Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling, genius that she is.. is
not me. So I donít own a darn thing. But thanks for asking!
Authorís Note: I wrote this in about 15 minutes and
posted it in my Live Journal, then my page and ff.net; I have no idea why I
never submitted it to SQ. I think I was scared or something. Heh. Thanks, as
always, to Elanor for the beta, though Iím sad that she canít stand one of my
favourite words. ;)
* * * * * * *
He watched her.
He watched with his usual sense of irritation as
she worked her quill across the parchment furiously. Hurriedly. It was the way
she always worked, in a bit of a rush, as though her hand simply couldnít keep
up with her thoughts. She occasionally shot a glare at him, left over from
their most recent row, but for the most part, she was writing. And he watched.
She always had to be right. So incredibly
stubborn, that one was. She absolutely refused to see when she was wrong, no
matter how illogical she was being. She probably felt the same about him, but
so what? He was the one who was right.
He was annoyed by her.
Of course, she usually was right. He would
never admit it, but it was true. She knew the spells, the potions. She had the
cat that knew the rat. That horrible argument still managed to bring up angry
memories; he really had liked that rat. She hadnít seemed to care at all when
it happened. But no matter in the end, eh? he thought bitterly. Even
when she was wrong, she was right.
He was infuriated with her.
She was always always always trying to
force work upon him. His mind mocked her: You need to revise! O.W.L.s are
coming up in only eight months! Giving him time tables. Always with an arm
in the air, waving it about in class. She never let him see her assignments;
she was afraid heíd copy her and not learn anything for himself. Well, yeah,
but who was she to assume it? Honestly, what other word was there for
her, if not Know-it-all? Except perhaps Ďbossyí; he smirked.
He couldnít stand her.
She let out a noise; almost a tiny Ďeureka!í and
looked up at him to smile brightly before turning back to her parchment and
continuing. Well. He supposed she was over their last argument by now. Her
smile seemed so much moreÖ alive than it ever had before her teeth got shrunk.
She wasnít exuding confidence or anything, but there was something about that
He was intrigued by her.
Every so often, it was as though she forgot to
play by the rules. Slapping Malfoy across the face. Stealing potion ingredients
- from Snape, no less. Up and quitting that pointless Divination class.
Just seeing her giggling with his sister tended to be a bit of a shock, as she
rarely seemed soÖ girly. Then there was the Yule Ball. The less he thought
about that, the better.
He was surprised by her.
Sometimes she didnít know things. Certain wizarding
ways; she still had some Muggle instincts. He didnít allow anyone else to tease
her, insult her. After all, she knew he didnít really mean it, didnít she? It
was just their way. And she always came through; it was only for them that she
broke rules. Always in the library looking things up for their adventures.
Sometimes getting hurt for it.
He cared for her.
Suddenly, she slammed her book shut, sighed, and
announced that she was finished. She asked him how his own essay was going, and
when her eyes fell on his nearly empty sheet of parchment, she tutted. Then she
moved to sit next to him, opening her books once more. She began to lecture about
his bad revision habits, mixed with helpful hints about what he could use.
Taking her quill in hand again, she jotted down some notes. She was writing.
He was complete around her.
And he watched her.