One day I would learn to stop volunteering for things because I almost always wound up regretting it. If only McGonagall hadn't approached me about tutoring one of the students in the year below me, then I wouldn't be sitting here waiting for the bloody Gryffindor to turn up. Finnigan was already in his fifth year, he had five years at Hogwarts to come to terms with having to be at places at the right time. He had turned up ten minutes late and as if that wasn't bad enough, he hadn't even looked over the pages that I'd assigned him during our last meeting.
"I'm really sorry," he said with a smile, as if that would sweeten the disappointment, I felt. If that was his intention, then it had without a shadow of a doubt failed. "I've just been really busy."
"Other people are busy as well," I shot back, dropping my head into my hands. "And they all still manage to get their work done on time, Finnigan."
"I'll make it up now," he promised, prompting me to look at him from between my fingers. "I'll do everything you want from now on, Bell."
"That's not the first time you've said that." Fisting my hair into my hands, I complained, "It's as if you want me to be tutoring you until I leave Hogwarts."
Forcing my head up, I glanced across the library table towards the Gryffindor who only sighed in response. Gaining my composure, I straightened up and narrowed my eyes at him. Why was I the one that was getting so worked up over this? This was going to affect his grade, not mine.
"Do you have any idea how stressed out tutoring you makes me?" He answered my question with a seemingly innocent smile and I rolled my eyes. No matter how often I tried to get him to understand where I was coming from, he never took it seriously. Holding my hand out towards him, I ordered, "Let me read over the essay you submitted last week. McGonagall said she would be giving them back to you today."
Finnigan, realising that whatever attempts he had been making to charm me weren't going to work, frowned and reached into his bag. He refiled through it, retrieving a crumpled-up piece of parchment that had obviously been shoved into his bag with no care whatsoever. Pressing it flat against the table and smoothing out the creases, he finally passed his essay over towards me with a smile.
Leaning back in my chair and getting comfortable, I started to read through his essay. In the beginning, it took me a good while to make sense of the chicken scrawl that he called handwriting. But, after having tutored him for a few months, I gained the ability to read his writing. Thankfully McGonagall had only requested a short essay and so it didn't take me long to reach the end of it.
When I was finished, I folded the parchment neatly in half and extended it back towards Finnigan. "It's good – deserving of the EE that she gave you."
Taking his essay back, Finnigan puffed up his shoulders as he declared, "It's because you're such a good tutor."
"No number of compliments are going to work on me," I warned him, narrowing my eyes so he knew I was still annoyed at him. "I'm not so easily swayed."
"I promise to work harder from now on." He crossed his arms, pressing them against the table top. "I swear it"
Rolling my eyes, I didn't bother dignifying his claim with words. This really wasn't the first time he had made such promises to me. Grabbing the textbook, he'd put on the table, I drew it closer towards me and flickered through it to find the page numbers that McGonagall had highlighted as being his weak areas. Finally finding the right section, I pushed it back towards him. He peered down at the pages.
"You should have gone over this stuff in class and the last time we met, I asked you to read them again and make note of what was confusing for you." Sighing I crossed my arms over my chest and grumbled, "Of course you didn't do any of that so you'll have to do that now. It'll be a waste of time for me to explain all the material if there are already bits that you understand. The sooner you get that done, the sooner we can start being productive."
"I'll be quick about it," he assured me, drawing out a fresh sheet of parchment and his quill. But before he could begin to work, his eyes were trailing behind my shoulder and he scowled, seeming much more reluctant to do any work. At my curious gaze, he said nothing and averted his gaze back to his parchment and finally started to work.
I jumped slightly at the sudden feel of hands on my shoulders. Tilting my head back, I smiled instantly at the sight of my boyfriend who must have finished his rounds early. Returning the smile, the older boy leaned down to drop a kiss to my forehead. Removing his hands from my shoulder, he straightened up and glanced across the table towards the still silent fifth year.
"Is she working you too hard, kid?" he asked of Finnigan and I winced for the Gryffindor at being addressed like that. It couldn't have been easy to addressed like that by the boyfriend of the person you were crushing on. Finngan had never been any good at hiding his emotions.
The way the Gryffindor's shoulder stiffened, told me exactly how he felt about being called a kid. His hold on the quill tightened briefly before he raised his eyes to meet Roger's. He took a moment before declaring, "It's fine."
"Alright then." Turning his eyes back toward me, Roger asked, "Are you finished yet?"
Although Finnigan looked like he wanted to protest, I peeked down at my watch. Seeing the time, I started to pack my things up. "We've had our hours' time. Not that we managed to get much done. But there's always next time."
"Well if you're done, I'll walk you back to the common room," Roger offered as I rose to my feet and slung my bag over my shoulder. Accepting his outstretched hand, I looked back towards Finnigan who was watching me closely. "Our next meeting is on Wednesday at the usual time – please get this done by then and we'll be able to make some real progress."
"I got it, I got it," he grumbled, in a much worse mood than he had been during our tutoring session. My eyes lingered on him for a moment in concern when Roger squeezed my hand to get my attention and together, we headed out of the library, leaving Finnigan far behind.
Unsurprisingly, Finnigan turned up late once again for our next tutoring session. I sat waiting for him at our usual table, eyeing my watch which continued to tick and tick without even the slightest sign of the Gryffindor. Fidgeting with the parchment and writing supplies that I'd laid out in preparation for today, I decided to give the Gryffindor another five minutes.
If he didn't turn up in five minutes, then he would be fifteen minutes late and my leaving early would be understandable – justified even. But, as luck would have it, Finnigan happened to arrive then, just as I was weighing up the pros and cons of waiting longer for him. You could say what you wanted about Gryffindors, but they certainly were a lucky bunch; always appearing, or disappearing even, just before their time was up.
When he arrived at the table, I threw a pointed glance at my watch. But he didn't so much as flinch, instead, he slammed his bag onto the table. I watched with a frown as he pulled his chair out from under the table in the nosiest manner possible before taking a seat. My frown deepened further as I continued to watch him; he didn't even raise his eyes towards mine.
"What in Rowena's name is going on with you?" I asked, straightening up in my seat. "You're behaving like a brat."
He shrugged, mumbling, "Does it matter?" as he searched through his bag.
Honestly, was he going through puberty late? Or did he have a falling out with his friends or something? Whatever the problem was, I was more than willing to help him, but that would only be the case if he opened up about what his issue was. But from experience with Gryffindors – with my sister being one of them – sometimes, you needed to ease them into things.
"Alright, I get that you don't want to talk about this now," I sighed, snagging the hair tie from my wrist and tying my hair out of the way. "Let's get started with the tutoring and if you feel like telling me, then tell me. Or don't. Alright?"
He just raised his eyes to meet my gaze in silence and I felt a wave of concern sweeping through me; he never was this quiet. I watched him contemplatively for a moment longer before shaking my head; we had work to do.
"Ok, seeing as you're not in the mood to talk, we're going to get things moving. Get out the notes that I asked you to take last time."
He sighed then, holding my gaze for a moment before he murmured, "I haven't done it."
"What do you mean you haven't done it?" I demanded incredulously, "When I left our last meeting you were in the library working on it!"
"I didn't get the time to finish it," he declared defensively. "I couldn't even be bothered to do it either."
"If you can't be bothered to do the work then I can't be bothered to help you either." Shooting him a final irritated glare, I rose to my feet and started to gather my things. Finnigan, obviously not expecting such a reaction from me, watched me in surprise, "If you're going to be like this then I can't help you. I'll speak to Professor McGonagall and have her assign someone else to tutor you. Maybe they'll be a better suit for you."
However, before I could storm away and make a satisfying exit, Finnigan rose quickly from his seat and caught me by the sleeve of my robe. Looking pointedly at his grip, I tried to tug it away from him but he held firm, insistent on keeping me where I was. Meeting his searching gaze, I arched a silent eyebrow.
"Sit," he requested, releasing his hold on my sleeve in a show of silent trust. He gestured again to the seat behind me and when I refused to sit, he promised, "I'll do the work from now on."
"Oh please," I scoffed, crossing my arms as I continued to watch him. "Do you think I'm an idiot? I don't believe you in the slightest."
"I swear." He continued to watch me so earnestly that I felt some of the iron in my will melting. Not that he needed to know that. "If I don't then you can hex me."
"Fine," I declared with a sigh. Sitting down again, I waited for Finnigan to take his own seat before warning him, "One more chance. You only have one more chance and if you don't cooperate then I really am going to quit. It's not an empty threat."
"I know that," he assured me, nodding and reaching for his quill as if to show just how willing he was to start working.
"It's impossible for me to magically boost your grades if you don't put in the work as well."
"I understood." And just to prove how much he understood, Finnigan removed his textbook from his bag and started to do the work that he was already supposed to have done. Even if it was days overdue.
Under my watchful eyes, he made easy progress, flying through the reading he needed to do. He only paused occasionally to ask me questions whenever he didn't understand something, or if he got stuck and I was quick to answer them because I didn't want to risk tripping him up. It seemed like we were finally on the way to making progress. Even if it was months after we started to meet.
Sixth-year potions was … much worse than it had ever been. Snape seemed to take particular pleasure in being cruel to N.E.W.T level students who were just downright frustrating. Surely since we had all met his required grades to take his damned class, he should have eased up a little. I mean, it wasn't as if I was asking him to smile – because just the thought of that was horrifying in a different sort of way. I was just asking that maybe he could occasionally not throw insults towards each of his students?
And now, as I sat listening to him talking about Amortentia, I couldn't help but consider my Potion's Professor contemplatively. The way he spoke of love was so clinical and purely educational that I almost wondered whether he had any real experience of love. But then again, did I? Everyone claimed that no matter how fervently you protested, you never really loved someone you dated in school. It was something to do with our emotions not being developed enough to experience it.
At his signal, all members of our class rose from our seats to crowd around the desk at the front where Snape had set up a cauldron of the damned potion. He apparently wanted us all to take a sniff to understand the effects of the potion but what was the point?
"I don't know why you're going to smell the potion," Cho teased, nudging me with her elbow as we got into line. "You already know what you're going to smell."
"You never know," I evaded with a jesting smile.
"What smells do you think you associate with Roger?" she asked thoughtfully as I reached the front of the line.
"I guess I'll find out," I murmured when it was my turn.
I stepped forward, leaning over the steaming cauldron to get a good whiff and frowned instantly. What was that? It wasn't something I easily identified as belonging to Roger and perhaps that answered the question for me; I really didn't love Roger. And that would have been alright but smelling something else meant that I was in love with someone else and that was just trouble.
I didn't even turn back to look at Cho as I hurried away from the table, so lost in my thoughts. The rest of the lesson I found myself struggling to concentrate because my entire focus was on trying to place that scent which was hard to do considering that I didn't even know what that scent was.
When the lesson thankfully drew to a close, I hurried to gather my things and went to leave the room. But the moment I stepped out into the corridor, I found myself face to face with Roger who came to meet me, planning on dropping me off at the common room before I would need to get to the library for my tutoring session. Part of me was so uncertain about the prospect of not smelling Roger that, when he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, I turned into him. Pressing my nose against his shoulder and discretely taking a sniff, I tried to see if I had been mistaken at my first thought. But of course, it wasn't him. I really was a horrible girlfriend.
"What did you study today?" Roger asked curiously as we headed back to the common room.
"Amortentia," I murmured absentmindedly.
He stilled suddenly, peering down at me curiously. When I apprehensively met his gaze, he was smiling teasingly. "And what did you smell?"
"What do you think?" I managed to evade, and Roger was thankfully satisfied with the answer.
He didn't press any further, letting us continue to walk in a comfortable silence. Well, perhaps the silence was comfortable for him. But I was finding it really uncomfortable. And although I really shouldn't have been, I was thankful for the sound of someone calling my name from somewhere behind us. Glancing over my shoulder, I waited and Roger came to a stop beside me.
Together we watched as Finnigan weaved through the crowd, practically running towards me. And Rowena, I hadn't seen him so happy before. It was infectious enough to bring a smile to my face.
"Finnigan?" I called out curiously only for the smile to flicker off my face when he got close enough for me to get an accidental whiff of him. Merlin, no.
Coming to a stop in front of me he looked through his bag for something and it gave me enough time to manage the blatant horror that I was sure was showing on my features. Painting a neutral smile on my face, I looked expectantly towards him; the sooner he said whatever he wanted to, I could run away.
"I just got my essay back," he confessed with a smile, holding it out towards me.
I took the parchment cautiously, looking at the large O written in the corner. "See, this is what happens when you put the effort in. I told you that you were brighter than you thought."
He flushed under my words, giving a bashful smile. When I handed him the essay back, he accepted it easily and asked, "We're meeting at the normal time, aren't we?"
"Oh, actually," I wracked my mind quickly, thinking for a moment. "I've actually got rounds today that I couldn't get out of. Pucey won't let me reschedule my patrols so we'll have to skip today and I'll meet you next Monday like planned."
"No that's fine," he assured me and for a moment I wondered if he knew something was wrong because his eyes refused to leave my face, his brows furrowing.
Anxious to leave his sight, I turned towards Roger and took him by the arm. He was all too willing to walk me back to the common room and leave Finnigan far behind. Merlin, this was all so messed up.
I couldn't keep dating Roger, I knew that; how could I possibly continue to date him when I was in love with someone else. Albeit, I hadn't realised I was in love with someone else until that damned Potions lesson. Not that I could continue to blame that lesson; I'd already known that I didn't love Roger but I hadn't thought that I loved someone else. Rowena, this was a mess.
And, in a bid to clear up this mess I had asked to speak to Roger once he'd finished with his lessons for today. The knowledge of what I was going to do settled uncomfortably between my lungs and I'd overanalysed everything, every possible variable and outcome. I'd even spent such a long amount of time deciding where I was going to meet him in case things went wrong, the common room was too public, too open and that was why I eventually decided –
"That expression means trouble," Roger called out suddenly, drawing me from my thoughts. My eyes shot instantly towards the sound of his voice and found my boyfriend – soon to be ex – approaching me. "What's got you so worried?"
Shuffling uncomfortably on the bench in the middle of the school courtyard, I looked away from Roger when he came to sit beside me. "I – I just want to talk."
"We'll talk then," Roger encouraged, orienting his body towards my own and watching me expectantly.
I managed to hold his gaze for only a second longer before growing unable to do so any longer. Licking my bottom lip, I found my shoes suddenly fascinating as I wondered just where I was supposed to begin. I obviously couldn't continue to date him – there was no alternative to breaking up with him. But there were so many ways that I could go about this. I needed to find a way of navigating through this situation that ensured we remained friends. Merlin, no wonder people said to never date your friends because when things went to the dogs, you wound up losing one of your dearest friends. It wasn't like I'd ever pictured this happening at the start of our relationship, either –
Roger once again rooted me to my surroundings, reaching out to put a hand on top of mine. He squeezed it gently, prompting me to lift my eyes to his. Searching them for a moment, Roger sighed as he asked, "You want to break up, don't you?"
I drew in a breath, wondering if I should have moved away from him. Instead, I asked, "How did you know?"
"Your face has always been easy to read," he confessed with a sigh, lifting his hand from mine. Turning his body away from mine to face the front, Roger fidgeted with his tie. "I saw it coming for a while now."
"But how –" I cut myself off from asking just how long he'd been thinking this way because I certainly hadn't come up with this decision until a few days ago. But did that mean that I had been secretly drawing away from him this entire time? Was that it? Instead of voicing my thoughts, I settled for a genuine, "I'm really sorry, Roger."
He rolled his eyes, shooting me a smile as if to reassure me, "Hey, no hard feelings."
"You don't sound very nonchalant Roger," I struggled not to frown.
But he shrugged. "You've got to give me time to actually be so relaxed about it."
"Roger –"
"Oh, get over yourself," he said with a forced laugh, "it won't take long for me to get over you. But because I am only human, it will take some time."
My teeth clamped down on my lip as I watched him apologetically. "I'm so sorry."
"Stop apologising," Roger sighed again. His eyes faltered on my face for a long moment before he was sighing and sliding down the bench towards me again. He opened his arms and I went into them without a moment's hesitation and held him close. "We've always been close."
I finally confessed my deepest fear, "But things won't be the same again."
"Hey, hey," he said gently, brushing a hand over my hair, "you're not going to lose me, alright. If that's what you're scared of, you don't need to be scared of that. It might be hard to be as close as we used to be, but it'll take time to go back to being just friends again. It'll just take time and then everything will be fine. Ok?"
Nodding against him, I forced myself to draw away from him and met his expectant gaze. I couldn't do it. Sighing, I managed a quiet, "Rowena, I'm sorry."
"Again," he chastised with a mock frown. "Why are you apologising to me again when I already told you not to?"
"I'm sorry –" I cut myself off at his narrowed eyes. "It'll just take time."
"Don't worry," he repeated again, patting me platonically on the knee before he rose to his feet. Picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, Roger looked down at me with another smile, this one was more like his usual one. "You're not going to lose me, Bell. Remember, even before we started dating, I made you promise that you would make me the godfather of your kids? That promise still stands, right?"
My throat was tight, making it difficult to speak. But I cleared it and forced myself to assure him, "It does."
"Well then, you're not going to kick me out of your life so easily." He shuffled for a moment on his feet before adding, "And if you even try well – don't expect me to go anywhere without a fight."
"I can say the same to you," I said, finally managing a smile.
When the time came for my next tutoring session with Finnigan, the one that would be our last, I arrived early. Seating myself at our usual table at the back of the library, I placed my bag onto the table and found myself drumming my fingers against the table top. I had planned to come early so I could think of how I was going to break the news to Finnigan. Hopefully, I would find a way to do that without telling about the real reasoning behind my sudden reluctance to tutor him because Merlin knew that he would be over the moon to know about my feelings for him. Especially considering that he himself was harbouring a not so secret crush on me.
He might have seen nothing wrong with me continuing to tutor him despite my feelings but I did, and no doubt McGonagall would as well. Besides, I refused to tutor someone I had feelings for. Any feelings that weren't platonic were only going to get in the way of raising his grade.
The chair directly across from me was drawn out from underneath the table, bringing me from my thoughts. Gathering myself, I looked at my watch before glancing curiously at Finnigan. Today just would be the first time he arrived on time to one of our tutoring sessions.
"You're on time," I said in lieu of a greeting and he smiled at that as if he was pleased that I had noticed.
"You're impressed, aren't you?"
"That you actually managed to do something that is expected of you?" I shot back dryly, watching as he pulled his textbook out from his page. "You haven't made my expectations of you that low."
"Fine," he murmured under his breath before opening his textbook and looking at me from over the top of the page. "What are we doing today?"
"You had transfiguration, today right?" Propping my elbow on the table, I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "McGonagall told me."
"I did," he agreed.
"Well, I thought we could go through whatever you didn't understand. I'll see if I can be of any help."
"I understood it all," he protested, eyes focusing on my face with such an intensity that I frowned, wondering if there was something on my face.
"Are you sure about that?" He nodded and I sighed; he never learned. Reaching into my bag, I drew my own Transfiguration textbook out and turned the cover. Tucked safely inside was a list of question McGonagall had given me when I asked her what she covered today in her fifth-year lesson. Holding the paper out towards the Gryffindor, I prompted him to take it. "If you really understood everything from today's lesson, then you'll be able to answer all of these questions. McGonagall gave me them herself."
"Do you think I won't be able to?" he shot back confidently, taking the parchment and unfolding it. Laying it flat, he retrieved a blank piece of parchment from his bag and prepared to begin penning his answers. "I'll make you regret underestimating me."
"Just get a move on Finnigan," I said with a sigh, leaning back in my seat to watch him as he started to work.
Quickly growing bored, I reached out for my textbook and started on the reading the McGonagall had assigned during our lesson. I didn't make it far; partway through the first paragraph, I became aware of the glances Finnigan continued to throw almost constantly towards me. Giving up in my attempt to be productive, I watched from behind my textbook as he continued to sneak glances at me. When I met his eyes, Finnigan was quick to look away.
"Finnigan," I called out after catching him once again, "just say whatever it is that you want to say."
"I was just expecting to come here and find you with red-rimmed eyes," he confessed. At my blatant confusion, he explained, "Rumour has it, you and Davies broke up."
"We did," I said truthfully, seeing no reason to hide something that it seemed like the entire castle already knew about. Merlin knew that gossip travelled quickly around this castle.
Setting his quill down, he leaned curiously towards me, "Why?"
"That is none of your business," I declared, shooting him a pointed glance. Ignoring his answering frown, I gestured to his incomplete questions, "Finish up those questions up so we can get a move on."
His frown deepened before he reluctantly picked up his quill once again. I watched him work for a moment longer, was this the timing that is I waiting for? He had opened up by starting to talk about something that wasn't Transfiguration related.
"Seamus," I called out after another moment's thought. My use of his first name startled him to such an extent that his quill scratched across the parchment. He dropped his quill, using his wand to remove the unnecessary ink and then looked at me with wide eyes. "Starting after today, you'll have a new tutor. This is going to be our last session together."
I studied his features for a moment, watching as surprise followed by confusion fleeted across his features. He straightened up in his seat, looking at me as if he was trying to read my mind. Shaking his head, all he managed was, "Why?"
"I can't keep tutoring you."
"Did – did I do something wrong? I've started to do the work and I've even turned up on time today."
"You didn't do anything wrong," I reassured him, leaning forward to put my hand on top of his for only a moment. Quickly removing it and hiding it in my lap, I explained, "These tutoring sessions keep crashing whenever I have to do patrols and it's a hassle to have to swap patrols all the time. And I don't think the Head Boy and Head Girl will keep letting me do it anymore."
"Is that really it?" he asked, searching my gaze. I nodded and he sighed, picking up his quill and when he spoke next, his voice had turned cold. "Whatever, do what you want. It's not like you'll listen to me anyway."
The time that I usually spent tutoring Seamus was quickly taken up by accepting Sprout's request to tutor one of her struggling fourth years. Merlin, I really needed to learn how to say no to people.
Although I used my patrols as an excuse to refuse to tutor Seamus anymore, I was quickly caught out in my lie. I had been tutoring the fourth year Slytherin at the usual time that I would meet with Seamus – albeit we were meeting in a different part of the library – but still, the Gryffindor had wandered into that section and spied me. I realised then that I had been caught out in my lie but he didn't act out like I had expected him to.
He didn't react at that time, but he certainly confronted me. Even if it took weeks for it to happen.
I had been in the library, searching through the textbooks to find the reference I needed to give for the quotation I'd used in my final paragraph. Like an idiot, I hadn't made a list of the reference and now I was struggling to find it. You would think that I'd have learned for now –
My search briefly stopped when, from my peripheral vision, I spied someone sitting across from me. Lifting my eyes for what was supposed to be a short glance, it lengthened into much more than a glance when I found myself meeting Seamus's eyes. My spine straightened out as I abandoned my search for the reference. I knew that this was going to be his confrontation and I wondered whether I should bother to greet him.
He made the decision for me by declaring aloud, "I hope you're happy."
"Happy?" I repeated with a frown.
"Happy that because of you my grades fell again."
"They fell!" I exclaimed in disbelief, looking at him for a long moment. "How in Merlin's name did they fall? You were doing so well."
"Don't blame it on me," he protested, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. "This is all because your replacement is an absolutely shit tutor."
"He isn't," I protested instantly. "Pucey is an amazing tutor and I made sure that you got a good replacement so that your grades wouldn't be affected."
"Well, maybe he's just not a match for me." He nodded decisively and continued to hold my gaze as if daring me to say something else.
"Alright, fine, let's say that makes sense," I said with a roll of my eyes. "But why are you sitting here? What do you want?"
"Will you look over my essay draft for me?" he asked as if finally remembering why he approached me.
He searched through his bag briefly, reaching inside and pulling out a piece of parchment. When he held it out towards me, I accepted it instantly. Settling comfortably into my seat, I prepared to read through his essay when he spoke up again.
"Be sure to make your corrections in a different colour."
"It hasn't been that long that I've forgotten," I said, rolling my eyes and spelling his parchment so that my ink would show up as blue whilst his remained black.
As I read through his essay, making corrections as I went, I wound up paying less and less attention to the Gryffindor sitting across from me. He claimed that his grades had gotten worse and I expected to find that reflected in the quality of the essay that he had handed to me but that wasn't the case. In fact, I sincerely doubted that his grade had slipped at all. But still –
He used my preoccupation as an opportunity to ask, "Why did you break up with Davies? Truthfully?"
"Because I didn't love him," I mumbled, chewing on the end of my quill when I reached part of his essay that I didn't quite get. I reached for my textbook to double check the information; I didn't want to give him the wrong information.
"But still –"
"Because I smelt someone else in Amortentia, are you satisfied?" I shot back defensively, lifting my gaze to his and it was when I saw his brows rise incredulously that I released what I had said. Silently cursing myself, I looked back to his essay and continued to check it over.
"Amortentia the love potion?" he asked dubiously and I nodded. "Well, who did you smell then?"
Sighing deeply, I forced myself to raise my head and meet his eyes again. He returned it, holding my gaze and I really thought about it for a moment. I could be truthful and tell him everything, or I could continue to hide it and take it with me to the grave. But, then again, what was the point in hiding it.
"I might as well be truthful," I started slowly, watching his facial expression. "I smelt you."
He reacted as I thought he would; smile blooming until it threatened to split his face in two. His reaction was normal – after all, he did have a crush on me, one that he wasn't any good at hiding. Before he could get ahead of himself, I shook my head warningly and he caught himself instantly.
"Don't read too much into things Finnigan," I cautioned and before he could protest, I said, "Nothing is going to happen between us."
"Wait, why not?" he said instantly, protesting fervently. "You like me and I like you so why not?"
"Merlin, you're legally a child."
He scowled at the reminder. It wasn't long before he straightened up and said decisively, "Then I'll wait until I turn 17."
I scoffed, turning my focus back to his essay even as a small smile played at the corner of my mouth, "You go ahead and do that."