xoxoxoxoxoxo
xoxoxoxoxoxo
xoxoxoxoxoxo
Sometimes, when they're walking 'round the dark corridors their elbows touch. But it's just their elbows, dirty elbows that have been sitting on inky desks and flour-like parchment.
Sometimes, when they're in the common room he gives her his last chocolate frog. And it's always the caramel-filled ones; he doesn't like those at all. And she takes it with a roll of her eyes and a, "Thanks, Ron." And goes back to work. But it's just a chocolate frog...it's just...a chocolate frog.
Sometimes, if she's feeling nice she'll let him copy the last few Potions questions on a test. But only if she's feeling nice. Only. And that isn't usually, either. And he'll sort of glance over at her paper and she'll move her elbow so he can get a nice view of the cursive answers. And he forgets to say "Thank you" after he copies them. But it's just a few test questions; it's just for a grade.
Sometimes, when they were little he'd tell her stories. But they weren't nice stories. He told her about dragons and unicorns and centaurs, and it always sort of freaked her out. But just sort of. They were interesting stories, for those young at heart. She was never so young at heart. She had an old soul. But it was just a few stories before supper; it was just one more fairytale to add to the load.
Sometimes, he'd tease her. He had a sharp tongue even if no one else noticed. The boy knew how to get a reaction and he knew how to hurt someone, to say the least. "Oh you're just a lousy know-it-all. A worthless know-it-all!" And it was just childish, stuff, you know, but to her it was perhaps the biggest thing ever. But it was just a bit of taunting, and she could take it.
Sometimes, in the early morning she'd go to the boys' dormitory just to talk to him. It was said to be inappropriate, but no one noticed, and the boy threatened all that saw. It was early...maybe even four and it was only on Sunday mornings. He'd see her at the foot of his bed and proclaim: "Bloody Sunday." And that made her giggle. But it was just a bit of talking...just a bit of talking...
Sometimes, when she's really tired after hours of Charms homework she'll put her head on his shoulder, just really simply. It's a natural thing, really. And he'll sort of crook his neck slightly so her head will fit perfectly, then sometimes he'll put an arm around her. But only sometimes. But it's just something cute that rarely happens. Rarely.
Sometimes, they stroll around the grounds on winter nights and it's dark out. And sometimes, because he's told her so many scary stories she swears that there are dragons out. And he laughs...a very dry laugh. And she says with a 'tut' "It isn't my fault!" And he'll say, "Yeah, it is." But it's just a walk on a late school night.
Sometimes, right after she's passed a Potions test, she'll let him hold her hand. But just for a while. Her small hand fits perfectly in his calloused one, and he holds it tightly. His hand is warm; he's probably just been holding a fresh-from-the-oven oatmeal cookie. Her hand is cold like ice; she's probably been dancing in the rain again.
But it's just sometimes.
*
La Fin
xoxoxoxoxoxo
xoxoxoxoxoxo
Sometimes, when they're walking 'round the dark corridors their elbows touch. But it's just their elbows, dirty elbows that have been sitting on inky desks and flour-like parchment.
Sometimes, when they're in the common room he gives her his last chocolate frog. And it's always the caramel-filled ones; he doesn't like those at all. And she takes it with a roll of her eyes and a, "Thanks, Ron." And goes back to work. But it's just a chocolate frog...it's just...a chocolate frog.
Sometimes, if she's feeling nice she'll let him copy the last few Potions questions on a test. But only if she's feeling nice. Only. And that isn't usually, either. And he'll sort of glance over at her paper and she'll move her elbow so he can get a nice view of the cursive answers. And he forgets to say "Thank you" after he copies them. But it's just a few test questions; it's just for a grade.
Sometimes, when they were little he'd tell her stories. But they weren't nice stories. He told her about dragons and unicorns and centaurs, and it always sort of freaked her out. But just sort of. They were interesting stories, for those young at heart. She was never so young at heart. She had an old soul. But it was just a few stories before supper; it was just one more fairytale to add to the load.
Sometimes, he'd tease her. He had a sharp tongue even if no one else noticed. The boy knew how to get a reaction and he knew how to hurt someone, to say the least. "Oh you're just a lousy know-it-all. A worthless know-it-all!" And it was just childish, stuff, you know, but to her it was perhaps the biggest thing ever. But it was just a bit of taunting, and she could take it.
Sometimes, in the early morning she'd go to the boys' dormitory just to talk to him. It was said to be inappropriate, but no one noticed, and the boy threatened all that saw. It was early...maybe even four and it was only on Sunday mornings. He'd see her at the foot of his bed and proclaim: "Bloody Sunday." And that made her giggle. But it was just a bit of talking...just a bit of talking...
Sometimes, when she's really tired after hours of Charms homework she'll put her head on his shoulder, just really simply. It's a natural thing, really. And he'll sort of crook his neck slightly so her head will fit perfectly, then sometimes he'll put an arm around her. But only sometimes. But it's just something cute that rarely happens. Rarely.
Sometimes, they stroll around the grounds on winter nights and it's dark out. And sometimes, because he's told her so many scary stories she swears that there are dragons out. And he laughs...a very dry laugh. And she says with a 'tut' "It isn't my fault!" And he'll say, "Yeah, it is." But it's just a walk on a late school night.
Sometimes, right after she's passed a Potions test, she'll let him hold her hand. But just for a while. Her small hand fits perfectly in his calloused one, and he holds it tightly. His hand is warm; he's probably just been holding a fresh-from-the-oven oatmeal cookie. Her hand is cold like ice; she's probably been dancing in the rain again.
But it's just sometimes.
*
La Fin