It's nearing Valentine's day, and love is, quite literally, in the air. The teachers have put stacks of charmed pink and red paper, in each common room and on every floor for students to write love letters to each other. Once the message is written, all the love struck fool has to do is tap the paper with his or her wand and it'll fold itself into a heart and flutter around, singing a love song while finding the person it's addressed to. Quite ridiculous, really, to hear Celestina Warbeck warbling in overly-cute, high pitched squeaks.
Some people, who are feeling a little bitter about being alone at this point in time have taken to writing messages of hate on these slips. That Gryffindor, Angelina Johnson sent one to my brother Roger Davies. Something about dumping her just when having a date was the most important thing in the world. See, that's why she's not in Ravenclaw like we are.
And me? I'm just a sixth year Ravenclaw bookworm. Not textbooks, mind you. Stories. Especially those muggle classics. I absolutely adore Jane Austen's books, especially Pride and Prejudice. Oh, and the name's Willow, Willow Davies. My brother and I always joke that one or both of us are adopted, since I look nothing like him. He's got dark hair, mine's a sort of sandy brown. His eyes are blue, mine are dark green. Not to mention I'm nowhere near as good on a broom as he is. But enough about me.
To be honest, I've realised that most of the boys that are being fawned over nowadays are from Gryffindor. Fred and George Weasley, Lee Jordan, Cornac Mclaggen, the list goes on. Showy prats and arrogant toerags, the lot of them.
Except for one, of course. Oliver Wood. He's a good friend of my brother's, and I've spoken to him a few times myself. His eyes are the most beautiful shade of brown, and his hair is darker than mine, but not much. Enough to not be mistaken as a blonde though. His voice is quite nice, deep but not bullfrog-like, and with that accent of his! Good God, I sound like Angelina Johnson. I should stop.
Just so I can recover my intelligence, I'll have you know I've taken to calling him Macduff lately, after I read Macbeth over the summer. It took me the whole holiday to slowly decipher the Elizabethan language, not that I regret it. It's absolutely beautiful.
Back to those annoying Valentine's festivities. The one good thing about those flying love letters is that Peeves gets a hold of them sometimes, and reads them out loud. Author and recipient's names included. Quite hilarious, really, to see the look on Marietta's face when Marcus Flint's letter to her was snatched out of the air. Almost everyone in Ravenclaw still remembers it. It's not that hard to really, considering that oaf wrote it.
"Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
My dear Marietta,
I love you!"
Such a pity the both of them have taken to hexing anyone who recites it. It is such an achievement on Flint's part, he can rhyme!
There have been other decorations, put up, of course. Cupids painted on the walls that flutter along playing melodies on their harps, pink heart-shaped butterflies coming from the old suits of armour, it's like a larger version of Madame Puddifoot's. Don't ask me how I know. It was bad enough without having to relive it.
Why am I so biased against those fluttering notes, though? Because they can't fly properly. They take off well enough, but if they stay air borne for more than thirty minutes, they start to run out of fuel, one could say. Dropping then feebly flying up then dropping again, before some kind or unimaginably irritated soul gives it another tap with their wand.
They've fallen into my breakfast ten times already this morning, and don't even get me started on when I'm trying to study in the library. When a pink heart lands on your transfiguration diagram which is still wet and smudges the whole thing... I can't even begin to say how horrible it was.
I spent hours drawing it out and it was due the next day! I had to see Mcgonagall in her hairnet and night gown to ask for an extra day, even show her the smudged parchment and offending messenger, which I had impaled on a spare quill. Well, at least she let me off, seeing as it wasn't my bloody fault.
"Oh, I can't wait for Hogsmeade!"
That was just Millicent Bulstrode, ignore her. The trip, though, is actually worth talking about.
The Hogsmeade trip, conveniently on Valentine's day itself, is in three days and all my friends have dates. Not that I really have many friends in the first place, I spend too much time reading, even for a Ravenclaw. So I'm either reading another book or going alone. I think I'll read. Time to hit the library then, it's actually got a small section filled with good muggle books. I wonder if they've got Great Expectations, I heard it's absolutely - oomph. What in the name of Mr Darcy...
"Macduff?"
"Hi Willow."
Oh, it's Oliver Wood. For some reason, he doesn't like the nickname Macduff. What, he thinks that just because he killed Macbeth he's the bad guy? Please, the book isn't always named after the noble king or prince or whatever.
Did I mention, if it wasn't obvious enough from my excessive praise earlier on, that I fancy him? And now he's actually talking to me, without the presence of my brother. I will not get breathless, I will not blush, I will not turn into a giggling schoolgirl. Well, I'm already a schoolgirl, but not a giggling one. Now what am I doing gaping at him like a koi fish?
"Right, Oliver. Hi. Sorry bout that, I was heading to the library, I need to find a book to read, since I'm probably not going to Hogsmeade this weekend."
Wonderful, I'm subconsciously dropping hints. Shut up and move, Willow. Stop being a stupid road block. And, more importantly, never open your mouth again, you obviously have a bad case of word vomit.
I moved aside to let him pass, or tried to at least. I wasn't expecting him to grab me by my hand - oh Merlin, he's holding my - no, no gushing either. Anyway. I wasn't expecting him to grab me by the hand and pull my into one of those corridors that have a dead end. I question the architect's sanity sometimes. Or maybe he had foresight. I'm getting sidetracked again, wonderful. Back to the situation at hand, I went from sidestepping Oliver Wood to stopping in front of him again, but in another location, within the span of thirty seconds. What?
"Whatever you want, Oliver, make it quick. Not many people browse the muggle section of the library, but I want to make sure that if I don't find Great Expectations, it's because Madam Pince hasn't - "
"Go out with me."
Obviously, I'm becoming delusional. I thought he told me to go out with him. Oh, stupid ears.
"Are you mental?"
Well, that definitely didn't go out the way I planned it. Word vomit. Get it under control.
"No, Willow, I didn't mean it like that, I just - "
"Macduff, just go behead somebody."
Like ME, maybe. God, why am I being such a prat? Stupid, stupid, stupid, Willow. You are truly retarded. Why are you in Ravenclaw again? Fix this. Before... Before what? You lose a date? Before you avoid becoming just another giggly, clingy girlfriend?
"What? Look here lass, if ye are going to reject me, at least make sure I know what ye talking about."
He's confused. His accent becomes more pronounced when he's confused. How adorable, I think I might hug him - no, what am I doing? Unicorn turds. I'm hugging him. My muscular and skeletal systems work a little too well with my brain.
"Listen, Oliver, I'm sorry. I don't react well to romance unless it's on ink and parchment and no, do not send me one of those flying heart things. So er, just continue, and forgot I ever told you to behead someone."
"Well then. Alright. Ye - you - you do realise you've just ruined the mood?"
"Yes. I pride myself on that ability."
Just look at that, I made him laugh. This is good. Keep this up, Willow, and you just might go to Hogsmeade with a date. Not that I want a date, it's just - oh alright I fancy Wood. And I would like to date him. Be his girlfriend. There, laugh it up.
"So, Willow, do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me on Valentine's?"
"Yeah, I would love to. Be warned though, if someone borrows Great Expectations while I'm gone, there'll be hell to pay."
He laughed again. I think he likes my bookworm tendencies. Now he's waving and walking away, and of course I'm waving back like the fool I am. Oh, why's he coming back? He's hugging me. Oh. Oh. Well. This feels nice. I'm incoherent, even mentally. Why am I a Ravenclaw? I can actually feel a faint outline of his muscles, which really is quite scary. In a good way. It's, well, it's sexy.
"Thanks, Willow."
Holy dragon eggs he kissed me! Well, it was on the temple, with a little hair in the way, but still. I could actually feel his lips come into contact with my skin. Wow.
"No problem, Macduff."
He parts with a light tickle and a flick of my braid. I better have at least one acceptable dress in my trunk.
A/N: hello guys! I've got a oneshot here, just for Valentine's. Because I don't have a chapter in my main story for today. And everyone was confessing on Facebook, so I felt sappy and decided to write this :P And I'm bored in physics class. The stuff being taught is already dry enough, and now we've got a professor Binns reincarnate.
WHY COULDN'T I GET THE BRIT THIS YEAR?
Well, enjoy. And review. Yup. Okay. Happy Valentine's. Imma go the the boring parent route and tell you guys not to date till college or university or whatever you call it.