Chapter 11: To the Butterbeers

"Miss Wood?" Minerva McGonagall wove through the sea of excited students in the Gryffindor common room. It wasn't often that the first weekend of school was a Hogsmeade weekend but, well, that was Albus Dumbledore for you. Never predictable, that Albus.

"Professor?" She looked down. So bloody short, she thought, I almost mistook her for a first year. Smart, cute little thing though.

"I notice your Hogsmeade permission form was not in the records," Minerva pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I would suggest-"

"Here it is, Professor. Thank you for reminding me," As it had been the last few days, her voice was flat and unemotional. She bores me, thought McGonagall. And she seemed so full of personality those few days.

"Gwen?" She asked, genuinely concerned. "Is everything all right?"

"Fabulous, Professor." Gwen said, in a way that suggested it was anything but.

"Right then," McGonagall coughed, continuing to search for errant permission forms.

The air was so sharp that Gwen nearly gasped.

"I know. It's beautiful, isn't it?" Malfoy had, inexplicably, snuck up behind her. "I'faith, m'lady! The ice queen be not as cold as thee. Wouldst this knight offer thee his warmth, I verily hope thou would take it." Extending his cloak, he draped it over her shoulders elegantly. "Come now, tell me not that a beauty such as thee is without escort?"

Before she knew what was happening, her arm was entwined with his.

"M'lord, thy escorts be…disconcerting to this lass," It was true, she thought. Crabbe and Goyle give me…the Crabbes and Goyles should be an expression for extreme discomfort. Still, she regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. Her…and Malfoy…alone. There were infinite possibilities and, while several of them included snogging, making out with Malfoy was not on her agenda.

"A thousand apologies, lady fair," Malfoy walked even closer to her-if that were possible-ushering the "escorts", so euphemistically put, away. "And through this alley-"

Shit! The snog alert went off in her mind.

"-is where the best butterbeers in all of England can be found."

Thank God?

"My lord, be there appropriate facilities for relieving thyself?" She shook herself out of his arms.

"Verily so, lady-" He showed her to the bathrooms. Breathing hard, she slammed the door. Calm yourself, calm yourself…

She Apparated on to the roof, closed her eyes and whispered a spell.

Norman appeared on the balcony next to her, eyebrows raised and a ton of paperwork in hand.

A/N: I know this conversation, and in fact all of Gwen's thoughts, would be in French. As I'm a Spanish student, however, and this story is intended for ENGLISH readers, I kind of, you know, adapted…Oh, and for curious readers, this did happen to me. Pity Gwen more than you would not knowing that, for you know not how guilty she felt.

"Hello," he blushed in that-what she used to think of cute-way of his.

Gwen opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

You've rehearsed this. You've gone over it more than a million times in your head and then some. You wrote a script, you git. Just say it, like you're acting. Like nothing is real.

But it is!

"It's very nice to see you," He started. "England agrees with your complexion."

Imbreakingupwithyou

I'mbreakingup withyou

I'm…breaking…up…with…you.

"Eh-uhm?" She leaned against the terrace. "Ehm-ehm."

The greatest irony of this all was this was how she'd told him that she had a crush on him.

"I don't know, uhm…Oh, shit. I had something to say but now I can't and I don't have the words," She was nearly stumbling over herself. "I don't know how to say this…"

He was silent.

"Uhm…?"

"It's over, isn't it?" He sighed. Color was slowly coming into the pale face.

"Yes," Somehow, she'd been holding her breath, and she exhaled.

"I kind of guessed, you know, with the "oh" and the "uhm". You're only inarticulate when something important is about to happen. Although I hoped for a minute that you were going to kiss me. Didn't you have a bet with someone that you'd kiss me by October, or something like that?"

"No?" Well, no is kind of exaggerating, but it wasn't exactly that, no… "Listen, I'm sorry…" Even to her it sounded pathetic. Boy, was this going well.

"Eh," he shrugged his shoulders. "Actually, I have to go back to my friends. We were sitting by a lake and all of a sudden I kind of disappeared. If I don't come back soon..?"

"Yes, of course," she whispered, watching him Apparate.

Malfoy, uncharacteristically, waited outside of the bathrooms patiently. Like any other girl, Gwen was taking half a century to use the loo.

If it were any other girl, he smirked, I'd be long gone by now, snogging with Parkinson in some corner.

So why aren't you?

Originally, he'd only paid any attention to the bird because Weasley had been paying undue attention to her at the welcome feast, or whatever they'd call it. He'd thought it would be fun to do a bit of flirting- and hey, who knows, maybe more? - With someone that his archenemy was obviously fawning over. And it wasn't as if she was unpleasant to look at. In fact, he admitted to himself, it wasn't a bad specimen, as Gryffindors went. Not even as Slytherins went, really…

She emerged from the bathroom, looking slightly distracted. Amidst his rumination, Malfoy hadn't even noticed the loud cracks of Apparation. Even if he had, he wouldn't have guessed their source.

"Shall we?" He asked, emphasizing the we. If she had any-any-snogging experience, she'd know what he was implying.

"To the Butterbeers," she muttered. Never been kissed, an inner sigh settled inside. Never fucking been kissed.

"To the Butterbeers!" he forced a smile. For now, we can settle with Parkinson. The longer you wait, my boy, the sweeter it will be when the opportunity comes.

And come it will.