : In Celia's words, she describes the term as:

"A set of drabbles that all take place in the same verse."

Yes, we know, pretty obvious, right? But it gets a little complicated from there.

We, SapphireBlueJiyuu and shineyma, the writers of the drabbles, have no say in what the prompts will be. They are sent in at designated times by our followers/fans of the drabbleverse. As such, there is no "plot trajectory" that we are planning, and for all we know, rocks may fall and everyone may die tomorrow. So it's a long-form experience of writing without a plan. Our goal, ultimately, is that there will be a plot. We both have a very broad outline to work with, but neither of us will be pushing that plot unless an opportunity presents itself.

It could all crash and burn real fast. It could also be amazing.

Here's hoping for the latter.

Prompt: Coulson and Skye #1 Introduction

With her head propped up by her hand, Skye gazed down the long table and took in the faces of the staff, as the older students filed into the Great Hall. There was Jemma and Fitz who were sitting next to her (animatedly discussing a new match that would stay lit as long as it wasn't doused in water), with Trip and Grant on the other side of them commenting about Trip's summer job at the Aurors' field office.

Further down from them, Lance was leaning against the table joking around with Izzy and Mack while Mike was showing pictures (most likely of his son) to the newcomer, Bobbi Morse.

Skye turned her head to rest her chin on her palm and puffed out a sigh of boredom. On the other side of her, Doctor Streiten and Billy the grounds keeper were discussing possible charms to add around the Forbidden Forest, while Raina amused herself by gliding the tip of her finger along the rim of her wine glass, producing a melodic sound with each swipe, a coy smile gracing her features.

When she stopped abruptly and looked up towards the doors, Skye figured the first years must have arrived. They were likely being prepped by Professor Hill for the sorting ceremony and Skye wondered where Coulson was.

It was customary for the head of the administration to sit in the three middle seats at the head-table and, at the moment, all three were unoccupied. With Maria outside and May stalking along the walls of the Great Hall, Skye pulled out her pocket watch and began counting down the seconds before she could begin teasing Headmaster Coulson for being late to the welcome feast he insisted everyone not be late to.

Her hopes were dashed though as the side door opened and the headmaster briskly walked in with the Sorting Hat in hand. Placing it atop the wooden stool, he turned to the staff table and cleared his throat. "Thank you for being prompt. Let's get started, shall we?"

Adjusting the deep blue hat on his head, Coulson turned in his spot and stepped up to the podium. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, new and returning students, ghosts and guests. For those who do not know, I am Headmaster Philip Coulson, chief administrator here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is with great honor that I welcome you all. Before we begin, I have a few quick announcements to make before the feast and the sorting ceremony.

"First order of business, I have the distinct pleasure of welcoming to our staff, Professor Morse who will be taking over for Professor Po the position as instructor for Care of Magical Creatures so that he may retire with his remaining limbs. Good luck, Professor Morse.

"I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The school will be officially opened at the end of the feast. Here's hoping for a year filled with good work and good memories. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home…"

Prompt: Hunter and Jemma #20 Cookies

It's the final staff meeting before term starts, Headmaster Coulson is halfway through his general announcements, and Jemma is contemplating violence.

It's not the announcements, of course. Those have all been fairly inoffensive—and, in one case, quite interesting, as the new Care of Magical Creatures professor, Bobbi Morse, was introduced at the beginning of the meeting.

Nor is it due to the heat in the room, although that's certainly not helpful. (Why Coulson insisted on holding this meeting in the dungeons—and one of the rooms in which the temperature control charms have long since failed, at that—instead of in the staff room, she really couldn't guess.)

No, the reason Jemma is mentally listing every mildly painful curse she knows is simple: Lance is hogging the biscuits.

The house-elves have, as usual, entirely outdone themselves, and they've been granted a lovely array of snacks for the meeting—including Jemma's favorite chocolate biscuits. However, the plate bearing them isjust out of her reach, sitting right next to Lance's elbow as it is. And when she tried to discreetly signal him to slide it down the table, he blatantly ignored her!

Coulson is still talking. "Furthermore, the faculty prank war, as fun as it was—for some of us, at least—has notbeen named an annual event, and will not be repeated this year. I know that…"

She makes brief eye contact with Lance, and he gives her a smug little smirk as he bites into yet another biscuit (his tenth. She's counting). Jemma's eyes narrow. That is it.

Casually, she shifts in her seat, removing her hands from the table in favor of folding them in her lap as she does so. She takes a careful glance around the room, but no one seems to have found anything odd about her movement. Good.

She discreetly palms her wand. Lance is sitting across the table and one seat down, and she takes aim at him under the table. She's never entirely mastered silent casting (it takes a certain single-mindedness that she's mostly lacking; she's always thinking twenty things at once, and it tends to mess her silent spells up, a bit), but she can manage simple spells.

And a simple spell is exactly what she casts. She can tell the moment the itching jinx takes effect; Lance twitches a little in his seat, then forcibly stills himself. He only manages it for a moment, though, before he begins scratching desperately at his arms and torso, drawing everyone's attention.

With all of her colleagues distracted by Streiten's fussing and Lance's complaining, it's a simple matter for her to cast a very low-powered summoning charm—just enough for the plate to slide within her reach. By the time everyone settles down, she's happily enjoying her third biscuit.

Lance reaches for a biscuit without looking and, when his hand meets nothing but empty air, frowns around the table in confusion. The look of dawning realization on his face when his eyes meet hers is honestly the most beautiful thing she's seen all week.

This means war, he mouths.

Jemma simply smiles as she bites into another biscuit. Whatever revenge Lance takes, it will be entirely worth it.

Prompt: Ward x Simmons - Dark

"Hey."

Grant froze for a moment before turning to see Jemma's silhouette glow from the light that came from the hallway. "Hey."

"Why are you looking through my stores in the dark?" she asked. As accusatory as her words may have been, they were undercut by the mirth that lined her timbre, so Grant was sure she wasn't upset to find him in there. He watched in rapt fascination as she murmured a simple spell that brought light to the small space.

The room itself was no larger than his wing span; if he stretched out his arms straight out, his fingertips would surely touch the wall and the other the one across from it.

It made for a snug fit with two people standing in it.

Grant cleared his throat before he gingerly lowered his lit wand. Before he could start making his excuses though, the petite Potions professor pointed to his other hand and asked, "Valerian?"

Grant glanced down at the small bundle of flowers in his hand and nodded slowly. "Yeah."

Jemma smirked as she clasped her hands behind her. "I don't mind that you took some, Professor Ward, but I am curious as to why you would be making Treacle fudge this late at night."

He visibly stilled before carefully answered, "I wasn't."

Taken aback by his answer, Jemma gave him a befuddled look. "Oh… did someone have an epilepsy episode?"

Grant bit the inside of his cheek before he shook his head negatively. "No."

Jemma ran through the potions that would require Valerian in it - Forgetfulness Potion, Draught of Living Death, Draught of Peace - when she finally took a closer look at the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor: blood shot eyes, dark half moon bags under his eyes, that drowsy look he'd been trying to hide…

"Sleeping Draught…" She whispered.

His eyes harden before he pulled out a galleon from his pocket and handed it to her wordlessly. Grant gently pushed past the English woman to leave the storage closet when she called to him.

"Professor Ward?"

His steps ceased but he was too ashamed to turn around so was left standing there with his back to her. As though she were waiting for him to look at her, Grant decided to get this over with and looked over his shoulder to see a troubled expression marred her normally cheerful face. "If you ever need to talk… about anything, that is… my office is always open."

Grant was silent, staring at her intently until she began to squirm under his intense gaze. Then the look was gone, replaced instead with a tired expression. "Thank you, Professor Simmons, but this should do the trick." With that, he walked down the hall towards his office and Jemma could not help but think his shoulders looked as though they were carrying some invisible weight the world could not see.

Prompt: Bobbi and Trip #55 Waiting

Trip heard the sounds of footsteps from the floor below followed by the password — "powdered doughnut" — and the rise of the large phoenix statue from the hole in the ground of the alcove. Bobbi Moorse walked up the steps and was greeted by his jovial smile. She returned it easily as she joined him the small hallway leading up to the Headmaster's office.

"He's in with the deputy headmistress. They said they wouldn't be long." The Transfigurations professor offered.

Bobbi nodded. "Sounds good. What are you here for?"

Trip's smiled twitched before falling back into place but not before Bobbi noticed. She was about to retract her question, stating that he didn't have to answer if he didn't want to but Trip offered a vague answer instead. "Headmaster gave me some homework over the summer holiday. I'm just here to turn in the report."

"Ah. I see." She thought it wise not to pry any further.

Casually moving the conversation away from the topic, Trip tilted his chin towards her and asked, "You?"

"I need a set of keys for my quarters. Spells didn't work so I suspected I needed a physical key to get in but when I went to Koenig, he said that he needed the "all clear from the Headmaster" before he — and I quote —went off and handed keys out willy-nilly to just anyone who asked him."

Trip rolled his eyes. "Yeah. He's paranoid like that."

Bobbi figured Trip and Koenig may have had a history but again decided that perhaps that was a story for another time.

They stood there in silence for a bit before Bobbi turned towards Trip and curiously asked, "Just to be perfectly clear, there's no way anyone can apparate into or within the school borders, right?"

The man nodded. "Yep. Even the Apparition instructor, Idaho, has to take the train into the school grounds."

Bobbi was quiet for a beat, her eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration, as she gracefully twirled her wand about in her hand. "Lately… or maybe not lately…" She sighed deeply before trying to collect her thoughts and then started over again, "Have you seen… I don't really know how to describe it but… a strange hooded-figure hanging about the edge of the Forbidden Forest?"

Trip chuckles. "There are lots of strange figures that hang about the Forest."

It was Bobbi's turn to roll her eyes. "Well, I know that. But, this morning when I was out by the pen feeding the hippogriffs, I could've sworn I felt someone watching me from the trees. When I went to take look, no one was there and I didn't hear or see anything."

Trip thought about what she was saying for a moment before he slowly nodded, "I'll keep an eye out for you."

She smiled and thanked him just as Maria Hill came out of the office and told Trip that Headmaster Coulson was ready for him.

Prompt: Ward x Simmons - Drink

It's a cold, wet, miserable day—the kind of day perfect for staying inside with a hot drink and pretending the world outside doesn't exist.

Which means that it is, in turn, the kind of day that's horrible for a trip to Hogsmeade.

Unfortunately, Hogsmeade weekends are scheduled far in advance (in order to give the shopkeepers enough notice to make sure their stores are properly stocked and staffed to deal with an influx of young, rowdy customers), and a little thing like torrential rain isn't considered sufficient cause to cancel one.

Even worse, Grant's name came up in the draw for chaperons, which means he's obligated to spend all day in Hogsmeade, keeping an eye on the students.

Luckily, Headmaster Coulson—although always excused from chaperon duty, thanks to the privileges of rank—is not entirely without mercy, and so the patrolling schedule is drawn up in such a way that the various professors only have to spend about three hours each actually outside.

The rest of the time, they're assigned to stay inside some of the more popular shops.

Grant is extremely fortunate on that score; after his first shift patrolling the streets, he's assigned to stay in the Three Broomsticks for two hours.

The pub is warm, brightly lit, and very, very crowded, but after an hour and a half in the freezing, pouring rain, the noise isn't enough to bother him. He orders a warm Butterbeer, claims a table with a good vantage point (both because he needs to keep an eye on the many students present and because some habits are hard to break) and settles in for what he anticipates will be a very boring two hours.

He's wrong.

About twenty minutes after he sits down, a shadow falls across his table, and he looks up from his drink to find Jemma Simmons standing there. She's obviously just come from outside; her hair and robes, though obviously recent recipients of drying charms, are still slightly damp, and her robes in particular are clinging to her in a very…noticeable way.

He swallows.

"Mind if I join you?" she asks brightly.

"Not at all," he manages, and motions to the empty chair.

"Thank you," she says, sinking into the seat and dropping a Honeyduke's bag onto the table. "It's just awful out there, isn't it?"

"It really is," he agrees. "What brings you out?"

He knows she's not on the chaperon rotation this weekend. Not that he checked, or anything—he just noticed that her name wasn't on the list. That's all.

"Ice Mice," she says, and motions to the Honeyduke's bag. "My mum's birthday is tomorrow, and she loves them. I spent all week putting off a trip here, hoping the rain would let up, but…"

But it didn't.

"Anyway," she continues. "I thought I'd stop in for a nice, warm drink before I brave the walk back to the castle."

"You're not going to Floo?" he asks, surprised. All of the fireplaces in the professors' quarters are connected to the Floo Network, as is the fireplace here at the Three Broomsticks. He has no idea why she would walk when she could just Floo from here.

"I thought about it," she says. "But it seemed unfair of me, when the students don't have the option."

He shakes his head, amused. It's completely ridiculous and exactly what he would expect of her.

He tries not to think too much about the fact that he finds it endearing instead of idiotic.

"If, that is, you don't mind sharing your table for a while?" she asks.

"Not at all," he says. "Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you. I saw your article in Defense Weekly about broad-spectrum antidotes, and I had some questions." He clears his throat. "If you've got the time, I mean."

She smiles brightly, and his heart does not do anything weird at the sight. "Of course! Ask away."

In the end, it's only Grant's need to return to patrolling the village that ends their conversation. He shakes his head as he applies a warming charm to his cloak and steps out into the street.

He is in so much trouble with that woman.

Prompt: Fitz and Mack #59 "No Way Out"

Walking down the corridor towards Fitz's Workshop, Mack heard a persistent thumping sound coming from the Charm's classroom. Deciding that can't be a good noise, he went to investigate it and found his suspicions confirmed when he could hear Fitz's muffled and sad pleas coming from the cabinet at the far end of the room.

Pushing aside the large desk that was propped in front of its doors, Mack pulled back the handle to reveal, a much frazzled Charms professor tumble out of the darkness.

"Oh thank Merlin!" Fitz exclaimed as he blinked his eyes, trying to adjust to the lights that flooded his vision.

"You okay there, Turbo?" Mack asked as he gave the Scotsman a once over and was slightly relieved to see that he was otherwise not harmed. "Do you know who did it?"

"One of the bloody students!" Fitz asked as he scrabbled about the room looking for something, only to reveal his wand in hand a moment later. That would explain why he couldn't get out of the closet himself, large desk in the way or no. "Just because there is a damn Quidditch match tomorrow and half of the class is going to be playing in the game does not excuse them from Charms exam! Guess they figured if I wasn't here to give the exam, it would mean they wouldn't have to take it."

Mack chuckled, "Well, kids are stupid. What do you expect?"

"I expect that if they were going to lock a bloke in a damn broom closet, the least they could have done was leave some food in there for him." He puffed in irritation. "I'm bloody starving."

The Herbology instructor smiled and clapped his hand on the smaller man's back, simultaneously ushering him out of the classroom. "Well, come on then. Let's go get you fed and then we could talk about getting a new irrigation system set up in the greenhouses."

"Yeah?" Leo's eyes lit up at the prospect of a new project, already drawing up plans in his head, the student's misdemeanor currently pushed aside. "What were you thinking of?"

"I've got a few ideas." Mack teased as they made their way down the revolving staircases.

Prompt : Trip and May #14

Even though it was his idea, Trip may live to regret his decision in offering to spar with Melinda May. Her legendary skills were not garnered by exaggerated credentials but by living through death. He feels it through each spell casted, through the stance she held and, especially, the way her face was relaxed but her eyes were alight with concentration.

Complete and utter control of each and every move she made.

He wouldn't exactly describe her fighting style as that of a dancer gliding across a studio room (though he could see the similarities). No, perhaps a tigress would be more suited for her; feline like ferocity and an unparalleled ability to utilize its senses and natural skills. And she was a force of nature indeed as he worked the room, hoping that he didn't trip over his own feet as he backed away from each blow she casted on him.

He marveled in the way the muscles of her forearm would flex just so, right before she would whisper her attack.

Just as he was sure he was gaining a footing in the duel, Trip felt a chill course through him as he watched in rapt fascination, a slow satisfied smile curved across her beautiful face.

The curse landed without warning and soon he did not have to worry about falling backwards – his feet were rooted right where he was last standing. He looked up to see her wand poised in front of him before she pointed it at his legs and soon he felt feeling rush through to his lower extremities once again.

She nodded at him as he found his footing. "That was good. You might want to work on your form. Spar with Bobbi, she'll be able to help you with that. She's good with form." She offered as she walked across the room to grab her robe.

Trip nodded. "Thanks. I didn't even see that last spell coming."

May shrugged. "I saw you watching my arms and I know I have a natural tick right before I would cast I spell. So, I fixed it."

Stunned at her admission, Trip shook his head. It was exhilarating to work with a master. "I might have to have some tricks up my sleeve the next time we face-off."

The flying instructor nodded with a rare grin, for once, her expression apparent on her face. "I look forward to it."

Prompt : Ward and Jemma #1 Introduction

Training and working as a Hit-Wizard gives a man some…unusual skills. Grant knows it and has had plenty of reason, over the years, to be grateful for it. His training has saved his life a thousand times over—to say nothing of the times it's saved the lives of others.

As such, he's made sure to keep his skills sharp, even though they're not strictly necessary these days. Hogwarts isn't the safest place around—a magical castle full of magical children, in varying stages of magical development, could never be considered such—but it's not exactly perilous, either. Teaching, despite the several (hundred) jokes John has made to the contrary, is nowhere near as dangerous as hunting Dark Wizards.

Which is why he's so surprised, when walking through the dungeons on his way to his training room one day, to find one of his extra senses tingling. He freezes and draws his wand, eyes scanning the hall. There's no one else around, and no visible traps. But he knows he just crossed a ward-line—he felt it.

Keeping his ears open for sounds of an approaching ambush, he casts a detection spell. The results are…puzzling. There is indeed a containment ward in this hallway, but it's ridiculously low-powered. Not only is not enough to trap him, it probably couldn't even trap a first-year.

A closer look reveals that the containment ward is also fairly small; it only covers about ten feet, including the door to the Potions classroom. Actually…the Potions classroom is the center of the ward.

Frowning, he closes the final few feet to the Potions classroom. The door is open, and when he looks inside, he finds Jemma sitting at her desk—grading papers, if the look on her face (half concentration, half exasperation) is any indication.

She doesn't appear to be in any distress, so he returns his wand to its holster and knocks on the doorframe. She starts a little, nearly knocking a stack of parchment off of her desk, and he winces.

"Sorry," he says. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"It's nothing to worry about," she dismisses, smiling at him. "No harm done. What can I do for you?"

"I was just…wondering about the containment ward in the hallway," he says, a little awkwardly.

"I'm sorry," she says, standing hurriedly. "Did it trouble you? It wasn't meant to be that strong—"

"It's not," he interrupts. "It couldn't even stop a first year."

She pauses. "Then…how do you know it's there?"

"Call it a Hit-Wizard trick," he says. "Wards in places where no wards should be tend to be a pretty good sign that danger's just around the corner."

"Ah," she says, smiling. "There's a joke to be made about Wards in my dungeon, I think, but I'm sure you've heard them all."

"I really, really have," he confirms, remembering (distinctly not fondly) his training days. "Anyway. The ward?"

"Oh, yes," she says, and walks around her desk. She starts weaving through the students' tables, eyes on the floor. "I just wanted to make sure Hesper didn't wander too far."

"Hesper?" he asks, racking his memory for anyone by that name. He's drawing a blank.

"Hesper," she confirms, and suddenly crouches behind a desk. Before he can do more than blink, she stands up again, cradling—

"A cat?"

"A kitten," she corrects happily. "Isn't she lovely?"

"I…guess so," he says slowly. Honestly, he's always been more of a dog person. "When did you get a kitten?"

"This morning," she answers, approaching him with the kitten. He really hopes he's not about to be asked to pet it. "A friend of mine in the Department of Mysteries has a cat who gave birth a few months ago. She's been trying to give away the kittens for ages and, well, I've always wanted one, so…"

She comes to a stop in front of him, beaming down at the cat. It's quite a smile, and—even though it's not even aimed at him—it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts in the face of it.

"Why Hesper?" he manages, after a somewhat awkward pause.

She looks up at him, appearing surprised. "After Hesper Starkey, of course."

"Right," he says. "Of course."

"Hesper Sparkey," she says leadingly. "Studied the uses of the phases of the moon in potion making? She's very well-known…in certain circles."

"Certain potions-making circles?" he guesses.

"Right," she laughs. "Good point." She looks down at the cat, which is watching Grant with a frankly creepy stare. "Hesper, this is Professor Ward. He teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts. Grant, Hesper."

He feels…really ridiculous, but she's giving him an expectant look and he knows how some people get about their pets.

"Nice to meet you, Hesper," he says.

The cat gives him a disdainful look and turns its head away pointedly. Jemma sighs a bit and gives the cat's ears a little scratch.

"She's very friendly to me," she says, kind of helplessly. "But with anyone else…"

"The cat's got good taste," he says, and instantly regrets it, because, really? What a stupid thing to say.

Luckily, though, Jemma doesn't seem to think so. She beams at him, delighted, and he swallows.

"Anyway," he says, and clears his throat. "I should…"

"Of course," she says, when he gestures awkwardly down the hallway. "I don't want to keep you from your training. I'll see you at dinner?"

"Right," he says. "Dinner. See you then."

Hopefully he'll have regained the ability to talk to her like a normal person by then. Somehow, though, he kind of doubts it.

(He is in so much trouble with this woman.)

Prompt: Ward x Simmons - Potions

One of the wonders of magic is how often and easily different disciplines intersect. Herbology and Astronomy, for example, influence Potions, which, in turn, intersects with Healing and Defense Against the Dark Arts. And Defense Against the Dark Arts brings together Charms and Transfiguration, which also have their uses in Enchanting and Care of Magical Creatures.

There are no end of ways that the various divisions of magic affect each other. Thanks to the way classes are defined, however, it would be easy for the students to fall into the pattern of seeing magic as an easily divided and isolated thing. As such, it's a long-standing tradition for the professors of those disciplines taught at Hogwarts to hold the occasional combined lectures, in order to highlight and explain said intersections to their students.

Jemma always looks forward to it. She thinks there's something beautiful about the connections in magic, and she enjoys approaching her subject from a different angle. The combined lectures are always interesting. She has fun giving them.

Planning them is something else entirely. Planning the combined lectures is usually a logistical nightmare—torture on the level of sitting through a lecture on proper Ministry filing procedure.

Of course, usually she's not planning with Grant.

"So John says what's the worst that could happen? and just knocks it back." He sighs. "Which is about the time I recognized the scent of lovage."

"Oh, no," she says, and covers her mouth. "Not…?"

"A Befuddlement Draught, yeah," he says. "A really strong one, at that. I had to take his wand away—he thought we were being attacked by butterflies."

"Butterflies?" she asks.

"Really vicious ones, apparently," he says with a slight shrug. "I think we could've taken them, but with John in such bad shape, retreat seemed the better option."

She laughs, and tries very hard not to read too much into the way he grins in response.

They've been sitting in the staff room, 'planning', for nearly three hours now, and while not much in the way of actual work has been accomplished, she's had an excellent time. Grant is unusually talkative today, full of stories about his work as a Hit-Wizard and appearing just as happy to hear of her own experiences in the Department of Mysteries, and she hasn't once stopped smiling since she sat down.

She's never seen him this way before—not with anyone—and though she tells herself very sternly that he's simply in a good mood and that it's nothing to do with her, specifically…

Well, it's difficult not to get her hopes up.

"Anyway," he starts, but is interrupted as the grandfather clock in the corner chimes the hour.

"Oh," she says, and hopes that her disappointment isn't visible. "That's lunch."

"Right," he says, and it might be wishful thinking, but she thinks he looks a touch disappointed, himself. "Uh…" He glances down at the blank parchment in front of her, then gives her an apologetic smile. "I guess we didn't get much done, did we?"

"No," she agrees. "I suppose we'll have to find another time to meet and…try again."

"How's tomorrow morning?" he asks. "The Dueling Club is meeting tonight, and I can't miss that, but I'd like to have this ironed out before Monday."

"Tomorrow morning is fine," she says, attempting not to sound too eager. "I'll meet you here after breakfast?"

"Sounds good," he says, and stands. "I have to stop by my office, so…I'll see you at lunch?"

"Dinner," she corrects. "I'm meeting a friend in Diagon Alley for lunch."

It's a complete lie—she has no plans at all—and she has no idea why she tells it, save for the fact that she's suddenly terrified by the idea of speaking to him in front of other people…people like Skye and Fitz, who will absolutely notice how preoccupied by him she is, and will take far too much pleasure in it.

Luckily, Grant doesn't appear to realize her dishonesty.

"Dinner, then," he nods. "Later."

"Later," she echoes, and watches as he leaves the room. Then she groans and slumps forward to press her forehead against the table. What is it about him, she wonders, that turns her into a sixth-year?

Actually, she was never this ridiculous about boys even when she was a sixth-year.

So the real question is, what is it about him that makes her so pathetic?