She had tried everything. Walking past him in the corridors repeatedly, flipping her hair in class, batting her eyelashes in the Great Hall. She flirted with other boys, giggled every time he walked by, pushing people out of the way just to stare at him. All the girls in the school (many out of her year and house) knew what she was doing and laughed among themselves when she pulled her stunts. They empathized, all of them having been through it at one time or another. Every one of them thought he was a great prat and a bloody git for being so blind and so totally ignorant, but none of them would ever tell her. That would be inconsiderate.
He had done everything. Acting obnoxiously, going out with other girls, setting off pranks in her dormitory every week. He laughed at her when she did something stupidly or incorrectly, tried being intelligent and insightful when they had class together, and tried out for the house Quidditch team. Every boy in the entire Gryffindor house understood what he kept trying to do day after day. In their minds they knew his heart was in it one hundred sixty percent, twenty-five hours a day, eight days a week. They all believed she was a stuck-up, spoiled brat of a princess who didn't acknowledge his efforts. Maybe their friend was insane.
She thought Fred Weasley was a god. The way his long red hair fell into his face when he leaned over, the short pieces getting in his eyes. His sense of humor, his ruffled look, his clever way of going about enchanted her. The fact that he always had a joke to crack, a prank to pull, the last word to put in. He always gave professors cheek, and she loved it. But the thing she didn't understand was why he didn't know she was alive. Her six sisters constantly praised her height, her beauty, her slimness, her intelligence. The middle child, her sisters (Anginette, Renata, Georgina, Priscilla, Charlotte, and Bindi) usually got all the glory. But she was the only one who was a fifth year. Then why wouldn't he…?
He though Ezebella Leon was pure perfection. The way her blond strands of hair curled in her face as she glided from place to place. Her sense of fun, her elegant features, and her movements- like poetry in motion- bewitched him. How she always had a snappy comeback, another chapter to read, one more song to sing. She was consistently waving her hand in the air to be called on, and he loved her for it. Still, he didn't get why she never seemed to notice him. Ginny, Ron, George, Percy, Charlie, and Bill all were ever so much more important than him. But his siblings always said he was hilarious, his inventions ingenious. Still, she didn't…
She was walking down the corridor from the Great Hall to the Gryffindor common room when her own personal Slytherin nightmare stopped her. She left after snide comments, only to have all her personal belongings fall out of her bag, covered in ink. Dropping to her knees, she pulled out her wand and whispered, "Scourgify." The ink disappeared, but unfortunately Professor McGonagall was passing by. Five points from Gryffindor later, her things were gathered and she continued on into her house common room. There she tripped through the portrait hole and landed on some poor boy. "Oh, sorry…!"
He was setting up his latest prank in the boys' dormitories. A few lazy flicks of his wand and one unlucky Gryffindor boy would be getting a surprise later. He headed down to the common room, whistling a cheerful tune, and started a game of Exploding Snap with stakes of Chocolate Frog cards. After winning a few rounds, he got up to stretch and walked around the room a couple of times. Just then, a random fourth year pushed him (either accidentally or on purpose) into the newly opened portrait hole, from which some unfortunate girl was entering. "Oh, sorry…!"
"Weasley."
"Leon."
Both students nodded their heads curtly, stood up, and briskly dusted themselves off. As they walked further apart, their indifferent looks turned to looks of disappointment.
As she reached the girls' dormitory, Angelina and Katie gave her looks of contempt. "What? Don't give me that face, Katie. Don't give me that face! Look, what am I supposed to do, okay?" Angelina made a slight movement; she may or may not have been gesturing to the stairs. Katie seemed to agree, though she made no movement. No matter how much she denied it, she knew what she had to do. She sighed and pursed her lips.
He sat down on a chair next to the fire. George and Lee raised their eyebrows at him; he knew he hadn't been himself lately. Sticking out his tongue, he motioned for them to get everyone to leave the common room. He needed to think in peace. So what if she called him an egotistical prat? It probably wouldn't hurt so much, would it?
She hurried down the stairs, trying not to turn tail and chicken out. It was now or never.
He lifted himself out of the chair, trucking on so as not to lose faith. It was do or die.
They paused, staring at each other. She shivered, he flinched. Rushing forward, they pressed their lips together. As silenced as the room had been, many rustles came from the stairs to the dormitories. "Finally!" four voices that sounded like Angelina's, Katie's, Lee's and George's whisper-shouted. Two separate BOOMs followed.
"Firecracker," Ezebella whispered.
"Dungbomb," Fred replied.
"You?"
"Of course."