Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Eleanor had been watching Cedric watch Cho Chang for the past half an hour. When her best friend had proposed that they go to the library for a while to study, Eleanor didn't realise that she would be faced with Cedric looking over her shoulder every minute just so he could see Cho.
The corner of Eleanor's lips tugged into a sideways smirk as she tried to fight an eye rolland returned back to writing her notes. Cedric's eyebrows furrowed, noticing this expression of hers. "What?" he said quietly, his voice laced with concern.
"Oh, nothing," she hummed. Cedric watched her itch her eyebrow.
"Liar," he replied. "Tell me." He realised his tone sounded a little too demanding, so followed this order up with a polite, "Please."
Eleanor dropped her quill and looked blankly at him. "Well, I was under the impression that we were here so we could study Transfiguration, not so you could study Cho Chang."
Cedric scoffed, yet she could tell that a blush was starting to rise to the apples of his cheeks. "On the contrary," he started, "I am highly focused on Transfiguratio. I just happen to... like my surroundings."
"Cho being your 'surroundings'."
Cedric raised a judging eyebrow. "Like you can talk," he countered. "Whenever Fred Weasley is near you, you watch him like a hawk." He watched as a disgusted face contorted Eleanor's features and gave her a knowing look. "Oh come on, Elle. You can drop the act now. I can tell you like him."
"Trust me, I don't."
"Then trust me, you're lying to yourself." Seeing how this made Eleanor's eyes harden, Cedric already knew what he was thinking. She was ready to start making the imaginary walls around her heart stronger, harder break through. "It's not a bad thing, Elle," he reassured. "It's okay to trust."
"I'm not lying to myself, as I don't have anything to lie about. I don't like Fred Weasley, end of story." She reverted her eyes back to her work, but her hold on her quill had grown stronger. She dug the tip of it into her parchment, practically cutting holes in it. All of a sudden, an ear-piercing break cut through the atmosphere, like twigs being stepped on in a quiet forest. Eleanor looked at her hand. In it, her quill laid snapped in half.
Cedric kept his eyes on the quill. "You sure about that?"
