Alright, you guys don't even want to know how much fate has been conspiring against me. First, I move to school. Decent enough. Than, as I'm in the middle of writing all my chapters, my trial version of MS Word 2007 ends. It didn't even let me copy it to another notepad. So I was like, "Whatever, download it to and write it on there. Bad spelling can be dealt with if I proof read well.' Too bad I forgot they turn off my internet at 11:30, so that when I went to save it at midnight I lost everything I'd done. Not to mention my friends and their drama. I swear, being friends with my friends is a thirty hour a day job, and yet thirty hours don't even exist in a single day.

Hence, fate conspired against me. And I'm very sorry, but I persevered. And I also made you guys a banner.

Fun fact: Ben Elliot, like so many people, is based off a real person in my school, and whom is probably the most desirable man I know, and actually looks quite a bit like Heath Ledger. The only difference is instead of being into Quidditch, he's into wrestling.

I sighed as I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes trailing lazily over my snowy-weather attire. A cute-ish brown jacket wrapped tightly, a matching belt cinched tightly around my waist. My hair fell limply down over my shoulders, and my legs were adorned in plain jeans.

Really, I should have felt more beautiful. This jacket has been specifically named my 'pretty jacket,' because whenever I wear it I feel inexplicably pretty. But instead, I'm kind of just... indifferent. Hoping for a distraction, I turned my back on the mirror, my hands weaving through my hair as my eyes combed through the room. Really, I just wanted to fly; anywhere, in any way. Preferably not broom, but should I be picky?

I'd like to think this energy, this horror, is because I'm nervous about making a good impression on Ben; it's not though. I mean, some of it is, but I'm more worried about him seeing that somethings wrong, and that I'm not actually all that into it. I was; I swear I was until I woke up this morning. Now I just kind of feel... devoid.

I refuse to believe it, though. I'm ignoring it, and I will beat this. And Ben, well, he's getting a date out of the deal, isn't he? Besides, this isn't as bad as I'm making it out to be; not at all. It's a date, for Merlin's sake! One single date – I bet Wood's had thousands by now.

With a deep breath, I sat on the edge of my bed, resigning to sleep for the next hour before I'm supposed to meet Ben. At least when I'm sleeping I'm not thinking.

My hands shoved comfortable into my scalp, I smiled hopefully to myself as I pushed out into the corridor. I took the long way out of the Head's Common Room, now. The way no one has used since the two shortcuts were discovered that dumped you right onto the sixth floor. The corridor was dusty, and I occasionally got caught up in spider webs, but that's not what I'm concentrating on right now.

You want to know what I am concentrating on? Walking. It's pretty much taking up all of my attention span, which is how I'm going to account walking straight into some hard, tall, and completely unyielding to my body almost as soon as I hit the seventh floor corridor.

Accordingly, I flew backwards, landing with an embarrassing 'bump,' my hands weaving deeper into my hairs at the sound of a deep, amused laughter. Ben. I looked up, straight into his dimples, and instantly felt the knot in my stomach loosen. I felt like the little engine that could as I bounced back up, nearly loosing my balance as soon as my feet hit the ground unsteadily.

Ben laughed louder as he wrapped a hand carelessly around my waist, his fingers barely scraping the small of my back. My hands shot from my hair, which shook with me, to his stable chest, and I blushed at the action, "Er, hey."

"You alright," he finally questioned, his smile contagious and mixing with my blush. Oh God, I hate blushing. My face feels like it's going to burn off.

I looked up, meaning to be witty and have a retort, but I lost my voice the moment I looked up and realized that I was all of five inches from Ben's face. Oh God, I'm either going to vomit or die. Both unpleasant, though I honestly can see vomiting as being more eternally damaging than dieing.

I pushed away from him, breezing passed him into the hallway, "I can't believe you laughed at that." Wow, could I have any less originality? Please, wit-God, grace me with your presence.

"Whoa, wait up," Ben called a few seconds later, taking a few long steps to rush to my side, "I'm not losing you that quickly."

Something about the way he said it made me not want to talk anymore – he doesn't want to lose me. Like I have the power, or something. Wood used to say that kind of stuff too, until he threw me out the window like an ink bottle. It was like I was... out of ink, or something.

The silence weighed down on Ben more than it weighed down on me; after all, he's the one who made this awkward. Even if I wasn't secretly depressed at losing my secret boyfriend, I wouldn't say anything. This is just me, being me, walking down the hall towards the carriages for Hogsmeade, not the least bit late. Normal.

"You know," Ben offered, scratching the back of his neck to make conversation, "It, uh, well-" Is this how guys who like you really talk to you? Cause I'm not quite sure it's talking as much as experimenting with fun new sounds your mouth can make. He glanced to his side, out a window, where both of us could make out the Pitch, covered in white, "Did you get my owl?"

"What owl," I questioned, my brow arched questioningly. This, I might be interested in.

"I canceled practice today, because I didn't think it would be safe for the team to play in these conditions – wet ground for a push-off, and all."

I knew immediately what he was getting at, and played along. "Oh, so you're saying I'm not good enough to jump into the air off of ice, are you?"

Ben laughed, obviously relieved that I seemed to be responding, "I never said you specifically, but yeah. Pretty much."

My jaw dropped, but underneath my 'pretty jacket' my chest was heaving gently with laughter, "Oh, if I owned a broom, you'd be so in for trouble right about now."

"Why do you need to have your own broom? We can go ask Professor Wood to borrow two right now, and you can show me up," Ben offered, obviously thinking the plan brilliant, despite the fact that he had just proposed delivering me to the arms very man I was trying to escape.

"Uh, no," I cried, grabbing Ben's hand as he started to turn back towards the sixth floor. The touch burned, almost pleasantly, and I smiled awkwardly up at him as his eyes shot to the contact, "I, uh, I've been looking forward to going to Hogsmeade all week."

It was in that second, when Ben finally looked up at my face and genuinely smiled, that I remembered how much I really needed this date. It was necessary, especially considering the way all I want to do at this second is grip his hand tighter and try and soak up some of that happiness, to smile like that again. Yeah, yeah, Ben is the right guy to get through this with. Good choice, Darling.

"Well, alright. But not because you want to - I didn't really cancel the practice, I moved it to tomorrow, so you have all next week to show me how good you are." Ben picked up a comfortable pace next to me, not at all worried about making the carriages. Maybe he enchanted one of the carriage to wait for us, knowing my legs are infinitely shorter than his, and that I wasn't intending to rush anywhere. Hell, maybe they already left; we can walk to Hogsmeade, for all I care.

I laughed into my drink as Ben continued to flail his arms about in mock of Abbot's try-out, "I swear, that boy has no bones! He's like Jello on a broomstick, vaguely molded into the shape of a human." I laughed more outwardly, my pop becoming a serious threat to my nose, which was still a little red from the raw wind blowing outside.

Ben smiled, obviously pleased with himself at the fact that he made me laugh as his story came to a close, and it occurred to me that it was my turn to come up with a topic of conversation. I paused, considering my options; we'd been serious when we discussed family and politics, and goofy with everything else, but this is a date – where is the romantic topic?

"You know, Mr. Elliot," I addressed him, hoping the seem impish and coy as I leaned down to sip my soda again before continuing, "You have a reputation of not being very... enthusiastic about the dating scene. May I ask what prompted this sudden interest?"

Ben snorted, muttering under his breath, "You're such a Ravenclaw."

"Excuse me," I questioned smartly, my hands fiddling in my lap. I wasn't nervous enough to have them in my hair, but at the same time they were antsy. I kept expecting something to happen, for something to click or someone to attack. My whole body was on edge, like I was in serious danger. It's the bird in me, the fight-or-flight reaction trying desperately to take over and fight whoever was sitting behind me.

Ben took a sip of his drink, and I concentrated on his face. Such an... appealing face. Utterly kissable, if only I could push the bird in me far enough into the back of my mind to be into it. "Nothing. Honestly, I've been trying to work up the courage to ask you out for four months, ever since the end of the summer, when I found out your broke up with Worthington."

Wood's words immediately shot through my mind, "Cause I've been thinking about it for four long months, and it isn't going away." Oliver had approximately one month on Ben, not to mention years more experience, at least ten pound of muscle... and one very big mistake. O... Wood made a big mistake, and Ben just happens to be capitalizing on it. And I'm capitalizing on his capitalizing.

"Wow," I finally sputtered, so Ben didn't start to think he scared me away. He didn't, he just... he answered my question. "That's... flattering."

Ben snorted into his drink, as I had not five minutes ago, "How so?" As his lips pursed towards his cup, I was reminded why he was such a great choice. God, he's beautiful.

"You're a catch, Mr. Elliot," I informed him, straightening my posture so that I might seem serious. I mean, I am serious, but this will turn the conversation away from the romantic tone I accidentally introduced. I'm obviously not ready for romantic yet.

I stopped mid-sentence, my hands immediately finding their home once again in my hair. I quickly forced them out, and they violently shook instead in my lap as the familiar scent washed over at me as he walked by. Why the hell was Wood in Hogsmeade? More importantly, why is he sitting around where I could feel the supposed threat staring at me from, picking at me with his eyes to see what affect he could find, in a dark robe?

As soon as I regained my senses, when Wood's scent was diluted by butter beers and firewhiskey, I was out of my seat. Ben jumped at my suddenness, "I'm a catch?"

What? Oh, yeah, we were talking about something else. Concentrate, Darling; come up with an excuse. "Yeah, yeah you are." I slowly lowered myself back into the chair, and smiled at him, concentrating on the smell of sickly-sweet alcohol, Ben probably doesn't know Wood by scent, and he was wearing a hood. I can use it to my advantage. "Sorry about that – the man who came in; he... scares me." Sure, why not? At least it gives me a reason to leave.

"Wh-" Ben thought better of his question, and instead replaced it, "Do you want to get out of here?" I nodded gratefully. As we stood, Ben glanced down at his watch, whistling, "We still have another hour before the carriages will be back. What are we going to do?"

"We'll find something," I assured him, nearly reaching into his wallet and pulling his money out myself, just to get out of here. The animal in me was screaming, and my own shrill, internal screams were joining it. Of course, Ben insisted at the very beginning of the date that he pay for everything.

I had pulled him out of the door before the money had settled on the table, smiling and stopping short as the cold, sharp air, filled with snowflakes, nearly smacked me in the face.

Ben, in turn, smacked into me from behind, unprepared for the sudden stop, "Whoa."

I blushed, the heat now welcome in my cheeks, as I turned, taking his hand again. Time to be normal, "Sorry."

Ben was obviously confused, but brushed it off, Merlin bless him, "No problem." And with that, we were calmly walking down the street, hands clasped, our bodies slightly angled towards each other. I was trying not to look at him, and instead he questioned me, "So, do you have a thing with Death Eaters, or what?"

My brow arched as I dared to look up at him into his dark brown eyes, "Huh?"

"The guys in there – they were dressed like Death Eaters. I'm not saying they were, but, well, you s-"

"Yeah, Death Eaters, I have a thing about Death Eaters," I gushed, thankful for the excuse. God is, for once, on my side. Thanks, man. "I'm very obviously pro-muggle."

"What's your blood type?"

I snickered to myself as I thought about telling him 'B negative,' but I knew what he meant. "My mom was a pureblood, my dad was a half-blood. So I guess I'm three-quarters."

"A mostly-blood," Ben offered, smiling down at me.

I laughed, almost forgetting Wood back in the Hog's Head, "Yeah, that sounds like me."

A silence ensued, and I looked around. Lamps, full of something that glowed magically, lined the back streets of the quaint town, and the snow here was less disturbed than it was along the main road. Despite the embarrassment it would inevitably cause me, I was overcome with the urge to sing; something slow, deep, and full of melody.

I settled for humming, and I heard Ben start to laugh, "What in the world are you humming?"

My jaw dropped, "You don't know 'Memories?' From 'Cats'?"

Ben's brow furrowed, "Cats have memories?"

"Oh, come on," I offered, "Musical, really great, muggle."

Ben shrugged, "Doesn't ring a bell."

"Memory," I mostly squawked, and Ben laughed at the sound of my voice, ""All alone in the moonlight. Aw, come on, nothing?" Ben shook his head, continuing to laugh while I stopped walking, pulling him to face me fully, "You've seriously never heard that?"

Ben continued to laugh at what he assumed was my foolishness, but what was actually his parents serious neglect in bringing him up. "Not once in my life."

"Stop laughing and look at me," I stomped my foot, trying hard not to laugh and remember that this was actually a little serious, "I'm going to teach you this damn song! It's an intricate part of our history."

I grasped his chin and started to crank it up, but I lost my grip on it when he slid it forward, pressing his lips gently into mine. It was... different. Something about it felt so close, so familiar, but passed the sensation of lips being pressed against mine this kiss was completely different than what I used to. This kiss was... innocent. Fulfilling, and yet I need more of it.

And so, nearly stupefied out of thinking straight, I wrapped my arms around Ben's neck and pulled him down, closer to my level. I threw my body at him, and he took my hips, obviously surprised by my reaction. He didn't get that I wasn't used to the whole 'high school romance' that he'd been planning on. I was used to more, and apparently I won't be satisfied without it.

Or at least, without a little bit of it.