VIOLET'S POV:
I was a new student at Hogwarts, my name having not been picked up by the magic quill that detects every magic-born child. I should have been a 6th year, but Dumbledore made it clear that if I wanted to make it up to the right year, I would have to pass the necessary exams to get into my 6th year classes.
After three weeks at Hogwarts, I had already passed all 5 exams I needed to get into my 6th year classes and I was currently walking with some new friends into my first class as a 6th year Gryffindor student. Charms.
Everyone in the room was already seated but me and my friends and they all turned to look at us.
I blushed, then I looked up into the expectant eyes of a very short man with close-cropped black hair and a black moustache above which, sat a pair of battered glasses, teetering precariously on the edge of his nose.
"And who is this?" he asked, smiling kindly at me and motioning for me to stand at the front of the classroom.
Being a very antisocial person, I dreaded things like this. I prayed with all my might that he wouldn't ask me to give the whole class an evaluation of myself. My cheeks were already bright red.
"Introduce yourself, please." the man said, still smiling.
I tried to hide my grimace and then turned to face the whole classroom of students. My face felt like it would melt off.
"My name is Violet Radke. I'm new here. Well, sort of. I was new here three weeks ago, but I guess that still makes me new." I babbled.
A few people smiled at my goofiness. I noticed a pair of red-headed twins at the back of the room who snickered a little.
"Alright, then, Violet. Take a seat anywhere."
I nodded and hurried off, looking for an empty seat. I saw one of my friends, Hermione I thought her name was, pointing at the empty seat next to her.
Hermione was advanced in these classes, and she was very nice, so I instantly liked her.
I sat and the teacher gave the class free time to talk amongst ourselves for a moment while he went into the corridor to speak with another professor about some student's shenanigan or another.
"So," Hermione said awkwardly.
I knew what she was thinking about saying.
"That was insanely embarrassing." I said, my blush returning.
"Well, well, Ms. Granger." came a deep voice from behind me.
I turned to see that I was seated between the red-headed twins that had laughed at me earlier and Hermione. I suppressed a groan, hoping the conversation wouldn't turn to my embarrassing introduction.
"Who is this socially awkward young thing you've taken under your wing?" said the one closest to me.
"In case you missed it, I've already told you my name. Violet." I said, glaring at the one that called me socially awkward. Sure I really was, but I still saw no point in him pointing it out.
"Oh how could we miss that?" asked the other one, laughing a little, but not looking up from whatever on the desk was entertaining him so thoroughly.
I looked up at the other one and saw something odd in his eyes. It made me want to blush and look away, but I couldn't. I thought of it as a stare-down.
"Fred." he said, holding his hand out to me and letting his face relax into a goofy grin.
I shook it, smiling back. "Nice to meet you."
"Don't worry, they really are pretty nice once you get to know them." Hermione whispered.
"Hey, we heard that!" The one on the other side of Fred said. "Are you implying that she thinks we are… not nice?" he continued.
Hermione gave him an incredulous look. "Yes!" she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
I still didn't know the other twin's name. He seemed to catch my confused look.
"George." he said, holding out his hand.
I shook it and smiled at him.
Then the Professor walked back into the room.
"That's Professor Flitwick." Hermione whispered as he began teaching the class how to use an Aguamenticharm.
I was a very fast learner, as demonstrated in my achievement of rightful 6th year status in the short period of three weeks, and got the charm down quickly, much to the surprise of Fred and George. The Professor was impressed. Hermione had gotten it much faster than I had, but she had helped me a little with my wand's posture.
For the rest of the class, Hermione and I sat and giggled about Seamus Finnagin's latest show of pyrotechnics. I had only seen him blow himself up twice counting this morning, but apparently it was something that happened quite often.
When the class ended, Hermione explained that she had to leave fast for her next class and wished me luck before dashing out of the room before anyone else.
I gathered my things, tossing a book and a few other little bobbles into my bag.
I picked up my purple journal that held everything I'd ever written in it. I loved to write things and from what people told me, I was fairly good at it.
I was about to stuff it into my bag with the rest of my things, when my elbow hit something and knocked the journal out of my hands. It fell to the floor, opening to a page I had written not long ago about a young woman captured on a pirate ship who falls in love with the man holding her hostage, but also develops feelings for other man being held prisoner with her. I bent to pick it up, but before my hand reached it, it was swept up in a pale hand.
Fred was reading the page!
"Diary?" he asked, skimming the lines.
"No," I said reaching to get it back but not having long enough arms for the distance with which he held it away.
"You a writer?" he asked monotonously, still holding the book away.
Everyone had already left the room besides us and Professor Flitwick, but he was busying himself with tidying multiple stacks of books.
"Sort of. I would love to be professionally, but I don't think I have the talent (or the patience) for that." I didn't stop making grabs for my journal, but I found myself wondering, "why am I telling him this?"
He stopped reading, shut the book, handed it back to me and walked away saying, "I think you're good enough."
But I could've been mistaken.
Shaking my head in a confused manner (confused about the weirdness surrounding the red-headed twins), I walked to my next class.
GEORGE'S POV:
I stayed leaning against the wall next to the door, waiting for Fred and listened to them, laughing internally. I could just picture her jumping around in front of Fred, trying to get back that little purple journal. Of course, in my mind it was much more funny than what I peeked in and saw. She was only standing on her tip-toes reaching for it and he held it away, reading.
I frowned in disappointment and turned back to leaning against the wall and looking bored.
When Fred came out, he almost walked straight past me.
I caught up to him quickly, though.
"So you're done flirting now?" I asked, smiling slyly.
He blushed and looked down, mumbling, "Shut up…"
The rest of the day, he dropped sneaky hints about her. Some times he would note that a girl's hair look nice or that their freckles were cute. But every time I looked, it was exactly like that Violet girl's had been.
He was driving me crazy.
I sighed and leaned forward, whispering, "You're not smooth, I know you're thinking about her."
He didn't even have to ask who it was I was talking about. He blushed and said, "I-I don't know what you're talking about."
I rolled my eyes and got back to our task.
"She is rather pretty, though, isn't she?" he asked again, just as I was beginning to be able to concentrate.
"Yes, I suppose so." I said, thinking of her long, straight black hair and her splay of freckles and the way she carried herself. She was pretty. Not someone I would go for, but Fred's type to a T.
Our next class was the only one Fred and I didn't have together. Music for Fred, Divination for me.
We parted ways and I walked to divination class, without much hope of Fred giving up on this girl.
FRED'S POV:
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the picture of Violet and her annoyed grimace out of my mind. It made no sense. I had only just met her, why couldn't I get rid of her image?
I walked into muggle music class hoping I could get rid of the mental torture of her cute smile. But as soon as I stepped through the door, there she was, sitting right beside my seat. Again.
At first I thought maybe my mental images had begun making me crazy and made me see things that weren't really there, but when I sat down next to her, it turned out she was a real person.
She smiled coyly at me and said, "Stalking me, are you, Weasley?"
I faked a hurt tone, "YOU, my dear, have infiltrated MY school, and sat next to ME. I have not been stalking you."
She laughed and I found one more thing I liked about her.
"So you have musical talent?" she asked.
"None whatsoever." I said, making her laugh again. "Do you?"
She blushed and looked down. I could tell she didn't like talking about herself much.
"I can play the trumpet really well and I can play the piano okay."
I cracked a crooked smile. "Sounds like I've got a present-day Mozart in my presence."
She laughed once more and said, "Mozart was a man. I'm not a man."
I looked her over, admiring her. "That you are not."
She blushed and looked away.
