Well, That Was Unexpected
So there was this guy, right? And he had a scar that liked to change positions. No one was sure whether he was gay or not. But he sure was hot. Oh yea. Uh huh. One more time.
So there was this guy, right? And he had a scar that liked to change positions. No one was sure whether he was gay or not. But he sure was hot.
One day, said boy was walking to—running to, actually—Charms class. He was late, see. He turned into the corner. It hurt. So he turned the other way, and ran smack dab into this girl. It hurt a little bit, but she was rather soft, so not as much as the corner.
"Ow!" she exclaimed.
"Oof!" he said.
Then they fell on their bottoms (cute bottoms, in the guy's case).
"Sorry," he said sheepishly, struggling onto his feet. In the process, he managed to knock her down again.
"Oh—!" yelled the girl.
"Here, let me help."
He extended his hand. She looked warily at it, then took it. He pulled her to her feet. Unfortunately, his large sneaker was pinning down the leg of her trousers. They did not come up with the rest of her. The boy, of course, remained oblivious to this fact for several moments.
"Susan Bones? You have Charms with the Gryffindors right now, don't you? We can explain to Flitwick why we're late."
"Yes," she said coolly, "Just let me—"
They both glanced down.
"Hey! You're not wearing any pants!"
"Brilliant observation," she drawled, pulling said object back up. He looked away quickly, blushing. They stood there for a few moments, avoiding each other's eyes.
"Well," she said, still quite coolly, "We'd better get to class then."
"Yea—yea, er," he fumbled, walking alongside her. "I'm really sorry about that—"
"It's oka—" she began in a would-be casual voice, when the boy ran into another corner. "My goodness, you're quite, er, accident prone, aren't you? Who would imagine, the famous Harry Potter, a bumbling oaf!"
And then she chortled.
And then, still red-faced, he chortled.
And then they chortled together.
It was an interesting Charms lesson.
Hermione was sitting in a corner of the common room. Just sitting in it. Not running into it, or any such foolish happenings. Just sitting.
She was also scribbling away at some parchment with a fevor that was remarable even for her. Over on the couch, in lineup, were Lee, Seamus, Neville, Colin, Dean, and Harry, staring amazedly at her. Finally, Harry shut his mouth, stood up abruptly, and softly stalked to her side.
"Er—Mio?" he asked tentatively.
"What?" she asked, head snapping up for the first time in almost an hour. She then massaged her neck gently, as snapping up your head often causes severe pain in the neck region.
"May I—may I inquire as to what exactly you're writing, and to whom?"
"Huh? Oh, I just asked Remus a question about werewolves and he owled me an answer, so I figured it would be polite to respond. Don't you think?"
"No, I don't think that much," Harry admitted, then went on incredulously, looking at her twenty-seven inches of parchment. "Polite?"
"Yes, polite," she said nastily, then turned away from him, every line of her declaring, case closed.
Denied the company of his bestest friend in the whole world, Harry thought he would seek solace in her meadow, aka the library. He tiptoed in the dusty residence, dodging the poisonous glare of Madam Pince. Surveying the room, he was surprised to find only one person in it, quite unexpected, but nonetheless pleasing to the story line. Then he realized with a twinge of nervousness—pain, cursed corners jumping out at you—that it was Susan. He decided it best to approach her with some cool comment.
"Nice to see you're wearing pants," he said cheerfully as soon as she was in earshot, not noticing they weren't the only two in the library until the words were out of his mouth. The head of a rather tall boy popped up from behind his book
Susan blushed, but laughing, said, "Oh...yes. Hi, Harry."
"Hi. May I?" he asked, and at a nod sat down next to her.
They remained studying quietly for a while, but neither could help but notice many shifty glances from the boy. It wasn't until he intentionally threw his pencil—yes, his pencil, not his quill—near their table just to have an excuse to check that all clothes were on the appropriate persons that Harry said anything.
"Can I help you?" he questioned, sticking his head under the table.
"Just, uh, dropped the pencil. Slipped away, you know," the boy said nervously.
"Sure." Susan replied disbelievingly.
The boy began to walk away, but then turned with an inept attempt at subtlety. Susan, spontaneously and a little mischievously, turned to Harry and began to unbutton the top of his shirt. The pace at which the boy fled the library was so truly amazing that had Hogwarts had a track team, he would have instantly been granted top spot on it.
Utter shock emanated from Harry's face. He couldn't say he was displeased, just shocked.
"That got rid of him, didn't it?" she said, turning away with a smirk.
"What?" he said, looking down. "Oh. Oh, yeah."
Back in the common room, Hermione signed her novella with a satisfied flourish. As she rolled it up, Neville approached her even more tentatively than Harry.
"Hermione?"
"Huh?" she asked pleasantly, then focused on his face. "Oh, it's just you, Neville. Bugger off, I have to post this letter."
Neville gaped after her, eyes wide.
Then a certain redhead walked across the library as someone from the vast cyber audience stood up and pointed. "Look! It's 'Sir Not Appearing In This Fanfic'!" Everyone applauded. He blushed and walked out, and was never heard from again, tough some rumors stated that Draco took him down with a canoli. Took him down to the Bahamas, that is! ::cocomo plays as viewer is forced to picture Draco and Sir Not Appearing In This Fanfic sipping pina coladas on a beach::