"Emily Poole, you are exceptionally ordinary" ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
"What a strange way to tell me you love me, but I'll take it," ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
In which Emily falls in love w...
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IT WAS ALMOST DARK when Emily climbed through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room that evening, clutching her Nimbus in one hand. She had changed out of her Quidditch habit and had instead changed into a pair of jeans and a large woolly sweater after Quidditch practice, but had almost immediately gone out again for a bit of flying over the lake.
The common room was almost entirely empty, save for the one person Emily had desperately been avoiding.
Harry was sat in an armchair near the fire, legs pulled up to his chest and chin resting on his knees. Even though Emily didn't think it would go well, her heart ached at the pained way he looked, and against all her better instincts, she stepped towards him.
"Hard detention?" she asked him as she sat down in the chair next to him, "You look positively miserable,"
Harry chuckled weakly.
"Snape had me sort out flobberworms," he said miserably, and Emily let out a groan of disgust, "It was revolting,"
"Are you okay?" she asked, "Apart from the flobberworm thing,"
Harry looked surprised, then grinned slightly.
"Funny," he said, acting sarcastically surprised, "I could've sworn I asked you the same thing earlier today and you–"
"–shut you out, yes I know," Emily finished his sentence and laughed.
When their laughter died, an uncomfortable silence settled over the two, and Emily spoke first.
"Listen, I didn't mean to be so cold, Harry," she said and looked him in the eye.
"Then, why are you?" he asked her, and she bit her lip before chuckling nervously.
"I don't know really," she lied.
Yes you do, said the small voice in her head.
"I guess I just want to avoid getting hurt?" her statement sounded weak, more like a question, and Harry frowned.
"Why would I ever hurt you, Em?" he asked softly, and she shook her head, "Come on, talk to me," he pleaded, and he saw her sink back into her chair with a sigh.
She was finally going to talk to him, they were finally going to sort things out! he thought with glee.
Emily didn't feel as confident: what was she supposed to tell him? The truth, or another lie?
When are you going to grow up and stop hiding?
Kate's voice echoed through her head. She took a deep breath and let out an uneasy chuckle.
"You're going to think I'm delusional, but for a while now–"
"Harry?" Ron's drowsy voice came from the bottom of the stairs leading to the boy's dormitory, interrupting her leap of faith confession, "You coming up or what?
"I uh–", Harry momentarily tore his gaze away to nod at Ron absentmindedly, in which Emily stood up hastily.
What had she been thinking?
This can never work, she scolded herself.
"It's late," she said, and Harry turned, disappointment surging through himself when he saw the familiar distant look in her eyes, "I should go to sleep,"
Ron seemed to nod in agreement as Emily bade them goodnight quietly and hurried up the stairs.
Harry's stomach felt heavy as he shouldered past Ron up the stairs.
"You alright mate?" he asked, bewildered, but Harry said nothing, instead going to sit on his bed and jerking his curtains shut without another look at his best friend.
He laid down, feeling like screaming into his pillow.
She had been about to open up to him.
Back in the girl's dormitory, Emily buried her head in her pillow.
She felt like screaming at herself.
So close, she thought, she had been so close to ruining it.
