It was all Professor Flitwick’s fault. He was biased against Hufflepuff house, he always had been. More then that. Flitwick had it out for her. Nothing else made sense. All through the Charms lesson she’d been forced to endure he’d favored the Ravenclaws. Had all term. Called on them the moment they shot their hands into air and took points from Smith because he laughed like a hyena on methamphetamines (her words, not his). Like Ravenclaws were better just because he was head of their house. Or because Ravenclaws were smarter. No use in pretending they weren’t, because those nerds knew the definition of poindexter and lacked all decent sense of humor. She was only taking N.E.W.T. charms because it was mandatory to take something her sixth year. Her O.W.L.s hadn’t given her too many options.
Grades were cliché. School was cliché. People were cliché. Eleanor wanted no part in any of the above listed nouns and felt no need to prove those statements wrong. She collected her charms book and stuffed it into her thickly knit, dark knapsack. Flitwick was still yammering but she’s tuned him out half an hour ago. Her classmates were nodding, the majority of them with rapt looks of attention on their faces. How could even a Ravenclaw feign interest in a topic that was so disconnected with reality? When was anyone ever going to use a Fidelius Charm? Eleanor pointedly ignored the homework as it was given. She wasn’t about to stoop to pretending to have the intention of doing her classwork. She had more integrity then that.
Flitwick gave her a stern look on her way out of the classroom, which she chose to ignore. Fellow students rushed by her, eager and excited for class. It was days like this that she questioned her sanity. Where did they get their energy? It was unnerving, like she was in that muggle film about the pod-people. Only it wasn’t everyone else that had had their brains infested with the parasitic aliens, it was just her that had been taken under and forced to watch unknowingly as her body preformed their routine actions and couldn’t understand the difference between her state and those energetic, thriving happy students—-
Whatever.
She needed a fag, and lunch was about to be served. If she hurried, she might beat the rush of happy ‘puffs and be able to grab a plate of whatever the dish today was before she was noticed and forced to sit among the babble. Try as she might, Eleanor couldn’t walk faster then her dulled, practiced pace. She reached the house table in the hall to see shepard’s pie, and with an uncharacteristically quick move managed to swipe one before she heard a voice call out to her.
Finally Charms. Eirnin grinned as he looked at his paper that said his schedule for this whole year at Hogwarts. Each class was just as challenging as the last, but this is how Eirnin liked it. He was a Ravenclaw and Ravens did well. His eyes darted over the other tables trying to spot a friendly face. His eyes also happened to land on almost every girl surrounding him. Maybe Eirnin didn’t exactly notice all the girls around him before this year, but it was something that was becoming a problem for him. Many of his friends still bother him about the fact that he has never been kissed. Why did they care? He could do what he wanted with his life. His appetite suddenly seemed to vanish and he got up from the table quickly.
Maybe he was a little old to never been kissed. He walked through the halls of Hogwarts with his bag slung on his shoulder. But who would he have kissed? One of the random slags that kissed everyone in his class? No. He wasn’t like that! His feet carried him closer to the Charms class without him thinking about it. Forgive Eirnin for thinking that his first kiss was something that should be special. The taunts and insults weren’t effecting him in the slightest, they were just starting to get very annoying at this point. He pulled the large oak door open and entered the class without another thought.
Flitwick seemed to be on rampage this morning. His morning class was with the Hufflepuffs and Eirnin could care less. He had such an impasse about house rivalries and found them all silly. His quill scratched over his parchment as he took notes diligently about the lesson. He really didn’t need to be taking notes, but it was something he was used to doing. Flitwick went on and on about something that one of the Puffs did and it wasn’t processing to Eirnin. His blue orbs scanned the room again landing on Eleanor Branstone. The fellow sixth year was in a different house and they were friends? Right? He had spoken to her once or twice. So maybe they were acquaintances.
The period was over and suddenly Eirnin was following Eleanor. He didn’t mean to follow her, but his footsteps just happened to carry him in her direction. They were going towards the great hall, he watched as she sat down at the Hufflepuff table. Just lingering in the doorway, Eirnin tried to figure out what exactly he wanted to do. He could just approach her. It wasn’t that big of a deal. “Eleanor!” He called out after her and gave her a pathetic smile.
“It’s, uh, Eirnin Moran. We’ve spoken a couple times, um, before. H-How are yee doing?” He fidgeted with his bag on his shoulder and looked at her once more. Her brown eyes were large and her hair was practically pin straight. His eyes snapped back to his feet for a moment then back up to her. He calmed himself down as he stood in front of her. He was friendly and never this nervous. It was just the first day back. That’s all it was.
EIRNIN MORAN - TAKEN
RAVENCLAW, 6TH YEARThat’s pronounced Air—Nin to all you people sat there, looking confused and unsure of how to introduce yourselves to him. There’s several facts you need to know about this Ravenclaw before meeting him: he’s Irish, he sings, he dances (and quite frequently) and he’s never been kissed. He’s not ashamed about it. He’s quite the gentlemen and is simply waiting for the right girl. He believes something like that, no matter how little other people view it to be, is something that should be special, something that should be remembered. Call him a Pansy but honestly, Eirnin doesn’t care. He’s smart enough to know that he’s not.
