Bloody Black. I spent half my day searching the bloody castle for him and I find out now that he's a late sleeper. I should've known the bloody bastard was lazy as well. And to think, I could've spent the day working on that invisibility potion I've been tinkering with.
I give up now. I think I'll head to the potions lab to play around a bit. I'm not in a mood for serious work. Perhaps I should make something for Black... like a nice, painful poison... no, too nice.
I hate mornings. Why on earth I let myself get up before noon, I'll never know. Maybe Black's lethargy is contagious. One can only hope.
I thought about it last night, and I know I must talk to him. If I don't talk to him, I'll try to confide in a fellow Slytherin, which will lead to the whole school knowing about the horrific affair.
Well, it's not that horrific, really. Black's actually quite a nice kisser.
...damn. I must still be partly asleep.
What I meant to say is, Black is... actually... quite an ice fisher. That didn't even make any sense. If the lethargy isn't contagious, the IQ at least appears to be.
As I was saying, I need to talk about this. I've got some major questions to be answered. Is he really gay, then? Is he really interested in me, of all people? Is he interested in another session, such as the last one we had?
Okay, so I suppose that last one isn't really a question I've got for him as some sick, twisted fantasy that the cruel side of my mind cooked up and sprung on me at the last moment.
It better not do that while I'm talking to him. If I ever see him. If he ever bloody gets out of bed. Damn Gryffindors.
I've realized that I stopped walking to the potions lab to stare out a window. Why am I so easily distracted? Black is no longer a person. He's a disease. I'm catching bloody Sir-itus. That actually sounds like a disease. Perhaps I'll call him that.
Speak of the devil, or Gryffindor, whichever you prefer. In an attempt to actually make it to the lab, I've seen him coming down the hallway towards me. I suppose he wants to talk as well.
He doesn't seem to be paying attention to me. His answers are short and clipped and distant. I roll my eyes and give him my patented frustrated sigh. Still no real reaction.
In the motion to cross my arms over my chest, I've dislodge a lock of hair from behind my ear. I'm trying to look intimidating, so I merely flip my head a bit to try to move it, but it doesn't work. Perhaps I should listen to that 5th year lass who always bugs me to put my hair into a 'ponytail.'
I reach up to move it out of the way but a slightly caloused hand stops me, and moves the hair back over my eye. Surprised, I look up and his eyes meet mine. I raise an eyebrow and he manages to stammer out something along the lines of, "It looks good that way." I raise my eyebrow further and he almost looks embarrassed.
I can't help myself.
I let a hint of a grin sneak into my expression.
That's all the incentive he needs to lean in for a kiss.
At least we got some talking out of the way before the snog session.
I'm beginning to think I need a beta-reader. I'm so scatter-brained I'm having trouble remembering what to write and when/where. If anyone is truly interested, send me an email (all info should be in my profile, and no IMs please). I'd reply to reviews, but I always hated how some authors would take up half the page of the chapter with those and leave me disappointed that the story wasn't as long as I had thought. Thanks to all of you faithful reviewers, and the new ones as well. They're all greatly appreciated and give me warm-fuzzies. Hugs and cookies to you all.