Chapter Eighteen: How Good It Is To See You
I rattled around my bedroom for the rest of Sunday, just as I'd predicted, bored as a rake. I'd brought some books with me to Hogwarts, but they were mostly books about potions and thinking of potions made me think of Severus, which made me think of how angry he was with me, which made me sad. I couldn't exactly put my finger on why it made me sad, though. I figured it must have been because I so deeply wanted his approval, and he'd been holding out.
Johnny didn't owl, though I hadn't really expected him to, not so soon anyway. These things had to be done with precision. Still, it was the longest Sunday I've ever experienced, mostly spent lying on my back on my bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking up ways to annoy Severus. Couldn't think of any though. Monday couldn't have come soon enough, even if it did mean work. I didn't mind the work, truth be told, and it gave me something to do. Then, as school tends to do, all the days seemed to run together, and before I knew it, it was the weekend again. Still no word from Johnny, though.
Saturday afternoon came, and I was sitting in my bedroom, leaning against the wall where the last patches of orange-tinted sunlight fell warmly on me. I was savoring the warmth, knowing that all too soon it would be winter in Hogwarts and that could only mean one thing: cold. I made a mental note to make a trip to London sometime and get a space heater, so that I wouldn't freeze to death on the trek from my bed to the bathroom in the mornings, before realizing that a) electrical items didn't even work in Hogwarts, and b) I had survived sub-zero temperatures without adequate clothing, a little five-second dash in the cold wouldn't kill me. Still, I made a note to ask someone what I could do about space heating.
Still no word from Johnny. I wondered briefly what he was up to, before realizing that I was pining. If there's one thing Raphaela Vialle does not do, it is pine. I decided then and there that I wouldn't pine any longer. It was Johnny's stupid loss if he didn't like me enough to owl me. I wasn't going to let it bother me, like I was still a schoolgirl. I'd just have to try and do really well in potions, so Severus would finally think I was competent. Unlikely as that may be, I had to try. Before my mind could think of any ways to make Severus appreciate the work I did, (I mean, I did organize that whole store closet, without so much as a thank-you in return. Though I supposed that he did stuff bezoars down my throat all night. Perhaps that was his twisted way of saying 'good job'.) an owl flew in my window and dropped a letter on my bed. Forgetting myself, I dove for it like a madwoman, snatching it from the owl's claws and tearing it open feverishly. Two pieces of parchment fell out, one that had a 'J' seal on it, and one that simply read 'read me first!!' Realizing that I should never disobey parchment (papercuts are the work of the devil) I read the smaller note first. A huge, goofy grin spread across my face when I saw that it was from Johnny.
Sorry that it took me a week to owl you. I meant to do it sooner but I don't have an owl of my own and you know, you always mean to go to the post office but somehow you keep putting it off and it just doesn't get done. I'd have used my roommate's owl but he's kind of weird about it, you know? Anyway, I hope you read this first, and you didn't just chuck my letter in the fire because you were so annoyed that I took so long to owl. Sorry again. J.
I almost squealed with girlish nerves as I tossed the short note aside and opened the main letter, tearing some of the paper against the seal. A seal seemed like an odd thing to put on a casual letter, especially on the letter itself and not on the envelope. But I decided not to dwell on it and instead perused the letter.
Hi Raphaela!
It's Johnny, the boy from Saturday slash Sunday. I hope you meant it about me owling you, because I am. If you didn't mean it that's cool too, you can just ignore this letter.
So… how odd, now that I'm writing, I've got nothing to say. One should write a lot of very interesting and engaging things in a letter, right? Sorry about that. I guess I'm just better in person at talking. Or I might not be, I've never had a conversation with myself.
Anyway, along those lines, I had fun on Saturday slash Sunday. There's an annual park festival in Hogsmeade on the twentieth, it's pretty nice, there's usually bands and some cool food and booze stalls. I'll be there if you want to see me, and I promise not to pass out too early this time.
Regards,
J.
The twentieth could not have come soon enough. I was ridiculously, girlishly happy all through Friday the twentieth's classes, and it was annoying Severus to no end. After my eleventh rendition of my "I Have a Date" song, he actually started to shout at me, telling me to either shut up about my not-even-a-real-date date or to get out of his classroom and don't bother coming back. It was a bit of an overreaction, but I figured that he was probably already cheesed off, since I had a date and he didn't. Honestly, jealousy is so transparent. I could see straight through him, and he knew it. He was so angry with me that by the end of the lesson, he actually made a first-year cry with a combination of cutting taunts and general scariness. But it was okay because it meant that I got to tell him off.
The not-even-a-real-date date actually went fantastically well. I met his roommate (weird Divination type sitting on a rug with crystals all around) and his best friend (girl who was so pretty that I was actually annoyed, and felt a sense of 'a competition that I would surely lose' for about an hour, before I found out she was actually gay) and we had some of the fun park food (meat on a stick dripping with fat) and booze (tongue-curlingly sweet honey wine) and the bands were so good I actually danced. Though that could've been the fault of the honey wine, because I had the feeling it was more potent than it tasted. And then, the sun set, the sky darkened, the bands started to pack up their equipment, and Johnny asked me if I'd like to see him again. It was so sweet I almost got diabetes, but I settled for going all wide-eyed and saying 'awww!' which, apparently, was completely the wrong thing to say. He'd folded his arms, turned sideways, and humphed towards the closing food stalls. I had to sit him down and explain to him that I didn't think he was pathetic, and the 'awww' was juts an expression of how adorable he was. Yeah. It was a really, really nice night.