Read my heart, not my mind

7. Gryffindor Boy

I tried not to roll my eyes as the seat next to me was occupied by the same Gryffindor idiot who had been hounding me all week. I couldn't be sure but I thought he was probably the same one who demanded my name for a book. Boisterous, annoying Gryffindors could go back to their own time slots. This is the first year I was being forced to share a class with the Gryffindors and the only thing I could say with confidence is that I am thankful their tendency for loud behavior didn't ruin the first five years of my education.

Professor Binns floated through the door and up to the blackboard before I could voice my displeasure at my seatmate. I couldn't tell what sort of student he was because he spent most of his time in the classes we shared, talking. Mainly to me, about stupid things I didn't care about. In the last four days alone I'd learned nearly his entire family history, his dating conquests and what he wanted to be when he left Hogwarts. All of it unwarranted and all of my pleas for him to just shut up falling on deaf ears.

Professor Binns wrote a single page number on the board as he moved eerily toward his desk. I turned my history of magic book to that page and sat forward, my eyes gluing to the words in front of me. We were still in the middle of reading about wand-lore and I was even more invested in delving deeper into this concept than before.

Technically speaking I didn't have to pay attention to what Professor Binns was saying because all he did was read from the text in a monotone voice and occasionally assign essays about what he read. I could learn probably easier if I just read the material myself. That did not mean that I was in the least bit happy when I felt the Gryffindor boy next to me tug lightly on my sleeve.

Exasperated and feeling a little mean considering he caused me to miss a very big point in The Study of Ancient Runes this morning, I turned to him with a hiss. "What do you want?" I demanded, keeping my voice low. Professor Binns wasn't known to give out detention, mostly because he rarely noticed or cared when students were talking in his class. I didn't want to be one of those that he did catch.

"Why are you so feisty? I kinda like it." He said with a sly tone to his voice.

"Why are you so disruptive?" I countered, unmoved by his stupid flirting. I was proud to say that by now I at least felt used to it. His bold statements didn't leave me feeling flustered or close to retaliation.

"Listen, baby..."

"I told you not to call me baby." I said vehemently, interrupting whatever inane thing was about to come out of his mouth.

"Alright, alright. Aislinn." He spoke as if he was doing me some great favor by calling me by my first name. I just rolled my eyes harder as I concentrated back on my book. "You should come watch me practice this weekend."

"Practice what?" I asked, "Being a gnome-booger or a gargoyle's left butt cheek?" I couldn't help but laugh at my stupid joke. "Wait, you've got those down already."

He snorted, unamused as a few of the other sixth years around us laughed under their breath at my comment. "No," He said with great importance as his chest inflated and he sat back in his chair. "I am trying out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team at tryouts this weekend."

"Don't warn the coach beforehand," I answered. "Why would I want to watch you play Quidditch," I asked a moment later, flabbergasted.

He put his arm over my shoulder and didn't get the hint to remove it even as I shrunk away from him until my chest hit the desk in front of me. "My girl should be there to support me."

"What should I do when I find your girl?" I asked, as I turned toward the hand that was hanging too closely to my face, peeling it off of me with a finger. His arm was heavy and he didn't seem inclined to move it or take the hint.