"Goooooood morning," Fabian Prewett sang as he dropped himself onto the seat next to a grumpy and scowling Hestia Jones.
"Bugger off," she snapped as she pushed her plate away and dropped her head onto the dented wooden surface of the Ravenclaw table. "You're not even supposed to be here."
"The Gryffindor table will have to suffer my absence, for I want to sit next to my best friend, the one who I haven't seen for a while, which is a crime amongst crimes, for she is one of the best people to walk upon this earth and being without her for extended periods of time makes me want to curl up and sob uncontrollably," he said dramatically, throwing his arms about before settling them down to patting her dark curls and helping himself to a plateful of eggs.
Only, best friend was not a term Hestia wanted to use for the boy who was currently stroking her hair. Things ranging along the lines of boyfriend, lover, fiancé, husband, soul mate – those were the kind of terms she wished she could relate to him.
It was very uncharacteristic of Hestia, to want to be with a person as much as she did Fabian. It was of a general rule that she didn't really like to socialize with people, and being forced to spend time with certain ones made her want to wring her own neck. But, after knowing him for four and a half years, she had found extended periods of time with Fabian Prewett was nothing short of wondrous, something she had come to love and anticipate – which was entirely ridiculous, of course.
But the stupid blighter had a girlfriend – a stupid, giggly, blonde girl with a stupid name and a stupid face that was stupidly pretty and smiley and funny and everything Hestia was not. (That may or may not have been her reason for avoiding him as of late.) It was ridiculous, she knew it was – it was only a little crush, for goodness sake! – but she couldn't help it. (She never had been good at dealing with emotions.)
"I'm touched," she muttered to the oak.
"Seriously, though. I miss you. Stop studying. Come and be an idiot with me."
"As lovely as that sounds," she said, lifting her head up from the table – really, it did sound positively perfect – "We have OWLs in seven week's time. Seven. Forgive me for wanting to get a good grade."
"No, I don't think I will. Just because you're a Ravenclaw does not mean you have to hole yourself up in the library going over work you can do in your sleep."
"It doesn't hurt to be prepared," she muttered, frowning at her goblet of pumpkin juice before taking a generous swig.
"Over prepared," he said back in the same low tone.
While it annoyed the hell out of her – his constant need to have the last word in everything, and the fact he almost always disagreed with whatever Hestia had to say – it was one of her favourite things about him. While most might be nervous on angering the perpetually-bad mooded girl, Fabian had no problem with it. He never had, and Hestia didn't think he ever would. She always knew she was in need of an idiot that could match her raging temper.
"Why don't you come and study with me, then, if you miss me so much?" she asked.
"Please, Hest. The Prewett-ster does not need to study. He can shirk off work all he wants and still do a better job than you."
"Why am I still friends with you?" she asked, incredulity clear on her angular face.
"Because I'm amazing, and Gideon is a twat."
"I prefer Gideon, you know," she lied.
"No, you don't," he scoffed, throwing an arm around her shoulders and squeezing her tight.
Knowing he loved having the last word and slightly more than content with having his arm around her, Hestia simply rolled her eyes.