I was once again cursing my decision to study in the library. A girl managed to place herself directly across from me at my table. Granted, there were no chairs left besides the ones near me, but I would have rather had her sit on the floor . . . across the room.

She was continuously dropping great blotches of ink on her parchment, grunting in frustration, then clearing them away with a simple spell.

I was attempting to write an essay for Care of Magical Creatures. I didn’t particularly care about my marks in the class, however, as I spent most of my time staring at the large professor. It wasn’t that he was particularly attractive – far from it. There was just an aura about him. It was almost as if he lived a secret life.

I digress...

As I didn’t care to write an essay that night, I openly watched the troubled – annoyingly so – red-head. I recognized her from the classes the Slytherins shared with the Gryffindors. I chewed on the rounded end of my quill and watched her struggle absurdly with the thick black ink.

“You’re Ginny Weasley.�

She jumped and looked at me as if I only just popped up for the sole purpose of pestering her. Recognition set in, and her face settled into that grimace I’m so used to seeing. “Yes. That’s my name.� She rolled her eyes exasperatedly.

I smirked. Endlessly observant, I noticed her eyes flick down to my mouth. A thought visibly crossed her features. That too, was something I was accustomed to. Thankfully, no one had yet understood or admitted where the particular curl of my thin lips came from. “You’re right,� I said with double meaning.

“I know.� Another disappointment.

She tended to get right to the point, but she obviously misunderstood what I was implying. Was everyone in the castle an imbecile that didn’t listen to their intuition?

“Why are you in such foul spirits?� I asked as I leaned back, crossing my arms and resisting the urge to throw my legs atop the table. Madam Pince, the Librarian, was an old maid who’d never found love in life, and so, clung desperately to the books that had become her existence. By extension, she appeared to care about the tables. Her protectiveness over them sickened me. “I know the problem isn’t those few Transfiguration questions you’re answering.� I indicated her parchment.

She practically hissed. It was amusing. “I’m a little busy here. Go bother someone else.�

“Busy cutting holes in your parchment, you are.�

“What’s it to you?�

“Nothing.�

“Then why are you bothering to talk, McKee?�

I raised an eyebrow. “You know my name?�

“Of course I do,� she snapped. “Why wouldn’t I?�

“Most people in other houses don’t pay attention.�

“Isn’t it enough that Slytherins know you?� She said ‘Slytherin’ with a familiar tweak of the nose. It was as if she’d caught the scent of something foul, but civility kept her from consciously showing her abhorrence to the odor.

“I don’t like to associate with tittering, plotting morons.�

The corners turned up on her closed mouth. I was bothered, at first, because I hadn’t said anything remotely funny. “What?�

“Nothing,� she responded with an amiable huff of air. “I agree with you.�

“They are bothering you as well, then?� I pointed without remorse or tact at a young Slytherin girl, giggling in what she probably thought a feminine, delicate manner. I thought it had all the delicacy of a drill breaking through my eardrum. The boy next to her held a haughty posture. One could almost see the sheets fluttering across his mutated adolescent mind.

She pursed her lips in thought as she stared in the direction I indicated. After a long (dead) pause, she said, “No. It’s not them.�

Immediately, I became quite irritated that she wasted all that time for such a simple statement. I was so dearly hoping she wasn’t a blubbering idiot like so many others I’ve had the misfortune to meet. I looked over at the couple once more in a desperate attempt to find a deeper meaning in her pause.

“O.W.L.s are this year. I suppose I’m frustrated about that.� She pulled her legs up onto the chair and crossed them. One arm slithered around her middle, propping up the elbow of the other. I didn’t think she realized she was mimicking me by chewing on her quill.

Some electrical current in my brain sparked a realization. The couple wasn’t working on O.W.L.s or any other homework. Her hypnotic stare at the couple was brought on by a preoccupation with a boy. I could see it in her vulnerable posture and the shallow ‘v’ between her eyes.

“You’re lying.� I never was one who possessed tact. I’m not sure if I never learned or never cared. It was probably the latter.

“What?� she shot back angrily. She was quite impressive with her enunciating. I could tell she was clenching her molars together by the tiny muscles in her jaw bulging.

I opted to bypass stating such an observation in order to get to the heart of the matter. “This is about a boy. Is it that one?� I gestured to the couple.

Suspicion crept into her eyes. “What do you care?�

“I don’t.�

“Don’t you have an essay to write?�

“The benefit of not being at the top of my class is that I don’t have to worry about such silly things as assignments and marks.�

“Won’t your parents be in a mild rage if you get no O.W.L.s?� She was leaning forward slightly. I felt a bit awkward. A part of me thought it was a rude question, but another part of me wanted to spill all of the beans – come what may. A surge of excitement rattled my gut at the prospect.

Instead, I answered, “My parents are dead.� I felt as if I were squeezing hot air out of my lungs. It must have showed, because a shadow suddenly seemed to hover over us. Don’t be stupid, McKee. There’s no damn cloud.

“Voldemort?� she asked as casually as if she’d mentioned an ice cream I liked. This one . . . this one surprised me.

I found myself rather liking the bravery of Gryffindors – wise or not. I was tired of people being frightened of me simply because I didn’t coddle them or sit in on their idle gossip. I nodded, impressed. “That was a quick guess.�

“It wasn’t totally a guess.�

At first, I thought she somehow knew about me. Just as quickly, I realized she couldn’t have known. No one knew the whole truth about the matter of the death of my mother and . . . biological father (the title was far too kind for an animal such as him).

“Can you read minds?� I asked as a precaution. I didn’t need this young one to know my personal affairs. I would end this silly conversation just as quickly as it began if I felt compromised.

She shook her head and said matter-of-factly, “Auras.�

“Interesting.�

She shrugged.

“So what about the boy?� I was never deterred from a goal for long. It was one of the traits people found most annoying. You’d think they enjoyed yammering on about themselves. It was almost always the case. Ask someone a question, whether you care or not, and they’ll blubber their innermost secrets. Keep at it, and they’ll give you knives to use on them, if need be.

Ginny Weasley rolled her eyes. “Will you let it go?�

“Easy answer. No.�

“What does it matter to you?� she shot at me.

“Call it a curious whim. I don’t see anyone else here paying attention. No one will see.�

She actually looked a bit insulted at that. “It’s no one here. Even so, give me a little credit, McKee. I’m not utterly shallow.�

I cocked my head to the side and put a hand out, motioning for her to continue. I was actually welcoming this distraction.

“Well.� She looked directly into my eyes without inhibition. “Fine,� she decided, setting down her worn quill and testing her forearms on the table. In a millisecond, I realized that someone was confiding in me. It was odd, having someone’s trust. Then again, I couldn’t blame anyone for withholding. I normally actively discouraged conversation of all types. It was nice, being in on something. Even if it was a little school girl’s crush, I somehow warmed at the thought that someone thought it would be ok to tell me. Yes, she tells you because you have no other friends to tell.

“There’s this person that I’ve . . . cared for, for some time. I knew he felt the same and a while ago, I got him to admit it. When I told him how I felt, he stomped out of the room.� I raised an eyebrow as she continued. “We haven’t spoken since. Now it seems that his friends have turned against him. I didn’t really want that to happen.�

“Yes you did. It probably felt satisfying, as well. Why do his friends care, though?�

“Well, one is my close friend and the other is my brother.�

“Harry Potter.�

“What?� She curled back in her seat, recoiling from my revelation. It wasn’t difficult to put two and two together. Everyone knew the green-eyed boy. “How’d you know?�

I settled for a simple, “Word gets around.�

She comically glared at the room as a whole, hoping to catch sight of the sneak. At least, it was ludicrous to me. I nearly smiled. “I feel the same way.� I was actually beginning to like this feisty Gryffindor. I coyly glanced at the table. “I don’t know what everyone sees in him.�

“Who is everyone?� she whispered shrilly.

I grinned. She was so utterly predictable. Much to my enjoyment, she was quite extreme in her emotions. Her jealousy could have permeated the room with a dense, green fog. “Don’t tell me you had no idea?� She shook her head. I was enjoying pressing her sensitive buttons. Her face was a lovely rosy shade now. It would have been attractive if there wasn’t the hint of sleep deprivation in the puffiness beneath her eyes. “Well, he’s rather famous, isn’t he?�

“So?� she grunted, perturbed. “It was for something he couldn’t control.�

I threw my shoulders back. “It doesn’t matter. Fame and power are strong aphrodisiacs, and he’s got a fair bit of power.�

“Not that much power,� she muttered. I could see the little girl in her, angry for being scolded.

“Well, if you’re getting flustered about it, go claim him.�

Social politeness crawled under our table and spoiled her thoughts, stiffening her petite figure. “You can’t claim anyone,� she said indignantly.

“Don’t lie for the sake of being politically correct. Claim him by taking him off of the market.�

“Even if I could claim him,� she whispered hastily. “He wouldn’t let me. He’s afraid I’ll get hurt as his girlfriend.� She’d said it in mockery, but I could tell it bothered her. It irritated me. I was tired of males believing they had the market cornered on bravery and a passionate warrior spirit. What a moron.

“Would you get hurt?�

“Probably.�

“You’re all right with that?�

“I’ll get hurt anyway. I don’t really care. I can take a bruise every now and then. I have a . . . knack for getting into . . . awkward situations.� She could no longer hold a gaze with me, insisting on picking a loose thread in her robes instead. After sufficient pause, she smiled a half-smile, then said, “All right. I might run into situations on my own.�

“That sounds about right.� I locked my fingers together. “Well, you have to talk to him.� It was that simple. However, her ego wanted to see shading where there was none.

“But he embarrassed me!�

“That’s not what you’re angry about. You would have said this before hand if that was the case. If you like him, work at it. Your other option is to deal with it and watch him be with someone else.�

She sighed and rested her cheeks in her hands.

“Is that all then?�

“No. I'm worn from practicing for my first Quidditch match as Chaser.�

“Against Slytherin.�

“Yes. Do you like it?�

“I despise futile activities.� To my surprise, she didn’t react with the seething hatred I’d come to expect. She actually laughed.

“I think you’ll watch the game.�

“Why should I?�

“I’ll be in it, and I’ll prove to you how useful ‘futile activities’ can be.�

“I’ll not watch,� I said defensively. “It’s a waste of time.�

“What are you going to do? Homework?� I saw her glance at my pathetic essay. I picked up a glare and focused it on her laughing eyes.

“See you there, then.� She collected her belongings and walked out of the library. I held my stubborn pose until she wasn’t looking, then found myself wearing a relaxed smile. Shaking my head at my gnawed quill, I knew she’d won. Damn it. I loathe Quidditch!