[a/n. sorry for delays. Suffered a little writersblockitis with this chap,
so took me a while to start up.]
Harry didn't know what to do. He and Hermione had been hanging out a lot, and it had been two weeks since she had so self-righteously proclaimed that Ron liked her and would never like Brooke. If she was right, Ron was a very good actor. He had been spending time with Brooke a lot, watching various Quidditch practices, talking at lunch, and even studying together. They were becoming very good friends, to say the least.
"So should I ask her?"
Ron stared up at the notice board one more time, and flipped up a couple of useless papers put up by first years to check the Hogsmeade date one more time. Checking the calendar on the far side of the board, he wanted to make sure one more time that it was this Saturday that they were going to Hogsmeade.
"Well, maybe. Depends."
"On what?"
"On what she'd say."
Ron slapped him on the arm. "Of course it would depend on what she'd say! I don't want someone else to ask her first, though,"
"So you do like her!"
"Well, no, I just don't really want her to go with some Ravenclaw scum, like that Goldstein idiot she's been eyeing."
"You like Anthony! You said he was pretty nice for someone from such a competitive Quidditch team!"
"Doesn't mean he can't be an idiot."
"Well Ron, you've got three days, either you ask her or you don't."
Just then, Hermione walked through the portrait, carrying the usual ton of books behind her with ease. She plopped down next to Harry, scattering the books about the table and began to open one. She looked at the two of them. "Why'd you stop talking?"
Ron strode over and sat down. "Hermione, should I ask Brooke to go to Hogsmeade with me?"
He studied her reaction. It was normal, but he thought she saw something pass behind her eyes, a twitch in her face. He blinked, and looked at her. She was definitely holding something back.
"Do you like her?"
"I don't know.."
She looked up something in the textbook open in front of her, flipped the page, and then jotted something down before answering.
"Well maybe you should figure that out before you do."
"I have three days!"
"True. But don't you think it'd be a bit misleading if you asked her and then it turned out you didn't like her? No girl wants to be mislead, believe me." Ron saw the twitch again. Something was going on. "And if I like her?"
Now that, that was a big twitch. "Then ask her. I'm sure she'll say yes."
"Alright then, I will." He stood up.
"Where you going?"
He looked at Harry as if he were a enormous idiot. "To ask her!"
"How will you find her? She could be anywhere," said Hermione in a matter- of-fact tone. She looked immersed in her work, her bushy hair falling over her face.
"She's probably near the lake or on the Quidditch pitch. She says the Ravenclaw common room is stuffy and she doesn't like to study there."
He turned out and walked through the portrait hole.
Harry was left with Hermione. Great, he thought. Just great.
At this thought, the thought that all he would do in the common room is study, he called "Ron!"
His foot was almost gone, but he heard his and stuck his carrot-topped head through the window. "Yes?"
"Can I come with you?"
"Sure. Don't know why you would want to though."
Harry quickly shoved all his books in his bag. "I need a break."
"Then why are you taking your books?" said Hermione, looking up finally. She looked staid and reasonable.
"Who knows, I might find it better to study out there," Harry replied, his back still turned.
It was a glorious day. Anyone would have wanted to study outside, yet hardly anyone was there. The sky was cloudless, and the blue seemed to stretch forever, past the horizon and into the heavens. It contrasted beautifully with the bright fresh green of grass that had not seen sunlight for a season. Sitting under a large willow tree, with aged branches and a protective stance, was Brooke. That hair was unmistakable. As they neared her, they heard her muttering incantations under her breath.
"What are you practicing?"
"Random Transfiguration. It's my worst subject."
"All of my subjects are my worst subjects."
"Except for Divination, of course."
"Oh yeah, foretelling my death is something I'm very good at."
"Foretelling your own death? How many times?"
"Three, at least."
"And you're still alive?" "You can tell how good at Divination I am."
"Well you're probably better at it than I am at Transfiguration."
"Not true."
"So true! I can't even transfigure a blade of grass into a needle."
"Bet I can't, either."
"Who needs to know how to do that, anyway?"
"Some grandmother, I suppose."
"True. But I'm not a grandmother, I don't need to know!"
"But you will be someday."
"Maybe."
"Most probably."
"No, maybe."
"Why maybe?"
"I don't know if I want to get married."
"Why not?"
"Because boys are stupid."
"Aye, we are."
"Well there are some smart ones."
"We are a rare breed."
"Of course you are, Ron." She smiled at him.
Their exchange of words was casual and no doubt continual, and they sounded like they had known each other forever.
"God, these chocolates are amazing. Have one, you two, they'll never finish." She held out the Never Ending Chocolate Box to them.
"Still don't know who sent it to you?"
"Don't really care. She has good taste."
"It's probably a he, you know," interjected Harry.
"Alright then, he."
"You don't even want to know who this he might be?"
"Don't care."
"Well, you're quite the boy magnet, aren't you, Manchester?" said a nasal, highly annoying face. Brooke looked calmly into the murky, muddy eyes of Pansy Parkinson.
"Oh yes, of course."
"Don't be smart with me, Mudblood." Ron's eyes flashed.
If Brooke was fazed at all, she didn't show it. Instead, she stood up.
"See, Pansy, that's an incorrect statement. Both my mother and father are purebloods, and unless I'm someone I'm not, then I'm a pureblood as well."
"Liar." Pansy looked at her darkly, then walked away, muttering something..did Harry hear what he thought he heard?
He looked on the ground for any reason to call Pansy over here, than spotted a wand in the ground. "Is that anyone's?"
Ron and Brooke both shook their heads.
"Oi, Parkinson!"
Pansy whipped around, eyes narrowed.
"What, idiot?"
"This your wand?" Harry waved it ostentatiously at her.
She huffed over, eyes ablaze, grabbed the wand out of Harry's hand, and kicked the Never Ending Chocolate Box out of Brooke's hand before saying, full of hate:
"You don't deserve anybody's love, stupid showoff Mudblood, least of all Malfoy."
It was then she decided to make her exit.
Harry didn't know what to do. He and Hermione had been hanging out a lot, and it had been two weeks since she had so self-righteously proclaimed that Ron liked her and would never like Brooke. If she was right, Ron was a very good actor. He had been spending time with Brooke a lot, watching various Quidditch practices, talking at lunch, and even studying together. They were becoming very good friends, to say the least.
"So should I ask her?"
Ron stared up at the notice board one more time, and flipped up a couple of useless papers put up by first years to check the Hogsmeade date one more time. Checking the calendar on the far side of the board, he wanted to make sure one more time that it was this Saturday that they were going to Hogsmeade.
"Well, maybe. Depends."
"On what?"
"On what she'd say."
Ron slapped him on the arm. "Of course it would depend on what she'd say! I don't want someone else to ask her first, though,"
"So you do like her!"
"Well, no, I just don't really want her to go with some Ravenclaw scum, like that Goldstein idiot she's been eyeing."
"You like Anthony! You said he was pretty nice for someone from such a competitive Quidditch team!"
"Doesn't mean he can't be an idiot."
"Well Ron, you've got three days, either you ask her or you don't."
Just then, Hermione walked through the portrait, carrying the usual ton of books behind her with ease. She plopped down next to Harry, scattering the books about the table and began to open one. She looked at the two of them. "Why'd you stop talking?"
Ron strode over and sat down. "Hermione, should I ask Brooke to go to Hogsmeade with me?"
He studied her reaction. It was normal, but he thought she saw something pass behind her eyes, a twitch in her face. He blinked, and looked at her. She was definitely holding something back.
"Do you like her?"
"I don't know.."
She looked up something in the textbook open in front of her, flipped the page, and then jotted something down before answering.
"Well maybe you should figure that out before you do."
"I have three days!"
"True. But don't you think it'd be a bit misleading if you asked her and then it turned out you didn't like her? No girl wants to be mislead, believe me." Ron saw the twitch again. Something was going on. "And if I like her?"
Now that, that was a big twitch. "Then ask her. I'm sure she'll say yes."
"Alright then, I will." He stood up.
"Where you going?"
He looked at Harry as if he were a enormous idiot. "To ask her!"
"How will you find her? She could be anywhere," said Hermione in a matter- of-fact tone. She looked immersed in her work, her bushy hair falling over her face.
"She's probably near the lake or on the Quidditch pitch. She says the Ravenclaw common room is stuffy and she doesn't like to study there."
He turned out and walked through the portrait hole.
Harry was left with Hermione. Great, he thought. Just great.
At this thought, the thought that all he would do in the common room is study, he called "Ron!"
His foot was almost gone, but he heard his and stuck his carrot-topped head through the window. "Yes?"
"Can I come with you?"
"Sure. Don't know why you would want to though."
Harry quickly shoved all his books in his bag. "I need a break."
"Then why are you taking your books?" said Hermione, looking up finally. She looked staid and reasonable.
"Who knows, I might find it better to study out there," Harry replied, his back still turned.
It was a glorious day. Anyone would have wanted to study outside, yet hardly anyone was there. The sky was cloudless, and the blue seemed to stretch forever, past the horizon and into the heavens. It contrasted beautifully with the bright fresh green of grass that had not seen sunlight for a season. Sitting under a large willow tree, with aged branches and a protective stance, was Brooke. That hair was unmistakable. As they neared her, they heard her muttering incantations under her breath.
"What are you practicing?"
"Random Transfiguration. It's my worst subject."
"All of my subjects are my worst subjects."
"Except for Divination, of course."
"Oh yeah, foretelling my death is something I'm very good at."
"Foretelling your own death? How many times?"
"Three, at least."
"And you're still alive?" "You can tell how good at Divination I am."
"Well you're probably better at it than I am at Transfiguration."
"Not true."
"So true! I can't even transfigure a blade of grass into a needle."
"Bet I can't, either."
"Who needs to know how to do that, anyway?"
"Some grandmother, I suppose."
"True. But I'm not a grandmother, I don't need to know!"
"But you will be someday."
"Maybe."
"Most probably."
"No, maybe."
"Why maybe?"
"I don't know if I want to get married."
"Why not?"
"Because boys are stupid."
"Aye, we are."
"Well there are some smart ones."
"We are a rare breed."
"Of course you are, Ron." She smiled at him.
Their exchange of words was casual and no doubt continual, and they sounded like they had known each other forever.
"God, these chocolates are amazing. Have one, you two, they'll never finish." She held out the Never Ending Chocolate Box to them.
"Still don't know who sent it to you?"
"Don't really care. She has good taste."
"It's probably a he, you know," interjected Harry.
"Alright then, he."
"You don't even want to know who this he might be?"
"Don't care."
"Well, you're quite the boy magnet, aren't you, Manchester?" said a nasal, highly annoying face. Brooke looked calmly into the murky, muddy eyes of Pansy Parkinson.
"Oh yes, of course."
"Don't be smart with me, Mudblood." Ron's eyes flashed.
If Brooke was fazed at all, she didn't show it. Instead, she stood up.
"See, Pansy, that's an incorrect statement. Both my mother and father are purebloods, and unless I'm someone I'm not, then I'm a pureblood as well."
"Liar." Pansy looked at her darkly, then walked away, muttering something..did Harry hear what he thought he heard?
He looked on the ground for any reason to call Pansy over here, than spotted a wand in the ground. "Is that anyone's?"
Ron and Brooke both shook their heads.
"Oi, Parkinson!"
Pansy whipped around, eyes narrowed.
"What, idiot?"
"This your wand?" Harry waved it ostentatiously at her.
She huffed over, eyes ablaze, grabbed the wand out of Harry's hand, and kicked the Never Ending Chocolate Box out of Brooke's hand before saying, full of hate:
"You don't deserve anybody's love, stupid showoff Mudblood, least of all Malfoy."
It was then she decided to make her exit.