┏ ೋღ : 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂. ೋღ ┓

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗;
𝔡𝔢𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔳𝔦𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔰

┗━━ ೋღ : ©-fictophilic : ೋღ ━━━┛

𝕷UNCH HAD COME AND GONE QUICKLY. Now, you were waiting alone and sat in the Clock Tower — sitting on the edge, by the window on the window sill, with your feet propped up in front of you and your school bag set on the floor beside you. The glass was slightly tinted and a little dirty, but boy was the view great.

Looking over the Clock Tower Courtyard, an antique fountain surrounded by statues of eagles resided in the center of said courtyard. Past the mossy stone walls fencing the courtyard were grassy hills, a view of the Great Lake, and — if you squinted — you could see Hogsmeade in the distance.

Seconds flew by, a noticeable ticking coming from the inner mechanisms from within the Clock Tower — not that you minded. You liked how the ticking covered up the silence, providing background noise as you contently read your book.

Kyra and Luna were in class right now while you had some time to spare before your Charms class begins. If you didn't have them around, you just found refuge in some random place around the Hogwarts Grounds and read a book.

Being one to dislike social environments, you had discovered many great places to spend time by yourself over the years. Great places for silence, for great views, or just somewhere to sit and observe your surroundings.

The places varied from the Great Lake, to Sundial Garden, to the Clock Tower. Some places were quiet, like a little secluded corner of the library. Other places were noisy, in case you needed the background noise concentrate; like the Grand Staircase as there were a few stairs students rarely used.

"In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

The words in the book were read in your mind, your eyes tracing over the print. Highlighters and colorful sticky tabs laid in your open lap, a black retractable pen clamped between your lips as you read in concentration. Occasionally, you took out a highlighter and highlighted phrases then stuck a matching sticky tab near the edge of the page.

You had previously wanted to read over the new fifth-year Charms textbook you were given to by Professor McGonagall, but you were lazy. You honestly didn't wanna study, so you had put that away moments ago after only skimming over the first few pages.

Besides, a romance novel was much more interesting than a Charms textbook.

You were so focused, you almost hadn't noticed the incoming footsteps.

Almost.

Light footsteps made the metal flooring creak with every step, a soft pattering coming your way. It had stopped after a few seconds, instead being replaced by a small, familiar voice. "Oh, sorry. I didn't know anyone would be here."

Your immersion in your book was momentarily paused and you trailed your eyes up to the voice.

It was a girl no older than a second-year. Her hair was flaming red, her light complexion dotted with freckles, and her bright eyes were the color of the ocean.

"Oh, Ginny," you greeted in surprise as you had rarely run into anyone in the Clock Tower. "No, it's fine. I can leave if you want to stay here."

"Oh no! I-It's fine, I mean," she stammered. Clutched in her hands were some papers, an inkwell, and a quill. A brown worn down bag hung on her shoulder. "I just do my homework here sometimes. Do you mind if I..." She didn't need to finish her sentence as she gestured to the other side of the window sill.

"Oh, no. Go ahead," you replied, slightly bringing your knees closer to your chest to give Ginny some room to sit. She sat down in front of you, her legs crossed as she rested her back against the stone wall next to the Clock Tower window glass on the opposite side of you.

Returning your attention to your book, Ginny shyly spread her papers across the cold stone that you two sat on. "So, uhm, Luna mentioned you taking fifth-year Charms," Ginny spoke up quietly, inciting small talk and placing her black ink-filled inkwell beside the papers.

Shifting your eyes to the red-haired girl, you nodded wordlessly. "You're probably gonna be in the same class as my brothers. The twins," stated Ginny and she gazed at you. "I told them not to bother you, since I know they can be kinda... annoying. If they ever introduce themselves to you, just know that they might pretend to be each other and say the wrong name."

George and Fred Weasley were twins — her older brothers. They were infamous Hogwarts pranksters from the Gryffindor house. They were loud, troublesome, and well-known fifth-years on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as beaters.

It wasn't a surprise that you had never talked to them.

You just weren't the same as them.

"Oh, it's fine," you responded, slightly shaking your head. Your hair swished lightly at the motion then stilled, your book's open pages being hugged into your chest. "They're two years above me. I doubt they know who I am anyway, but thank you."

She smiled, lowering her head to focus on her homework and you returned to reading your book. Her hand gently gripped her quill and she dipped it into her inkwell, plunging it into black ink.

The scratching of the quill against the parchment paper and the ticking of the Clock Tower filled the silence. You turned the page, your mind enthralled by the words on the page and the passages of the story.

Seconds passed, turning into minutes, turning into moments. Muffled chatter and laughter of children below were heard just outside of the tower through an open window of the Clock Tower's face.

"Uhm, (Y/n)," Ginny shyly called out, her small voice drawing your attention away from the pages once against. "Could you help me? I'm stuck on this question."

You glanced up, nodding in response to her question as you wanted to be helpful. Finishing the sentence you were reading, you pressed the bookmark against the page and closed the book. Slightly leaning closer, you peer down at her paper. "What do you need help with?"

"It's Transfiguration homework," explained Ginny, turning the paper around to face you. Her name was written at the top of the paper and printed words were displayed in sections. The top half of the page had their questions answered already. You read over the question that Ginny was having trouble with.

"What is the incantation for the spell to reverse the effects of an incomplete transformation spell?" was the question.

"Reparifarge," you answered shortly.

"Repari... farge?" Ginny repeated, scribbling down the answer on the sheet of thin paper.

"It helps to remember it if you think of repair forge," you noted before awkwardly adding, "Except forge has an 'a' instead of an 'o', and the 'r' and 'i' switch places in repair... Maybe that doesn't help—"

"No, it does," Ginny interrupted with a bashful smile. "Thank you."

Returning her smile with an awkward one of your one, you reply, "Sorry. I'm not good with explaining things..."

"I think you're doing fine," Ginny mused and smiled to reassure you. "You're certainly more helpful than most of my brothers, that's for sure."

You hesitated before asking, "Are they really that bad?"

"Oh, 100%!" Ginny giggled. Her grin reached from ear to ear as her laughter rang. It was obvious she was joking, yet somewhat telling the truth at the same time. "George and Fred? They..."

Your question seemingly prompted Ginny to go on a rant about all six of her older brothers. You were more than willing to listen. It was easier to talk to her than some other people since you were both friends with Luna and Ginny was closer to your age than Rowan or Cedric.

There were levels — as you liked to call it — of openness and comfortability that you had.

Obviously, the very bottom; strangers, classmates — literally anyone and almost everyone. You had rarely, maybe even never, talked to them and they had never talked to you. Sure, you could know their name, or maybe not, but you still hadn't talked to them.

A level above that were acquaintances; class partners, people known through mutual friends, and occasionally professors. You would talk very little with them, honestly not bothering very much with trying to hold a conversation, and they would sometimes talk to you, but they'd usually need an incentive, like Kyra as a middle ground or classwork. You'd feel somewhat comfortable asking them a question, but not really at the same time. People like Dean Thomas, Cedric Diggory, and Rowan Webb would be sorted into this category.

Then there's the "not really friends, but would say they're friends to not seem like a total nobody" level. You could talk somewhat openly with them with Luna or Kya around, but be very awkward and struggle to hold a conversation without Luna or Kyra, which would make said conversations slightly one-sided. Ginny Weasley, Kyra's friend group, and Cho Chang would go here.

After that, there are your friends; the people you feel like you can be your weird self with, yet can't show physical affection towards. The ones that have seen you at what they think is your worst, yet have never seen you cry. You're so open with them, yet they don't know anything about what truly goes on in your mind. They know everything and nothing at the same time. Luna Lovegood and Kyra Murray have been the only ones in this category for a while.

Violaine Silvestre also belongs in that category — an old childhood friend you still frequently talk to. You would consider her your best friend since you've basically known her since diapers as your parents were friends, but she's living in France and has been for over the past decade, so Kyra takes the spot as your best friend. Still, Violaine has been a lifelong family friend and one of your closest confidants.

There's another category, completely detached and different from this hierarchy as it has nowhere to fit. It should be at the top, yet is somewhat at the bottom. You talk almost every day with these people, but you were rarely open or comfortable with them. You've known them longer than you've known your friends, yet conversations with these people very rarely go beyond the surface. They think they know you best, yet they know very little.

They don't even know how much you secretly despise, yet care, for them.

"Oh, and don't even get me started on Ron," continued Ginny. You only nodded in response, but your eyes still sparkled with interest and you listened intently.

Offering only short comments every now and then, it had never stopped her from speaking of her experiences. You liked that.

You liked how — no matter how expressionless and even your tone was, or how short and blunt your answers were — she'd still talk to you.

It felt like she didn't think you were too boring to talk to.

However, there was a very fine line between being a conversation carrier and taking over the conversation, but she never crossed it. It wasn't as if you had anything to talk about anyway.

Listening contently, you had learned many things about the Weasley kids.

George and Fred had once dyed Ron's hair neon pink.

Ron had accidentally set the kitchen stove on fire.

Charlie sends photos of the dragons he works with.

Bill has an interest in muggle Egyptian mythology.

Percy was caught snogging Penelope Clearwater by Ginny in her first year.

To say her life's interesting is an understatement. She seemed to have new stories to tell every day.

You only had a younger brother — a 10-year-old who would be going into his first year of Hogwarts next year. Nasty little git, he was, and Leon (L/n) was his name.

You didn't hate him, per se, but you certainly didn't love him either. 

Well, sometimes you did, sometimes you didn't.

There were moments when he felt like your best friend and there were other times when you just wanted to murder him, slowly.

But honestly, you didn't know if you didn't like him because of the way he acts, or the way your parents treat him in comparison to you.

"And then what happened?" You asked after Ginny had told the story of Fred and George pelting their neighbor with exploding grapes.

"The neighbor moved away and Mum grounded them for a few days," replied Ginny with a hum and wrote some more answers onto her Transfiguration homework.

"Only a few?" You questioned. Your parents would've killed you if you had pulled a stunt like that.

"Yeah," Ginny sighed, shrugging her shoulders. "Mum knows it wouldn't have done anything anyway."

You chuckled lightly and slightly shook your head, an amused grin etched on your features. Your eyes wandered around your surroundings, trailing up the hand of the large clock from the other side of the glass.

The time read 1:21.

You had been chatting with Ginny for around a half hour, and your Charms class would start in about nine minutes. "Oh, I got to go. I have Charms soon," you mentioned, pivoting to place your feet onto the metal flooring.

"Oh, alright," said Ginny. Her tone held a tad bit of disappointment and her eyes were downcast.

Packing your highlighters and sticky notes into your bag, you let your lips slightly tug upward and play into a soft smile. "Uhm, it was nice talking with you," you note nervously, clutching your novel into your chest.

"Yeah! It was nice talking with you too," she beamed and peered up from her paperwork. Her skin was flushed, a faint blush easily being seen in contrast to her pale complexion. Her brown eyes gazed into yours, her eyes expressing sincerity and bit of optimism. "I'll, uhm... I'll see you later?"

"Yeah, see you later," you responded, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You gave a slight wave and departed from the Clock Tower.

Ginny struggled to bite back a triumphant smile as she watched you disappear around the corner. She glanced down at her homework and was held in her besotted thoughts. 'I talked to her once. I can do it again, right?'

You walked down the somewhat crowded hall and stared straight ahead, holding your head high. You needed to walk into Charms like you knew what you were doing. No one would question you if you looked like you knew you belonged there, right?

Despite the outward confidence, you couldn't help but let the anxious thoughts take over.

'Merlin, what if people look at me like I'm an idiot?'

'What if Rowan and Cedric don't even talk to me?'

'Actually, that'll probably be fine. I don't talk to anyone in some classes anyway.'

'But what if people think I'm some friendless loser?'

'Screw that, who cares?'

'I care!'

Your feet stopped in front of the Charms classroom. The door was wide open, allowing you to see the several people inside the room already — all of whom looked pretty kind of intimidating.

There were sort of distinct groups of students talking to each other. Friend groups were scattered around the room with a few loners or duos sprinkled in. On every desk were two apples, one for each person.

Swallowing your nerves, you walked into the classroom just a few minutes before class started. Your eyes scanned the room for a place to sit — somewhere where you wouldn't bother anyone and you could potentially go unnoticed.

"Yo, (Y/n)! Over here!"

'Welp, that plan just went out the window,' you inwardly groaned and snapped your head in the direction of the voice.

Rowan leaned back in his chair, excitedly waving you over to where his little group sat down. His group sat on the very right of the room — the third and fourth row. Rowan sat on the right of a Gryffindor boy in the third row and two Gryffindors sat at the table in front of his — a boy and a girl.

At the table on Rowan's right, in the fourth row, was a table where Cedric sat alone. In front of Cedric's table were two very familiar twins.

"Ced saved you a seat!" Rowan exclaimed, watching you walk towards them with slight embarrassment with your arm still holding your book.

"Oh, uhm, thanks," you said softly and pulled out the wooden chair, tactfully moving it to avoid the horrendous screeching noise it'd make if it scraped on the floor.

"No problem," Cedric replied and smiled kindly. You sat down in the chair and placed your bag on the desk in front of you. Shoving your book into your bag, you slide your Charms textbook out with a fresh notebook that you were planning on filling with fifth-year Charms notes.

"So, how was your morning?" Cedric inquired curiously as you placed your inkwell and quill on your desk.

"Uhm, it was... good, I guess," you answered shortly, also taking your wand out and putting it on your desk.

"What classes did you have?" Cedric asked, continuing to incite small talk.

"Divination and Care of Magical Creatures."

"Oh? How was Hagrid's first time teaching?" He questioned, not seemingly bothered by your blunt answers. Even though he held a comforting smile, you still couldn't help but feel tense, like one wrong move and he'd think you're weird and crazy.

"It wasn't bad," you stated bluntly, inwardly cursing yourself for being like this; awkward, anxious, and having a resting bitch face. You avoided eye contact and he nodded, looking as if was trying to think of a way to continue the conversation, or maybe even end it there.

Probably end it — since, with your short and expressionless answers, it seemed like you didn't want to talk. It was a half-truth; you were tired and were completely fine with silence, but at the same time, you had also wanted to at least make friends in this class to make it more tolerable and less awkward.

'Look