The next day was a bit awkward.
By dinner, Erin simply couldn't understand why nobody would meet her eye, at first. Then she remembered her performance the previous afternoon, and her face burned. She had hoped they would not... well, nevermind what she had hoped. Her hope had obviously been misplaced.
"Who... who do you think will make it?" she asked, not wanting to remember but needing to know.
"Oh," Harry said distantly, "um, haven't really put much thought into it. Might just stick with last year's team, we worked pretty well." He didn't seem very concerned for being on the team. In fact, he didn't seem concerned for a student at Hogwarts. She glanced at him. He was clearly thinking about something else. She kicked herself as she realized what that must be.
"Alright!" she nearly shouted. Heads turned, and she lowered her voice. "I know my tryout was horrible. It's no use pretending it never happened. So just... just rub it in my face, why don't you!" she realized with horror that she was near tears, and stopped to collect herself, breathing heavily and shielding her face with her hands. If she looked up, she would not have found derision, of course; she would have found puzzlement. As a matter of fact, a certain tune had been running through all their minds, eclipsing memories of her dismal attempt at the tryout.
"What?" Ron asked tactlessly.
"Oh come on. I know it was bad, and anyone would have dodged that bludger but me. I-"
"What?" Ron could only repeat, frowning with confusion at the course of her thoughts. "Your... tryout? You're still on about that?"
Luckily, this was the sort of situation in which tactlessness is entirely appropriate.
"Well, I—I mean, of course, everyone – what?" She looked around her. "What's going on?"
In an extraordinarily unfortunate combination of circumstances, the room went silent and none other than Draco Malfoy could be heard, whistling an unmistakable tune. Her mouth dropped open, and she turned scarlet and fled the room.
"Oh." Ron said belatedly.
There was an awkward moment.
"Should we, you know, go after her?" They all looked at him. His eyes locked with Hermione, and he seemed strangely indecisive. "Well, I will." He finally declared, getting up after taking a few farewell mouthfuls of potatoes.
He first checked the common room, which was really a rather silly thing to do, since students in any real distress go either to their dorm (somewhere prohibited to Ron) or some other private place. Naturally, Ron tried that tower next; there he met with success, if by success one means a good friend huddled against the wall crying.
"Hi," he addressed her uncomfortably. When this elicited no response, he crouched beside her and tried again. "You have a really good voice." Unluckily, although this was a positive way of thinking about things, he'd only reminded her of why she was here in the first place.
"Who heard?" issued hoarsely from between her chest and knees (where her face had ended up).
"Not many people, I think. I guess Malfoy heard because of where his dorm is, but most Slytherins didn't, I don't think. Other than that, only Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and me, I guess."
"You didn't... I mean, all you did was hear, right?"
"Uh," Ron cleared his throat. "Not exactly." Erin gulped, and drew her knees in more tightly to her chest, cursing incoherently.
"Erin, uh, I just wanted to say, ah, your voice is, um, really... something. When we heard you start, none of us could move until you'd finished, except to rush over to the nearest window." They both seemed a bit embarrassed at this. Erin winced at the memory. Ron's ears went a bit pink as he thought of her there, looking almost like a dancer with her broomstick, small and beautiful as the moonlight played on her face.
(Ron was right about Erin not being visible from the Slytherin dorms, for the most part. The only ones who could have seen her were whoever had chanced to be on the balcony at that very moment, and right then there had only been one student out, enjoying a bit of much-needed privacy.)
"What do you mean?" Erin uncurled a bit, cautiously.
"It was like a spell, but it wasn't really a spell. It was just so, so beautiful..." Ron noticed unhappily how inarticulate he felt. Hope blossomed as Erin lifted her head to meet his eyes.
"Thanks." She whispered, truly grateful. Without warning, Ron's eyes widened with surprise. He stood up, muttering under his breath.
"I can't."
Erin was stunned.
"What?"
"I can't. I just realized. I know your eyes, and your voice, and your," he glanced at her figure and gulped "are really amazing, but I can't just—I, I think I'm in love with someone else."
"Oh." Erin said forlornly. "Okay then. I understand." She forced a smile. Ron, his face bright with happiness, gave a regretful goodbye that could not dispel his excitement for long and scampered down the stairs to see Hermione. It was, of course, Hermione. Come to think of it, even on the train, they'd had a few moments – strange that Erin only now remembered them. She sighed. Well, perhaps true love was too much to expect her first month here. She'd keep on with her work and enjoy her friends. Even if the idea of Ron and Hermione going at it did bother her bit, which it did.
It occurred to her that she wasn't heartbroken. She must not have liked Ron as much as she imagined she did. Of course, this was kind of a sour grapes situation, but really, she'd never had her heart set on Ron. Laughing a little at her own fickleness, she stood, enjoying the night.
How strange – nothing but misfortune had befallen her since last night, but she felt so much happier after it all. Well, no, that wasn't true: Ron had seemed truly awed by her voice, and that was something good, after all. Yet, all that had really happened, not just been spoken, was that everyone had heard what was supposed to be a private vent of her feelings, and Ron had found he was in love with someone else. She should be more miserable than before, but things somehow seemed in perspective; things somehow seemed... right. She felt like, if she practiced, she could probably improve her coordination enough to play on the Gryffindor house team; that everyone seemed to like her voice; that maybe Ron admitting things now was for the best, instead of keeping them for later on and making it ugly. When she thought about it, all her misfortunes were more than canceled out merely by the new chance at a new life she had recently received. Her life before and after that summer was so different, because after, she realized, she was happy. Nobody here did anything worse to Erin than insult her -- as if she wasn't already impervious to that!
She thought of Malfoy, of all people, whistling her song, and wasn't sure whether to giggle or vomit. She opted for the former. She wondered if it would plague him, if he would never be able to concentrate, if it would stay for months. She hoped so. Smiling to herself, she headed back down the stairs and into the castle.
By dinner, Erin simply couldn't understand why nobody would meet her eye, at first. Then she remembered her performance the previous afternoon, and her face burned. She had hoped they would not... well, nevermind what she had hoped. Her hope had obviously been misplaced.
"Who... who do you think will make it?" she asked, not wanting to remember but needing to know.
"Oh," Harry said distantly, "um, haven't really put much thought into it. Might just stick with last year's team, we worked pretty well." He didn't seem very concerned for being on the team. In fact, he didn't seem concerned for a student at Hogwarts. She glanced at him. He was clearly thinking about something else. She kicked herself as she realized what that must be.
"Alright!" she nearly shouted. Heads turned, and she lowered her voice. "I know my tryout was horrible. It's no use pretending it never happened. So just... just rub it in my face, why don't you!" she realized with horror that she was near tears, and stopped to collect herself, breathing heavily and shielding her face with her hands. If she looked up, she would not have found derision, of course; she would have found puzzlement. As a matter of fact, a certain tune had been running through all their minds, eclipsing memories of her dismal attempt at the tryout.
"What?" Ron asked tactlessly.
"Oh come on. I know it was bad, and anyone would have dodged that bludger but me. I-"
"What?" Ron could only repeat, frowning with confusion at the course of her thoughts. "Your... tryout? You're still on about that?"
Luckily, this was the sort of situation in which tactlessness is entirely appropriate.
"Well, I—I mean, of course, everyone – what?" She looked around her. "What's going on?"
In an extraordinarily unfortunate combination of circumstances, the room went silent and none other than Draco Malfoy could be heard, whistling an unmistakable tune. Her mouth dropped open, and she turned scarlet and fled the room.
"Oh." Ron said belatedly.
There was an awkward moment.
"Should we, you know, go after her?" They all looked at him. His eyes locked with Hermione, and he seemed strangely indecisive. "Well, I will." He finally declared, getting up after taking a few farewell mouthfuls of potatoes.
He first checked the common room, which was really a rather silly thing to do, since students in any real distress go either to their dorm (somewhere prohibited to Ron) or some other private place. Naturally, Ron tried that tower next; there he met with success, if by success one means a good friend huddled against the wall crying.
"Hi," he addressed her uncomfortably. When this elicited no response, he crouched beside her and tried again. "You have a really good voice." Unluckily, although this was a positive way of thinking about things, he'd only reminded her of why she was here in the first place.
"Who heard?" issued hoarsely from between her chest and knees (where her face had ended up).
"Not many people, I think. I guess Malfoy heard because of where his dorm is, but most Slytherins didn't, I don't think. Other than that, only Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and me, I guess."
"You didn't... I mean, all you did was hear, right?"
"Uh," Ron cleared his throat. "Not exactly." Erin gulped, and drew her knees in more tightly to her chest, cursing incoherently.
"Erin, uh, I just wanted to say, ah, your voice is, um, really... something. When we heard you start, none of us could move until you'd finished, except to rush over to the nearest window." They both seemed a bit embarrassed at this. Erin winced at the memory. Ron's ears went a bit pink as he thought of her there, looking almost like a dancer with her broomstick, small and beautiful as the moonlight played on her face.
(Ron was right about Erin not being visible from the Slytherin dorms, for the most part. The only ones who could have seen her were whoever had chanced to be on the balcony at that very moment, and right then there had only been one student out, enjoying a bit of much-needed privacy.)
"What do you mean?" Erin uncurled a bit, cautiously.
"It was like a spell, but it wasn't really a spell. It was just so, so beautiful..." Ron noticed unhappily how inarticulate he felt. Hope blossomed as Erin lifted her head to meet his eyes.
"Thanks." She whispered, truly grateful. Without warning, Ron's eyes widened with surprise. He stood up, muttering under his breath.
"I can't."
Erin was stunned.
"What?"
"I can't. I just realized. I know your eyes, and your voice, and your," he glanced at her figure and gulped "are really amazing, but I can't just—I, I think I'm in love with someone else."
"Oh." Erin said forlornly. "Okay then. I understand." She forced a smile. Ron, his face bright with happiness, gave a regretful goodbye that could not dispel his excitement for long and scampered down the stairs to see Hermione. It was, of course, Hermione. Come to think of it, even on the train, they'd had a few moments – strange that Erin only now remembered them. She sighed. Well, perhaps true love was too much to expect her first month here. She'd keep on with her work and enjoy her friends. Even if the idea of Ron and Hermione going at it did bother her bit, which it did.
It occurred to her that she wasn't heartbroken. She must not have liked Ron as much as she imagined she did. Of course, this was kind of a sour grapes situation, but really, she'd never had her heart set on Ron. Laughing a little at her own fickleness, she stood, enjoying the night.
How strange – nothing but misfortune had befallen her since last night, but she felt so much happier after it all. Well, no, that wasn't true: Ron had seemed truly awed by her voice, and that was something good, after all. Yet, all that had really happened, not just been spoken, was that everyone had heard what was supposed to be a private vent of her feelings, and Ron had found he was in love with someone else. She should be more miserable than before, but things somehow seemed in perspective; things somehow seemed... right. She felt like, if she practiced, she could probably improve her coordination enough to play on the Gryffindor house team; that everyone seemed to like her voice; that maybe Ron admitting things now was for the best, instead of keeping them for later on and making it ugly. When she thought about it, all her misfortunes were more than canceled out merely by the new chance at a new life she had recently received. Her life before and after that summer was so different, because after, she realized, she was happy. Nobody here did anything worse to Erin than insult her -- as if she wasn't already impervious to that!
She thought of Malfoy, of all people, whistling her song, and wasn't sure whether to giggle or vomit. She opted for the former. She wondered if it would plague him, if he would never be able to concentrate, if it would stay for months. She hoped so. Smiling to herself, she headed back down the stairs and into the castle.