Chapter 37 – I Hate Everybody

If I can make you love me
Maybe you can make me love me
But if I can't make you love me
Then I'll just hate everybody

Janey had been in a foul mood all morning. She was irritable and snappy with anybody who dared cross her path and had dealt out her fair share of house point deductions to any younger students who happened to look at her in the wrong way.

Rose looked particularly concerned by her roommate's temper and kept trying to coax her into opening up about how she was feeling about what had gone down with Roman the evening before, which only aggravated Janey further.

"Maybe you could speak to him after the next Quidditch match?" she suggested as they ambled down towards Hogsmeade Village. "Especially if they win—then he'll be in a really positive mood and maybe he'll—"

"They won't win," Janey snapped. "Their next match is against Slytherin—there's not a chance Scorpius would ever lose out to their Seeker."

Rose involuntarily released a small, shaky breath. Janey felt a little guilty at name-dropping the Slytherin boy, but it was the only guaranteed way to get the redhead to fall silent. Even though it had been almost a year, and she'd not spoken a single word to him since, Rose seemed to be as desperately impacted by their breakup as though it were still fresh. She never spoke of him, of course, but she tensed whenever she was forced to come into any kind of contact with him—in classes, in the corridors, on the Quidditch pitch—and whenever his name was mentioned in conversation. Her Gryffindor friends had all since learned that it was completely off-limits to dare breathe a word about the silvery-blond heartbreaker.

Janey could not even begin to comprehend what it was like to mourn the end of a relationship for longer than a week or so. She supposed Deneb had been the only one to cause her any kind of longstanding pain, but that was more so for the circumstances of the situation rather than the guy himself, per se. She was more than happy to encounter him on the Quidditch pitch, especially given how often they absolutely battered his team—something that no doubt must cause Rose at least some mild satisfaction for being forced to cross paths with Scorpius.

"And anyway, I'm over Roman," Janey lied, feeling a little guilty for having purposefully upset Rose. She had only been trying to help, after all. "I'm onto better things—no point dwelling on the past."

In truth, though Janey was very much not going to look back on what had happened between her and Roman, she wasn't sure she had the confidence to even want to pursue yet another romantic fling. She seemed to have lost her touch, and it wasn't worth going through the embarrassment of constantly being rejected.

Rose seemed to have perked up again, overcoming her temporary distress at the mention of her ex. "Maybe we'll bump into some cute, single guys in Hogsmeade!"

"That's the spirit," Janey said. "Are you admitting you're finally ready to dip your toes back into the dating pool, Rose Weasley?" she asked, lowering her sunglasses.

Rose hadn't shown any interest in doing anything other than grieve her prior relationship when it came to dating, and Janey was surprised but impressed.

But Rose quickly frowned, looking panicked. "Oh, no, I didn't mean for me," she clarified in horror. "I meant for you."

Janey just smirked, slipping her sunglasses back up the bridge of her nose. "I kind of like the no-dating pact we made—It was a lot less drama"

"You shouldn't give up," Rose said seriously, romantic that she was. "There's someone out there for you, Janey, I know it. Love is so beautiful, and—"

"Where are Gwen and Taylor?" Janey interrupted impatiently. She really did not need Rose to lament to her the beauty of love. How she could remain so soppily optimistic about the concept when she herself had been so stung by it, Janey couldn't fathom.

"Oh, they said they might join us later," Rose said. "They're both going to Gladrags to get new earmuffs."

"Boring," Janey said dispassionately. "So where are we going anyway? Honeydukes? The Three Broomsticks?"

"Wherever you want," Rose said, looking ahead to the village with eagerness. "You know James will be in the pub if you want to meet up."

"Hmm, maybe later," Janey said after considering the suggestion. "I'm not sure I can stomach him and Ebony shamelessly tonguing in the corner so soon after getting burnt by Roman."

Rose snorted in response. "Albus would be there too—and Mason."

"Like that's ever stopped them." But Janey had another sudden worry about potentially meeting up with the boys. "Will… he be there?" she asked, unable to disguise the vitriol she still held from last night.

"Who?" Rose asked stupidly.

Janey scowled from beneath her sunglasses. She didn't even want to say his name, let alone look at his stupid face. "Sam," she finally forced herself to say, her blood pressure already rising.

"Oh." Rose looked embarrassed but then a little relieved. "No, actually. He has… plans."

"With who?" Janey asked, genuinely surprised. Sam didn't have friends outside of their group—who could he possibly be meeting in the village if not any of them?

Rose looked distressed, and Janey soon learnt why. "Umm… with Isabella," she eventually admitted, avoiding looking at Janey directly.

As Rose had obviously predicted, this only succeeded in irritating Janey further than the mere mention of Sam alone had caused. "You're kidding?" Janey asked, turning her head sharply, but Rose was still intent on avoiding eye contact. "Like a date?" Janey demanded.

"It's their first date," Rose mumbled, looking embarrassed, as though Janey were about to cause a scene.

But the blonde girl did all she could to contain her brewing fury. Of course Sam got to go on dates. Sam got to have a social life. Sam got to kiss people. The thought made Janey sick. Why was it only she who had to make sacrifices? Why had Sam ruined her own social life when his was perfectly fine to continue?

It should have been Janey going on a first date with Roman, but Sam had taken that away from her because he was entitled and selfish.

"Where are they going?" Janey grilled Rose. She surely must have details.

"I—I don't know," Rose answered uncertainly. "But why does it matter?"

"It doesn't," Janey dismissed, but her intrigue was growing further with every second that passed. Where would Sam deem the perfect place to romance precious Isabella? Or had she planned it all herself? That wouldn't surprise Janey—Sam seemed completely clueless about all things regarding dating. That's why he'd never been on one before.

They had finally reached the end of the cobbled street and were emerging into the heart of the village, surrounded by students bustling in and out of the vibrant shops around them. But Janey was on a mission, craning her neck to peer inside every establishment they passed, looking intentionally for something. Or, rather, someone.

"So was that a yes to Honeydukes or—"

"Oh my God, there they are," Janey gasped, finally spotting an unmistakable glimpse of Sam's broad shoulders amongst the crowd.

She'd spent enough time glaring daggers at him to know what he looked like from all angles, perhaps in contrast to anything she'd comfortably admit. Isabella was by his side. They were very close together, Janey noticed, but they weren't holding hands. She unintentionally quickened her pace.

"Janey, what are you doing?" Rose hissed, rushing to catch up.

"We're following them—come on."

"What?"

Janey almost walked straight into an irritated third-year, but she was too intent on watching the ambling figures up ahead to pay attention to anything else crossing her path.

"Janey, we can't!" Rose protested, dropping her voice to a panicked whisper.

"Of course we can," Janey countered. "It's a free country—wherever they're going, we can go too."

"They're on a date!"

"So are we," she said sweetly.

"Janey!"

"Oh, come on, Rose," Janey said, coming to an abrupt halt and glaring at the girl, which almost caused another group of Hogwarts students to walk right into them. "Aren't you curious?"

Rose looked astounded. "I—no!" she insisted, but her cheeks had turned slightly pink. "They're entitled to their privacy. Sam would hate knowing that we were spying on him—he's been so nervous."

But all that succeeded in achieving was igniting an even deeper glee within Janey. "Exactly. He'll probably screw it up—it'll be hilarious."

Rose remained looked flustered by Janey's insistence on pursuing the unsuspecting couple. "Why do you even care so much about Sam and Isabella going on a date?" she asked, suddenly narrowing her eyes with suspicion.

It was Janey's turn to feel flustered, uncertain what Rose's implication was.

"You're not going to try and sabotage it, are you?"

Janey relaxed. "No!" she denied truthfully. "But Sam's a hypocrite, and I don't think it's fair that he's allowed to go on dates and I'm not."

"But Janey," Rose said, "Isabella's a Prefect too. It's a bit different…"

Janey just glared at Rose in response.

"It's not like Sam stopped you and Roman going on dates," Rose pointed out in a meek voice. "He just wanted you to go to the meetings on time. It was Roman who—"

"It doesn't matter," Janey snapped, the anger bubbling up within her once more. She did not want to hear Rose say it—that it was Roman who had called things off between them. "If it weren't for Sam then Roman and I would have actually had a snog last night," she insisted. "We would be on a date right now."

"Well," Rose considered, eyes lighting up, "maybe if you track him down then you and him could—"

"No," Janey firmly interrupted, anticipating Rose's suggestion. "I told you, Roman and I are done. I'm already over it. I'm moving on."

"But—"

"I'm over it," Janey repeated in a sing-song voice, turning to regard the street ahead of her once more.

But Janey froze, realising Sam and Isabella had completely disappeared from sight. She whipped her head sharply from side to side, desperate for a glimpse of long, raven hair. But amongst the crowds of students, she couldn't identify the couple anywhere. Where the hell had they gone?

"Where did they go?" she asked shrilly, scrutinising every crop of dark hair she could identify.

"Look, it's probably for the best," Rose said, sounding relieved. "Let's just leave them in peace."

But Janey wasn't having it. She strode over to the point where she'd last seen them, staring into shop windows as she went, completely oblivious to how obsessively deranged she must be appearing to her roommate. But Janey didn't care. Sam had wronged her, and it wasn't like she was seeking revenge or anything—she just wanted to do a bit of snooping. She wasn't even going to announce her presence if she did locate them or sabotage the date as Rose had feared. All she wanted to do was… observe.

Janey's heart was racing wildly as she peered into various book and Quidditch supply shops, until finally, she was looking into the interior of what appeared to be a cosy sort of diner. It was pretty packed, but just there, being escorted to a booth, were Sam and Isabella.

"Found them!" Janey exclaimed, forgetting to drop her voice in the excitement. A few diners' heads turned to look at her, but Janey ignored them. The happy couple were none-the-wiser.

Rose had caught up, panting slightly from her mad dash. "Janey, please," she begged.

"Fancy some brunch?" Janey asked, still staring intently into the diner's window. Sam and Isabella were now seated. Next to each other, she noticed—not opposite each other like most people opted for on first dates. She scowled.

"No!" Rose said in horror. "Let's go and meet Taylor and Gwen," she pleaded. "Or James, or Albus, or—"

Janey had slipped inside.

"Oh," a passing waiter said in surprise.

Janey beamed at them.

"Janey," Rose hissed, appearing by her side and grabbing at the girl's sleeve in desperation.

"Table for two, please," Janey said sweetly, addressing the waiter and ignoring Rose.

"Janey!"

"Do you have a reservation?" The waiter asked, narrowing their eyes in suspicion at Rose's panicked demeanour.

"No," Janey said.

"Well, we're pretty packed today. Without having made a reservation in advance, I don't think we'll be able to—"

"We'll just sit at the bar," Janey interrupted impatiently.

The waiter looked further suspicious. "Are you even of age?"

"We don't want to drink, we just want to sit."

"Yes, but—"

"Look, there's a free table right there," Janey pointed out, noticing a couple near the door who were putting their coats on and clearly intending to leave.

"We would need to clear the table first and—"

"We don't mind," Janey interrupted again, grabbing hold of Rose's hand and dragging her towards the newly-vacated table, ignoring both the protests of the waiter and the redheaded girl.

Janey settled herself into the little wooden seat before anybody could stop her. It was far less spacious and comfortable than the booth Sam and Isabella were cosied up in, but at least she had a very clear view of them across the crowded diner. It was a shame they were too far away to hear anything.

Rose had begrudgingly settled into the seat opposite Janey, and the blonde girl beamed at her. "Don't pout, Rose, I'll buy you some pancakes."

"We really shouldn't be here," she said in a sulky voice. "What if they see us?"

Janey shrugged. "Who cares? We're hardly doing anything wrong."

But Rose remained looking unconvinced.

The waiter had reluctantly followed the two to their table. "Look, we have a reservation for this table in twenty minutes. Once those customers arrive, you will have to vacate."

"Oh, of course," Rose said hurriedly, her face as red as her hair.

"Menus?" Janey piped up, batting her eyelashes.

The waiter glared at her, disappearing without a word. Once they had returned, bringing with them two large menus, Janey was relieved to find they could very comfortably be placed on the table and conceal the two girls from view.

"Rose, you'll have to sit on the same side as me," Janey ushered her. "Otherwise your hair will give us away."

Rose dragged her little wooden seat around so she was seated beside Janey, a less comfortable reflection of Sam and Isabella on the opposite side of the diner. They huddled together behind the menus, stealing glances at the booth.

"I thought you said it didn't matter if they saw us," Rose said sulkily, but Janey could tell she was actually a little intrigued to be observing the date too.

"Well, yeah, but if Sam sees us then he's going to get all stroppy and flounce off, isn't he? And that's no fun."

"We shouldn't be here," Rose mumbled. "A first date is a… a sacred thing! It's personal, and intimate, and—"

"How would you know?" Janey asked cruelly. "How many have you ever been on?"

Rose fell silent, and Janey felt immediately guilty. God, what was wrong with her? She supposed she had just been in a foul mood since the Sam-Roman fiasco last night, but that was no excuse to keep hurting Rose in such a casually cruel manner.

"Rose, I'm sorry," Janey mumbled, feeling awful at seeing the deeply hurt look on her friend's face. "I didn't mean—"

"It's fine," Rose dismissed, though she looked far from it.

To Janey's knowledge, Rose had only ever been on one date, and that had, of course, been with Scorpius. They had already been dating for months at the time, so it wasn't like it had even really been a proper first date, but Janey had known her words would immediately conjure, for the second time that morning, painfully vivid thoughts of Scorpius Malfoy. It had only been a month or so after that date that he had left her for Ebony, after all.

Janey wanted to say more, but at that moment, the irritated-looking waiter had returned. "And what will we be having today?" they asked, tone dripping in forced sarcastic politeness.

"What?" Janey snapped.

The waiter looked dumbfounded.

"Oh." Janey went pink. "I, err, coffee," she decided, disinterested. "Do you have a low-fat, no-foam, peppermint mocha?"

"No."

"We'll just have tea," Rose said, looking apologetic on Janey's behalf.

"Tea for two?"

"Sure," Janey said, reaching out to take hold of a surprised Rose's hand in her own. "We're on a first date."

In spite of her previous upset, Rose actually smiled, eyes twinkling with reluctant laughter.

The waiter departed, and Janey was just glad that Rose seemed happy again. "What?" she laughed. "We are. Just not our own."

Rose rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. "I can't believe I let you talk me into these things."

"Oh, come on, Rosie, it's fun! It's like a little stakeout."

The two of them peered out from behind their menus, observing the couple across the room. It was obvious how nervous Sam was, even from that distance. He kept shaking his leg beneath the table. His hand rested atop the surface, just inches away from Isabella's, but he had made no effort to take hold of it.

She threw her head back at something he'd said, and Sam broke out into a relieved sort of smile.

"What do you think he's saying?" Janey demanded, feeling irritable once more.

"Oh, Janey, I don't know. Probably just nervous small talk."

"Well, why is she laughing so much? Sam's not funny. Do you think Sam's funny? Do you think she's faking it?"

"Sam can be funny," Rose said thoughtfully.

"Well, what do you think he sees in Little Miss Boring then?" Janey asked, glaring daggers at Isabella. "Honestly, she has no personality whatsoever. She's so uppity and—"

"I'm sure she's nice," Rose said weakly, perhaps feeling sorry for the girl who couldn't defend herself.

Janey wasn't sure why she was always so hard on Isabella, she just found her unbelievably irritating. It wasn't even that she necessarily believed any of the stuff that she said about her—it was mostly to piss Sam off—but now it had become second nature. Well, it was only fair. He had called Roman dumb, after all.

And then it happened. Sam finally took Isabella's hand in his own, and her coy smile only deepened. Sam looked nervous but seemed unable to contain his own grin. Janey felt her body tense.

"Do you think they've kissed yet?"

Rose seemed to consider it. "No… I don't think so. There's no way Sam wouldn't have told us, right?"

"Would he though?" Janey queried. "He knows James would take the piss out of him."

"True," Rose agreed.

Janey concluded that they likely hadn't kissed yet. Not if this was only their first date—and not if he'd only just worked up the courage to hold her hand. They were acting like two people who weren't yet fully at ease around each other, every tender moment between them something new and exciting. There was a palpable nervousness emanating between them, a giddy anticipation.

Janey felt sick. It was exactly what she'd had with Roman until he had been cruelly ripped away from her. Cruelly ripped away because of Sam. She found her hands had involuntarily tightened into fists around the menu.

A waiter had approached Sam and Isabella's booth, and the pair looked up, straight in the direction of Rose and Janey. The two girls instinctively ducked out of sight behind the menus.

"Do you think they saw us?" Rose asked in a panicked whisper.

Janey dared to poke her head out from behind the menu. Sam and Isabella were back to soppily staring into each other's eyes, both of their hands now clasped atop the table. The way they looked at each other—it was like they were the only two people in the room.

"No," Janey said bitterly.

"Tea?"

"What?" she snapped, not realising their own waiter had reappeared.

"Your tea."

"Oh, thank you," Rose said politely as the teapot was set down in front of them. "Tea, Janey?" she offered.

"Do you think he will kiss her?"

"Umm, I mean… maybe," Rose answered uncertainly, the teapot awkwardly held in her hand. "They've been hanging out for a month now, and it is their first date."

"Sam will probably screw it up. I bet he's shit at kissing," Janey declared with vitriol, eyes never moving from the happy, oblivious couple.

Rose decided to pour Janey a cup of tea in the absence of an actual answer.

"Did… did you ever kiss Sam?" Janey dared to ask after a while. She reluctantly turned her gaze towards Rose.

"Me?" Rose asked in surprise, almost dropping the teapot. "No, of course not!"

Janey's heart was thumping within her chest, though she wasn't sure why. "I didn't know if you had—just to see what it was like."

Rose's face was once again flushed with a colour akin to her own hair, completely swallowing up the constellation of ginger freckles that were normally visible on her pale cheeks. "Merlin, no," she insisted. "I'd have told you!"

That's what Janey had thought—but would she? Would Rose really have confided in her roommates if she had? She certainly hadn't told them about Scorpius—not at first.

"Did you ever… want to?" Janey asked awkwardly.

Rose looked flustered. "Look, there was a time that I thought I could maybe fall for Sam," she confessed. "Years ago," she emphasised. "But you know it was never strong enough to actually act on it. And I'm glad we never did."

Janey considered it. It was like what Roman had said—about dating someone who was already a friend. She supposed there was always the risk, if you did choose to act on it, that your relationship would be forever tainted, whether it worked out or not. Who would want to take that risk?

If Sam and Rose had ever dated, if they'd maybe even shared a kiss, would they still have been able to remain as close friends as they had, she wondered. Or would everything be different?

"Do you think he and Taylor kissed?" Janey asked, referring to the month or so in their fourth year when the two had briefly been involved. She had gathered that it had been a pretty unemotional relationship the pair had shared, both of them only engaging in it for external ulterior motives rather than because they were actually interested in the other. But even still, there must have been at least some chemistry, some attraction that they might have acted on physically.

"I, err, I don't think so," Rose said.

"What even is it about Sam?" Janey scoffed, feeling irritable once again. Sam and Isabella seemed to be getting physically closer with every passing second. Their heads were now almost pressed together, like they were sharing a secret. "What does Isabella even see in him?"

"Sam is sweet," Rose said in defence of her friend. "He's kind, and he's charming, and he can be funny. He just… he wasn't for me. But maybe that's because he was always meant for someone else—maybe Isabella."

Janey almost gagged. "Gross," she said instead.

Rose was smiling again, now having returned to her usual pallor. "Drink your tea," she said playfully. "Before it goes cold."

Janey didn't move. "Do you think he's attractive?"

"Who—Sam?"

Janey gulped. She wasn't sure why she had asked. "Yeah."

Rose seemed alarmed. "He's not unattractive," she said after a moment's consideration. "I mean, it's not like I've ever looked at him and been overcome with desire," she snorted. "But he's, you know, conventionally handsome. Right?"

Janey blushed. "I don't know. I guess." She cleared her throat. "James is way fitter though."

Rose almost choked on the sip of tea she had taken from her own cup. "No comment," she said distastefully.

Janey was feeling playful now, temporarily distracted from Sam and Isabella who were still leaning in to each other and giggling. "Oh, come on, I know he's your cousin, but surely you can see how hot he is!"

Rose remained looking disgusted. "Well, given that half the school seems to have sampled the taste of his tonsils, I can safely say he's not considered a troll! But even James isn't a Professor Roberts-type."

"Mhmm," Janey agreed, thinking of Roman. Her heart gave a sudden lurch, and the disgust she felt towards Sam only increased. It simply wasn't fair that he got to enjoy the seeds of a new romance whilst Janey was rendered miserable. She wanted to hurl the teapot at Isabella's smugly giggling face. "Or Deneb," she said wistfully.

"Deneb's not all that," Rose said kindly, perhaps still feeling guilty that the Slytherin boy had tried it on with her whilst he'd been dating Janey. But this only made the fire within Janey further flare up.

"No," she said spitefully. "I suppose you prefer—"

But Janey bit her own tongue before the barb could land. She had been about to say blondes but was grateful she had stopped herself in time. God, seriously, what was with her? Why did she keep taking cheap shots at Rose? Why did she feel so immeasurably spiteful?

"Losers like Sam," she said instead.

Rose just looked amused. "You mean actual kind people?"

Kind? Why did everybody keep insisting Sam was so kind? He could be just as vitriolic as Janey could—it's not like he didn't retaliate in just as nasty a manner as she often dished out. "Whatever," she mumbled, back to observing the pair across the bustling diner.

Isabella now seemed to be stroking the back of Sam's hand atop the table, and they were both still beaming at each other like they were the only two people in on some big, shared secret. Every time it looked as though Sam was easing into some sense of confidence, he did something to screw it up—accidentally kneed Isabella under the table, or almost knocked a decorative vase onto the floor—after which he would turn profusely red and she would just laugh off, clearly endeared.

"Janey, your tea," Rose reminded the snooping girl.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Janey asked, ignoring Rose once more as the couple broke out into another round of giggles, this time their heads coming even closer together. It would really only take a slight movement for one of them to press their lips to the other's, or for them both, mutually, to bring their mouths together in a shared, tender moment.

Isabella's eyes very noticeably flickered to Sam's lips before settling back on his face. Oh, she wanted him to kiss her, Janey recognised with rising aggravation. Sam seemed to have noticed the movement too, because finally, after a nervous gulp to brace himself, he had closed the gap between them, both of them closing their eyes in blissful surprise.

"Oh!" Rose exclaimed, sounding enamoured. "Oh, their first kiss," she sighed in awe.

Janey felt sick to her stomach.

It was barely a kiss, just a nervous, fleeting, pressing together of their mouths, that lasted maybe only a couple of seconds, and in which they definitely clashed their teeth together, but Rose's gushy cooing coupled with Janey's immense jealousy over the fact that she hadn't even gotten to sample anything similar with Roman, left her feeling like someone had physically stuck her. Janey's entire body went immediately numb, and then, slowly, that inexplicable anger came creeping back in, consuming her entire body like she had been set ablaze.

"Let's get out of here," she said, rising to her feet with impatience. It suddenly felt very stuffy in that diner, and Janey wanted to breathe in some fresh air.

But as she pushed away from the table, in her eagerness to escape, Janey had sent her undrunk mug of tea clattering to the floor, where it promptly shattered, its contents seeping out across the decorative tiles.

Rose gasped in shock, but just as quickly, she had reflexively cleared the mess with her wand. Janey wasn't hanging around to see if the waiters would make a snide comment, or if her commotion had caused Sam and Isabella to spring apart and notice the two snooping girls across the diner.

The wave of cool air that enveloped her as she burst outside hit Janey as suddenly as the wave of anger had, but whereas she adjusted quickly to the former, the latter didn't seem to be dissipating at all.

Rose appeared seconds later. "Well, as far as first dates go, I've never had someone burst out without even offering to pay," she said lightheartedly. "And I never did get my pancakes!"

But when she noticed that Janey wasn't matching her teasing energy, Rose rushed to her friend's side, immediately concerned. "Janey, are you okay?"

"Oh—yeah," the blonde girl said, forcing herself to offer a weak smile. "I just… it was pretty stuffy in there, and I was starting to feel sick."

But Janey knew the truth. She knew it was because the sight of Sam and Isabella sharing a cosy, little kiss filled her with such an overriding hatred for the pair of them that she had felt like either screaming at the top of her lungs or throwing the teapot straight across the room at them. And the only viable option had been to flee.

They were just both of them so sickeningly smug. It made her feel sick. That was all.

Losing Roman felt too fresh. That's why it affected her so much. Especially because it was all Sam's fault, and he had the nerve to be swanning around town with Isabella right in front of Janey after he had ruined her own shot at romance. How dare they get to flaunt their romance in front of her! Even if they didn't realise they had been.

Janey had a sudden panicked thought. "Did they see us?"

"I don't know," Rose confessed sheepishly. "I didn't hang around to see."

Janey knew Sam would be livid if he'd caught sight of the two of them spying on his little date, but the fact that he hadn't burst from the diner to confront them assured her that they'd perhaps gotten away with it. Perhaps they hadn't noticed because they were already sharing their second kiss and had dived straight back in, tongues first, blissfully unaware of the world around them because they were just so sickeningly happy.

"We should get out of here," Janey said, longing to put as much distance between herself and the diner as possible.

Rose looked concerned. "Is everything okay, Janey?"

"Yeah—let's go meet up with Gwen and Taylor."

"But—"

"Or James."

"But Janey—"

"Let's go."

Sam had never felt happier in his entire life. How could he not when he was so blissfully, ecstatically in love. And this time, it was reciprocated!

Isabella was everything he had ever dreamed of—and more. Forget Rose, forget Ebony, forget any other girl he might have fleetingly held any kind of affection for previously, Isabella was the one—he was certain of it. He had never met someone so beautifully kind, and smart, and whose heart seemed to be so sweetly pure. Conversation flowed so easily between them, she was witty, she was charming—and she was so breathtakingly beautiful that he wondered why he'd never really given her a second glance in Prefect meetings before.

He supposed it was because he was too often distracted by his idiotic co-Prefect finding a new, creative way to piss him off. But even Janey couldn't put a damper on Sam's good mood following his first date with Isabella. In fact, she seemed to be avoiding him entirely. He supposed she was still sulking about that Hufflepuff guy dumping her—as though Sam had anything to do with that—but he would take the sweet sense of freedom whilst it lasted.

Everything seemed brighter to Sam following his Hogsmeade date. Colours seemed to be particularly vibrant within the grounds, the sun felt warmer on his skin, and he was certain he could hear birdsong much clearer than he ever had before. It was as though nature itself knew he was in love and was making a special effort to brighten every day.

Despite how terrifyingly nervous he had been, Sam had felt so immediately at ease around Isabella on their date. He only hoped his clear inadequacy was viewed by her as endearing rather than offputting. She had certainly not seemed put off by him—laughing at all his jokes, holding his hand across the table—and she had not recoiled in horror when he had dared to kiss her, despite how awkwardly he had clashed his teeth against her own.

He would get better, Sam vowed. It had been their first kiss, after all—and though he wasn't sure he would want to admit it to Isabella, it had been his first kiss ever.

And it had been so wonderful—in spite of the awkward clashing. It had been sweeter than he'd ever imagined, her lips soft and warm against his own, his body feeling completely weightless as his stomach did somersaults. It had only been cut short because somebody had shattered a teacup across the diner and it had distracted them both. Sam had been temporarily disoriented, convinced that the wave of red hair he had briefly glimpsed had belonged to Rose.

But why would Rose have been present in the exact same diner he and Isabella had happened to be spending their first date in?—he'd considered. Rose had lots of cousins, Sam had reasoned, who shared as vibrant a hair colour, uncomfortable with the idea that his mind might have otherwise been subconsciously conjuring thoughts of her.

He had not had the courage to kiss Isabella a second time, paranoid that other people he knew might be watching him. They had been in Hogsmeade, after all—they weren't exactly anywhere hidden and seclusive. He had awkwardly planted a kiss on her cheek when they had eventually departed after returning to the castle, but that was it.

Sam longed to kiss her properly again, but timing was proving difficult. It had only been three days since their date, but they had rarely crossed paths. To Sam, it felt like an eternity. He craved Isabella's company for the sheer happiness that being with her provided, but he was also seeking clarity. Although from his end, it had seemed to go pretty well, Sam was somewhat paranoid that Isabella might not necessarily reciprocate those feelings. It consumed him night and day—wondering if the magical spark he had sensed between them had been mutual and not just imagined. What if she'd thought it was horrible and never wanted to see him again but was simply too polite to have shown it?

Sam needed to see her properly to know. Perhaps he could secure a second kiss—or even a second date?

He knew exactly where and when he was likely to find her, and was relieved indeed when he slid into the library during a shared free period one evening to find her poring over a book in her favourite armchair.

"Izzy," he gushed without thinking, just happy to see her again. They'd locked eyes a few times at meals and crossed paths in a few classes, but they had barely gotten a proper moment to be alone together and have a real conversation.

"Sam," Isabella said in surprise, looking up from her textbook. Thankfully, she relaxed into a warm smile at the sight of him, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

Sam wasn't sure why he had called her Izzy, having never used the nickname before. He was sure he had heard her brother use it, but was it deluded of him to assume such an immediate level of intimacy with her? Fortunately, she seemed to delight in the use of it. And she did look genuinely happy to see him.

Sam felt himself relax slightly. "How, err, how was your day?"

"Boring until now," she said coyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Sam settled into the armchair beside her. "Glad to hear it," he said with a grin, before immediately frowning. "Not, err, glad that your day was boring," he clarified, turning red himself. "But I'm glad that your day is now… not so boring."

Thank God she laughed.

"What are you working on?" he dared to ask, hoping he could actually successfully come across as charming.

"Transfiguration essay," Isabella sighed.

Sam smiled. Transfiguration was one of the few classes they shared. He had already done his own essay. For whatever reason, Transfiguration seemed to come much easier to him than other subjects did, and he found he rather enjoyed it.

"Oh, nice," he said a little too eagerly, realising how lame he had sounded, but Isabella only looked endeared once more.

"I think you're the only person who actually enjoys Transfiguration," she teased. "And that's coming from a Ravenclaw!"

"Well, what's your favourite subject then?" Sam asked, genuinely interested. He wanted to know everything there was to possibly know about her.

Isabella seemed to ponder the question. "Charms," she eventually decided, and Sam enjoyed how sweetly her eyes lit up as she said it.

"Well, how about this," Sam suggested. "You help me with my Charms homework and I'll help you with your Transfiguration essay."

"What makes you think I want your help?" Isabella asked, her tone playful.

Sam just continued to grin. "It's an offer you can't refuse—not a lot of people even get the opportunity for such esteemed academic counsel. You should count yourself lucky."

"Yeah?" Isabella snorted.

"Oh, yeah," Sam enthused.

"Hmm. Well, I feel like your being here will only serve more as a distraction," she said, dropping her voice low and leaning in ever so slightly.

Sam felt his heart flutter. God, he wanted to kiss her, and he assumed she wanted to kiss him too—but surely not right there in the library?

He cleared his throat. "I could be a distraction too," he suggested flirtatiously. "If the essay ever gets too boring for you."

Isabella smirked. "As tempting as that offer is, I do actually really need to get this done."

In truth, Sam felt a little relieved. Determined as he was to recapture that fleeting high when their lips had finally touched—and this time, he hoped it would go a little smoother and last a little longer—he really didn't feel comfortable putting on a show right there in the library. God knows James would probably be lurking around somewhere and take the piss. Although, he couldn't recall a time he had ever seen the Head Boy set foot in the library. No, likely it would be Rose or someone, and Sam would feel far too flustered.

"Well," Sam declared, hoping he was masking his relief by acting confident and cool, "the offer to distract remains in place for whenever you choose to cash it in."

He leant back in his chair, hoping he had come across as flirtatiously charming rather than cocky. It sounded like the kind of thing James would say—and pull off effortlessly—but maybe it just made Sam look like a prick.

Thankfully, Isabella's smirk hadn't dropped at all. "Good to know," she replied slyly, and Sam relaxed once more.

The two spent the remainder of their free period working on their individual essays, and Sam felt it must be what true bliss was. The fact that they could spend their time together in comfortable silence, working alongside each other, just enjoying each other's company without any lingering awkwardness or pressure to converse, was truly incredible to him. It was like they were friends already—or had been friends for years. But friends who, Sam thought excitedly, got to kiss every now and again.

And whilst he enjoyed their comfortably silent companionship, Sam was highly aware that he had now placed a glaring expectation on their time together. He had as good as declared that he was going to kiss Isabella again, and now he was completely in his head about when he would do it and how it might go. Chances were that he would screw it up again.

Isabella might have assumed the nerves of their first date were responsible for Sam's awkward clashing when he'd first kissed her, but what if she was expecting more the second time around? If he screwed it up again then it was going to be blindingly obvious that it wasn't just a one-off—Sam was simply bad at kissing. And maybe that would be enough for her to never want to attempt it again. Oh, God, his next kiss with Isabella could very well be his last if it wasn't something exceptional.

As their free period came to a close, and Isabella expressed her desire to return to the Ravenclaw Tower, Sam didn't need to think twice before offering to walk her back. But the knot of anxiety that had already formed in his stomach only tightened with every step he took towards her common room.

When they had reached the now-familiar door, Sam stopped to face her. "I think all the extra cardio I've been getting in by constantly climbing all the way up the Ravenclaw Tower has done more for me than the entire last year of Quidditch practice has," he said lightheartedly, hoping he didn't actually come across as breathless and sweaty as he was paranoid he might be.

Isabella laughed—that beautiful sound he was rapidly becoming accustomed to. "Hey—no one's forcing you up here!" she playfully went along. "I'm more than capable of walking back by myself." But the way she was fluttering her eyelashes at him let Sam know she very much appreciated it.

"But it's the gentlemanly thing to do," Sam insisted with a grin.

"Mhmm," Isabella murmured in agreement. She stared up at him with her deeply entrancing eyes. How had they gotten so close? "It's what good boyfriends do."

Sam froze.

After a moment of shock, his heart seemed to have caught up with what she'd said and was now beating a mile a minute. Boyfriend—he repeated the word in his mind, stunned that she had so casually thrown it out. Is that what he was? After just one date? It wasn't that it wasn't precisely what Sam had ultimately been aiming for, but he had thought they would be dating for longer before they agreed upon any labels. And, he considered, he had thought he was supposed to actually ask her.

But was this Isabella's way of asking him?

She did not seem startled by her blasé use of the word, but rather looked stirred with playful confidence, like not only had she fully intended to say what she'd said, but couldn't comprehend why there would even be any question of why she wouldn't use it.

Sam grinned even deeper. "Boyfriend?" he echoed, very much liking the way it sounded. "Is that what I am?"

He felt nervous as he awaited her answer, perhaps expecting her to break out into heartless laughter and declare she had obviously been joking. But when Isabella did laugh, it wasn't with cruelty. In fact, it seemed like she was both amused and endeared, like she couldn't believe he was even asking.

"Well," she eventually said, taking hold of both of his hands and pulling him closer, "I like the way it sounds."

Sam gulped. How was this real, he thought giddily. How was this not a dream? A beautiful, wonderful dream?

Something like electricity seemed to spark between them. Was it really that easy? Sam had thought there might have been months of hanging out, and chatting, and dating, and even more kissing, before he would have to communicate with her clearly whether or not they were defining what they had as an official, exclusive relationship. He thought he would have to lamely ask her to be his girlfriend like he was some awkward, inexperienced first-year.

But apparently no conversation was required whatsoever—and he was rather glad for it.

Samuel Tyler: Boyfriend of Isabella Fontayne.

Oh, yes, he rather liked the way it sounded. Who knew it could be so simple?

"I like the way it sounds too," Sam said in a low murmur, letting his thumbs run over the back of her knuckles. He and Isabella were so close that he could anticipate the feel of her lips before he even pressed his mouth to hers.

And that time, their teeth didn't clash.

Author's Note: Title and epigraph inspired by Halsey's 'I Hate Everybody'