Name: Seriously thinking about changing it at the moment.
Age: 16
Hair: I don't freaking care anymore
Current Mood: Hoovering between murderous and melancholic. Wishing I could disown my mother.
Current location: Charms class, 2nd row, mid centre.
"Cheer up," Angelina offered as we sat down to Charms, one of the few subjects it seemed I wasn't failing. Just give me time though, I thought bitterly. "We could go out if it makes you feel any better." She suggested.
"How could we get to Hogsmeade?"
"Fred and George have ways and means," Alicia smiled, tapping her nose knowingly. Being friends (or more than friends) with the Weasley twins certainly had there occasional benefits.
"No thanks," I finally mumbled. "I should probably take my Mother's advice and study. It is our OWL year, after all." My Mother did have a point: I knew when someone made a valid point.
"Pffft and piffle," Alicia shrugged. Whereas Angelina was quite prim and proper in her manners (old wizarding family) Alicia was a bit more like me. "It's the first week, what work do you possibly have?"
"And remember, homework for next week is a six-foot scroll on the Charming Charm," a beaming Flitwick chimed in as the bell sounded for the end of class. I sighed. And so it begins.
I spent that night in the library, next to Hermione. I was struggling through Potion's homework, completely at sea seeing as I'd missed the lesson that morning. I desperately wanted to ask Hermione, but she seemed snowed under already, almost hidden behind mountains of scrolls and battlements of books. Actually, I think she was doing Ron's homework for him too. Awwww. I'll have to keep that in mind. That's so sweet, although those two fight like cats and dogs.
Plus, the proud side of me argued, it would be damn-right degrading to ask a third-year to do a fifth-year's homework. Damn right degrading… Although… I know Hermione's more than capable: I walked in on Moaning Myrtles bathroom last year when they were brewing the Polyjuice Potion. And she would love the challenge: nerds thrive off things like that.
I gave up. I was grasping at straws. I was a bad person. Homework completely transformed me into a selfish monster. I thunked my head down on the table, completely beaten. I was just staring at my blank parchment for the seventeenth minute when the chair in front of me pulled out, and Oliver Wood sat his handsome self down. Hey, I'm just making an objective observation. It doesn't mean I'm interested. Because I'm not. I blew a lock of hair out of my eyes, unimpressed. He rested his chin on the desk, eyes level with mine.
"So you're mother's not very pleased with you at the moment." He finally offered. Well, big whoop: all of Hogwarts knew that. It felt weird sitting in the library talking to Oliver – this was the only conversation I think we'd had that didn't make some mention of Quidditch in the initial sentence. Although I suppose it came down to me still being able to play Quidditch, when you thought about it.
I blew my errant hair around my face some more in answer to his statement.
"I could tutor you." I coughed and almost inhaled my hair.
"What?" I spluttered.
"I know I'm not exactly brainiac material." His voice was still all husky and hoarse from training yesterday. I snorted – Wood, brainiac? "But I never failed Herbology in fifth year." He countered pointedly. I shut the hell up. "I won't get you top marks, but I've done the work before. I can at least explain the concepts for you. I'm not that bad a teacher - I coach you for Quidditch and you at least seem to know one side of the pitch from the other." Was that an insult? I think he was a bit cut about my earlier snort. "So hopefully you'll take something into that thick head if I tutor you."
"Don't you have NEWTS to study for?" I ask waspishly.
Instead, he just gently placed a finger under my chin, slowly lifted it up and slid the empty parchment out from underneath it. I hoped he couldn't hear my heart thrashing wildly against my ribcage.
"Bell, I'd do anything to keep your annoying self on the team. And there's practise tomorrow morning, as usual." He even managed to say this with a lot less hysteria than usual, considering the game was only two days away. He must have been practising in front of the mirror. "Now, do your Charms essay," he mumbled, quill between teeth as he pulled some thick books towards him.
"Yes Captain." I replied, too grateful to manage anything else.