Paint the Sky with Stars
--by Egon Starcollector
Disclaimer: I own the candy hiding in my pocket; that's about it.
The next day seemed as though it was going to be yet another "one of those days." Stacy overslept and had to hurry with her shower. Her hair simply would not listen to reason. She banged her knee on the drawer digging out her box of hair accessories and dropped the box on her foot. Finally, she pulled out a burgundy scrunchie and put her hair back in a loose ponytail. "Enough already."
Things improved when she reached the breakfast table. They had pancakes. Real, honest-to-goodness buttermilk pancakes--easily Stacy's favorite breakfast. She piled six of them on her plate--just as the owls came in. Andromeda flew in, landed on the table, and dropped the mail right on Stacy's pancakes. "Good thing I didn't add the syrup yet," she said dryly as Ron chortled over Andromeda's aim. Stacy ignored him and reached for the mail. Her magazine, 'Musical Witch Monthly' ("Music and magic for and from a woman's heart."), and two letters. She gasped faintly. Maybe she'd been wrong last night...maybe one of them was from her mother!
She tucked the magazine into her robes and picked up the letters, handing Andromeda a bit of bacon. The first letter was from Jessica Maki, one of the few people from Great Lakes that Stacy still spoke to. Jessie was a soprano from Two Rivers, Minnesota, who had a knack for Arithmancy.
The other letter...was definitely not from Stacy's mother. In fact, Stacy didn't know who might have sent it! It had her name on it written in sparkly blue ink in unfamiliar handwriting. She opened it to find...a poem:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Chocolate frogs are sweet,
And I think I love you!
--Your Secret Admirer
Stacy snorted. Probably some Slytherin's sick idea of a joke. She shoved the note into her robes next to the magazine, deciding to ask around later and see if anyone knew the handwriting.
Potions went unexpectedly well. She pretended the Slytherins weren't there, and Snape conceded that she and Hermione had made a flawless forgetfulness potion.
Next came Herbology. Neville was sick with the flu, so she and Justin were the only ones in their group. That suited her, really; she liked Neville, but he unwittingly reminded her just how bad she was at Herbology. Besides, Justin had a weird way of lighting up the whole room the second he walked in. She noticed he seemed jumpy; maybe he was coming down with the flu, too. To her surprise, she hoped he wasn't.
She studied the plant admiringly. It was a crystal fern. The transparent fronds looked very brittle as the sunlight twinkled on them, but they were really quite soft. They had to extract the medicinal salts from them, a process which involved a lot of chopping and boiling. That wasn't so bad. It was a lot like Muggle cooking, and she flattered herself that she was a good Muggle cook. Why, hadn't Aunt Liz and Uncle Ted--
"You should wear your hair like that more often."
"H-huh?" Stacy blinked, startled out of her reverie by Justin's voice.
"Um, the ponytail. It suits you," he said, his cheeks turning strawberry red.
"Oh. Thank you," she smiled at him, noting the greenhouse suddenly seemed unusually warm.
The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully. Justin was still jumpy in Astronomy, and it seemed to be making him clumsy. He continually bumped into her or brushed against her while they were working. It occurred to Stacy that the boy might need sedatives. *A whole tower to work in, and he keeps crashing into me. What, have I got a magnet in my pocket that I don't know about?*
That evening, she finished her homework in the Gryffindor common room and then pulled out the letter from Jessie. Her friend simply wanted to know how she liked her new school and said she missed her. *At least someone does.* She dug out a piece of parchment and wrote a reply.
Dear Jessie,
Glad someone misses me! Hogwarts is quite nice. I'm doing fairly well in most of my classes, and I found a tutor for Herbology. The Potions professor is something else--what, I'm too much of a lady to say. I hear he helped play matchmaker for my cousin and her boyfriend, but I find that rather hard to believe.
As I told you in my last letter, my cousin Hermione and I have hit it off well. She has introduced me to her friends, and they are doing their best to make me feel at home. It's taking a while to fit in, of course; however, I've become good friends with a guy named Justin Finch-Fletchley. He's the only other person in Double Astronomy, can you believe it? He's really nice, and funny in an offbeat way. Looks just like Elijah Wood--I can hear you squealing about that all the way across the Atlantic!--and is very, very hyper!
So, I guess I'm doing well. Good to hear from you, and don't let Connie Bauer get to you. You know she's just jealous.
--Stacy
She thought for a moment, then fished some change out of her pocket and attached it to the letter with a postscript:
P.S. Am enclosing four galleons and a sickle. Please send fudge.
The wizarding candy shop near Great Lakes made wonderful fudge. Some of it was risky--the Crystal Mountain variety had chunks of acid pops in it- -but the plain chocolate was wonderful. Very like the Muggle fudge Stacy's Grandma McIvers used to make, in fact.
She folded up the letter and set it aside to take down to the owlery, then pulled out her magazine. As she did, the other note fell out of her pocket. *Hm...might as well give it a try.* "Harry, Hermione...I got this today. Do either of you know who might have written it?" She passed the note over to them. Hermione frowned and said she didn't know the handwriting. Harry scratched his chin and said he should know it, but couldn't place it.
"Guys, what do you think?" he asked some of the other Gryffindors sitting nearby. Seamus and Dean just shook their heads, while Lavender commented that it was lovely penmanship--but she didn't know either.
"Hey...wait a minute. I know that handwriting! It's Justin Finch- Fletchley's!" Ron declared, reading over Harry's shoulder.
"You're right, it is!" Neville agreed.
"Are you sure?" Stacy asked, stunned.
"Positive! He's the only person who puts that little tail on top of his capital A's."
"And I think he's the only person who uses that ink," Neville said, clearly trying to remember.
"Well...never would have guessed...." Stacy said as she took back the note. Surely he couldn't....
"Oh Stacy," Hermione broke in as the others returned to their games of chess and Exploding Snap, "You have permission to visit Hogsmeade, right?"
"Yes."
"Harry and I wondered if you'd like to come with us Saturday,"
"Oh gosh guys...I don't want to be a fifth wheel. I'm sure you want time alone...."
"No, we mean it!" Harry assured her. "It'll be fun!"
"Please?"
Stacy, seeing she wasn't going to win this one, sighed and chuckled, "All right. But I'll be sure to let you two lovebirds have some time to yourselves." They both blushed. Stacy grinned and buried her nose in her magazine.
Before Stacy knew it, it was Saturday. She rose early so she could get the bathroom first. After she showered and dressed, she combed her damp hair--and then, on an impulse, put it up in a ponytail. Justin had said it suited her...and she didn't know why she cared.
She stayed with Harry and Hermione for a bit after they arrived in Hogsmeade, then asked if they would mind if she wandered off for a bit. "I just remembered something that caught my eye in the bookstore."
"Well, all right...if you're sure...."
"Oh, psh! I'll be okay! You two go have an ice cream cone or something; don't worry about it."
She headed back to the bookstore and quickly found the book she'd been looking at before. 'Cooking with Your Wand.' Now, that just bothered her. She flipped through it, marvelling silently that anyone would prefer doing magic to the simple rhythm of stirring something in a bowl. Cooking the Muggle way kept her grounded--and besides, she'd thought up some of her best lyrics standing by the stove.
"Interesting book?" Two twinkling blue eyes peeked at her over the top of it.
"Strange book, if you ask me. I guess a simple Muggle-born just can't understand the thrill of cooking with magic."
"I know what you mean. I'm Muggle-born myself, and I'd much rather cook on the stove."
"You cook?"
"Yes! Very well, I might add."
"Mr. Finch-Fletchley, you are just full of surprises."
"Well then here's another one: would you do me the honor of a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks?"
Stacy almost dropped the book. But she recovered herself, put it carefully back on the shelf, and said, "I'd love to."
He grinned and offered her his arm. She looped her hand around it and they fairly skipped out of the store. "Why do I suddenly feel like a mixed-gender 'Laverne and Shirley?'"
"I love that show!"
"You too? I watch it every chance I get." They stopped, looked at each other, smiled broadly, and suddenly broke into the show's opening dance. "Shlemiel, shlemazl, Hazenpfeffer Incorporated!" They both burst out laughing so hard they had to hold each other up to make it down the street.
Butterbeer can be remarkable when it comes to facilitating conversation. Stacy had been sweaty-palmed when they sat down at their table, but as soon as the sugar entered her bloodstream she seemed to forget she was nervous.
All too soon, Justin gasped. "Ack! The time!" He fished in his pockets, pulling out candy, string, an ink bottle, a magical compass....
"Preparing for invasion?"
"'Be prepared.' That's what they said when I was in Wizard Scouts."
"I thought you said you were Muggle-born."
He blushed. "I was. Well...we were just Boy Scouts, but we called ourselves Wizard Scouts!" he said brightly. "I kind of wished I could've told the rest of my troop I really was a wizard." Stacy hated to admit it, but sometimes she wondered if Justin wasn't maybe a few peas short of a casserole.
"It's five to one, in case you haven't found your watch yet."
"Oh no! I have to meet Ernie! Well...thank you for a lovely time."
"Certainly." He stood up and seemed to be deciding about something-- then, impulsively, he grabbed her hand and kissed it. He turned tomato-red and rushed out the door. Stacy felt her heart sink as she watched him go-- and suddenly, she hoped with all her might that he really *was* her Secret Admirer.
--by Egon Starcollector
Disclaimer: I own the candy hiding in my pocket; that's about it.
The next day seemed as though it was going to be yet another "one of those days." Stacy overslept and had to hurry with her shower. Her hair simply would not listen to reason. She banged her knee on the drawer digging out her box of hair accessories and dropped the box on her foot. Finally, she pulled out a burgundy scrunchie and put her hair back in a loose ponytail. "Enough already."
Things improved when she reached the breakfast table. They had pancakes. Real, honest-to-goodness buttermilk pancakes--easily Stacy's favorite breakfast. She piled six of them on her plate--just as the owls came in. Andromeda flew in, landed on the table, and dropped the mail right on Stacy's pancakes. "Good thing I didn't add the syrup yet," she said dryly as Ron chortled over Andromeda's aim. Stacy ignored him and reached for the mail. Her magazine, 'Musical Witch Monthly' ("Music and magic for and from a woman's heart."), and two letters. She gasped faintly. Maybe she'd been wrong last night...maybe one of them was from her mother!
She tucked the magazine into her robes and picked up the letters, handing Andromeda a bit of bacon. The first letter was from Jessica Maki, one of the few people from Great Lakes that Stacy still spoke to. Jessie was a soprano from Two Rivers, Minnesota, who had a knack for Arithmancy.
The other letter...was definitely not from Stacy's mother. In fact, Stacy didn't know who might have sent it! It had her name on it written in sparkly blue ink in unfamiliar handwriting. She opened it to find...a poem:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Chocolate frogs are sweet,
And I think I love you!
--Your Secret Admirer
Stacy snorted. Probably some Slytherin's sick idea of a joke. She shoved the note into her robes next to the magazine, deciding to ask around later and see if anyone knew the handwriting.
Potions went unexpectedly well. She pretended the Slytherins weren't there, and Snape conceded that she and Hermione had made a flawless forgetfulness potion.
Next came Herbology. Neville was sick with the flu, so she and Justin were the only ones in their group. That suited her, really; she liked Neville, but he unwittingly reminded her just how bad she was at Herbology. Besides, Justin had a weird way of lighting up the whole room the second he walked in. She noticed he seemed jumpy; maybe he was coming down with the flu, too. To her surprise, she hoped he wasn't.
She studied the plant admiringly. It was a crystal fern. The transparent fronds looked very brittle as the sunlight twinkled on them, but they were really quite soft. They had to extract the medicinal salts from them, a process which involved a lot of chopping and boiling. That wasn't so bad. It was a lot like Muggle cooking, and she flattered herself that she was a good Muggle cook. Why, hadn't Aunt Liz and Uncle Ted--
"You should wear your hair like that more often."
"H-huh?" Stacy blinked, startled out of her reverie by Justin's voice.
"Um, the ponytail. It suits you," he said, his cheeks turning strawberry red.
"Oh. Thank you," she smiled at him, noting the greenhouse suddenly seemed unusually warm.
The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully. Justin was still jumpy in Astronomy, and it seemed to be making him clumsy. He continually bumped into her or brushed against her while they were working. It occurred to Stacy that the boy might need sedatives. *A whole tower to work in, and he keeps crashing into me. What, have I got a magnet in my pocket that I don't know about?*
That evening, she finished her homework in the Gryffindor common room and then pulled out the letter from Jessie. Her friend simply wanted to know how she liked her new school and said she missed her. *At least someone does.* She dug out a piece of parchment and wrote a reply.
Dear Jessie,
Glad someone misses me! Hogwarts is quite nice. I'm doing fairly well in most of my classes, and I found a tutor for Herbology. The Potions professor is something else--what, I'm too much of a lady to say. I hear he helped play matchmaker for my cousin and her boyfriend, but I find that rather hard to believe.
As I told you in my last letter, my cousin Hermione and I have hit it off well. She has introduced me to her friends, and they are doing their best to make me feel at home. It's taking a while to fit in, of course; however, I've become good friends with a guy named Justin Finch-Fletchley. He's the only other person in Double Astronomy, can you believe it? He's really nice, and funny in an offbeat way. Looks just like Elijah Wood--I can hear you squealing about that all the way across the Atlantic!--and is very, very hyper!
So, I guess I'm doing well. Good to hear from you, and don't let Connie Bauer get to you. You know she's just jealous.
--Stacy
She thought for a moment, then fished some change out of her pocket and attached it to the letter with a postscript:
P.S. Am enclosing four galleons and a sickle. Please send fudge.
The wizarding candy shop near Great Lakes made wonderful fudge. Some of it was risky--the Crystal Mountain variety had chunks of acid pops in it- -but the plain chocolate was wonderful. Very like the Muggle fudge Stacy's Grandma McIvers used to make, in fact.
She folded up the letter and set it aside to take down to the owlery, then pulled out her magazine. As she did, the other note fell out of her pocket. *Hm...might as well give it a try.* "Harry, Hermione...I got this today. Do either of you know who might have written it?" She passed the note over to them. Hermione frowned and said she didn't know the handwriting. Harry scratched his chin and said he should know it, but couldn't place it.
"Guys, what do you think?" he asked some of the other Gryffindors sitting nearby. Seamus and Dean just shook their heads, while Lavender commented that it was lovely penmanship--but she didn't know either.
"Hey...wait a minute. I know that handwriting! It's Justin Finch- Fletchley's!" Ron declared, reading over Harry's shoulder.
"You're right, it is!" Neville agreed.
"Are you sure?" Stacy asked, stunned.
"Positive! He's the only person who puts that little tail on top of his capital A's."
"And I think he's the only person who uses that ink," Neville said, clearly trying to remember.
"Well...never would have guessed...." Stacy said as she took back the note. Surely he couldn't....
"Oh Stacy," Hermione broke in as the others returned to their games of chess and Exploding Snap, "You have permission to visit Hogsmeade, right?"
"Yes."
"Harry and I wondered if you'd like to come with us Saturday,"
"Oh gosh guys...I don't want to be a fifth wheel. I'm sure you want time alone...."
"No, we mean it!" Harry assured her. "It'll be fun!"
"Please?"
Stacy, seeing she wasn't going to win this one, sighed and chuckled, "All right. But I'll be sure to let you two lovebirds have some time to yourselves." They both blushed. Stacy grinned and buried her nose in her magazine.
Before Stacy knew it, it was Saturday. She rose early so she could get the bathroom first. After she showered and dressed, she combed her damp hair--and then, on an impulse, put it up in a ponytail. Justin had said it suited her...and she didn't know why she cared.
She stayed with Harry and Hermione for a bit after they arrived in Hogsmeade, then asked if they would mind if she wandered off for a bit. "I just remembered something that caught my eye in the bookstore."
"Well, all right...if you're sure...."
"Oh, psh! I'll be okay! You two go have an ice cream cone or something; don't worry about it."
She headed back to the bookstore and quickly found the book she'd been looking at before. 'Cooking with Your Wand.' Now, that just bothered her. She flipped through it, marvelling silently that anyone would prefer doing magic to the simple rhythm of stirring something in a bowl. Cooking the Muggle way kept her grounded--and besides, she'd thought up some of her best lyrics standing by the stove.
"Interesting book?" Two twinkling blue eyes peeked at her over the top of it.
"Strange book, if you ask me. I guess a simple Muggle-born just can't understand the thrill of cooking with magic."
"I know what you mean. I'm Muggle-born myself, and I'd much rather cook on the stove."
"You cook?"
"Yes! Very well, I might add."
"Mr. Finch-Fletchley, you are just full of surprises."
"Well then here's another one: would you do me the honor of a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks?"
Stacy almost dropped the book. But she recovered herself, put it carefully back on the shelf, and said, "I'd love to."
He grinned and offered her his arm. She looped her hand around it and they fairly skipped out of the store. "Why do I suddenly feel like a mixed-gender 'Laverne and Shirley?'"
"I love that show!"
"You too? I watch it every chance I get." They stopped, looked at each other, smiled broadly, and suddenly broke into the show's opening dance. "Shlemiel, shlemazl, Hazenpfeffer Incorporated!" They both burst out laughing so hard they had to hold each other up to make it down the street.
Butterbeer can be remarkable when it comes to facilitating conversation. Stacy had been sweaty-palmed when they sat down at their table, but as soon as the sugar entered her bloodstream she seemed to forget she was nervous.
All too soon, Justin gasped. "Ack! The time!" He fished in his pockets, pulling out candy, string, an ink bottle, a magical compass....
"Preparing for invasion?"
"'Be prepared.' That's what they said when I was in Wizard Scouts."
"I thought you said you were Muggle-born."
He blushed. "I was. Well...we were just Boy Scouts, but we called ourselves Wizard Scouts!" he said brightly. "I kind of wished I could've told the rest of my troop I really was a wizard." Stacy hated to admit it, but sometimes she wondered if Justin wasn't maybe a few peas short of a casserole.
"It's five to one, in case you haven't found your watch yet."
"Oh no! I have to meet Ernie! Well...thank you for a lovely time."
"Certainly." He stood up and seemed to be deciding about something-- then, impulsively, he grabbed her hand and kissed it. He turned tomato-red and rushed out the door. Stacy felt her heart sink as she watched him go-- and suddenly, she hoped with all her might that he really *was* her Secret Admirer.