Oh, I'm sorry. Am I boring you? I'm boring myself too, that's why I wasn't writing. Actually, I think that I stopped because my character was beginning to look suicidal, so I had to cut a whole lot out of it and start over...
All time lows....
Oliver was avoiding her. Amanda's habit of going to every single quidditch practice made it hard for him to do so, but somehow he managed. It had only been a note, brought to him by Harry's snowy white owl, Hedwig, at breakfast three days before.
Amanda didn't even look at what she had received (since her last letter which read, "I'm not a stalker, just someone who follows you around," Amanda ha had a teddy bear, a bag of Fizzing Whizbees, a red rose, a yellow rose, a dyed carnation, etc, brought to her by that same speckled owl) That Wednesday started off no different from any other. Except, of course, for the note that Amanda had taken up to the owlery. She had decided that it was stupid and childish to just sit and stare at Oliver all the time and he had the right to know. She looked down 3 seats and across the table just as the mail was arrived. Oliver took the note carefully off Hedwig's leg and unfolded it. 10 seconds later, he stood stiffly and walked out of the Great Hall without even a glance at Amanda.
Amanda buried her head in her arms, her long blond braids trailing through her breakfast. "Hermione," she said in a muffled voice to the girl sitting next to her, "Let's go for a walk. I think I'm going to heave."
Hermione tugged at her arm and pulled her to her feet. "Harry. Ron. We might be late for Care of Magical Creatures. In fact," she looked at Amanda's pale face, "We might not make it at all. Hagrid'll understand." And arm in arm, Hermione and Amanda quickly walked out of the Great Hall, down the steps, and out onto the lawn. They sat down near the shore of the glassy black lake.
"What did you do?"
Nothing," Amanda pouted as she chucked a piece of Hermione's toast into the lake and watched as a large tentacle shot up and dragged it under the surface, creating ripples that shattered the lake's glassy appearance and sent waves crashing onto the shore.
"Come on. It has to be something to have you depressed like this," Hermione looked into Amanda's eyes, "I'm your friend. I can tell about these things."
Amanda rolled onto her back, "I told him."
Hermione could only give her a puzzled look.
"I told Oliver. I sent him an owl."
"Oh no," Hermione stood up and started to pace. "Why? What happened?"
"Nothing. He just read it and walked away," a tear rolled down Amanda's cheek, "like he hates me," she whispered, "And he does hate me!" She threw down the daisy that she had been playing with and covered her face as she started to sob.
"What did you write in it? Maybe he was just surprised. He likes you. Everybody picks up the vibes except for you," Hermione was desperate, "He told me! B-but I'm not supposed to tell you. He was asking me for advice. I told him that you don't hate him. He seemed to have gotten that idea somehow..." she stopped and looked at Amanda for some sort of reaction. Amanda had stopped crying and was now sprawled on her stomach in a patch of daisies.
"You lie," Amanda mumbled, "like a rug!" she grinned," Advice my butt. You haven't said two words to him this whole year."
"But you have been giving him the impression that you hate him as of late."
Amanda opened her mouth to deny the accusation, but snapped back shut as she thought, "I have been giving him the cold shoulder lately," she grimaced, "especially when I yelled at him for trying to find out what that letter said."
After three days, Oliver was still avoiding her. He wouldn't even sit in his favorite chair by the fire in the common room anymore, because she would be in the room. Every time they passed in the halls he would either be looking for something in his book bag, or suddenly find something very interesting on the floor at his feet.
Amanda was depressed. Depressed to the point where she was constantly either listening to her favorite music, or writing on a never ending roll of parchment. Her self esteem dropped to a zero. That is, of course, until the winter dance was announced. It was just going to be a small event, a couple of songs to dance to, some dinner, some punch, and a secret sorcerer exchange, but Amanda had a very good feeling about it. She signed up to go right away, and ran up to the girl's dormitory to tell Hermione.
"Hermione! Are you going?" she cried breathlessly.
"Of course!" she raised an eyebrow, "Are you going with a date?"
"Oh. I hadn't thought of that. But boys have cooties anyways," she pretended to cringe, "Are you?"
"Yes... but..." she shifted uncomfortably on her bed.
"Who is it?!"
Hermione pulled out a small moving photograph, "I'm sorry. He just-"
"Oliver?!" Amanda was livid, "How could you?!" And before Hermione could stop her, Amanda was gone.
All time lows....
Oliver was avoiding her. Amanda's habit of going to every single quidditch practice made it hard for him to do so, but somehow he managed. It had only been a note, brought to him by Harry's snowy white owl, Hedwig, at breakfast three days before.
Amanda didn't even look at what she had received (since her last letter which read, "I'm not a stalker, just someone who follows you around," Amanda ha had a teddy bear, a bag of Fizzing Whizbees, a red rose, a yellow rose, a dyed carnation, etc, brought to her by that same speckled owl) That Wednesday started off no different from any other. Except, of course, for the note that Amanda had taken up to the owlery. She had decided that it was stupid and childish to just sit and stare at Oliver all the time and he had the right to know. She looked down 3 seats and across the table just as the mail was arrived. Oliver took the note carefully off Hedwig's leg and unfolded it. 10 seconds later, he stood stiffly and walked out of the Great Hall without even a glance at Amanda.
Amanda buried her head in her arms, her long blond braids trailing through her breakfast. "Hermione," she said in a muffled voice to the girl sitting next to her, "Let's go for a walk. I think I'm going to heave."
Hermione tugged at her arm and pulled her to her feet. "Harry. Ron. We might be late for Care of Magical Creatures. In fact," she looked at Amanda's pale face, "We might not make it at all. Hagrid'll understand." And arm in arm, Hermione and Amanda quickly walked out of the Great Hall, down the steps, and out onto the lawn. They sat down near the shore of the glassy black lake.
"What did you do?"
Nothing," Amanda pouted as she chucked a piece of Hermione's toast into the lake and watched as a large tentacle shot up and dragged it under the surface, creating ripples that shattered the lake's glassy appearance and sent waves crashing onto the shore.
"Come on. It has to be something to have you depressed like this," Hermione looked into Amanda's eyes, "I'm your friend. I can tell about these things."
Amanda rolled onto her back, "I told him."
Hermione could only give her a puzzled look.
"I told Oliver. I sent him an owl."
"Oh no," Hermione stood up and started to pace. "Why? What happened?"
"Nothing. He just read it and walked away," a tear rolled down Amanda's cheek, "like he hates me," she whispered, "And he does hate me!" She threw down the daisy that she had been playing with and covered her face as she started to sob.
"What did you write in it? Maybe he was just surprised. He likes you. Everybody picks up the vibes except for you," Hermione was desperate, "He told me! B-but I'm not supposed to tell you. He was asking me for advice. I told him that you don't hate him. He seemed to have gotten that idea somehow..." she stopped and looked at Amanda for some sort of reaction. Amanda had stopped crying and was now sprawled on her stomach in a patch of daisies.
"You lie," Amanda mumbled, "like a rug!" she grinned," Advice my butt. You haven't said two words to him this whole year."
"But you have been giving him the impression that you hate him as of late."
Amanda opened her mouth to deny the accusation, but snapped back shut as she thought, "I have been giving him the cold shoulder lately," she grimaced, "especially when I yelled at him for trying to find out what that letter said."
After three days, Oliver was still avoiding her. He wouldn't even sit in his favorite chair by the fire in the common room anymore, because she would be in the room. Every time they passed in the halls he would either be looking for something in his book bag, or suddenly find something very interesting on the floor at his feet.
Amanda was depressed. Depressed to the point where she was constantly either listening to her favorite music, or writing on a never ending roll of parchment. Her self esteem dropped to a zero. That is, of course, until the winter dance was announced. It was just going to be a small event, a couple of songs to dance to, some dinner, some punch, and a secret sorcerer exchange, but Amanda had a very good feeling about it. She signed up to go right away, and ran up to the girl's dormitory to tell Hermione.
"Hermione! Are you going?" she cried breathlessly.
"Of course!" she raised an eyebrow, "Are you going with a date?"
"Oh. I hadn't thought of that. But boys have cooties anyways," she pretended to cringe, "Are you?"
"Yes... but..." she shifted uncomfortably on her bed.
"Who is it?!"
Hermione pulled out a small moving photograph, "I'm sorry. He just-"
"Oliver?!" Amanda was livid, "How could you?!" And before Hermione could stop her, Amanda was gone.