Asking

The day started like many other mornings as fall slowly crept over the school. Myrtle awoke, her nose the only appendage sticking out from under her blankets, and freezing; getting up, she brushed her teeth, ran a comb through her hair, pulled on an identical nondescript robe, and trudged up the stairs to the common room.

Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she blinked several times at the new piece of parchment on the notice board.

"Hogsmeade this Saturday."

"I only have seven sickles.

"My father wouldn't let my mother sign the permission form."

Myrtle breathed a sigh of relief, her family, though not able to take away the pains of school, had found no reason not to allow her to go to Hogsmeade. The last month hadn't been that bad, though, not with Bakura.

"I'm going with Tom." Drusilla Malfoy, a narrow beauty of seductive charm, proclaimed the matter rather proudly to a rather jealous looking Lynette Knott, a normally simpering lackey.

Flicking her eyes back to the parchment, the visit was this Saturday; today was Thursday. She had looked forward to it all summer, but had promptly forgotten about it again the first week of school. Whatever, it would still be enjoyable, even without her life being a hell hole of torment too.

Her spirits somewhat raised at this thought, Myrtle stepped quickly out of the common room and up to the Great Hall, without even a hint of a whisper to follow her.

"Did you see the announcement in the common room?" Myrtle didn't look at Bakura as she prepared her waffles for consumption.

"Hogs… Hogsmeade?" Bakura's reply came after several thoughtful chewing seconds.

"One of the few fully wizard villages; I heard it is really fun." Myrtle explained, a smile pulling at the edge of her natural scowl. "You have to be in third year to go."

"I am a first year." Bakura reminded her, after a second's pause.

"Well…" Myrtle trailed off, focusing her attention on his face, which was far from any childish shape it might once have possessed. "You clearly are not eleven… How old are you?" Her shock came through clearly in her voice; she did not know how old he was, exactly.

"I am…" Bakura trailed off, his eyes falling to his toast; his silence lasted longer then Myrtle thought necessary. "Fourteen." He finally stated, looking squarely at her. "Close anyway." Bakura shrugged off his ignorance of any exact facts.

Myrtle blinked. "Well then, you technically should be at least a third year." She stated after a pause. "Do you have any guardians?"

"Guardians?" Bakura only showed a low level of perplexity; his self control irking her ever so slightly.

"Parents, mother, father; people who look after you?"

"Dead." His face flinched ever so slightly. "What kinds of things do they have at Hogsmeade?"

"I am sure Professor Slughorn would be willing to sign your permission form for you; you should ask him." Myrtle usually tried to avoid their overly pompous Head of House.

Bakura's eyes turned away from Myrtle, and he began absently to nibble at his toast.

"Well, there's The Hogshead, Zonko's Joke Shop, Honeydukes sweetshop, and… a quill shop?" Myrtle answered his second question enthusiastically; trying to draw his attention back from whatever brood it had fled to.

"Sounds fun; I'll ask." Bakura murmured his expression completely blank as he looked back up at her.

"I only know whatever everyone else says about it, and they all agree that it is." Myrtle smiled encouraging. "We'll get to discover it together." She willed back the rush of blood that threatened to rush to her face at her last word.

"Perhaps the occasion will not offer so many opportunities for me to embarrass you." A slight smile began emerging from his stone cold face, as if he were recalling something funny; not something mortifying. "Swimming trunks aren't needed where I come from; the water is so much warmer."

"It's more the-" Myrtle stopped herself abruptly, her cheeks turning only the slightest bit pink; instead, making a cutting motion with her left hand. "Part, then whether you are cold or not. It's time for class." Dropping her fork, Myrtle quickly excused herself."

-

"Did you ask Slughorn yet?"

"No."

"You probably should, we leave at ten o'clock tomorrow."

-

Myrtle was running to her Ancient Runes class; she was running late, because she had been waiting for Bakura at lunch, and he had never shown up. Dashing around a blind corner she ran into another hard object. Automatically flinching back, she looked up to find herself eye to eye with Bakura.

"Did you ask…?" She trailed off; unsure of whether she wanted him to have or not; in the last twenty-four hours, as the tension slowly mounted, she had come up with a million reasons why Slughorn should deny him.

"He said yes." Myrtle had no time to study his expression or tone, for any hint of any hidden meaning; she suddenly found herself very very close to Bakura, with her arms wrapped around him in excitement. She was very glad there was no one in the hall to see.

As soon as she realized that she was hugging Bakura, a matter of a few seconds wild deduction, she dropped her arms and eyes back to her sides.

"I'm late for class!" Was her hurried explanation, as, with downcast eye, she ran down the hall, her heart pounding wildly.