As Lovers Go
Chapter 7 - Fantastic Birthday
After several searches, Iliana could not find her book. Okay, she breathed to herself, don't fret. It's here … somewhere. It has to be here … somewhere. She emptied her trunk, looking inside of it desperately. She knew she had it in her bag! That's where it always was - with her! How on earth could she have lost such a thing? No, nothing's lost … just simply … misplaced, she corrected herself holding onto the last bit of hope that perhaps she'd gotten clumsy and had it fall under her bed. She knew this to be highly unlikely, but still she checked. To no avail, as she had expected, it was not there. Iliana sat herself on her bed, exhausted by utter defeat. How could she have gotten so careless? Where could it be she wondered? Had someone taken it out of her bag when she wasn't looking?
Her insides did a bit of a cartwheel as the thought of someone paging through her drawings, laughing at her amateur skills and unrealistic dreams scribbled onto the pages, surfaced. How would she know who took it? How would she even find the person? There were over a thousand students attending Hogwarts, and she'd had class with at least 750 of them. She couldn't possibly find it in time to stop whoever it was who took it to read it. At this her stomach gave another lurch. She glanced at her clock, almost 8:30pm. Students were to be in bed by 9:00pm sharp. She sighed, perhaps a quick stroll to the library and back would ease her worrying - at least enough for her to get a bit of sleep tonight. After all, she did still have classes tomorrow.
Grabbing her robe from beside her bed, she cloaked herself in it and slipped out of the dormitory past several giggling girls and boys alike. Without notice, she also slipped out of the common room and into the hall by the kitchens. Down she walked, passing several halls and doors. Her mind kept chasing after the thought of losing her book. How could she?! She still blamed herself; of course, she did. Who else was to blame? How could she have been so careless? Hadn't that book meant the world to her, why would she leave it in such an obvious place such as her bag? She heaved another deep sigh once more, stopping both the thoughts from overwhelming her head and her stomach from lurching once more. The uneasy and queasy feeling she felt whenever she thought about her book was anything but pleasant, and she agreed she could pass on getting scolded by Mr. Filch about upchucking all over the hall's "clean" floor.
She continued on - the moonlight from the window illuminating her path down the hallway. She focused on her footsteps, the sounds of shoes softly clapping against the floor echoing through the halls gave her a bit of a distraction from the recent occurrence. Perhaps when she'd made it to the library, she'd find books on detectives. Perhaps the Wizarding World had their own Sherlock Holmes series. Those of which included wands, brooms and sneakoscopes opposed to pens, magnifying glasses, and buggies. How humorous, she thought to herself trying to picture herself re-enacting such daring feats to find one book. "Funny, Iliana," she said aloud to herself as she proceeded up two flights of stairs and into the portrait shortcut leading directly to the library. "Studious Success," she whispered to the half-asleep portrait of Basil Froniac, a reputable scholar and a deep supporter of the Ravenclaw House.
The portrait startled into awareness and before inquiring as to why such a student would be out of bed at these hours, he merely nodded his head and swung his portrait door open. Iliana stepped in through the portrait hole and into a long dark, deeper hallway than those which led to the dungeons. She'd commonly used this passageway after finding it in her second year of Hogwarts. It was her way of getting to the library quickly, without attracting much attention or moving along with a crowd. Finally her hand, outstretched, awaiting the door handle to lead her right to the library, pulled on the handle. Open did the portrait hole swing as Iliana stepped through, bidding the portrait a good night to which he softly muffled a 'you're welcome' before continuing his nodding off to sleep. She allowed herself to take in the vast library she'd spend most of her afternoons in. Not necessarily for homework or studying but as a way to get away from the world and most importantly … attention.
Madam Pinch eyed her suspiciously, obviously noting that there was only limited time before students were supposed to be in bed. Madam Pinch, a miserable, old but clever witch, was the school's librarian. Although many didn't like her, she prized and treasured each of these books. She was also aware of which she had, which was borrowed and which were overdue without looking at a sheet of paper. She belonged to this library as much as Iliana did. "Good night, Madam Pinch," Iliana softly bade as she strolled into the library, travelling through rows and rows of books. Madam Pinch gave nothing but a slight hmp and continued her stamping. Iliana strolled over to one of the bookcases near the long windows which offered some light into the library during the day. She watched how deep a black the grounds were. The blackness of the grounds had induced her to think of the blackness she'd been left with knowing that her book was missing.
That part of her that she treasured and prized was now gone - leaving a gaping hole in her chest. All her ambitions, her dreams, her feelings were scribbled down in those yellowed pages. What if they were read? They're not meant to be read, she thought angrily. Just the thought that at least that much of a sanction had been invaded angered her severely. Just then, a throat cleared from behind her. It couldn't have been time to close the library already, she thought to herself. Then again, there was a lot of wandering and strolling … perhaps Madam Pinch wanted to leave extra early as well. Iliana would have to come back in the morning. Surely the morning would bring a better day, she told herself … trying to stay positive. Perhaps her book will turn up, and she won't have to come looking for the Wizard version of Sherlock Holmes.
Funny how one object could mean the world to someone, she thought as she proceeded back to the common room, defeated once more. Her attempt at clearing her mind in regards to her book was futile, and she knew it. Heaving yet another deep sigh, Iliana sat herself on the common room floor, right next to the fire, listening to the way it crackled and glowed. The dancing of the flames reminded her of the way the waves washed against the rocks at her beach house. Her stomach turned a bit as she thought more about her favourite place there on the beach, under that jutting rock - where she spent many moments there, with her book, making wishes on birthday cakes she drew every year … birthday … birthday! Today was her birthday, wasn't it? She sighed, she couldn't remember. Perhaps it indeed was.
"Another fantastic birthday, eh, Iliana," she asked herself with the utmost sarcasm. Bringing her knees into her chest, Iliana was just about to bury her face when just then, from the corner of her eye, she'd caught sight of something through the window. A darkened shape, something on four legs, and looking through the window with ominous, great, yellow eyes was what Iliana could make out. Furrowing her brow, she rose hesitantly from her comfortable seat by the fire and was on an approach to the window when the common room door opened once more. Iliana's heart stopped for a minor second as she spun around on her heel to face the sudden disturbance or… disturbances.
There, stepping through the common room door, was Cedric Diggory and the normal posse that followed him around. Each mumbled among themselves, as they quickly drew in what looked like several sacks. What these sacks contained, however, was unknown to Iliana, but was seemingly of great importance to Cedric's friends. "Shh," they whispered amongst each other, apparently not noticing there was another Hufflepuff student in the room apart from themselves; and so, every one of Cedric's posse proceeded to the boys' dormitory, continuously snickering, bickering, and shushing amongst themselves - except one. Iliana's eyes focused so much on the gang making their way to the dormitory with huge sacks, she'd hardly noticed that one had stayed behind. "Um," he stated before clearing his throat. Iliana turned her gaze to the owner of the voice and throat clear, who turned out to be no other than Cedric Diggory, himself.
Iliana's cheeks flushed a light shade of pink as she diverted her eyes and focused on the ground below her. "Um, hi," he stated. Although she made the conscious effort not to look at him by turning back to the window and peering outside (the whatever-it-was had vanished by now and all she could see was the grounds, dark and damp, as it usually was), she could hear his footsteps on the wooden floorboards, which creaked under the slightest weight. "My name's Cedric Diggory," he stated, trying to make a conversation - trying to make a conversation with her. Shutting her eyes, Iliana wished that he'd go away, hoped that he'd just ignored her like the rest of his posse and followed them into the dormitory. She would've been comfortable with that. "I don't know if you remember, but … I knocked you out of your chair in Transfiguration Class," he continued.
As if her cheeks couldn't get any pinker, she'd flushed a darker shade of pink. Why was he reminding her about this? Did he really think she didn't know who he was? Every girl and her kitten knew who Cedric Diggory was!
Speak, Iliana, speak! Her mind scolded her as Cedric stood silently behind her. Iliana spun around on her heel; however, not as smoothly as she'd hoped. Spinning around, she'd almost fallen into his chest. Now a nasty, scarlet red in the face, Iliana took a step back and proceeded to make her way around him, when he spoke once more. "What's your name," he asked ever-so-politely. Oh, what was he doing this for? Why, why, why? She asked herself. Taking a deep breath and gathering her thoughts as well as trying to functionalize her speech, she finally mustered up the courage to murmur, "Iliana."
She looked up at him, not sure if he'd heard her or not. A small smile on his lips told her that indeed he had. "Well … Iliana's a rather peculiar name, if you don't mind my saying so. I've never heard a name quite like it, I mean," he told her. Iliana flushed redder. "I do have a favour to ask of you, Iliana," he stated. Iliana's eyes widened. A favour? Her? Was he feeling well? Was she dreaming?
"Yes," she asked. His lips twitched into a smile once more.
"I'd appreciate it, as well as would my friends, if you didn't mention our curfew breakage to Madam Sprout," he stated. The corners of Iliana's lips pulled into a smile as she nodded her head. "Much appreciated," he whispered before heading off to the dormitory.
Watching him perfectly step to the boys' dormitory, Iliana's heartbeat quickened a bit. With the same smile on her face, she turned to the window, looking out at the grounds. "Another fantastic birthday, eh, Iliana," she commented to herself once more, minus the sarcasm.