Portia and Kylie were already friends, and so began talking right away.
Ginny, however, came to sit with Wyllowe.
"Hi Wyllowe," she grinned, pulling her legs up to sit indian-style on Wyllowe's bunk. Wyllowe shifted her body towards Ginny.
"Hi Ginny . . . you're a Weasley right?" she asked.
"Yeah, and we do all have red hair, if that's what you're wondering," Ginny said, laughing with a twinkle in her eye; she had been asked so many times it was a just big joke to her anymore. Wyllowe, however, blushed crimson.
"Oh, I'm sorry Ginny . . . " she apologized softly, "I didn't mean to offend you in any way . . . " Ginny laughed again, and unexpectedly wrapped her arms around Wyllowe in a warm hug.
"Calm down, you're very nervous, and there's no need to be . . . everyone is going to adore you, you'll see," she said. "Shall we go down to the common room and see what the boys are up to?" Wyllowe grinned and
nodded, feeling as though she had found a friend. Ginny jumped up and grabbed her wand, shoved it in her pocket, and held the door open for Wyllowe, who followed her down to the common room.
"So basically what you're saying is that Horatio Humperdink could be bested by your American Mike Tyson?" Fred was arguing loudly with his twin brother.
"Well, I've been following this American chap and he seems to be more primal in his strategies . . . although I'll give you the fact that Horatio could just pull out his wand, and then who would be missing an ear?" George replied, his quick wit earning him laughter from the small group of boys gathered around him. Fred and George were identical twin boys, and were undoubtedly the heartthrobs of the upper class girls. They were both a bit more strapping than the regular sixth year boys were, but Wyllowe was sure she had heard something about how they should have graduated a year sooner. They were both darkly tanned, somehow, like Ginny, having either bypassed the "freckle gene" or having found some way to charm the freckles off. They were taller than Ron was, but leaner where Ron was muscled and built. Their eyes twinkled with merriment and laughter, and they were constantly in motion, either talking or enacting stories. George's hair was grown long (past his chin) and he wore it disheveled, managing to look slightly like a rock star, while Fred's hair was short and straight, making him look very clean cut. Ginny flopped down beside Harry, who punched her on the shoulder and hugged her, saying how long it had been since last they'd talked, although it had only been half an hour. Ginny laughed and rolled her eyes, motioning for Wyllowe to take a seat by her. Wyllowe sat down primly in a squashy red chair, but soon Ron Weasley and his two older brothers had come to crowd around her and introduce themselves rapidly. It was amazing that the twins were so tall, both standing about six foot six, when Ron and Ginny were both shorter than average. While Ginny's lack of height made her frame petite and pretty, Ron was muscle-bound in his shortness. He stood only about five foot seven or eight, but was rippling with muscle. He wasn't as deeply tanned from the summer as the twins and was covered in freckles. His blue eyes were clear, and his hair as flaming as his siblings were. "Ron Weasley," he said, his voice a rich bass, something Wyllowe hadn't noticed from earlier when Ron had been basically shrieking at Hermione. "Hello, I'm Wyllowe Burtaine, it's nice to meet you," Wyllowe said, blushing involuntarily. Fred and George looked at each other.
"Such a lady!" George said to Fred in a falsetto. Fred and Ron laughed heartily, and Wyllowe timidly joined them. George bent down in front of Wyllowe's chair and took her hand.
"I, madam, am George Weasley, esquire . . . " he said, but Fred hit him on the side of the head and took his place on the floor in front of Wyllowe, who was now laughing hysterically at this bravado of chivalry.
"Pay no attention to the cad with the long hair. My name is Fred Weasley, at your service . . . " Fred said, finishing by planting a dramatic kiss on Wyllowe's hand. Wyllowe giggled as the boys got up, but before the conversation could go on, Hermione Granger walked over. She laced her arm through Ron's, and looked at Wyllowe somewhat coolly, silencing Wyllowe's hearty laughter.
"Being funny, boys?" she asked, and smiled with a sudden flash of warmth in Ron's direction. Fred and George nodded sincerely. "Well, Lady Burtaine, we're going to go cheer up some lonely girls in the corner . . ." Fred said, pointing and winking at Parvati and Lavender from across the room. He nudged George in the arm, and they strode across the room. Hermione placed herself in front of Ron with her arms around his waist, and whispered in his ear. He tucked a strand of wildly curly hair behind her ear and left as well, making a small motion of farewell to Wyllowe.
"Looking to be the next sexual conquest of the Weasley twins?" Hermione smirked at Wyllowe, "I don't care what you do with them...you certainly wouldn't be the first though." Hermione was now blatantly glaring at Wyllowe. Wyllowe simply blinked back in shock. "What? I was just chatting with all the boys . . . Ron was here too, you saw him . . . " she quietly jumped to her own defense. Hermione's eyes darkened and she smirked at Wyllowe and sat on the arm of her chair.
"Here's the deal. I'm not a mean girl. Honestly, Wyllowe, I'm glad you're here, and I hope that we'll be friends. But Ron is . . . well, he's mine. I'm assuming that you aren't blatantly unintelligent, and that you can tell that girls easily influence Ron. And I don't want you telling Ron any of this either...he's not consciously aware of what's between us. But I care very much about him, and I have made it very clear to every bimbo in this school that he is mine. And as I've only been dated by a foreign exchange student a long time ago, and the last boy who asked me to a dance came to class the next day with a bloodied nose, I'd say that Ron has much the same bargain with the male population here. It is basically understood that we are together while neither of us actually admit it, so if you would please keep try to keep hold of your wits around Ron, I would appreciate it . . . " Hermione trailed off, searching Wyllowe's face. Something flared in Wyllowe's mind, an automatic need to defend herself. Something else flared too, but this wasn't in her head. It was a feeling much like she had experienced before. It was a tingling that began at the base of her neck. The muscles in her throat all became very relaxed as the tickly sensation ran across her shoulders and down her arms like something warm and cool at the same time running through her veins. Although the vibrations quickly subsided in her shoulders and arms, as soon as the tingling hit her hands it rested there, blazing stronger and almost harsh in the smooth tips of her fingers. She felt her body relax into the chair, giving up it's former rigid position. Her throat felt as if it were coated in honey and oils, sleek and warm at the same time. This was the same set of feelings that Wyllowe experienced every time she wanted a flower to glow a different color, or a tree to shade her from the rain. This was what made her different, her special gift. But she had never felt the strange severity of the sensations in her fingers, and instead of her voice feeling golden and smooth, it felt powerful and slick. She turned to face the girl who had delivered this candid speech, and placed one of her hands over Hermione's. Hermione suddenly jolted, and her blue eyes fixed on Wyllowe's swirling dark ones.
"So how much did you say you like Ronald?" Wyllowe asked, her voice a polished whisper. Hermione's eyes glazed over for only a moment, enough for her to answer the question posed.
"Why, not very much at all . . . "
"Hi Wyllowe," she grinned, pulling her legs up to sit indian-style on Wyllowe's bunk. Wyllowe shifted her body towards Ginny.
"Hi Ginny . . . you're a Weasley right?" she asked.
"Yeah, and we do all have red hair, if that's what you're wondering," Ginny said, laughing with a twinkle in her eye; she had been asked so many times it was a just big joke to her anymore. Wyllowe, however, blushed crimson.
"Oh, I'm sorry Ginny . . . " she apologized softly, "I didn't mean to offend you in any way . . . " Ginny laughed again, and unexpectedly wrapped her arms around Wyllowe in a warm hug.
"Calm down, you're very nervous, and there's no need to be . . . everyone is going to adore you, you'll see," she said. "Shall we go down to the common room and see what the boys are up to?" Wyllowe grinned and
nodded, feeling as though she had found a friend. Ginny jumped up and grabbed her wand, shoved it in her pocket, and held the door open for Wyllowe, who followed her down to the common room.
"So basically what you're saying is that Horatio Humperdink could be bested by your American Mike Tyson?" Fred was arguing loudly with his twin brother.
"Well, I've been following this American chap and he seems to be more primal in his strategies . . . although I'll give you the fact that Horatio could just pull out his wand, and then who would be missing an ear?" George replied, his quick wit earning him laughter from the small group of boys gathered around him. Fred and George were identical twin boys, and were undoubtedly the heartthrobs of the upper class girls. They were both a bit more strapping than the regular sixth year boys were, but Wyllowe was sure she had heard something about how they should have graduated a year sooner. They were both darkly tanned, somehow, like Ginny, having either bypassed the "freckle gene" or having found some way to charm the freckles off. They were taller than Ron was, but leaner where Ron was muscled and built. Their eyes twinkled with merriment and laughter, and they were constantly in motion, either talking or enacting stories. George's hair was grown long (past his chin) and he wore it disheveled, managing to look slightly like a rock star, while Fred's hair was short and straight, making him look very clean cut. Ginny flopped down beside Harry, who punched her on the shoulder and hugged her, saying how long it had been since last they'd talked, although it had only been half an hour. Ginny laughed and rolled her eyes, motioning for Wyllowe to take a seat by her. Wyllowe sat down primly in a squashy red chair, but soon Ron Weasley and his two older brothers had come to crowd around her and introduce themselves rapidly. It was amazing that the twins were so tall, both standing about six foot six, when Ron and Ginny were both shorter than average. While Ginny's lack of height made her frame petite and pretty, Ron was muscle-bound in his shortness. He stood only about five foot seven or eight, but was rippling with muscle. He wasn't as deeply tanned from the summer as the twins and was covered in freckles. His blue eyes were clear, and his hair as flaming as his siblings were. "Ron Weasley," he said, his voice a rich bass, something Wyllowe hadn't noticed from earlier when Ron had been basically shrieking at Hermione. "Hello, I'm Wyllowe Burtaine, it's nice to meet you," Wyllowe said, blushing involuntarily. Fred and George looked at each other.
"Such a lady!" George said to Fred in a falsetto. Fred and Ron laughed heartily, and Wyllowe timidly joined them. George bent down in front of Wyllowe's chair and took her hand.
"I, madam, am George Weasley, esquire . . . " he said, but Fred hit him on the side of the head and took his place on the floor in front of Wyllowe, who was now laughing hysterically at this bravado of chivalry.
"Pay no attention to the cad with the long hair. My name is Fred Weasley, at your service . . . " Fred said, finishing by planting a dramatic kiss on Wyllowe's hand. Wyllowe giggled as the boys got up, but before the conversation could go on, Hermione Granger walked over. She laced her arm through Ron's, and looked at Wyllowe somewhat coolly, silencing Wyllowe's hearty laughter.
"Being funny, boys?" she asked, and smiled with a sudden flash of warmth in Ron's direction. Fred and George nodded sincerely. "Well, Lady Burtaine, we're going to go cheer up some lonely girls in the corner . . ." Fred said, pointing and winking at Parvati and Lavender from across the room. He nudged George in the arm, and they strode across the room. Hermione placed herself in front of Ron with her arms around his waist, and whispered in his ear. He tucked a strand of wildly curly hair behind her ear and left as well, making a small motion of farewell to Wyllowe.
"Looking to be the next sexual conquest of the Weasley twins?" Hermione smirked at Wyllowe, "I don't care what you do with them...you certainly wouldn't be the first though." Hermione was now blatantly glaring at Wyllowe. Wyllowe simply blinked back in shock. "What? I was just chatting with all the boys . . . Ron was here too, you saw him . . . " she quietly jumped to her own defense. Hermione's eyes darkened and she smirked at Wyllowe and sat on the arm of her chair.
"Here's the deal. I'm not a mean girl. Honestly, Wyllowe, I'm glad you're here, and I hope that we'll be friends. But Ron is . . . well, he's mine. I'm assuming that you aren't blatantly unintelligent, and that you can tell that girls easily influence Ron. And I don't want you telling Ron any of this either...he's not consciously aware of what's between us. But I care very much about him, and I have made it very clear to every bimbo in this school that he is mine. And as I've only been dated by a foreign exchange student a long time ago, and the last boy who asked me to a dance came to class the next day with a bloodied nose, I'd say that Ron has much the same bargain with the male population here. It is basically understood that we are together while neither of us actually admit it, so if you would please keep try to keep hold of your wits around Ron, I would appreciate it . . . " Hermione trailed off, searching Wyllowe's face. Something flared in Wyllowe's mind, an automatic need to defend herself. Something else flared too, but this wasn't in her head. It was a feeling much like she had experienced before. It was a tingling that began at the base of her neck. The muscles in her throat all became very relaxed as the tickly sensation ran across her shoulders and down her arms like something warm and cool at the same time running through her veins. Although the vibrations quickly subsided in her shoulders and arms, as soon as the tingling hit her hands it rested there, blazing stronger and almost harsh in the smooth tips of her fingers. She felt her body relax into the chair, giving up it's former rigid position. Her throat felt as if it were coated in honey and oils, sleek and warm at the same time. This was the same set of feelings that Wyllowe experienced every time she wanted a flower to glow a different color, or a tree to shade her from the rain. This was what made her different, her special gift. But she had never felt the strange severity of the sensations in her fingers, and instead of her voice feeling golden and smooth, it felt powerful and slick. She turned to face the girl who had delivered this candid speech, and placed one of her hands over Hermione's. Hermione suddenly jolted, and her blue eyes fixed on Wyllowe's swirling dark ones.
"So how much did you say you like Ronald?" Wyllowe asked, her voice a polished whisper. Hermione's eyes glazed over for only a moment, enough for her to answer the question posed.
"Why, not very much at all . . . "