Hey! Chapter 10! I feel like partying, honestly. I fell so in love with this story ;) sigh

Like always thanks for the sweet reviews, you guys.

kaiaakp: Thank you very much! I wasn't so sure about the chapter but I'm glad that you liked it. Have fun with the chapter - you'll find out who wins...

Vvls: I'm kind of speechless right now! You're just to kind and cute... but I really appreciate your feetback and reviews. They honestly make my day and are soo motivating :) It was important for me to create a character who loves herself BECAUSE of her flaws and non perfections. And I'm glad that you like the way I try to include information about the side characters as well. To build up the world and all characters is kind of my thing haha. I loooveee Krista so much (even though Lou will always be my favorite ;)) and the friendship between her and Lupe is just golden. I sure as hell don' t like it when best friends turn against eachother or fight over a boy... I also hate when the main character speaks/thinks badly about other girls and the way they act or dress... so there will be no classic mean girls in this story and NO Slut Shaming at all! Scott pilgrim vs. the world you say... well, there are some similarities for sure (the hair of course)... James and Lupe are just to cute and sweet. I adore them. And Lou can be soo oblivious and awkward at times, that's right. James and his smile and teasing and charm - he's the best. I think you'll like the second part this chapter a lot... Have fun ;)

With no further ado... Chapter 10:

The Hufflepuffs were gathered in the stands, dressed in yellow and black, holding signs saying "You got it, Dunaway!" and "Go, Hufflepuff!". I spotted Krista, beaming with anticipation, and Elain and Mildred happily whispering to each other, probably making bets on which team would score first... Bets like the one I had just made. Oh dear, I didn't have a good feeling about this.

I was about to approach Krista, but something made me suddenly freeze. Standing among all my housemates was someone who didn't fit into the group at all. A tall, slender witch with dark curls, caramel-coloured skin and black eyes - I couldn't actually see what colour her eyes were because she had her back turned to me, but I knew anyway, it was my mother after all.

"What-," I muttered, dumbfounded, watching her whirl around and throw her arms in the air as she spotted me. She was wearing a lime green cape with silver buckles, and although the colour was very gaudy, her get-up looked no less elegant. Mom had always had class - and enough money for the former - and it showed; the thin rings on her fingers glistened in the sunlight and her big earrings (the ones set with the pretty opals) peeked out from behind her hair, because Mom had never been a fan of hats. And she was right about that, because hats didn't suit the shape of the Rashids' faces; they didn't look good on us...We looked very good in hair scarves though, especially when we let a few strands of hair fall out so that they framed our faces nicely. But hats were not our calibre.

"Oh Dove, here I am!" shouted Mom, loud as ever. She beckoned me over, but she apparently wasn't sure if I had spotted her: "Over here, Giggles! Over here!" she called again, this time even louder.

It was hard, impossible to miss her. Her cloak literally glowed and she had a voice louder and more cutting than any magical firework. I rushed to her, still puzzled by her unexpected presence and perhaps embarrassed, as several heads had turned to us to find out who was shouting.

"I can see you, Mom. And hear you.", I said in a lowered voice, but apparently not quietly enough, because a girl to my right - a fourth grader, I assumed - turned to her friend and whispered to her, giggling, "Anyone can."

She, unlike me, hadn't bothered to go unheard at all either. Her friend giggled too, as did some of the other fourth graders around us. I fixed my gaze stubbornly on my mother's face and tried to ignore how uncomfortable the fourth graders' stares made me.

It wasn't that my mother embarrassed me, but she had this unpleasant habit of attracting the attention of everyone within a hundred miles. She didn't do it on purpose, although she did love the limelight, so I couldn't blame her for the fact that whenever she was around, suddenly a lot more people noticed my existence. It wouldn't have bothered me at all if they saw me and thought, "Aha, so she goes to Hogwarts too.", however, it wasn't like that; they thought, "Oh lord, look at those crazy people! If I had a mother like her, I'd want to curl up and die!".

It shouldn't bother me and mostly it didn't. But somewhere in my heart there was also a small longing that if I had to be seen, then at least it was for my sake and not because people thought my mother was embarrassing, or because she was such a great healer and I just couldn't match her in terms of talent.

"Dove, you look lovely. Those rosy cheeks are dazzling on you. Did you put on a little blush?" she asked after giving me a thorough inspection.

I raised my hands to my face and ran my fingertips over my cheeks, even though, in retrospect, it didn't do any good.

"No, I didn't." I frowned.

"Then I guess it's the cold, Giggles. Let me see your new gloves! Oh, yes, they look lovely, dear! But will they keep you warm? Would you like me to have a better pair sent over?"

"Oh no, Mom, don't worry about it - they're perfect." I lowered my hands and smiled. "They smell like roses. I love them."

"If you already like these, wait for the dragon skin gloves I bought in London last weekend, dear! They are incredibly elegant and feel so smooth. As soon as I get back home, I'll send Chaf off with them."

I grabbed her hand – as unobstrusively as I could - and pulled her behind me. I wanted to manoeuvre us into a corner of the stands where we wouldn't disturp everyone and where it wasn't so crowded. Anyway, Mum didn't get wind of it and chattered on blithely for her part.

"So how are things at school? Did you get a chance to talk to Minerva McGonagall? I only read your last letter yesterday and I can hardly believe McGonagall didn't give you top marks on your last homework assignment, dear! You're such a clever girl! I'm sure you should be at the top of your class! Maybe she demands to little from you in her classes-"

I shook my head vigorously and she fell silent. Whenever she bragged about me, I felt quite uncomfortable. The reason Mom was always shouting so loudly through the crowd was because she needed to let everyone know how great I was. And how misunderstood.

It was just unfortunate that I didn't have all these great qualities and talents that she said I had. Or if I did, they weren't as great as she thought they were. She was like a young new mother; the one whose first baby burped, which of course was so impressive that it had to be told to all her friends as if the baby burp was one of the seven wonders of the ancient muggle world... Usually, mothers grew out of this phase of baby-adoration - my mum didn't. She was still stuck in the middle of that phase. For sixteen years. I could have drawn a matchstick man and she would pass it off as great art (honestly, that had even happened once).

She was my mum - that's why everything I touched suddenly turned to gold. Unfortunately, she was the only one who thought like that... Maybe, I did feel a little ashamed of her sometimes, even if I could never admit it, because I loved her too much for that.

"Mum, we both know that Professor McGonagall is more than fair. She would never grade me lower than I deserved. My homework just wasn't very good. I wrote you that I wasn't very happy with it myself. In fact, in retrospect, I'd my essay was rather confusing."

Mom wasn't convinced. She listened to me quite rarely, even though everything I said was, supposedly, so terribly enlightening.

"I can't imagine that! Dove, you're so studious. Even as a little child you wrote the most fantastic stories. About fairies and mermaids, remember?"

Once upon a time there was a fairy. She had a tail like mermaids. That's why she was very special and could swim much faster. But she was prettier than a mermaid because she was a fairy and fairies are pretty.

Yes, sure, my stories really deserved some sort of prize...

I shrugged my shoulders. She would not be dissuaded by anything. Ever.

"How could I forget when you still have them all framed and hanging in the parlor."

A whole wall full of scribbled pictures and confusing stories with major spelling mistakes. I avoided the parlor like the pest. And I didn't even know exactly why.

"And you're a first-rate student in potions! Slughorn, the good man, would never complain about one of your essays!" she affirmed.

I would have agreed with her, if I hadn't known that the only reason he never failed me, or at least corrected me, was that he didn't want to upset her. Slughorn respected her and her work and he didn't want to antagonise her. That was why, and only why, Mum had never heard bad things about my potions. She knew from her very own experience that I could hardly brew a decent sleeping potion. Mom was always very open, but in this respect, she suffered from tunnel vision.

"But Mum, tell me, what are you doing here anyway?", I asked, having decided to divert from the subject before she came up with the idea of confronting Professor McGonagall herself.

"Parents are allowed to come to watch the Quidditch games, isn't that what it says in 'Hogwarts, a history'? And your house is playing today, after all. So I thought I'd stop by."

I didn't know anyone who would willingly read 'Hogwarts, a history'. The book was far too long and, above all, boring. No one, except my parents anyway. They loved heavy reading. Especially when they could use it to keep track on their daughter.

"Yeah, but it's actually meant for the players' families, you know that. And I can't even fly properly."

"Well, a mother should be able to see her child whenever she wants to! It's terrible to get to see you so rarely, Giggles! And if a Quidditch game is the only way I'm going to get to see you, then yes, I'm going to take the chance!" she declared, indignantly.

I reached for her hands once again, only this time not to duck into a corner, but to squeeze them tightly. "I'm glad to see you, Mom. I've missed you too."

Before I knew it, she was beaming at me and pulling me into a tight hug. She immediately grabbed me by the shoulders again after letting go of me.

"Let me look at you, dear! You've grown again, haven't you? You've got to be kidding me." I frowned. The last time we had seen each other was in the summer. Mom always acted as if I looked like a new person when we saw each other again, whether we'd been apart for half a year or just a week. I hadn't changed much since the summer though. "And you've become more beautiful too! Thank Merlin for giving me such an adorable daughter!" she cried out and yet again a few heads turned in our direction in confusion. My cheeks suddenly felt a little heated.

"Mom, maybe we should keep our voices down a bit. Otherwise we'll disturb the others," I pleaded.

"You're right." she reluctantly admitted. She let her inquiring gaze slide over the Quidditch pitch and the stands. "That's Hagatha's mother, isn't it?"

I followed her gaze and sure enough - there she was, Aggie's mother, stern and serious as you knew her to be. She was dressed in black and although I actually liked black, her cloaks always reminded me of funerals. She did not smile. She didn't look particularly happy or excited either. But honestly, I had never known her to be anything but... serious and stern. Not that I knew Aggie's mother well, it wasn't like that, but the impressions I had gathered of her so far were only confirmed by her cool gaze and rigid posture.

"Yes, it's her." It was rude to stare, but I couldn't help it. How could Aggie be so much like her mother and yet so... different at the same time? Was it the same with me and Mom? "Oh, Aggie must be terribly nervous. You know how she doesn't always get along with her parents."

Mom eyed Aggie's mother with visible displeasure, then clicked her tongue and finally sighed. It was hard to tell from a distance, but somehow she looked bored. But how did she manage that, so close to her daughter's game?

"I always find it upsetting to see how other parents treat their children! But well, you shouldn't judge anyone for their parenting style. And if there's one thing I've learned over the last few years here in the UK, it's that british purebloods are all nuts."

"Well said, Mom." I suppressed a giggle as I noticed how quiet it had become around us. That could only mean that the game was about to start very soon. "But now we should be quiet. I promised Aggie I'd root for her every single second."

Mom raised one of her finely plucked eyebrows and pointed at my hair. "Is that why you're wearing that weird hairclip? Snakes don't suit you, Giggles."

I shrugged. "I like it. She hisses like a real snake. I guess she thinks she's a real animal."

"That's nonsense, dear. Your imagination is remarkable, but it's a hairclip; they can't think."

I nodded with a smile. "I know."

All my classmates were hanging over the railing, looking up at Ibrahim Hughes, the commentator, who had picked up a loudspeaker with a playfully swanky expression.

"But we really need to pay attention now," I whispered to Mom, because by now everyone was anxiously waiting for the players Ibrahim Hughes would announce any moment.

"Oh, of course!" exclaimed Mom at the top of her lungs. I ignored the first grader in front of us who gave her an annoyed look.

Ibrahim Hughes cleared his throat and his voice echoed across the field to every corner of the stands:

"And here they come - our Hufflepuff players! Team captain Dunaway, the Chasers Berner, Harkom and Youell, the Keeper Wymore and the Beaters Rivera and Griggs! Give it up for the Hufflepuffs, ladies and gentlemen! Yeah, just like that!"

I clapped along, of course, but I felt not as enthusiastic as the first years. One of them kept jumping in the air with excitement and stepped on my foot during a particularly uncoordinated jump. It didn't hurt much, so I just blanked out the bouncy ball boy and waited for the Slytherins, who were also promptly announced:

"Next up: our Slytherin players! Here comes Team Captain Hitchcock, Chasers Selwyn and Laghari, Keeper Schneider, Beaters Selwyn and Goodlow, and last but not least, Seeker Zachry!"

Professor Longbottom, who had taken his place next to Ibrahim Hughes, gave him a meaningful look and Ibrahim quickly added, "Ah, yes exactly. Let's hear it for the Slytherins too please, everyone!"

I clapped my hands happily. I was the only one in our bleachers, except for Mum who followed suit in a very subdued manner, but no one seemed to mind much. Aggie and her teammates ended up on the grass facing the opposing team. While Dunaway beamed and waved over to the Hufflepuffs, the Slytherins stared at the back of his head, Aggie and Theodora Hitchcock in particular practicing their deadly glares - they were very... ambitious, if I may put it that way.

"Isn't the commentator supposed to be neutral?" asked Mum, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"No one at Hogwarts is neutral when it comes to Quidditch."

"You would be, dear," she huffed.

The idea of being a Quidditch commentator was absurd. The whole school would be listening to me. No, I wouldn't like that at all.

"But I also have no clue what really goes on at a game like that. It's fun to watch, but I don't understand what they're doing. Ibrahim Hughes does, understand, I mean. He's as neutral as it gets and I've been told he does a great job. Everybody loves his humour."

Dunaway and Hitchcock shook hands, the latter appearing to want to rip the former's arm off. Yes, that one was... passionate.

All the players readied themselves, while Madam Macindoe positioned herself in the centre of the field, arms stretched aloft. "On my whistle." she informed all the players emphatically and then she counted down from three. Fourteen brooms rose into the air and to cheers and shrieks, the second Quidditch match of the season began.

"Laghari with the Quaffle, Hitchcock catches, Hitchcock heading back up the pitch!"

It was hard to follow the game as fast as the brooms were whizzing through the air. I was no broom expert, but I knew they had become faster and more dynamic in recent years. I admired Ibrahim Hughes for being able to follow the game. The way he commented, it seemed almost easy to understand what manoeuvres each player was performing.

Mom to my right heaved a sigh of relief as she listened to Ibrahim's words and followed the action on the field with her eyes. "The good old days when you went to school and played Quidditch! At Uagadou we had team games too and of course the Quidditch cup, great really."

"...Caught by Berner, Berner passes to Youell - no, wait - damn, Selwyn catches!"

The Hufflepuffs groaned, I clapped.

"...Back to Berner, good job, buddy - how did that happen? Berner dropped the Quaffle - Hitchcock catches! You have to admit, Hitchcock is really fit today! After last year's tragic defeat, it was about time - Excuse me, Professor."

Professor Longbottom was as Gryffindor as they come, everyone knew he had played a crucial role in the war. By now he was our Herbology teacher and for the last few years he had also been Deputy Headmaster. At the Quidditch games, he tried to radiate absolute neutrality, but when Gryffindor played, it was not particularly easy for him. Today, however, Hufflepuff and Slytherin were playing, and Professor Longbottom couldn't help the reprimanding looks in Ibrahim Hughes' direction.

Ibrahim raised his voice anew and cleared his throat: "Back to the game, ladies and gentlemen! Hitchcock dodges Harkom, a pass to Laghari and she... doesn't score - Good job, Wymore."

The Hufflepuffs cheered and for a short while I was so carried away by the euphoria that I forgot whose victory I was actually hoping for. I only realised my little mistake after a fake cough from my mum. It wasn't easy to be biased when both teams were so attached to victory. Because deep in my heart I wished both could win and neither had to lose.

"The Quaffle is taken by Youell and off he goes - Ouch, Youell has been hit by a bludger from Selwyn. Man, that's a scary girl - a nice girl, Professor, a nice girl, that's what I meant."

Professor Longbottom had indignantly threatened Ibrahim with giving someone else the job of commentator if he couldn't pull himself together. I could only smile, because I knew Aggie well enough to know that she interpreted such words as compliments. Well, at the moment she was too absorbed in the game to laugh about it, but tonight she would still be raving to me about how scary she was. I could see it now: "Lou, you really should let me have your pudding. You know how scary I can be - you don't want to upset me, I'm sure."

"Well, the boy is right. Hagatha looks very dogged," Mom noted with a nod in Aggie's direction.

"She's nervous, but she'll be fine," I said confidently.

"...but Harkom catches the Quaffle, excellent move there, he avoids yet another Bludger from Selwyn - and he SCORES! Ten points to Hufflepuff!"

Harkom did a loop in the air, which looked really impressive, especially for someone like me who could barely manage to stay on the broom for more than five seconds. The flying lessons in my first year at school had given me many bruises.

The others from my house jumped up and down joyfully, much like bouncy ball boy had done earlier. The game continued and the Hufflepuffs were in the lead. After the next few goals, the Slytherins became noticeably more frustrated and their style of play increasingly aggressive. Aggie too was hurling bludgers at her opponents with growing ruthlessness. Yet she didn't play dirty. Nobody did. I knew from Aggie that in her parents' school days, the Slytherins pretty much - in her words - sucked, but these days everyone was over such childish behaviour and unnecessary house rivalries.

"...Berner with the Quaffle, but here comes chaser Selwyn- hey, what's he doing? That's a foul! Your ellbows has no bussiness in other player's faces, Selwyn!", Ibrahim roared indignantly into the loudspeaker.

Hm. Perhaps I should revise my previous statement.

Ibrahim sighed, exasperated. "Well, someone fix Berner's bloody- literally bloody - nose please-" He stopped himself, his eyes widening. He leaned over the railing - so far, I thought he was about to topple over - and then he shouted into the loudspeaker, so loud that even my ears were ringing: "WAIT, THE SNITCH! DUNAWAY SAW THE SNITCH!"

The stadium held its breath. All eyes were glued to the seekers racing towards the ground, one hand extended forward at a time, ready to grab the Golden Snitch at any moment. It was a matter of seconds, but it didn't feel that way. For me, at least, everything was happening in slow motion for a change.

"Zachry right behind him! Nip and tuck they are! But - DUNAWAY CAUGHT THE SNITCH! HUFFLEPUFF WINS! 180 TO 20 POINTS!"

The Hufflepuffs were freaking out with joy. I could spot Mildred and Elain lying in each other's arms, shrieking like furies. Krista was standing next to them and she was so moved she couldn't manage anything but a big grin.

"Merlin, that was quick!" remarked Mom, looking down at her watch in disappointment. Whether she had wanted to watch the game longer or was afraid she would have to go back home now, I didn't know.

I smiled as Callister Dunaway flew towards the stands and then landed next to his girlfriend to give her a teary-eyed hug. Quidditch made people so emotional. For me, that was the best thing about the sport, provided we weren't talking about negative emotions like jealousy, anger, frustration and sadness...

I immediately started moving and squeezing through the crowd, but as I leaned over the railing and scanned the field with my eyes, Aggie was nowhere to be seen. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Mom step up beside me.

"I don't see Aggie anymore. Only Theodora. She looks all angry - oh, she's flung her broom on the floor again. She always does that when Slytherin loses. One time she managed to break her broom." I narrowed my eyes and watched the Slytherin stand. "But where's Aggie?"

I bit my lower lip anxiously and whirled around to Mom. "Oh Mom, I think I should find her. I'm sure she's super disappointed and sad. Winning meant so much to her because her mum watched her after all. And now that Slytherin lost-"

Mum put her hand on my shoulder and pointed her index finger over my head. A soft smile was on her lips. "Dove, I don't think that will be necessary."

At the top of the Slytherin stands stood a witch dressed in black and a girl in a Quidditch uniform. The former was patting her daughter's head affectionately, if rather awkwardly. It was a cryptic sight.

"Yes, it's nice to know that Orla Selwyn actually has a heart."

"Do you think I should comfort her anyway. They lost. Aggie doesn't like to lose."

Mom shook her head. "If what you've told me is all true, then Hagatha may have gained a lot more than she lost today. Let the two of them have a little time to themselves. You can comfort her any time tonight."

I nodded slowly and watched as Aggie and her mother left the stands and disappeared behind them. A queasy feeling spread through my stomach and I had a sneaking suspicion that it had less to do with Aggie and more to do with the Hufflepuffs' victory itself. Well, not with the victory itself, but with the consequences it would have for me. Maybe it was karma. You didn't bet against your house. It was certainly one of those unwritten laws and I had broken it.

"Aren't you happy at all that your house won, Giggles?" inquired Mom, concerned.

"Yes, I am-I'm happy for the team. And for all the Quidditch fans." I sighed softly and ran a hand through my dark hair. "I was just kind of hoping Slytherin would win. Because of Aggie and because-"

Mum interrupted me with a delighted cry, "Oh, what a great friend you are! So loyal and understanding. You got that from your father, I tell you."

I smiled sheepishly and puffed. "Thanks, Mom. But... well, I bet James that Slytherin would win. I know that wasn't so smart. After all, I don't know anything about Quidditch and there are probably unwritten rules that say you can't bet against your own house. I feel a bit bad about that. But now I've lost. And my name is still Helga."

Of all the gibberish I had just spouted, however, Mom seemed deeply interested in only one thing. Yes, her eyes literally lit up.

"Who is this James, then? Don't tell me you have a boyfriend and you've been keeping him from me, dear! Is he a Hufflepuff too - you really must introduce me to him!"

"Calm down Mum, James is just a classmate, definitely not my boyfriend and I'm sure he has better things to do than meet the mothers of random girls who aren't his girlfriend."

The thought of Mum talking to James and praising me to him caused an uncomfortable giddiness in me. It was a good thing I would be spared such an embarrassment.

"He must be a bit thick then. A classy girl like you could hook any boy! I've always wondered why you've never introduced us to a suitor before. Surely they must be queuing up for my daughter!" She sounded more annoyed than disappointed.

I giggled and gently grabbed her forearm to link arms with her. "Not really, Mum. You know I don't like people... noticing me. I prefer to stay inconspicuous. So no, no queue." I shrugged.

"And they really don't notice you! At all? Merlin, are they blind too? How can they miss you?" She shook her head in disbelief, wrinkling her nose in displeasure. "Men and the stronger sex! Don't make me laugh. You can be so slow on the uptake."

I suppressed another giggle at her indignant tone.

"But believe me, dear, we'll find you a nice boy. Don't worry."

She patted my arm encouragingly and I smiled.

"I don't worry about that. All in good time, right?"

"Of course, dear," she agreed. "Now, why don't you tell me what you've been up to these past few days?"

I nodded as I led her down from the stands and towards the castle. "Only if you tell me what happened to your anti-blackhead potion. My friends have been asking me about it for days. They want me to get them a couple of bottles, just in case the stuff works."

After several hours, I had finally managed to convince Mom that everything was going well with me and that she could head back home without worrying. She insisted on sending me a parcel full of sweets next week. Apparently I had lost too much weight from my face and she feared I was not eating enough. Despite my attempts to explain to her that Honeydukes was just around the corner, so to speak, and that I could always buy my own sweets, she would not be dissuaded. I accompanied her to the gate, where she hugged me for a few minutes. Goodbyes were always difficult for her. And since I felt the same way, the hug had been very welcome. Mom could be overbearing, but once she was gone, I missed her sorely despite all her mannerisms and unintentional attempts to embarrass me in front of the entire student body.

On the way back, I met a group of cheerful students, James Sirius Potter among them. It was strange how often we ran into each other lately. Perhaps it was no more than usual, perhaps we had just never noticed each other before.

James spotted me and I stopped, weighing up what to do next. Sooner or later I would have to face the consequences of our bet. And although I liked to leave school stuff to the last minute, this wasn't one of those things I wanted to put off forever. No, I wanted to get it over with before I got nervous. So I smiled tentatively and took a few steps towards him, hands clasped awkwardly in front of my chest. He nodded in understanding, said something to his friends that I couldn't make out from the distance, and then he came towards me, a lazy grin on his lips. We met in the middle while his friends disappeared into the Great Hall. Oh yes, I had forgotten all about that... Mum had stayed longer - as expected by me, but completely unplanned by her, of course - than we had agreed after the Quidditch game. Dinner should be starting soon.

"Hey, Lupe.", James greeted me.

"You win," I noted.

He nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"And now I guess I'll keep being Helga," I exclaimed.

"I won't call you Helga. Promise.", he said, giving me a cheeky smile.

"But Lupe?" I frowned.

James shrugged innocently. "As long as I can't think of anything better, yes. But I'm already working on it. I'm just waiting for the right spark of inspiration that I'm still missing."

He was waiting for- for inspiration? I decided to ignore the parallel between us, it didn't work that well though.

"I-" I broke off and shook my head. "Back to our wager," I blurted out, changing the subject.

He raised an eyebrow and eyed me confusedly, almost a little suspiciously.

"How come you suddenly want to bring it up? You're supposed to be a little more secretive in terms of your friday nights."

"I want to get it over with," I admitted.

James seemed to consider for a moment, then nodded slowly. "In that case, where, my dear Lupe, do you keep hanging around at night?"

"I-I..." I didn't know where to start. Where to stop. What I wanted to tell him. And more importantly, how.

"I'm listening."

"You have to promise me not to tell anyone." He only looked more sceptical now. "Please."

"I swear. See, pinky promise."

He held his hand out to me and I looked down at it in confusion and then back up into his warm brown eyes.

"What's that supposed to be, pinky promise?", I asked.

He shrugged. "It's how the muggles make an oath, at least that's how Clearwater explained it to me. It's like the Unbreakable Vow. Except you don't die."

You didn't die, but what happened to you if you broke the vow? Did the muggles have their own kind of magic to act in such situations? I had never really paid attention in Muggle Studies and by now I had even dropped the subject. In my mind, anything was possible. What if, after breaking the oath, you woke up with ugly warts on your face? James' face was too pretty to let something like that happen.

I turned a little green around the nose, I supposed, because James hurriedly shook his head and added, "Or gets hurt in any other way, don't worry about it. It's much more about honour and pride. If you break the promise, you've lost your honour."

James was an honourable person, I had a hunch. He was a Gryffindor, honour was very important to them after all. And he had always been very kind to me so far, and courteous and charming. I hoped I could trust him. Besides, I wasn't even sure if anyone would believe him if he told his friends what he had found out about me. It was risky to tell him about Nora when I hadn't even confided in Elain and Millie. But I'd made a bet with James, given him my word... been a little blindsided. And I - or so I wanted to think of myself - was also an honourable person - promises were never broken.

"I trust your word."

Our fingers hooked into each other and once again I felt the pleasant warmth emanating from his skin. At the same time, a strange tingling flowed over my skin and this feeling made me pull my hand away quickly. Was it possible to be allergic to the touch of one's fellow man? Was it that or was James perhaps wearing a perfume or hand cream to which I was allergic? My skin was very sensitive.

James tilted his head. "Now that we've cleared that up, love, spill the tea."

It was ridiculous, I'm sure, but I glaned around on all sides and took a deep breath before I began to speak, "Every Friday I meet up with my friend Nora. We go to the kitchen together and get some biscuits. Sometimes we visit one of the ghosts in the portraits and sometimes we visit Myrtle, you know, the Moaning Myrtle. Because believe it or not, but she can be quite nice too and she's my friend."

I looked up from my hands and waited for his reaction. Aggie would have laughed at me and Krista would have been no less stunned, but James just seemed... intrigued.

"This just keeps getting more and more interesting."

"And to get back to my friend Nora... she's actually a ghost. And a cat, a ghost cat to be exact. You may know her as-"

"Mrs. Norris. Now that I think about it, you've actually come to the critter's defense before," he remarked thoughtfully.

"So you believe me?"

James looked me in the face and his scepticism gave way, his expression softening.

"Well, I think you're out of your mind, but I knew that before. Part of your charm, I'd like to think."

I frowned. "So you don't believe me?"

"I believe that you think you're friends with the feline. And with Moaning Myrtle, for that matter. But I highly doubt they reciprocate your feelings. Not because you're not amiable, Lupe, but simply because they are of foul character."

I shook my head violently, my hair flying into my eyes as I did so. My snake hairclip hadn't done that much good after all. "You are mistaken. They are not of a foul character. You just don't know them well enough."

"Or maybe your pretty little head is imagining things that aren't happening at all." I was already opening my mouth indignantly to contradict, but I didn't have to, because James corrected himself. "Although, no, not your head. Your heart imagines things. You know, Lupe, I've come to think it's just too big."

He sounded just like my parents and Aggie. They always claimed I loved too much. Too many things that didn't deserve my love, but I didn't even understand what they meant by that. Love was the desire to give, not to receive. I loved not to enrich myself in the classical sense, but for the sake of the beloved. It was not the perfect but the imperfect who needed our love. So why shouldn't I give my love away, to the messed up creatures, as long as there was something in them worth loving? It wasn't about who deserved love, it was about the fact that it made me happy to love what seemed small and insignificant to many, what many seemed to overlook because it was too much effort for them to see the meaning behind those things. If I didn't love Myrtle, who else would?

"What do you mean by that?", I inquired softly.

"I've noticed it before. Your best friend is Hagatha Selwyn, a rather unpopular and - please, excuse me - arrogant Slytherin. And you're friends with a cat who hates and snitches on everyone and everything. And then there's Myrtle, who's obnoxiously whiny and secretly feasts on the misery of everyone at Hogwarts." He gave me an apologetic look from his amber eyes, as if he knew I couldn't blame him that way. "Your friends are of the most questionable character, honestly."

But I was not distracted by his charming demeanour. I pointed my index finger at his chest, briefly considering poking him, but then I remembered that I didn't like James very much after all and that the feeling was probably mutual. We didn't know each other well and almost strangers didn't poke each other in the chest. That would be a bit too... non-estranged.

"My friends, you say? So you do believe me!"

"I stand corrected. You are a friend to them. Whether they are a friend to you is another question entirely."

"Aggie is a wonderful friend to me."

Only last week she had thrown her book at a boy who had bumped into me in the corridor. Aggie preferred to use her books as weapons, because spells got you detention more often.

"Yes, I've noticed she's quite protective and loyal to you. But don't blame me if I can't believe that Mrs Norris can feel anything like sympathy. After all, it was thanks to her that I had to serve a month's detention in my first year." He seemed to shudder at the thought, for the corners of his mouth twitched downwards.

"It's hardly Nora's fault if you don't play by the rules, James," I asserted firmly and James grinned.

"Touché."

"Nora's never snitched on me before. She always leads me around the castle, is my guide, so to speak. Why would she do that if she didn't like me?", I continued.

"I can't read minds. Especially not ghost cat's. Are you sure it's Mrs Norris who's guiding you around and not some other student's cat?"

Did he think I was crazy?

"Very sure. She's a ghost. How many ghost cats could there possibly be at Hogwarts?"

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "I'd say over a hundred. Just think of all the pets that must have died within these walls over the last few decades."

Such a thought had never occurred to me before... it wasn't exactly nice to think about death either. If possible, I avoided it. It didn't fit me, such a thought. It didn't fit in my own world, a world full of colour, full of dreams. This world was mine alone, and maybe it was ignorant and selfish, but I didn't let death in.

"I'd rather not think about that," I admitted sullenly, before returning to the subject at hand. "But it's Mrs Norris. And it's definitely Myrtle, too, and no one else."

He looked at me doubtfully. "That's crazy. You sneak out to meet up with unfriendly ghosts? Why would you do that?"

So he really did think I was crazy...

"I am fond of them. They're thoughtful and kind to me," I affirmed, jutting my chin a little.

I should have known better, after all it happened quite often when we met, but James stunned me all over again when he announced after a short pause:

"I want to meet her." I was silent and he was silent, both surprised and brooding. "Yes, I want to see it with my own eyes," he repeated more confidently now.

"What?", I said perplexed.

I was confused. Surely he couldn't really mean what I thought he meant.

"It's not that I'm accusing you of lying, believe me. However, this image just won't fit in my head of you and Mrs Norris gossiping and drinking coffee."

"I don't drink coffee and I'm sure Mrs Norris doesn't either."

Cats certainly didn't like coffee, after all it was really bitter. And even if Nora had liked it, she wouldn't be able to drink coffee at all - she was a ghost and if there was one thing I'd learned from Myrtle's last crying fit, it was that ghosts couldn't eat or drink or taste.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." There it was again - his smile. "So, when... are you going to meet the cat next?"

"Actually, I meet her every Friday. She always picks me up from the common room around midnight and then we go for a walk for a while."

"She picks you up?" He shook his head as if to say, 'Why am I even asking?' "I'll be there," he decided then.

I looked at him with wide eyes. "You-you really want to join us?"

"Yes." he said, but then caught my gaze and scratched the back of his neck. "Unless it makes you uncomfortable. I don't-"

I interrupted him, because I just didn't want him to get the impression that I didn't like him. At first I hadn't been so sure what to make of him, that was true, but by now I was sure he was basically a nice guy. He was polite and kind to me. That was why I had decided to not not like him. Just because Aggie didn't like him didn't mean I had to not like him. I didn't have to be like Elain either, who perhaps liked him a little too much. I had formed my own impression. While I didn't understand why we kept running into each other and why he was so keen to find out what I was up to on friday nights, I still couldn't bear the thought of someone who was good to me thinking I was unkind to him.

James was a little too charming and pushy, but never in a rude way - and to be honest, I'd even got used to it by now. His presence didn't bother me anymore, if it had ever really bothered me.

"No, James-you can come with me. I just don't know if Mrs. Norris will show if you're there, but we can try it out. Just don't be disappointed if she doesn't show up."

That didn't seem to worry him. He grinned delightedly.

"I won't be disappointed even if the cat remains untraceable, I'm sure of that, Lupe." he said in parting and after a wave of his hand he disappeared into the Great Hall.

Would he be there? At the entrance to the common room at midnight on friday? Why couldn't I imagine it, even though I kind of knew it was going happen?

I wondered what that meant.

Well... what do you think about Lou's mother? She's special... isn't she ;)

the next chapter will contain Myrtle, James, Mrs. Norris, the kitchen elves and of course dear Lupe. So stay tuned.

As you probably know, my English isn't exactly perfect. I make a lot of spelling mistakes and so I thought: why don't I ask one of my readers who is a native speaker (or just wants to beta read anyway) if he might be willing to help me? So if anyone is interested in being a kind of beta reader, then very welcome.

As always: I'd love some feedback and comments. So if you have anyhing to say, I would really appreciate it.

BoulevardReader