Fitzsimmons

Seventh Year- Part Five

Quick Note: So last update wasn't Saturday. Sorry. BUT IT WAS FRIDAY NIGHT SO THAT'S CLOSE. I'll update at least once a week, okay?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KARA!

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It had been weeks since Fitz had first started sneaking into Jemma's room at night. No one really said anything anymore. Fitz was surprised. He wasn't that threatening, but he guessed they all were too scared to test him on it.

They fell into a sort of mutual happiness about their relationship, which had evolved to be less awkward as they both accepted their new feelings. There was no need to talk about it. There was also no need to ignore it for the sake of the friendship. Each could feel the other's falling.

As Winter passed, however, Jemma grew more anxious about the impending Yule Ball. No one had asked her, in fear of Fitz, apparently. Jemma had no alone time to pace nervously; otherwise she would have paved canyons into the hallways. Fitz was constantly there, barely allowing her to think about it, but throwing heaps and heaps of worrying upon her at the same time. Would he ask her? What if someone else did? Would she reject him on Fitz's behalf? Hopefully she would never find out.

On Christmas Eve morning, Fitz let out a yawn, then hungrily scooped eggs onto his plate, completely carefree and unworried by the doomsday Jemma may face the next night.

"Pass the jam?" he addressed Jemma, who stopped fiddling with the ring on her right hand and passed the jar of strawberry preserves. Fitz mumbled a thanks before slabbing the jam onto his toast messily and stuffing half the piece into his mouth. Jemma stared at him, completely shocked and unamused that he was eating, and not panicking like she was.

"So, the Yule Ball," she began gingerly. She waited for him to initiate conversation about who he was going with.

"Yeah?" he replied cluelessly with his mouth full, sprinkling the table in front of him with toast crumbs from his mouth.

Jemma sighed. How had she fallen for this messy, always-hungry guy? Oh yeah, everything about him was perfect to her.

"Who are you going with?" she asked, keeping her desperation hidden.

"You." Fitz said simply, then piled some eggs into his mouth.

Jemma went through the color wheel of emotions. First her heart nearly leapt out of her chest, then she became visibly stunned, then confused, and finally angry. Furious, actually.

"And when did you plan on asking me?" she nearly shouted at him. Fitz furrowed his eyebrows and swallowed, looking puzzled.

"I thought that wasn't necessary." Fitz defended himself. "You seriously didn't know that?"

"Don't turn this on me, Fitz." Jemma retorted. "Normal people verbally ask others to dances."

"Well, I'm not a normal person, am I?" A glint of mischief twinkled in Fitz's eyes as Jemma continued to glare angrily.

Jemma anger broke down after a few moments of looking into Fitz's eyes. The brown surrounding his pupils was lighter around the middle and formed a darker ring around the outside. Jemma had never noticed this, but there were flecks of a bronze-like color scattered throughout the middle section.

"Fine, I'll go with you." Jemma said once she was calm again. Fitz sighed in exaggerated relief, then leaned across the table to her ear and cupped his hands as if he was telling a secret.

"Knew you would." he whispered, bringing a smile to Jemma's face. When he sat back down he immediately began stuffing his mouth full again. Jemma brought her head to her hands on the table in disbelief. She eventually grabbed some toast to eat herself, as she was no longer too anxious to eat.

After classes that day, Jemma, being tragically un-immune to social standards, found herself in a group of squealing seventh years trying on dresses in the Room of Requirement. Lucy Chang approached Jemma, who was sitting on a horribly girly ottoman in the corner filled with shoes so that she had to move every time a materialistic teenager stalked her way.

Jemma didn't have many friends that were girls. Jemma didn't have many friends, period. But Lucy Chang (daughter of Cho Chang, the famous journalist) was the closest thing to a girl friend that Jemma had, as they had been roommates since first year. As Lucy approached, Jemma stood up so Lucy could reach the barrel of shoes Jemma had been sitting on.

"Oh, no, I just wanted to talk." Lucy clarified. Jemma sat back down. "Are you okay?" Lucy continued cautiously.

"Yeah. Dresses just aren't my thing."

Lucy laughed, making Jemma feel even more self conscious than she already was. "What are you planning on wearing tomorrow night?" she asked, changing her tone to try to make Jemma more comfortable.

"I don't know. My regular school uniform? I'll possibly put my hair up?"

"Jemma, you've been embarrassed enough this year. Let me help you." Lucy insisted, then grasped her hand and pulled her up and into the crowd of girls gathered around the wall of mirrors, paying each other fake compliments about how they looked in their dresses. This is it. This is the reason Jemma didn't have girl friends.

"Ladies," Lucy caught their attention. "What color for Jemma here?" Jemma was immediately bombarded with suggestions and questions about her eye color and her date's eye color and her favorite color.

"What about a dark blue?" suggested Chloe Grey, a Gryfindor. The ladies murmured in agreement. Jemma hated this. She wished Fitz were here.

"Yeah, Jemma!" Lucy squealed. "Someone wanna help me find the perfect dress?" The girls, already dressed in their gowns and high heels with hair done, dispersed throughout the Room of Requirement Dress Parlor. Jemma stayed and leaned against the mirror, wondering why they were all carrying several dresses and not using magic to assist them.

A Hufflepuff girl named Lavender (and wearing a lavender dress) was the first to arrive at Jemma's side. She was smiling wildly like Hufflepuffs did. She held out a ruffled, lacy, navy blue dress that Jemma decided immediately she wouldn't like. But Jemma was too nice to turn her down, so she pulled back the dressing room curtain and stepped in.

The dress, charmed to fit the wearer like all the dresses in the Room of Requirement, was too scratchy, but she stepped outside to appease the girls anyways. She didn't realize there would be a crowd of 'ooh-ing' females awaiting her, and she physically cringed.

"Do you like it?" Lavender harassed her.

"I don't think it's for me." Jemma tried to say nicely. A few of the girls nodded. "I'd prefer something... simple. And, comfortable?" They talked amongst themselves, then Victoire Weasly, a fifth year who had somehow squirmed her way into the group, offered the dress she had picked out. This one was long and deep blue with pearls stitched around the modest neckline. It was more Jemma's style.

When Jemma had finished changing this time, she braced herself for the wave of squeals. Instead, when she stepped out, the chatter died down as everyone stared. Jemma nervously tried to gauge their thoughts, and when she was about to turn around and scamper back into the changing room, Lucy spoke.

"That's the one," Lucy said in awe. "That's your dress." The girls in the circle nodded. What was with everyone agreeing all the time? Jemma thought this first, then uttered out a reply.

"I think so, too."