Scorpius

To her, he's a mystery. Probably the only mystery at Hogwarts that she hasn't yet unravelled. But then, she hasn't really tried. It's not that she doesn't want to figure him out- she does, desperately- but because she's wary. Of him. Of what he'll really be like. Of whether he'll disappoint her. Or surprise her. Or whether he'll prove that her instincts are correct (as they always are). Right now, her instincts tell her that she's being stubborn- pointlessly stubborn.

She's watched him, keenly. From afar, obviously. Short of maintaining a detailed dossier on his daily activities, she been a perfect research witch. She's sure she knows his timetable as well as he does. She's sure she knows what he manages to fit in between classes. She knows his obvious likes and dislikes. She knows what each of his expressions mean- well, at least the ones that are allowed to surface onto his handsome features. She knows his favourite books- Hogwarts:AHistoryand AnnaKarenina- she's seen him pour over both in the library.

But there's one thing that she can't do. And that is put a voice to the ice-cold, yet expressive grey-blue eyes and the silvery-blond head.

And it torments her.

Oh, she knows what he sounds like, all right. (She's not her mother's daughter with nothing to show for it!) But she doesn't know his voice- the changing moods, the minor inflections, the softer intonations. Once she knows, she's sure that her mystery will be solved. She'll know him, then- inside out. His little lies to himself, his dreams, his indignations, his aspirations, his fears. His voice will lay him bare for her; it'll strip him of his layers of intrigue. But there's only the slightest glitch- she hasn't spoken to him. Or he to her.

Of course, his best friend is her favourite cousin- Albus- and by default they spend a lot of time around each other. But she's never spoken to him- she knows that it's rude. But he doesn't initiate conversation either. And maybe that's why she hasn't plucked up the courage to communicate. Because she thinks he's fragile, and precious, and she thinks that she'll break him. Not talking to him is impolite- to the point of being rude. And she's aware of it. But she can't- won't- risk it either. The results might shock her.

She's watched him sometimes, in the library. And he's interesting. The way his eyes light up as he reads- no matter if the book is a textbook. And then she's seen him work- his research, (she's gathered from her… spying), is extensive and organised. She's seen him day dream too- gaze into the middle distance, eyes not really focused on anything. And she's seen him this happy only when he's reading.

She can tell that this is a different sort of happiness, the kind that would come only with dreams and aspiration of the future. And she can tell that this happiness would grace his features for real once he gets what he's been pining for.

And that desire of his is another part of the mystery that is this boy. She wishes she knew what it is.

But until she figures it out, she's content with hoping he gets whatever it is that'll make his heart and soul happy…

~littlegirlgonemad~

Author's Note: There! It's over. I've been working on this chapter since the day I posted the first. I'm satisfied with it now, but there's always room for improvement.

I've started two new fics- ItMakestheWorldGo 'Roundand thirtiethWord'stheCharm.They're both for these challenges I'm participating in on HPFC. Do read and review those, too!