Chapter 4 : Sandwiches & Other Potential Beloveds
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Professor Flitwick looked up at the choir with pride gleaming all over his small face.
“Well done! Fantastic practice! This piece is sounding excellent!” he cried, vanishing his pile of music with a flourish of his wand.
The choir all smiled sheepishly back at him. To be honest, we didn’t sound excellent at all but I accepted Professor Flitwick’s faux encouragement anyway.
Professor Flitwick waved at us cheerfully then toddled out of the classroom. I followed him with a small army of first and second years flocking behind me. The choir, like most of the extra-curricular activities offered at Hogwarts, was full of eager first and second years, desperate to make a mark on their school.
When we reached got to the Great Hall, I was surprised to see quite a few of people at breakfast. It was still early morning. Usually on the weekend, people slept in and missed breakfast altogether.
“Finally hanging around people your own size, McLaggen?” I heard someone call.
I turned to see Fred grinning at me and the tiny first and second years.
“They’re better company than you.” I replied hotly, dropping into a seat between Raymond and Tom.
“I seriously doubt it,” Fred jeered back.
“Fred ruffles your feathers a lot these days.” Tom observed, waving at Fred.
“That’s how Fred tries to make friends. He teases.” Dom drawled exasperatedly.
Dom's air of superiority was marred as she mistakenly took Tom’s wave for a high-five and slapped his palm with her own.
Oh, Dom. You hilarious child.
Wait. No. I was supposed to be mad at Dom.
“Oh, whatever. Good morning friends.” I said sweetly. “And Dominique.”
Dom rolled her eyes at me from across the table.
Dom and I had a row.
Last week, on the morning after my first visit to the prefects bathroom, I told Dom about my stroke of genius in regards to her party location. I built up so much suspense – I gave her clues. I fell into excited peals of laughter. I started planning how to decorate the place. For the grand finale, I led her to the prefect’s bathroom, blindfolded.
I mean, am I a good friend, or what?
But when I took the blindfold off her, she was not amused.
Let me emphasise this. SHE WAS NOT AMUSED.
This may or may not have been because we could hear someone peeing in one of the cubicles.
But other than that minor snag, the bathroom was still pretty majestic.
Dom didn’t seem to think so. We had been arguing about her party location for a week.
“Well excuse me for not wanting to have my birthday party in a toilet.” Dom muttered fiercely, taking an aggressive bite of toast.
“For the last time, Dom, it’s not just any toilet. It’s the prefects’ bathroom.” I hissed.
“People still pee there.” She said conclusively.
“What’s this about peeing?” Fred chimed chirpily, sliding up the bench next to Dom.
“None of your business, nosy.” replied Dom sharply. “Where’s your other half?”
“James? He’s down at the Quidditch pitch, obviously.” Fred replied, taking a sip of Dom’s coffee.
For the first time that morning, I realised that Fred and Raymond were in their red Quidditch robes.
Of course. Today, Potter was holding the Gryffindor Quidditch team try-outs. No wonder so many people were at breakfast.
Wait. Hold your hippogriffs.
I was trying out for the Quidditch team.
“Sophie,” Ray began saying, one beat behind me, “Aren’t you trying ou-”
I grabbed Tom’s wristwatch and let out a strangled yelp.
I had five minutes until try-outs started.
I galloped out of the Great Hall, dusting toast crumbs off my fingers and swearing mutinously as I went.
Puffing loudly, I looked up at the sky, thankful that I had made it on time. It was a chilly, overcast day. The Quidditch pitch was illuminated by weak rays of sunlight peering in from the clouds.
“I just want to say, before we begin, that you’re all winners.” Potter stated, smiling charmingly and pacing in front of the line of potential chasers.
I raised an eyebrow at this. I couldn’t believe that I once fancied such a cheeseball.
For the position of chaser, I was up against Roxanne Weasley, Hugo Weasley, Cathy Wood, two random but pretty fifth-year girls and a weedy-looking second year.
Everyone knew that Roxanne and Hugo would be chosen for chaser, along with James himself. They were on the team last year. Potter always made his original team re-try-out to make sure that their Quidditch skills hadn’t faltered over the summer holidays.
I guess you could say that Potter was pretty laid-back about Quidditch.
(Note the sarcasm.)
“I want you to split up into two teams, get in the air and do a simple passing circle, okay?” Potter said, passing one quaffle to Roxanne and one to me.
We split up and I was lumped onto the team with the fifth-year girls and the weedy-second year.
I sighed. Of course I was.
I passed the quaffle to the weedy second year and he caught it, but was painfully knocked backwards from the impact of the ball. Hah. I must throw harder than I thought.
He passed it rather pathetically to the fifth year and she caught it, letting a smug, self-congratulatory grin slip out.
She ran her hands over the Quaffle casually, looking at Potter, who was facing the other group of chasers.
“Pass the quaffle!” I hollered at her. She was wearing a lot of makeup. That irritated me.
“Wait!” She hissed back, her eyes hot on Potter’s back.
Oh, I understand. She’s an attention-seeking hoe bag. My bad. Please, random girl, continue waiting for Potter to turn around so you can hog his attention.
And like a charm, as soon as Potter spun to face us, Attention-Seeking Hoe Bag smiled again and threw the Quaffle at her friend, the other fifth-year.
It was a poorly aimed throw and the other girl lunged at the quaffle madly. In the process, I thought heard something rip. The quaffle fell to the ground whilst the girl noticed the large gash on the side of her robes, exposing her skin. She let out a cry of mortification, and then flew off the pitch, shoulders shaking.
The crowd’s laughter didn’t help. Heaps of people had turned up to spectate the Quidditch try-outs.
The weedy-second year and I exchanged a flabbergasted look.
“Oh, shit. Casey!” The Attention-Seeking Hoe-Bag cried, “Come back! I’m so sorry, babe!”
She then looked at the weedy second year and I desperately. Her makeup was sliding down her face, along with a slight sheen of sweat.
“Go after your friend. She’s upset.” I said to her flatly.
“It’s not like you were going to get chaser, anyway.” The weedy second year added, flying up behind my shoulder.
Wow. I looked at him in admiration. He may be weedy-looking, but this kid had some seriously un-weedy sass.
The Attention-Seeking Hoe-Bag made a whining noise, but flew toward the ground and ran off to find her friend.
Potter was completely unconcerned about Attention-Seeking Hoe Bag and her Impromptu-Stripper-Friend. He made us do a few more Quidditch drills and then called us back down. I was still exhausted from my sprint down to the pitch, but overall, I had performed pretty averagely throughout the trial.
It was funny to see Potter’s usual carefree face looking so serious. He was taking notes feverishly as we were flying, and was now hunched over his clipboard like he was contemplating a serious algebraic equation.
“We’ve got a lot of potential here, guys.” He said seriously.
Pfft. What a liar. The tosser was going to pick Roxanne and Louis, like he had done for the past two years.
“But I’ll leave my decision ‘til the end.” He concluded, gesturing us toward the edge of the pitch, where all the other Quidditch players were waiting to try out.
As Potter shouted at the seekers to come up and try out, I caught his eye.
After the first prefect patrol, I thought that maybe, just maybe, Potter and I could be friends. I mean, he showed me his grandfather’s map; we had fun in the prefect bathrooms and he called me ‘mate’ for Godrics sake.
But you know what he did on our second patrol? Nothing.
He didn’t even show up.
I know. What a bloody git. What a class-A arsehole. I had been so freaked out, patrolling the dark corridors by myself. On the deserted, seventh floor, I had walked into a spider web and there was no one to tell me if there was a spider on me. I was literally whimpering for two days after that.
Walking past Potter on the pitch, I narrowed my eyes and turned my nose up at him.
Not exactly the best way to treat your potential Quidditch captain, but let’s face it, I’d probably be made reserve chaser again.
Once the seekers got up in the air, Charlie performed outstandingly, capturing the snitch in about three minutes.
I knew we were related. The McLaggens are a talented bunch.
I didn’t cheer Charlie on whilst he was flying because he made me swear that I wouldn’t. Apparently, at last year’s Quidditch try-outs I had, and I quote, “embarrassed him more than anyone, ever, in the history of embarrassment.”
Can you believe him?
Me? Embarrassing? Never.
Lily Potter wasn’t a bad seeker either. She looked awesome whilst flying. Her red hair whipped around her face like fire.
The rest of the trials went smoothly; Fred and Raymond had their beater positions in the bag, and the keepers were all consistently pathetic.
After what seemed like forever, Potter blew his whistle to signal the end of the trials.
“Okay so, you guys were all really great today.” Potter said hoarsely. He had lost his voice progressively throughout the trials. I’m not going to lie, his husky voice sounded incredibly sexy.
“I’m going to look over my notes and hopefully I’ll post up a team list in the common room soon.”
This was met by many irritated sighs and mutters about being able to leave the try-outs ages ago. I also grumbled quite a bit. It was lunch time and my stomach was practically eating itself alive.
“I’m starving.” I groaned to no one in particular.
“Me too.” Fred piped up, suddenly appearing next to me. “Let’s roll, mamacita.”
And with that, he grabbed my hand and began sprinting toward the Quidditch pitches’ exit.
I ran along with Fred, laughing for no reason at all. Hunger does weird things to me.
“FRED?” James shouted after us huskily, “Where’re you going? You need to help me pack up.”
“LUNCH, YOU BOSSY PRAT.” Fred bellowed back, waving at Potter in a Queen-like fashion whilst running with high knees.
We burst into the Great Hall, puffing madly. I spotted Connor and Tom sitting together and made a beeline for them.
“Is that how you pick up girls? ‘Let’s roll mamacita’?” I asked Fred, chuckling.
“That’s all there is to it, my friend. I make my pick-up lines bilingual for maximum sexiness.” Fred informed me, in a tone of voice suitable for a lively advertisement.
“Hey, how were try-outs?” Connor greeted us. Connor had once told me that he was terrified of heights, and preferred not sitting in the Quidditch stadium unless it was absolutely necessary.
“They were pretty average.” I smiled back, ready to launch into a tirade about the fifth years I had been stuck with. I was interrupted, however, by Fred’s whimpering.
“The sandwiches …” he whispered, miserably stroking the air where the plate of sandwiches had just disappeared into.
“Oh. Looks like we missed lunch.” I lamented.
Fred’s breathing had gone rather shaky. He looked like he was going to cry.
“Damn Potter and his stupid lengthy trials.” I hissed, stomping my foot in anger under the table.
“ARGH!” Fred howled, clutching his foot in agony.
Then Fred really started crying.
Like the blubbering and whimpering sort of crying. He lowered his head onto the table to preserve his last few shreds of dignity.
“I was jus–just so hungry,” he whispered, shoulders shaking. “And then y-y-you practically Avada Kedavra’d my foot…”
I looked at Connor in bewilderment.
It happens, Connor mouthed, waving his hand flippantly.
“Aw Fred, I’m sorry!” I patted Fred’s arm awkwardly.
“Please, don’t touch me.” Fred mumbled.
I moved away from Fred, exchanging a shocked look with Tom.
Connor, Tom and I literally sat there watching Fred cry in silence for three minutes.
Connor took abnormally loud slurps from his pumpkin juice. I constantly rearranged my sitting position. Tom sighed hopelessly a few times. All of us were so pathetic at dealing with emotional people.
You’re the girl; do something, Tom mouthed at me. I was insulted. As if being a female had anything to do with my abilities to console. Did he even know how awkward I was?
Still, I opened my mouth to apologise again to the crying mess that was Fred Weasley. I stopped mid-sentence when Fred popped his head up, smiling brightly at us all.
“What score would you give that, Con-man?” He asked Connor, wiping his face with his sleeve.
“I’d give your performance there about …” Connor broke off. “A seven out of ten.”
“A SEVEN!?” Fred exclaimed, scandalised. “Look at their faces, Connor. Look at them real good.”
Connor glanced at my puzzled expression and scanned Tom’s bemused one.
“Bastards!” Tom cried, “You were winding us up?”
“Yeah mate.” Fred cackled, unabashedly. “Ideally, I was hoping for Sophie to start crying as well – you know how she cries without the slightest provocation –”
Woah there, buckaroo.
I elbowed Fred in the stomach.
“I do not!” I objected fiercely. “And I knew you were faking, anyway.”
I pushed out from the table and started walking away. I wasn’t pissed or anything, I just needed to show Fred some real dramatic talent. And besides, I needed to shower.
Good god, I needed to shower.
“Don’t you want to come down to the kitchens with me?” Fred called from behind me.
I shook my head at Fred and my stomach started writhing in protest. I tried to tell myself that smelling good was more important than eating.
After a long and relaxing visit to the Prefect’s bathroom, I walked into the Common room to find Fred and Amy studying for a Charms quiz.
“Where’s Dom?” I asked them, pushing away wet, fragrant hair from my eyes.
“She’s giving Connor a good ol’ piece of her mind, behind the bookshelf.” Fred explained, tilting his head toward the other side of the common room.
I could just hear Dom’s shrill voice, muffled. I wondered what that was about.
“I got this for you, from the kitchens.” Fred continued, slapping a wrapped sandwich into my hand. “The house elves almost had a full-scale uprising when I told them my friend hadn’t had lunch either.”
I looked at Fred with wide eyes. Firstly, he brought me food, without even being asked. And I mean, the sandwich was beautiful – the kind of sandwich you see in a lunch box advertisement; I knew it would emit a satisfying crunch when I would bite it. And secondly, Fred referred to me as ‘my friend’ – words that I’d never anticipate coming out of his mouth.
SANDWICH. ‘My friend.’ SANDWICH. ‘My Friend.’ SANDWICH. ‘MY FRIEND.’
My brain seemed to be reaching some sort of ecstatic climax.
“I ACTUALLY LOVE YOU, FRED. YOU MAGNIFICENT SOUL, YOU BEAUTIFUL, BEAUTIFUL MAN!” I squealed with delight. I unwrapped the sandwich with one hand and gave Fred a one-armed squeeze with the other.
“So, you’re not going to go all bitchy on me?” He asked, surprised, “I’m forgiven?”
“You’re always forgiven if there’s food involved.” I assured him through a mouthful of bread.
I artfully left out the fact that I was never even mad at him. But if I got food out of it, I should probably be mad at him more often.
Amy was watching our whole interaction with a strained smile on her face. She had looked away when I hugged Fred. Something was definitely odd here. My spidey senses were tingling.
But, whatever. I had food.
“… IT’S OFFENSIVE TO THE WORD IDIOT TO CALL YOU AN IDIOT, CONNOR.” Dom screeched from behind the bookshelf.
Biding a hasty goodbye to Fred and Amy, I walked toward the bookshelf, racking my brains for what Connor crime could have possibly committed. Did he tell Dom that he fancied her? Fudgemuffins, that would be horrible. I was supposed to help him with Dom, and I totally forgot. Damn. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Potter come bounding down the boys dormitories steps, still in his quidditch robes.
“Took you long enough to get out of the bathroom.” He scoffed, chucking a towel over his shoulder.
“Were you spying on me with your little stalker map?” I asked coolly.
Potter shrugged vaguely, plucked the sandwich out of my hand and kept walking.
“HEY!” I cried, THEFT IS PUNISHABLE BY LAW, DUNGHEAD.”
I stared at him hopelessly as he shoved the last morsel of sandwich into his gob. Potter smirked at me over his shoulder and strode out of the portrait hole.
Not to sound like a six-year old or anything, but THAT WAS MY SANDWICH.
I heard a chorus of sighs, and caught a few fourth-year girls staring at me with poorly disguised envy. Could it be possible that they were jealous of me? Jealous because Potter stole my sandwich? No, no, that’s just silly. They were jealous of my jaw-droppingly gorgeous face, of course.
Hah. Good one, Sophie.
It’s obvious they were jealous of my somewhat social interactions with Potter. Admittedly, if I wasn’t me, I would be jealous of me, too. Potter may be a sandwich-stealing hoodlum but it was still deemed socially impressive to have him acknowledge your presence. It was weird to think that a few months ago, Potter wouldn’t have noticed me at all. Even if I was walking around with a ten-foot long sandwich.
Merlin, why am I completely over-analysing the simple relationship between Potter, myself and a sandwich?
I’M A FREAKING FREAK. THAT’S WHY.
Potter was a still a git though.
I was fuming when I flung myself the nook in which Dom’s voice was originating from. Dom was red in the face, and I could see her Veela-insanity flashing in her eyes. Woah. Not a good sign. Connor was cowering in the corner, his face pale but his expression still calm.
“What is going on here?” I asked stormily, hands on my hips; the epitome of justice.
“Connor’s a fucking dingbat, that’s what.” Dom replied, kicking a wall.
“He told her that I’m having my party in the prefect’s bathroom, Soph! Her!”
I looked at Connor with an expression that oozed ‘you poor, poor idiot.’
“She’s going to tell all her stupid friends that I’m having my party in a toilet!” Dom seethed.
The ‘her’ Dom was talking about was Jia Grayson.
Jia, and Dom have hated, no, detested each other since first year. There are many reasons for this loathing– rumours have been spread about one another, boyfriends have been stolen, petty pranks have been executed … the list goes on.
The real reason I think they hate each other is because they are too alike. Both are incredibly gorgeous – Dom’s an eighth Veela and Jia’s the daughter of that model, Cho Chang. Both of them are outspoken and clever. So naturally, with their combination of traits – attractiveness, outspokenness, intelligence, they’re both extremely popular. And they hate each other for it.
In Dom’s words, “There can only be one.” Whenever Dom says that, I assume she means ‘there can only be one alpha-top-bitch-of-Hogwarts. Because, I mean, that’s what Jia and Dom are fighting for, really. The Alpha-Top-Bitch-of-Hogwarts position.
Oh, did I mention that since Dom’s my best friend, I have to hate Jia just as much, possibly even more, than Dom?
I looked into Connor’s slightly bewildered eyes, feeling awful about what I was about to do.
“MERLINS BLOODY PANTS , CONNOR! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you sane?” I exclaimed. I threw my hands in the air in frustration.
Connor let out a breathy, guilty chuckle. A frustrated Dom was cradling her foot in her and wobbling dangerously.
“Do you realise what this means? Do you realise what you’ve done?” I continued, putting my arm around Dom, “By telling Jia, this means Dom will–”
“This means I’ll have to have my party in the bloody bathroom, you blithering idiot!” Dom interrupted me, flinging my arm off her shoulders. “I’m going to bed.”
“But it’s only five o’cloc–” Connor began, but Dom had already stalked out.
“Merlin, that was – ugh.” Connor sighed, shaking his head after Dom. “Why does she have to have her party in the bathroom now?”
“Because if she doesn’t, Jia will think she’s a chicken.” I said simply, coming to lean on the wall next to him. “But anyway, you’ve done me a huge favour. Now I don’t have to fight about it with Dom anymore.”
Connor wore a hopeless expression.
“She doesn’t hate you, you know.” I reassured him.
Connor turned to look at me, his face deadpan.
“She kicked a wall.”
“At least it wasn’t your groin.” I said cheerfully.
“True.” He agreed, nodding. “What do I do now, Sophie? Apologise to her?”
“Apologise?” I laughed incredulously, “No, no, no, babe.”
Connor grimaced at my use of his nickname but gestured me to go on.
“You need to bring Jia to Dom’s party.” I advised him, grinning.
“Yeah, okay.” He agreed sarcastically. “I might as well kill myself while I’m at it. Dom would skin me alive if I brought Jia.”
“Babe. Dom thinks you’re pretty boring. You need to do something interesting and something completely unlike yourself to get her attention.”
“Wow, Sophie, don’t sugar coat it too much.” Connor exclaimed flatly.
“You know I don’t think you’re a boring nerd, Connor. Dom might, but she just needs to know you better.”
Connor stayed silent.
“It’s not that you’re boring, really.” I pressed on, “It’s just that you’re not noticeable. Yep, that’s what it is! You’re not the most noticeable person. You don’t stand out. Yeah.”
Connor simply grunted. I bit my lip guiltily. I may have been too honest there. So I did what any good-natured guilty person would do.
“I’ve got to – um – go now.” I muttered, checking my watch unnecessarily. “Happy brooding.”
Yep. I got the hell out of that depressing nook in the wall.
It wasn’t because I was feeling awkward. No, no. Not at all. It was for Connor’s own good. You see, he needed personal reflection time and I provided him with that.
I’m a thoughtful and caring friend. No need to remind me.
Dom didn’t turn up for dinner, or breakfast the next day. She surprised me by turning up at lunch. She was, however, in her pyjamas.
“Shut up.” She greeted me, “I’m hungry.”
I shrugged and kept chewing. The best thing to do when Dom was angry was to leave her alone.
Fred and Potter walked into the Great Hall soon after her and I braced myself. Pissing off their already-pissed cousin was one of their favourite pastimes.
“Domiekins!” Fred positively shouted, “What a pleasure to see you out and about!”
They slid into the seats opposite Dom and I. They were wearing a pair of matching smirks.
“How about you lot sit somewhere else?” I suggested wearily.
“How about no?” Potter replied, tilting his head adorably.
Aggravatingly. I mean he tilted his head aggravatingly.
“Anyway.” Potter practically sang, his eyes slipping off me and onto Dom, “We heard about your –ahem –toilet-party, Dominique.”
Dom’s fork quivered on the way to her mouth.
“Have you, now?” She mumbled.
“Yeah!” Fred blurted out brightly, “We’re super excited! We think that the party is so ‘you’, you know? Everything about this party reflects who you are, as a person. Especially the location.”
They were so immature.
“Piss off.” I muttered, shooting them daggers with my eyes.
“Oh, shut up, Soph!” Dom snapped, “I know you’re over the freaking moon about the whole toilet thing. Don’t try and hide it.”
“I’m not over the moon about it!” I lied, suppressing the wild bubble bath fantasies that were currently partying through my mind.
Dom, Potter and Fred raised their eyebrows at me simultaneously, their family resemblance almost striking.
“Okay, fine!” I exclaimed, abashed. “I’m sorry that you’re sad about it Dom, but I reckon it’ll be great!”
“That means you are over the moon about it!”
“No, it doesn’t!’
“It does so! Are you, I don’t know, jealous of me or something, Soph? Because –”
“JEALOUS?” I exclaimed, flabbergasted. “I am not jealous. I’m just trying to give you a unique birthday experienc –”
“Looks like our work here is done, my man.” He muttered smugly to Fred. The two of them got up to leave.
“Where do they think they’re going?” I snapped, putting one hand up to silence Dom momentarily.
Dom looked at Potter and Fred’s retreating backs.
“Oh no, no.” She breathed deeply. She drew out her wand.
“Alohamora.” She muttered, grinning wickedly.
I smiled contently. Dom’s aim is flawless.
The spell squarely hit Potter’s belt. With a metallic click his buckle unlocked itself and his pants fell to the floor with a dull flop.
The Great Hall fell into murmurs. Potter didn’t turn around to see who had casted the spell.
There was an incredibly tense moment in which everyone in the Great Hall was either staring at Potter’s emerald briefs or at his rather robust legs.
Then the applause started.
Girls were screaming. Girls were jumping up and down. Girls were thanking Merlin for a miracle.
Then Potter winked at an outraged Professor McGonagall and began flexing.
The screaming intensified.
His muscles seemed to pop out of everywhere. I was taken off guard, but I shook myself a little and regained my sanity.
Dom looked at me, bewildered. I handed her a bread roll. She nodded, and with an almighty shriek, hurled it at her cousin’s bloated head. I pulled the basket of roll closer to us and aided my friend on her crusade.
“YOU THINK-” She yelled, throwing a roll, “YOU CAN MAKE SOPHIE AND I FIGHT?”
“PURELY FOR YOUR OWN ENTERTAINMENT?” I added testily, lobbing one at Fred.
“WELL THINK AGAIN!” Dom cried triumphantly. “TOSSERS!”
“GITS!” I called.
“GIT-FACED DUNG HEADS!”
And of course, by the time I had exclaimed that last term of endearment to Potter and Fred, the Great Hall had gone quiet again and Professor McGonagall was leading Potter out of the door by his ear. Fred was following close behind.
Some quizzical faces turned to me but thankfully, more people were watching Potter’s emerald-clad buttocks stumble out of the exit.
“Hey. Um. Is this a bad time?” Someone behind me asked.
I turned around, exhaling slowly to calm myself.
It was a Ravenclaw guy. A really hot Ravenclaw guy, who I think I’d seen in Care of Magical Creatures. He had caramel brown, messy hair and big, silvery grey eyes. Yum. It took me a few seconds to realize that he was accompanied by none other than the weedy second year from the Quidditch try outs.
“Hi. What’s up?” I replied, confused. “Wait – I mean, no! No, this is absolutely not a bad time!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dom shaking her head at me ruefully. The hot Ravenclaw chuckled, which made me feel a little less awkward.
“I’m Lorcan.” The guy said, “And I just wanted to say thanks for looking out for my bro, Lysander, at try outs today.”
The weedy second year – I suppose I should call him Lysander – smiled at me. I guess I had sort of taken him under my wing at try outs. I paired up with him for a few drills and covered a few of his slips with the Quaffle.
“Oh.” I smiled, “No worries! My pleasure!”
“Yeah well, thanks.” Lysander shrugged cheerily.
“Anyway, I’ll see you around.” Lorcan grinned, rubbing the back of his neck.
Whilst he was walking away, he turned around again, just to beam at me. I realised I hadn’t told him my name.
“Yeah, see you!” I replied, very nearly squeaking. “I’m Sophie, by the way!”
“I know.” Lorcan said simply, smiling. “Bye, Sophie.”
I sat back down next to Dom. She squeezed my hand tightly in hers. Both of us were squealing softly for about a minute.
“He smiles a lot.” I sighed dreamily.
“You have to bring him to my party.” Dom commanded.
“I barely know him. It’d be weird.” I groaned, cursing the whole concept of social etiquette. “Plus, he was only here to thank me for looking out for his brother.”
“You have to, Soph!” Dom whined. “He didn’t just come here to thank you for his brother. He like likes you. He’s just doing the whole ‘single-dad-with- a-pram’ pick up move but in this case, he’s using his brother!”
“Single-dad-with-a-what…” I muttered under my breath. “Please explain, my love guru.”
“Okay. In plain English: He used his little brother as an excuse to talk to you, because he likes you.” Dom explained. "You have to bring him."
I shook my head and Dom groaned, pulling apart the bread roll in her hands.
"Sophie! You've never had a boyfriend before and as your best friend, your bossom buddy, your sister from another mister, I feel that it is my duty to find you one."
I looked at Dom's eager face, seeing past the smudged eyeliner and angular cheekbones. I remembered the bossy thirteen year-old who had tried to set me up on "dates" so I would get over the cousin she knew I wouldn't have a chance with. I laughed internally. I felt like Dom was my best friend again.
I looked over to the Ravenclaw table, scanning to find Lorcan’s head. Dom yanked my body back around.
“Stop looking desperate! You’re not his girlfriend yet!” She whispered agitatedly.
I nodded meekly. Dom was the expert in this field.
“I’ll make you an offer.” Dom declared. “You bring Lorcan Scamander, aka the hottie with a body, to my party and I will not complain at all about having my party in the toilets.”
“Prefect’s bathroom.” I corrected.
“Whatever.” Dom sniffed.
I shook Dom’s hand.
“I think you’ve got yourself a deal there, Domiekins.”
"Can we make an unbreakable vow?"
A/N: Hey! This chapter is such a filler, not much plot at all.
It was going to be a little longer but I figured I’ll just squeeze in the next part of the plot into the next chapter which, by the way, is Dom’s party! Yeah, I know, it’s finally happening!
So what did you like in this chapter? What didn’t you like? What do you think of Lorcan? You know where you can get back to me!
Thanks guys! You guys are all a humdinger and a half! xx
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