Part 10 - Changes and Sames
"Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonogall snaps over the noise of her seventh year Transfiguration class packing their things and preparing to leave for lunch, "I would like a word with you."
Charlie groans, praying that the conference will not be about what he already knows it's going to be about. "Yes, Professor," He mutters, slumping back down in his seat and waving his friends goodbye. Virgil gives him a sympathetic half smile, and Ahmad comments optimistically, "Don't worry, mate. She didn't use the 'you're deadmeat' voice, so it can't be that bad."
Seven years at Hogwarts, and Charlie's still in the same jam he's been in since when he first started. "I'm afraid you failed the last exam," McGonogall announces, her voice strict, but somehow still kind, "Your grade is dangerously low and anymore failures would result in a suspension of your quidditch privileges."
"No, Professor, please!" Charlie begs, sounding more like the whiny boy he used to be than the eighteen-year-old man he's become, "You can't fail me! I studied so hard for that test! I know I know the material! Please, give me another chance!"
He can't get kicked off the quidditch team again. It's already happened to him twice, once in third year for low grades, and once in fourth year for almost killing another student. Both times, the team suffered without him, but managed to pull through to win the cup. This time, since they would be losing their seeker and captain, he's not so sure the Gryffindors could manage it. He won't finish off his seventh year with a defeat to Slytherin. He just won't.
"Calm yourself, Mr. Weasley," The severe woman scolds, lips pursed into a razor thin line as she gazes down at him through small, square lenses, "You are in danger of failing, not failing, as of yet. This is merely a warning, and, after speaking with some of your other professors, a bit of an intervention."
Charlie pulls a face, "What?" Almost pretending not to hear him, McGonogall turns to her desk, picking up a red folder with the boy's name on it, opening it and announcing, "According to this, you are in danger of failing almost all off your classes. Potions and History of Magic are the most critical situations. What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Weasley?"
"I'm trying," He insists fiercely, "Honest, I am! I study like crazy!"
"Yes, yes," McGonogall, tuts, brushing him off as she continues to read his file. Before she turns back to him, she sighs, then fixes him with an intense stare as she says, "I know you're trying, and that's why this is so frustrating for everyone involved."
Charlie hangs his head, making a mental note to get a haircut because he can feel his tomato colored locks curling against his forehead and he hates it when his hair is long enough to do that. He also hates that he's so dumb. He wants to be smart, like Bill and Percy, but he works hard and it doesn't make a difference. It's downright maddening when he spends days, weeks preparing for an exam, when he thinks he knows everything he could possibly know about the subject and he fails anyways. He doesn't think it's fair.
"I've arranged a tutor for you," McGonogall informs him kindly, snapping shut the red folder and bringing him out of his self-pity, "A fellow student, but, I must warn you, it took quite a lot of effort to obtain her services, so if you are anything but a gentleman, Mr. Weasley, if I hear even one complaint about your behavior from the girl, you will be severely punished. Is that clear?"
Slightly confused, but definitely not wanting any severe punishment (because he's still serving from that fiasco in his fourth year, having been made a prefect solely for the purpose of being assigned three times the patrols as anyone else), he nods, "Of course. I wouldn't do anything bad..."
The young man trails off, a little disturbed by the strange warning he received, finally remembering to ask, "Who is it?"
The look on his gray-haired professor's face remains stoic, and hard, and she answers quietly, "Isabel Cooper."
xxXxx
"No."
Severus Snape doesn't think he's ever heard the thin, wild-haired girl standing before him ever refuse something so bluntly. He expected nothing less from the asinine request he made of her (not his idea, really, and if it we're for Minerva getting the headmaster involved he never would've even asked), but, nonetheless, Izzy's response is incredibly startling.
The sour, bad-tempered professor is prouder than he is ever likely to admit of young Miss Cooper. She took her potion NEWT at the end of her fifth year, a whole two years early, and passed with a perfect score, something no student since he himself took the exam has done. The clever girl also got O's on all the OWL's she took in the same year, flying colors all around.
Since then, since there were no more potions classes for her but she was adamant about wanting to continue her education in the subject, he's allowed her to apprentice with him, training to become a potion's mistress herself. Snape would like nothing more than to allow her to continue the excellent work she's been doing for him, flawlessly executing excruciatingly complicated projects, and even conducting experimental research that has yielded several patented formulas she will be able collect royalties off of for the rest of her life. However, Minerva asked to borrow her for a few weeks, to have her tutor a failing student.
That alone wouldn't have been a problem. He knows that Izzy is a kind girl, who would willingly and enthusiastically help anyone in need. It's which student in particular needs her help that is the issue.
"Miss Cooper, I do not recall having given you a choice in the matter," Snape drawls flatly, really disliking having to argue with her over anything not intellectual, "Since you have completed the circuit of potions classes and are technically a teaching assistant, it is perfectly within my authority to have you tutor the boy rather than begin a new assignment."
"I won't do it," The teen growls, her amber eyes flashing with annoyance and anger. Even though the rest of her appearance is changed from when Snape first met the girl, her lithe body taller, healthier, and more womanly, her skin not quite so pale, her demeanor not quite so skittish, those big brown eyes are still the same, brilliant, and expressive, and, in his opinion, much too large for her head.
"Sir, you cannot expect me to teach Charlie Weasley," Izzy continues, furious beyond comprehension, her normally soft voice loud and shaking, "Give me anyone else, and I'll do it gladly, but not him."
She doesn't understand how Snape could even ask her to do that! He knows her history with Charlie, knows, as does the entire castle, that she hasn't spoken to him since the middle of fourth year. Their feud has taken on proportions even more momentous than the Gryffindor-Slytherin one, and with good reason, "I. Hate. Charlie. Weasley."
Her misunderstood potions professor, the man who has largely guided her academic development over her dwindling time at school, gives her an exacerbated sigh, grumbling, "I know."
"Then you also know," She bites back, "That I don't speak to Charlie Weasley. I don't even sit in the same room as Charlie Weasley when I can help it. And even if I didn't hate his guts, I couldn't teach him anything! Give me a monkey and I could have it reciting the Goblin Wars backwards and forwards, brewing wolfsbane by the end of the week, but Charlie Weasley is a MORON!! He's too stupid to learn anything from me!! He's thick jock!! A hopeless cause!!"
Professor Snape may be a very hard man to read, but the look he gives Izzy suddenly has her feeling that he's ashamed of her behavior... and she doesn't like that feeling. "Funny," He drawls slowly, "I remember quite a few people telling me that you were a 'hopeless cause' when you first arrived here."
The cold air of the dungeon, the dank smell and dingy stone walls are all familiar, but the hurt of having Snape disappointed in her is quite new. He doesn't have to say it, she just knows from his hard stare, and she hangs her head down, muttering, "Sorry."
"You will tutor Charlie Weasley," The tall man instructs, his black robes flying out behind him as he turns and takes a few long strides into his office, "You will be civil, and you will help him achieve passing grades in all his classes, as well as his NEWT's. Good day, Miss Cooper."
And then he's gone, and Izzy wants nothing more than to bash her head against the cold stone table.
xxXxx
Dear Mac,
How are you? I hope you're still having a great time at University, and learning a lot, too. I applied like you suggested, but haven't heard back, so I don't know yet if I'll be joining you next year. I'll be sure to owl as soon as I find out. Everything here is pretty quiet. NEWT's are coming up, so people are starting to get nervous. Tonks had a bit of a nervous breakdown last week, proving once and for all that she really does belong in Ravenclaw, haha. It took the girls and me almost four hours just to get her to stop morphing uncontrollably. She's mostly alright now, but her hair keeps, as she puts it, 'kaleidescoping.' It's exactly what it sounds like.
Remember to take breaks for fun, and I hope to hear from you soon,
Izzy.
Dear Bill,
How are you? I hope you're still having a wonderful time in Egypt. Be careful of sunburns and mummy curses. Mostly things are the same here. Percy's just told me that he's number one in his whole class, and we're all very proud of him. He's going to end up a prefect for sure. Fred and George are in trouble again. I'm not exactly sure why, but they blew up Greenhouse Three. It's ok though, no one was hurt, it was a spectacular fire show, and all they have to do is rebuild it with Hagrid as their punishment. Those two are quite cute with all their mischief, and it's a shame that you graduated before they came here, though I suppose you probably get your fill of them at home, haha.
Remember to write your mother, and don't wander (or charge purposely, more likely) into anything potentially life threatening,
Izzy.
Dear Myron,
How are you? I hope the weather in Venice cleared up, and that the meeting with your publisher went well. I know I've already told you this loads of times, but I really love your story, and can't wait to see it in the bookstores. I think I'll probably end up doing something very stupid, like buying hundreds of copies. Don't laugh, because you know I'll make you autograph every single one. Things are going well here. That clerk from Honeyduke's you flirted with last time you took me to Hogsmeade (stop denying it, you totally did) came by looking for you. She seems very nice, and almost as odd as you are. Plus she brought me lots of chocolate, so I think you need to marry her. Just kidding (not really (or am I?)). Don't feel bad about missing Hogsmeade; your book is important, and I'll be fine on my own. I'll be sure to stop in at Honeyduke's and send your regards, haha.
Miss you a lot,
Izzy.
With the last of her weekly letters to her abroad friends written, Izzy sighs deeply, and slowly rolls the stiffness out of her neck and shoulders. The slim girl rises from her seat at the Gryffindor table, and walks gracefully out of the silent Great Hall. It's very early, and the large room is completely deserted, but she knows that it will be loud, and packed, and bustling by the time she gets back from the owlery. She pulls her thick robes tightly around her small body, and walks out into the fresh snow.
Izzy is seventeen now, a year younger than the rest of her graduating class, but far ahead academically, especially in potions. Thanks to Snape constantly singing her praises to colleagues, she already has job offers for after she graduates, many with top research firms. Even so, she hopes to spend at least a few years at University with Mac, and maybe even some time tagging along on Bill's adventures (if he ever leaves Egypt again, which is looking more and more unlikely).
The petite teen with the wild gold-brown curls and deep amber eyes often doesn't recognize herself from the shaking, skeletal, terrified pickpocket she once was. She often wonders where that little street rat went, how she evolved into the happy, healthy young woman who stares back at her from the mirror every morning.
But, no matter how far she's come, she's still the same in some ways. Her phobia to touch is still as strong as ever. Even the briefest brushes with other people are enough to make her jump, and scream, and feel sick to her stomach, so much so that she sometimes has to lie down. She still has nightmares, too. They're not as frequent as they once were, but no less severe. Considering everything she went through, though, the girl thinks that she's become surprisingly well-adjusted.
Learning to cope with her past was a long process, but, after spending most of her life struggling, the girl thinks she finally has.
Once in the loud, smelly owlery building, Izzy stops. Looking up at the hundreds of birds huddled closely together, she gives a shrill whistle. It only takes a moment for a jet black owl to come circling gently down towards the ground.
"Good morning, Metis," Izzy coos softly, offering her sleek, beautiful bird a few bacon strips before scratching it lightly on its head, "Up for some deliveries today, girl?"
The little creature ignores the question, far too content with crunching on the tasty meat. Izzy smiles, swelling with pride for her pet. It was shortly after the holidays in her fourth year when Hagrid found Metis in the Forbidden Forest. She was just a helpless ball of gray fluff, barely big enough to fill one of Izzy's small hands. She also had a broken wing.
Izzy was still very depressed from her near death experience at the hands of Charlie Weasley and Nestor Aubrey. All her friends were worried, Myron especially, because she couldn't eat, and was having horrible nightmares, and crying far too much. Hagrid gave her the hurt animal as an effort to cheer her up.
And it worked. Izzy nursed Metis back to health, and somehow managed to heal herself in the process. The girl dragged herself back from the brink of destruction to become the young woman she is today. The bird's wing mended wonderfully, and she shed her gray down in favor of sleek black feathers. Those, coupled with her unusual, piercing red eyes, make Metis widely recognized as the most beautiful owl in Hogwarts. Izzy is held in somewhat the same esteem among her peers, but she doesn't quite realize it, denying that fact to herself. Despite the progress she's made, the girl still suffers from a tragically low opinion of herself, her body especially.
"Come on, baby," Izzy chuckles, softly petting the bird as it finishes its food, "You get to go see Bill, and Mac, and Myron. You remember the ways, don't you?"
Seeming to understand somehow, the jet owl hoots excitedly, giving Izzy's fingers an affectionate nip. The girl smiles, handing over the letters before kissing Metis lightly on the head, instructing, "You be sure and give My a good scare, ya? He still thinks you're a demon because of those eyes of yours, so it shouldn't be too hard. Hehe, silly boy. Try to catch him in the shower again." With one last energetic nip and hoot, the little owl takes off. Izzy watches her soar away until she disappears behind the rolling hills on the horizon. Finally ready to return for the castle, she sighs contentedly, and turns around.
She collides with a hard body, and a horrible shriek immediately leaves her lungs as the books in her arms explode outwards. She goes into defensive mode, jumping away, kicking, swinging, and intent on escape.
"OW!! Hey, what the hell?" A deep voice yelps in surprise, its owner stumbling away from Izzy. Leaning up against the wall, the frightened girl has to take a few moments to catch her breath and calm down before she can open her eyes.
"Oh, Nero," She gasps, breathless, and beginning to blush when she recognizes that she just assaulted an acquaintance of hers, Nero Roman, seventh year Slytherin, "I'm so sorry! I didn't realize you were standing there, and I got startled. Are you alright?"
Cobalt blue eyes watering slightly, the tall brunette glares as he rubs his gut. He caught a hard elbow there, as well as a kick in the shin, and really doesn't understand what the hell he did to frighten Izzy so badly. She's such a damn jumpy thing...
"I'm fine, you cheeky little wench," The young man answers gruffly, "But, Merlin, first you steal my money, and then you try to beat me up? If this is some kind of scheme to prematurely gray my hair, it's working!"
Bristling at the accusation, Izzy frowns, crossing her arms over her full chest as she responds, "I didn't steal anything from you, Roman. You lost it fair and square."
The boy's eyes narrow, even though he's fighting a smirk as he answers, "Well that's not what I call it when Cale brings a ringer to poker night." Suddenly mimicking the amber-haired teen's shy voice and demeanor, he makes a production out of mocking, "'Oh, I couldn't possibly play! Yes, I know how, but I haven't in years! Well, if you boys insist...'" Izzy smirks, and then Nero has to as well, grumbling quietly, "You wiped the floor with us, you little sneak."
"So I did," The girl responds coolly, her smile twisting devilishly as she enjoys teasing, "Now, is there something you want, or are you just a sore loser who enjoys telling people things they already know?"
Still fighting a losing battle with the smirk on his face, Nero replies sharply, "I want a rematch! Who taught you to play cards, little girl?"
"My brother," She answers after a slight hesitation, her soft voice barely above a whisper, her heart feeling painfully tight before she finally remembers to just change the subject, "And I really hadn't played in years. I'm warmed up now though, so I'd be more than happy to give you a rematch. I'll just have Cale bring me to your poker night again. Thursday, right?"
"Yeah," Nero answers smoothly, placing his hands on the wall on either side of Izzy's head, getting far too close for comfort as he smiles down, "We have it every Thursday, and you're welcome to join us any time, but I was kind of hoping you and me could do something on our own. Maybe get a butterbeer in Hogsmeade Saturday, and you can give me some pointers? Tell me some more about this card-shark brother of yours?"
Immediately feeling her face blanch, Izzy shrinks back against the wall, and subconsciously claws at the stone as Nero leans in. She knows that he doesn't want to hurt her, but that doesn't matter. He's too close, and it's taking every shred of willpower she has not to scream, or vomit, or faint, or all of the above.
Nero, noticing her distress, but not quite astute enough to figure out that his proximity is causing it, frowns, and inquires, "Are you alright?"
Wide-eyed, trembling in terror, Izzy barely manages to stammer, "F-Fine. J-Just please, um, back up."
The boy takes a step back as he answers in confusion, "Oh, sure. I'm sorry. Was I too close or something?"
"Yes," She replies, letting out a slow, relieved breath, even though she still can't stop herself from shaking, "Or something..."
"Well, I'm sorry," He apologizes once more, offering a sheepish, yet still somehow charming smile, "That's me, always coming on too strong... just so we're clear, I was hitting on you."
Utterly startled, Izzy can't help it when her eyes go wide, and she shouts, "WHY?"
The tall brunette laughs, thinking that she's joking. However, when he realizes just a few seconds later that she's not, he makes a face, explaining slowly, "Well, because you're a pretty cool bird, for a Gryffindor, anyways, and I'd like to get to know you better... so, how about that drink?"
"I can't," She states immediately, her hands shaking as she hurriedly sets about gathering her dropped books, desperate to get out of there, "I'm sorry."
Before she can make her escape, Nero snatches one of the thick volumes away from her, holding it above his head (well out of the petite girl's reach) as he smiles, and teases, "Sure you can. It'll be real easy. Just say yes, and then meet me."
Izzy takes another step away from the boy, shaking her head, trying not to let her voice shake as well as she demands flatly, "No, I can't... please, give that back."
Normally, Nero would have no problems pestering a girl for a date. One of his specialties is adorable blackmail, after all. But there's just something about the way Izzy is standing, her eyes down, her shoulder's hunched, her other books clutched protectively against her chest, that has him thinking it wouldn't be the least bit fun to push her.
He notices quickly that the hand she's stuck out for him to return the book he took is trembling, and gives the dusty text back without a word.
Almost as quickly, Izzy bolts, nearly tripping over her own hurry as she speeds back towards the castle.
xxXxx
"I'm dead," Charlie whines softly, repeatedly bashing his head against his desk as he tries to stay awake during History of Magic.
To his left, he hears his friend Ahmad snoring, and realizes that the boy probably hasn't been listening to him gripe about his crisis. However, Virgil is still paying attention. Well, half paying attention anyways, since he is also scrawling notes from the lecture as he remarks, "You're not dead."
After making a small noise of disbelief, Charlie argues, "No, I am definitely dead. Cooper hates me. She's not going to help me, and I'll fail, and get kicked out of quidditch, and Gryffindor will lose the Cup."
"McGonogall's not stupid, and she wants you to win," Virgil argues, chewing thoughtfully on the end of his quill before adding more neat lettering to the page, "She knows Izzy hates you, and probably already made sure that she'll still go through with it. Stop bitching."
"Easy for you to say," The bad-tempered young man grumbles under his breath, trying to glare at where his too-long red hair is curling slightly against his forehead, "Your whole future doesn't depend on a girl you once almost accidentally killed, who has a grudge against you so bad she hasn't even looked at you in nearly four years..."
He takes a deep breath, calming down and trying to make himself sound as sad as possible as he asks, "Couldn't you just-"
"No," Virgil cuts him off, turning from his notes for a moment to glower dangerously, "I'm sorry, mate, I'd help you if I could, but we both know that I can't. Don't you remember that we almost killed each other when I tried to help you with that Charms essay? No offense, but you're pretty goddamn dense."
Charlie groans defeatedly, smacking his head against the desk once more as Virgil scolds, "Just give this thing with Izzy a chance. What's the worst that could happen? Even if she doesn't help you, it might finally be the opportunity you've been harping after for four bloody years to finally apologize to her."
At the thought, Charlie brightens for a moment, then frowns once again. "I did try apologizing to her," He informs his friend, "Right after it happened. She didn't accept, and she sort of... well, she punched me in the face."
"Wait, wait, wait," A new voice interjects, followed shortly after by the sounds of desk legs squeaking shrilly as they're dragged across the floor. The boys look up from their conversation to see that Nero Roman has moved himself closer to them, and is leaning forward with interest, his dark blue eyes wide.
"Izzy Cooper punched you?" The dark-haired Slytherin asks incredulously, "Izzy Cooper, the little bird who looks like she's going to cry if she sees someone squashing a fly, actually punched you?"
Scowling, Charlie snaps, "Yes, though I don't see why it's any of your business."
"Sorry, mate," Nero laughs flippantly, "She was on my mind, and hearing you talk about her peaked my interest... hey, you guys are in her house, do you have any idea why she's so fucking weird?"
"She's not weird," The redhead growls in reply, his light blue eyes narrowing. With an exasperated grunt, Virgil shoves his desk away from the bickering boys, muttering, "Gossipy hens..."
"Beg to differ," Nero goes on, not skipping a beat, "I was talking to her this morning, and one minute we were getting along smashingly, and the next she's an ice queen. Most girls giggle and squeal when I ask them out. She looked like she was going to be sick."
With a bitter smirk, Charlie quips, "Don't blame her. I'd be sick, too."
"No worries, Weasley," Nero replies just as sarcastically, a mocking grin twisting his handsome, aristocratic features, "Stubborn, abrasive, and thick as a fucking rock aren't my type, so you're definitely safe from any offers to get a drink in Hogsmeade with me."
"Oh, sod off!" The redhead snaps back, noisily moving his desk away from Nero's, and feeling inexplicably furious that the Slytherin would have the nerve to ask Izzy out.
xxXxx
Cale Eyret really likes being tall. He can see over crowds, easily intimidate anyone who's annoying him, and never gets his clothes stolen because they don't fit any of his normal-sized dormmates.
As he stands silently between the book stacks in the Hogwarts library, watching Izzy Cooper trying to carefully and silently drag a crate down the row, his love of his stature is enforced three times over.
"Afternoon, Bel," The muscular young man greets quietly as he takes a few long strides towards his friend and long-time secret crush. He tucks back a few strands of dirty blonde hair that have fallen out of the short, messy ponytail gathered at the nape of his neck, and smiles sweetly as Izzy turns towards him.
"Which do you want?" He asks, still grinning, and feeling incredibly proud, as well as useful and chivalrous.
The little brunette blushes adorably, the skin behind her sparse, sun-kissed freckles darkening to a deep pink as she abandons the crate and instructs shyly, "The big blue one with the silver lettering."
What would have taken Izzy two or three boxes to stand on in order to retrieve only takes Cale a bit of tip-toes. He easily reaches to the top shelf, and plucks down the dusty book she requested.
"Here you go," The boy announces as he triumphantly hands it over, smiling stupidly to himself and wiping it off a bit first. Despite the fact that they've been very good friends for years, he still likes proving to this pretty girl just how handy and strong he is. That way, maybe one day she'll see him as more than just a friend...
"Thanks so much, Cale," Izzy replies sweetly, her blush still not entirely subsided, "You're a hero."
If possible, the big smile on Cale's face gets even bigger, and he answers, "My pleasure."
After a few moments in silence, the boy offers out a brown paper sack, stating, "I brought you lunch, so that Myron doesn't kill me for letting you starve."
"Ha," Izzy answers dryly, taking the bag and inspecting its contents with minimal interest, "I wouldn't worry about that for at least another month. He's stuck in Venice."
"Aw, so he won't be taking you to Hogsmeade then?" The Slytherin inquires, trying his best not to sound excited. He's friends with Myron, but the aspiring novelist's stubborn insistence on accompanying Izzy on every Hogsmeade weekend has made it impossible for Cale to ask her to go with him. It's hard not to be jealous of how much time Myron gets to spend with the smart little girl he adopted as his little sister.
"Nope," She replies, sighing in resigned disappointment, "That's alright though. He's busy getting his book published. I'm sure I'll be just fine without him."
"Willyougowithme?" The jumbled rush of words spew out of Cale's mouth before he can stop himself, and then he holds his breath waiting for an answer.
Slightly confused, Izzy tilts her head to the side, asking, "What do you mean? We always meet up."
"Er..." He replies, biting his lip and cursing himelf for being so impulsive. He's spending too much time around Gryffindors. Trying not to fidget uncomfortably, the boy continues, "I mean... like... just you and me... like, a date..."
It only takes a brief moment for Izzy's deep brown eyes to go wide, and for her mouth to fall open as she gasps, "Oh..."
"You, uh," The boy stammers, looking down at his big feet, kicking himself for fucking things up, "You don't have to if you don't want to. I just... thought I'd ask..."
"Cale," She whispers sheepishly, "You... you know it's not like that." This is so awkward, and Izzy wants to melt into the floor. She can't decide what's worse, the prospect of hurting Cale's feelings, or the possibility of putting herself in an intimate situation. She knows that Cale is her friend, and that he understands her limits, but the thought of a date with him, with anyone, really, is utterly terrifying...
"Do you... want to think about it?" The young man offers softly, knowing that he really is asking a lot of Izzy, and that she's obviously scared of the consequences of any answer she gives.
Relaxing slightly, the girl nods, murmuring, "Yes, thanks."
"Sure," Her blonde companion answers, forcing a smile, "That's not a big deal... so, uh, I should get going. I've got class, and really just stopped by to make sure you ate some lunch. Bye, Bel. I'll see you later."
Izzy smiles genuinely, despite her fear, because Cale is the only one who ever calls her Bel. It's not uncertainty about his intentions or sincerity that worries her, it's her own inability to give him what he deserves. "Of course," She says with a wave, "Don't forget, we're studying for Charms after dinner."
The tall boy leaves with a smile, stating, "I'd never forget. See you then."
"Cale," Izzy blurts, making him turn back at the end of the row. With one look at the hopeful, utterly devoted expression on his face, she caves, stating quietly, "I'd love to go with you."
His smile is bright, and brilliant, and bloody adorable, and just being the one who made him look so happy is enough to slightly ease Izzy's fears. "REALLY?" Cale shouts, earning a distant, disembodied, "SHHHH!" from the librarian.
"Sorry," He whispers sheepishly before turning back to Izzy, and hissing, "Really? Are you sure? I-I mean, I'm happy, but only if you're not just saying yes to make me happy. Like, I want to go with you to show you a good time, and if you're not comfortable with it then-"
"Cale," Izzy laughs, blushing slightly again, "You're babbling, and you're late for class. I really do want to go."
In reply, the boy gives an embarrassed chuckle, turning red, too, as he states, "Right. Um, thanks then. I'll... pick you up from the front steps?"
Biting her full, pouty bottom lip, the little brunette nods, and Cale smiles, and runs, hoping to get out of there before he says anything stupid, anything that will mess up this miracle.
xxXxx
"This is a disaster!!" Izzy moans softly as she walks through the crowded Hogwarts hallways. Normally, being surrounded by so many people would make her infinitely nervous, but with Daisy on her right and Tonks on her left protecting her from the swarm, she feels safe enough to concentrate on her internal crisis.
She feels the skin on the back of her neck prickle when both the other girls start laughing at her statement. "It's not funny!" She snaps, stomping her foot petulantly, hating that both of her companions are so much taller than her because she can't properly glare from so far below both their sight lines.
"It is a little funny," Daisy remarks with a chuckle, worrying her gleaming silver lip ring back and forth with her tongue, "You're freaking out over nothing, love."
Nodding, blowing hot pink bangs out of her eyes several times before finally getting frustrated and morphing them shorter, Tonks agrees, "Ya, it's just Cale. He's a bit of a grump, but mostly a sweetheart."
"Besides, he's had a monster crush on you for ages," A new voice interjects loudly, followed shortly after by tall, curvy Slytherin bombshell Margo Amos. She grins at her friends as she saunters up beside Tonks, then adds, "Everyone knows, and it's only cuz you're both so painfully shy that he waited until now to ask you."
"He has?" Izzy gapes, barely remembering to breathe, "Since when? Oh, never mind, I don't want to know. Look, it's not that I don't like Cale, I do... it's just... how can I ever have a normal relationship with him? I can't touch anyone, so how are we supposed to hold hands, or hug, or..."
The girl trails off, blushing as she hides her face behind a veil of long amber curls. Her three friends laugh riotously, Margo teasing, "Or what? Or KISS? AWWWW!!! Our little Izzy is growing up! We're gonna have to have The Talk with her, aren't we girls?"
"Oh, leave her be," Daisy scolds, giggling a little too hard for it to be completely sincere, even though she kicks Margo in the arse, sending the tall Slytherin off down the hall singing, "Cale and Izzy sitting in a tree! Doing things they shouldn't be!"
"It's a disaster!" The petite brunette asserts once again, hugging her books tighter. "It is not," Daisy soothes quietly, wishing that she could do something more to comfort her friend aside from trying to talk her out of this panic, "You're going to be perfectly fine. Now, stop overthinking this, or we'll all be late, and you know how Yori gets."
Izzy grumbles an incoherent reply, still hugging her books and cursing herself for not being so limited by the scars on her mind.
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There it is folks. Hope you liked it! In case you hadn't caught on, this one fast forwards a bit from the last. Izzy is a seventh year. Anyways, I'm back at school now and classes start again tomorrow. Don't expect too much from me but I will do my best to update as often as possible. Reviews will help remove the sting of having to return to class.