***
I've not had that much experience with the opposite sex. There. Said it. It's kind of a stigma when you're sixteen and still not had kind of interaction with boys (or girls - Hogwarts seems to be chockablock with people who go for both, I happen to be completely boy-mad however). Boy- mad perhaps, but its rare to find a boy that goes mad over me. In fact, so rare that it's only happened once.
With Roger Davies.
I am not good looking. People have always referred to me as 'sweet' rather than 'sexy'. Not that I care. Ravenclaw to the bone, I guess. Camilla Goldstein, sister of Anthony, rather clever and prefers reading to Quidditch. I suppose I'm rather boring too. Which makes it funny to seem that someone like Roger would even attempt to speak to me, never mind kiss me. This is how it happened.
* * *
It was the end of June, I was fifteen as I said earlier, and so was he. I was sitting in the Ravenclaw common room on a velvet couch reading up on a certain topic on Arithmancy, when he dropped down on his hunkers next to me.
"Hey," he said, completely normally, like we spoke every day (we had never spoken before in a one to one situation).
"Hi Roger," I replied, my voice cracking a bit, how attractive, not.
He smiled a bit showing off a dimple in his left cheek and my insides felt like they were full of Doxies. It was either Roger standing so close to me or I was just hungry, but whatever it was, it made me feel good. His hand came out and flicked the cover of the book so he could see it.
"Arithmancy - A Handbook," he drawled in an extremely delicious voice. "Hardly a handbook! Look at the size of it! Now, Hagrid's hands maybe."
I laughed out loud, naturally before I had a chance to control my extremely irritating laugh. He seemed pleased though and turned closer towards me.
"So, your name. Camilla. Correct?" I nodded in return and tried to think of something winning and captivating to say. All that came to mind were Arithmancy concepts. Fabulous.
Roger seemed nonplussed at my verbal constipation and rambled on nonetheless. He was wearing standard Hogwarts robes, his tie loosely pulled down and his hair sported a jaunty flick held up by (I suspect) Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, favoured by teenage boys and girls for slicking hair down or putting it into styles that the wind normally would ruin. I felt my own hair about my shoulders and wondered what he was thinking about my appearance. My mind worked in overtime to try and say something to him.
".Quidditch!" Mmm, ok, didn't mean to sound so excitable. Oh well, he's obsessed with the sport, he'll understand. "So, are you wanting to go professional after you leave Hogwarts?"
His eyes brightened considerably and I realised that they were stunning. Bright, bright blue and they were rimmed by black lashes, utterly adorable. I stared into them and my Doxies came back in full force.
"Yeah, well, you know, I'm thinking about it. It's either that or the Ministry but I've always wanted to own my own Quidditch goods shop, so I really dunno yet." He paused, and I pulled my gaze away from his in case he thought I was slightly peculiar and stopped talking to me.
"What about you?" His question punctuated my train of thought (whatever shall I say next?) and I racked my brain.
"Well, hmm, I've always been interested in travelling. Especially to Ancient Wizarding Civilisations and places like that. Sounds boring to you I bet." I smiled slightly, to show that I was a bit embarrassed about my choice in careers.
"No, god, no, that sounds fascinating. I like travelling too. Well, I normally go to Greece for my summer holidays. To Skiathos, have you been there?"
I shook my head, but I knew where it was. It was one of the top wizarding destinations. He grinned and I got a full view of his shiny white teeth. "You should try and visit some day, it's brilliant. Sun shines all the time, good food, great scenery, beautiful pl."
"Roger!"
A sharp voice cut in from behind us and he peered round, the same with me. It was one of his friends, didn't they ever leave him alone for one second? They swarmed round him in the corridors, mucked around with him in classes and in the common room he was always busy with hordes of mates. In fact, in all our years at Hogwarts I had never even seen him alone. The friend came over and started talking to Roger about something he wanted to tell him, keeping his voice down. I heard something about 'firewhiskey' and 'girls'.
"You want to come?" Roger said to me.
"Come where?" I enquired, slightly primly now I'm looking back.
"To the party upstairs in the boys dorm - don't tell anyone though, it's private." He looked around shiftily at the others sitting in the common room.
"Yeah, we're keeping it private so we don't get any trolls in!" The friend screeched, making Roger nudge him and rebuke him a little for saying something so crude. Made me like him all the more.
"Yeah ok, now?" I said, thinking what kind of party it was. Heard about them of course, slightly private affairs always ending up in people feeling sick and others regretting what they did last night. They were strictly by invite only, and I was never invited. I think because I was a bit of a book-worm. I never really cared to be honest, I always had more important things on my mind than mindless revelries.
"Well.in about an hour or so, so you can like, get ready or whatever you need to do. Drag that 'handbook' up to the girls dorm." He smirked and I chuckled.
He told me just to come up in an hour or so, when I was ready. I ran straight to the girls dorm to take off all my clothes and put new ones on. There wasn't a lot of choice, my clothes being rather tame and non-party like. My dress robes? No way, this wasn't formal. My black jumper teamed with a pair of black trousers? No, the black jumper would make me sweat. I eventually decided on the pair of black trousers which were tight and a dressy satin halterneck top which was a bronzy-gold colour, with a greenish gold trim round the edges. I had never worn it before, my Auntie Goldstein had bought it in India for me but I never felt that bashes at home were suitable for it. I hoped it fit, I had gotten it at Christmastime and I would have died if I had suddenly put on weight. But no, it fitted.
Hair was brushed, I sprayed myself with a light fragrance and I put a bracelet with onyx gems round my wrist. I surveyed my appearance in the mirror. If my ordinary mirror was the Mirror of Erised, it would have shown me looking like a beautiful, captivating goddess, with Roger Davies draped around my shoulders like an expensive mink coat, a secret smile playing on my curved, full lips, his hands holding me in a lock across my stomach.
However, the mirror wasn't the Mirror of Erised. Oh well, you couldn't have everything. I examined my appearance trying to keep my criticism in check.
Hair looked quite shiny, just past my shoulders, which were a bit bony. Skin a tad too pale but the overall effect was quite exotic. Exotic was just what I wanted - not boring old plain Camilla. I raided my makeup bag, well, if that's what you could call it, more like a shoddy plastic bag with a couple of pieces of makeup given to me at Christmas by parents who wished I was a little more sociable and enchanting. I put on some makeup, and then scrutinised myself again. There, not perfect but it would have to do. I looked at the time - just about right for me to go up to the boys dorm. I walked out of the girls dorm into the common room, which was empty - up the curved stairs into where the party was being held.
The door was open and I saw Roger in a corner talking to some friends, boys from our year and a girl from the year below who was clinging to one of the boys like a boa constrictor. I quickly scanned the room to see if I was overly dressed up - but no, I wasn't. No dress robes in sight, obviously, but smart casual. It was quite easy to see who was brought up in Muggle world and who was raised in the Wizarding world. The former were always more risqué in their dress sense, with slashed tops that went low, low down and ultra tight jeans that showed colourful underwear that the girls called 'g-strings' and 'thongs'. I couldn't picture myself wearing them, personally. Imagine a string up your bum! No thanks. The boys were a little harder to place, with a general 'uniform' of a dressy shirt and dark trousers being dominant.
When Roger saw me enter the room he waved, and called me over. He handed me a butterbeer. Music was reasonably low and it was obviously not a 'party' party but a relaxed get-together where people could chat, dance a little but not in a manic way and drink together. I wondered if there was any stronger stuff than butterbeer floating around.
I found it quite amusing to see it was quite obviously a strictly Ravenclaw- organised social event. When the Gryffindors have parties, they are the most raucous, last all night, fraught with jokes and madcap dancing. The Slytherins are notorious for their reliance on strange potions and potent brews to make sure everybody has a good time. Ravenclaws are often invited to the Slytherin parties, I've not been personally but I've heard that the Slytherin males get awfully vulgar and I know that in classes the next day some of the Slytherin females are whitefaced and uneasy looking. And the Hufflepuffs? They like good music and sometimes overdo the more piquant beverages - always good for a laugh are the Hufflepuffs, if a little slow on the uptake.
I had sat next to Roger and he very surprisingly put his arm round me. He smelt scrumptious, like vanilla mixed in with the clean scent boys have when they've just washed. Unfortunately not Anthony, who at that time was practically allergic to soap and water. (He had obviously not discovered the opposite sex yet).
I didn't know how to react when he put his arm round me so I played it cool. Well, as cool as a sweaty palmed fifteen year old who had up to that point never even spoken to a boy in any context apart from "Camilla, what homework is due?" or "Hey, pass the lemon pie over please."
We had been sitting there for a while just talking to the others when gradually the crowd around us dispersed into couples and they all walked over to separate places in the dorm, arms around waists and noses nuzzled into necks.
"You enjoying yourself so far?" Roger asked, looking into my eyes. Such a cliché, I know, but brace yourself as I'm about to follow that up with another one. I felt like we were the only people in the room. I answered emphatically in the positive and he leaned his head in closer to mine so our heads were touching.
"You're sweet."
My throat clenched up. Was this really happening to me or was it a dream? Oh my, another cliché managed to slip in there. Maybe lust gets you like that. I didn't know what else to say but the ever simple - "Thanks."
He cuddled up to me even more and he stroked my hair. "You know why I like you? 'Cos you're pure." I knitted my eyebrows and said - "What?"
He scrunched up his eyes together and said - "Wrong kind of word. But you know what I mean. you're like the sexy librarian who wears her hair up, glasses on at work by day and at night she takes her hair down, glasses off and wears red underwear. Or am I just talking rubbish?"
I giggled and said softly - "Well, thanks Roger. You're not too bad yourself." His face was more serious now and he looked at me deeply.
"Camilla, would you like, I mean, do you want.umm, err." I had an inkling to what he wanted to say, and I whispered throatily into his ear. Quite bold of me when I think back - ".kiss you?" He nodded sagely and his lips touched mine. My first kiss. With good-looking, enigmatic, sporty and popular Roger Davies. I was in ecstasy. Our tongues clashed sweetly and our teeth banged, but his soft lips guided me so I knew what to do. I automatically closed my eyes, wanting to savour this moment. This wasn't a time for Camilla Goldstein criticism, nor Ravenclaw sedateness, but romance. Just special, tender desire.
We pulled away from the embrace at the same time. We didn't speak, just breathed heavily. How long we kissed for, I don't know. But the moment was slightly ruined when some person put on a fast song with a loud beat, terminating the moment.
***
My first kiss, and my last kiss to date. Yep, that's how long? I was fifteen then, seventeen now. Two years. Two long years where I've waited for a second chance. I don't know what happened. We had flirted until the summer holidays came next month, but then when we began school again after the summer, he had changed. More arrogant and self-assured, he didn't blow me off but he wasn't actively interested in me either.
I've seen him romance and flirt with a lot of girls since he came back. Two years of trying to get his attention and failing, the most I've received was a saucy wink.
And what for? Why would I want to go to a guy who has a bit of a reputation for being a ladies man? Why would someone as smart as I wish to be Roger Davies' one and only? Silly questions. Because, that night, that night he was so sweet - I fell in love with him. And now I worship him, arrogance and all.
But I know I am being ridiculous - I'll always be Camilla Goldstein, sister of Anthony, rather clever and prefers reading to Quidditch. That night - that one night. I was distinctive, special. And I go to bed every night and dream of that one kiss repeatedly.
***
I've not had that much experience with the opposite sex. There. Said it. It's kind of a stigma when you're sixteen and still not had kind of interaction with boys (or girls - Hogwarts seems to be chockablock with people who go for both, I happen to be completely boy-mad however). Boy- mad perhaps, but its rare to find a boy that goes mad over me. In fact, so rare that it's only happened once.
With Roger Davies.
I am not good looking. People have always referred to me as 'sweet' rather than 'sexy'. Not that I care. Ravenclaw to the bone, I guess. Camilla Goldstein, sister of Anthony, rather clever and prefers reading to Quidditch. I suppose I'm rather boring too. Which makes it funny to seem that someone like Roger would even attempt to speak to me, never mind kiss me. This is how it happened.
* * *
It was the end of June, I was fifteen as I said earlier, and so was he. I was sitting in the Ravenclaw common room on a velvet couch reading up on a certain topic on Arithmancy, when he dropped down on his hunkers next to me.
"Hey," he said, completely normally, like we spoke every day (we had never spoken before in a one to one situation).
"Hi Roger," I replied, my voice cracking a bit, how attractive, not.
He smiled a bit showing off a dimple in his left cheek and my insides felt like they were full of Doxies. It was either Roger standing so close to me or I was just hungry, but whatever it was, it made me feel good. His hand came out and flicked the cover of the book so he could see it.
"Arithmancy - A Handbook," he drawled in an extremely delicious voice. "Hardly a handbook! Look at the size of it! Now, Hagrid's hands maybe."
I laughed out loud, naturally before I had a chance to control my extremely irritating laugh. He seemed pleased though and turned closer towards me.
"So, your name. Camilla. Correct?" I nodded in return and tried to think of something winning and captivating to say. All that came to mind were Arithmancy concepts. Fabulous.
Roger seemed nonplussed at my verbal constipation and rambled on nonetheless. He was wearing standard Hogwarts robes, his tie loosely pulled down and his hair sported a jaunty flick held up by (I suspect) Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, favoured by teenage boys and girls for slicking hair down or putting it into styles that the wind normally would ruin. I felt my own hair about my shoulders and wondered what he was thinking about my appearance. My mind worked in overtime to try and say something to him.
".Quidditch!" Mmm, ok, didn't mean to sound so excitable. Oh well, he's obsessed with the sport, he'll understand. "So, are you wanting to go professional after you leave Hogwarts?"
His eyes brightened considerably and I realised that they were stunning. Bright, bright blue and they were rimmed by black lashes, utterly adorable. I stared into them and my Doxies came back in full force.
"Yeah, well, you know, I'm thinking about it. It's either that or the Ministry but I've always wanted to own my own Quidditch goods shop, so I really dunno yet." He paused, and I pulled my gaze away from his in case he thought I was slightly peculiar and stopped talking to me.
"What about you?" His question punctuated my train of thought (whatever shall I say next?) and I racked my brain.
"Well, hmm, I've always been interested in travelling. Especially to Ancient Wizarding Civilisations and places like that. Sounds boring to you I bet." I smiled slightly, to show that I was a bit embarrassed about my choice in careers.
"No, god, no, that sounds fascinating. I like travelling too. Well, I normally go to Greece for my summer holidays. To Skiathos, have you been there?"
I shook my head, but I knew where it was. It was one of the top wizarding destinations. He grinned and I got a full view of his shiny white teeth. "You should try and visit some day, it's brilliant. Sun shines all the time, good food, great scenery, beautiful pl."
"Roger!"
A sharp voice cut in from behind us and he peered round, the same with me. It was one of his friends, didn't they ever leave him alone for one second? They swarmed round him in the corridors, mucked around with him in classes and in the common room he was always busy with hordes of mates. In fact, in all our years at Hogwarts I had never even seen him alone. The friend came over and started talking to Roger about something he wanted to tell him, keeping his voice down. I heard something about 'firewhiskey' and 'girls'.
"You want to come?" Roger said to me.
"Come where?" I enquired, slightly primly now I'm looking back.
"To the party upstairs in the boys dorm - don't tell anyone though, it's private." He looked around shiftily at the others sitting in the common room.
"Yeah, we're keeping it private so we don't get any trolls in!" The friend screeched, making Roger nudge him and rebuke him a little for saying something so crude. Made me like him all the more.
"Yeah ok, now?" I said, thinking what kind of party it was. Heard about them of course, slightly private affairs always ending up in people feeling sick and others regretting what they did last night. They were strictly by invite only, and I was never invited. I think because I was a bit of a book-worm. I never really cared to be honest, I always had more important things on my mind than mindless revelries.
"Well.in about an hour or so, so you can like, get ready or whatever you need to do. Drag that 'handbook' up to the girls dorm." He smirked and I chuckled.
He told me just to come up in an hour or so, when I was ready. I ran straight to the girls dorm to take off all my clothes and put new ones on. There wasn't a lot of choice, my clothes being rather tame and non-party like. My dress robes? No way, this wasn't formal. My black jumper teamed with a pair of black trousers? No, the black jumper would make me sweat. I eventually decided on the pair of black trousers which were tight and a dressy satin halterneck top which was a bronzy-gold colour, with a greenish gold trim round the edges. I had never worn it before, my Auntie Goldstein had bought it in India for me but I never felt that bashes at home were suitable for it. I hoped it fit, I had gotten it at Christmastime and I would have died if I had suddenly put on weight. But no, it fitted.
Hair was brushed, I sprayed myself with a light fragrance and I put a bracelet with onyx gems round my wrist. I surveyed my appearance in the mirror. If my ordinary mirror was the Mirror of Erised, it would have shown me looking like a beautiful, captivating goddess, with Roger Davies draped around my shoulders like an expensive mink coat, a secret smile playing on my curved, full lips, his hands holding me in a lock across my stomach.
However, the mirror wasn't the Mirror of Erised. Oh well, you couldn't have everything. I examined my appearance trying to keep my criticism in check.
Hair looked quite shiny, just past my shoulders, which were a bit bony. Skin a tad too pale but the overall effect was quite exotic. Exotic was just what I wanted - not boring old plain Camilla. I raided my makeup bag, well, if that's what you could call it, more like a shoddy plastic bag with a couple of pieces of makeup given to me at Christmas by parents who wished I was a little more sociable and enchanting. I put on some makeup, and then scrutinised myself again. There, not perfect but it would have to do. I looked at the time - just about right for me to go up to the boys dorm. I walked out of the girls dorm into the common room, which was empty - up the curved stairs into where the party was being held.
The door was open and I saw Roger in a corner talking to some friends, boys from our year and a girl from the year below who was clinging to one of the boys like a boa constrictor. I quickly scanned the room to see if I was overly dressed up - but no, I wasn't. No dress robes in sight, obviously, but smart casual. It was quite easy to see who was brought up in Muggle world and who was raised in the Wizarding world. The former were always more risqué in their dress sense, with slashed tops that went low, low down and ultra tight jeans that showed colourful underwear that the girls called 'g-strings' and 'thongs'. I couldn't picture myself wearing them, personally. Imagine a string up your bum! No thanks. The boys were a little harder to place, with a general 'uniform' of a dressy shirt and dark trousers being dominant.
When Roger saw me enter the room he waved, and called me over. He handed me a butterbeer. Music was reasonably low and it was obviously not a 'party' party but a relaxed get-together where people could chat, dance a little but not in a manic way and drink together. I wondered if there was any stronger stuff than butterbeer floating around.
I found it quite amusing to see it was quite obviously a strictly Ravenclaw- organised social event. When the Gryffindors have parties, they are the most raucous, last all night, fraught with jokes and madcap dancing. The Slytherins are notorious for their reliance on strange potions and potent brews to make sure everybody has a good time. Ravenclaws are often invited to the Slytherin parties, I've not been personally but I've heard that the Slytherin males get awfully vulgar and I know that in classes the next day some of the Slytherin females are whitefaced and uneasy looking. And the Hufflepuffs? They like good music and sometimes overdo the more piquant beverages - always good for a laugh are the Hufflepuffs, if a little slow on the uptake.
I had sat next to Roger and he very surprisingly put his arm round me. He smelt scrumptious, like vanilla mixed in with the clean scent boys have when they've just washed. Unfortunately not Anthony, who at that time was practically allergic to soap and water. (He had obviously not discovered the opposite sex yet).
I didn't know how to react when he put his arm round me so I played it cool. Well, as cool as a sweaty palmed fifteen year old who had up to that point never even spoken to a boy in any context apart from "Camilla, what homework is due?" or "Hey, pass the lemon pie over please."
We had been sitting there for a while just talking to the others when gradually the crowd around us dispersed into couples and they all walked over to separate places in the dorm, arms around waists and noses nuzzled into necks.
"You enjoying yourself so far?" Roger asked, looking into my eyes. Such a cliché, I know, but brace yourself as I'm about to follow that up with another one. I felt like we were the only people in the room. I answered emphatically in the positive and he leaned his head in closer to mine so our heads were touching.
"You're sweet."
My throat clenched up. Was this really happening to me or was it a dream? Oh my, another cliché managed to slip in there. Maybe lust gets you like that. I didn't know what else to say but the ever simple - "Thanks."
He cuddled up to me even more and he stroked my hair. "You know why I like you? 'Cos you're pure." I knitted my eyebrows and said - "What?"
He scrunched up his eyes together and said - "Wrong kind of word. But you know what I mean. you're like the sexy librarian who wears her hair up, glasses on at work by day and at night she takes her hair down, glasses off and wears red underwear. Or am I just talking rubbish?"
I giggled and said softly - "Well, thanks Roger. You're not too bad yourself." His face was more serious now and he looked at me deeply.
"Camilla, would you like, I mean, do you want.umm, err." I had an inkling to what he wanted to say, and I whispered throatily into his ear. Quite bold of me when I think back - ".kiss you?" He nodded sagely and his lips touched mine. My first kiss. With good-looking, enigmatic, sporty and popular Roger Davies. I was in ecstasy. Our tongues clashed sweetly and our teeth banged, but his soft lips guided me so I knew what to do. I automatically closed my eyes, wanting to savour this moment. This wasn't a time for Camilla Goldstein criticism, nor Ravenclaw sedateness, but romance. Just special, tender desire.
We pulled away from the embrace at the same time. We didn't speak, just breathed heavily. How long we kissed for, I don't know. But the moment was slightly ruined when some person put on a fast song with a loud beat, terminating the moment.
***
My first kiss, and my last kiss to date. Yep, that's how long? I was fifteen then, seventeen now. Two years. Two long years where I've waited for a second chance. I don't know what happened. We had flirted until the summer holidays came next month, but then when we began school again after the summer, he had changed. More arrogant and self-assured, he didn't blow me off but he wasn't actively interested in me either.
I've seen him romance and flirt with a lot of girls since he came back. Two years of trying to get his attention and failing, the most I've received was a saucy wink.
And what for? Why would I want to go to a guy who has a bit of a reputation for being a ladies man? Why would someone as smart as I wish to be Roger Davies' one and only? Silly questions. Because, that night, that night he was so sweet - I fell in love with him. And now I worship him, arrogance and all.
But I know I am being ridiculous - I'll always be Camilla Goldstein, sister of Anthony, rather clever and prefers reading to Quidditch. That night - that one night. I was distinctive, special. And I go to bed every night and dream of that one kiss repeatedly.
***