Denial
'Well, at least he isn't leaving you behind yet… Right?' Myrtle didn't know what to feel; didn't know if Rosmerta had gotten to him yet or not, which all added up to a tormenting lump that tore up her insides like a rampaging unicorn. He hadn't talked at all, but he had sat with her; there was last night.
'You're just imagining things Myrtle; you're not worth anything, remember!' Myrtle dashed away the angry tears that had been sneaking out of her eyes since this internal monolog had begun. Ogling boys won't make you any happier, and it won't get you anywhere in life! The homework she should have done last night, however, would get her somewhere in life; so, that's what she should be thinking about.
Getting up from breakfast Myrtle set out to complete her mission. Her footsteps reverberating through the halls as she purposefully stalked back to the Slytherin common room, the third year girl's dorm, and her homework. Surprisingly, no one stopped her, but, then again, all they could think about was Bakura; she wasn't going to spare him a thought.
Protected by the dark confines of her dorm, she let herself relax. On Saturdays, at the very least, this room was practically a safe haven, what with everyone else out and about, socializing; only she, the pimply little worm, was hiding in their dorm, doing homework.
Twenty minutes hard studying later, however, Myrtle hit a dead end. Where was her Herbology textbook? And all her searching, through her trunk and even under her bed, was fruitless; it had, no doubt, been stolen. She could always look up the information she needed for her mandrake essay in the library, but, there were people their; another five minutes of searching for something else to do only turned up an essay on Bogart that she would, most defiantly, need to do some research for. Well, there was nothing else for it.
That was how, roughly twenty-nine minutes after she had left from breakfast Myrtle found herself in the library, hearing all too familiar voice in conversation.
"Oh come now, don't be so cold. Surely you don't want to be a mystery forever."
"And if I do what business is it of yours? Not only do I not know you, but I believe that your House and mine are antagonists. I bid you good day," and Bakura appeared, his back to Myrtle, walking away from her and out of the library; a rather miffed looking Diana Rosmerta pouted her own way out a few minutes later.
A few minutes of silence passed before Myrtle dared to breathe. Even if he hadn't meant it that way, he had sealed himself as her secret, and her secret alone. The thought sent a foreign shiver down her spine. How much better did he treat her though…
Anyway, she had come to the library to stop thinking about that boy, not to start all over again; just because he had turned down the first dumb blond that came on to him, didn't mean he had any sort of feelings for her.
Finally focusing on her hand again, she realized she had been in the middle of pulling out the book she needed for Herbology, and was still simply standing there holding the spine of the book. Pulling it out violently, she settled down to some serious essay writing.
By the time she felt his shadow creeping over her, she had moved on to the Bogart essay.
"I wonder if you would do a favor for me?" Myrtle turned at the sound, and was faced with the towering figure of Quintus, standing over her. "You see, I need someone to haul my books around for me again, and, for some reason, your face was the first to come to mind." He finished, leering down at her.
Myrtle sat there, speechless, for a few seconds; apparently the youth took that has her saying she wouldn't, and leaned in even closer.
"I heard a rumor that you enjoyed the idea of being a human balloon." Quintus began, his voice lowering several threatening octaves. "And, just look at the heights that you could reach in here." He finished, pointing up at the ceiling oh so high above.
Myrtle gulped; heights made her nervous. "Sure." She quickly agreed.
"I knew I could count on you." He handed over his bag, currently only filled with a few books, and beckoned for him to follow him.
Over what seemed to be the next eternity Quintus lead her on a harebrained journey all across the library, adding heavy tomes at every turn; putting some back after a couple rounds of the library.
"That should be all, it's an hour 'till lunch; I must be going." Quintus, finally finished, pushed her away quickly. "We should do this again some time." He added maliciously as he walked out of the library, his bag floating behind him.
A few very choice names went through Myrtle's head, but there was no use voicing them; second to the Riddle boy, Quintus Lestrange was a prince of Slytherin, and she was the scum on the bottom of his shoe.
Myrtle wasn't surprised when, however, her essay parchment began to be dotted with dampness. She hated her life.
The deep dongs of the school clock reverberated through the library as Myrtle wrote the final sentence of her Bogart essay; she was ten minutes late for lunch, and every part of her was aching.
Standing, she stretched, trying to uncramp her muscles that had been practically motionless for an entire hour. Only partially successful, the trip down to the Great Hall was painful enough.
Looking down to the other end of the table, she saw Bakura was seated there, as usual, alone, but, she also noticed that that end of the rest of the tables was conspicuously fuller then usual. Sighing, she walked down to sit across from him, unsure of what to expect.
Dropping her bag, she served herself a good helping of corn and stuffing; finally, she looked up, at him. "So, how was your morning?"