Harry Potter One Shots (Vol. I)

The Jealousy Game (Lysander Scamander)

I think it's been two weeks since I last posted but I needed the time away to want to post again. Honestly, the repeated plagiarism really makes me not want to post anymore but right now, I'm like six one shots ahead and to give up now would be an absolute waste of all the hours I've put into this book. So I'm planning on sticking around for longer. 

Also, a massive thank you to the fawns that keep bringing up the plagiarism up to me. It's a major help to me and I can get the issues dealt with. Thanks again ~

This one was requested by QueenGhostRed, I hope it's worth the wait 

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Sometimes, I couldn't help but judge my choice of friends. Occasionally, I wondered what was wrong with my judgement of people that I'd picked the sort of friends that continued to bug me about the same thing for months, despite my having said I didn't want to talk about this. But then I remembered how Desirae was always willing to risk sneaking down to the kitchens for me when I was feeling peckish and the way that Carissa had held me steady when my grandfather passed last year. They were good friends and because they were good friends, I could put up with occasional badgering.

"I'm telling you," Desirae started, sharing a look with Carissa who sat on my other side. Rowena, I'd brought this all on myself by sitting between them, "Scamander likes you."

"Oh please," I scoffed, glancing across the common room to my fellow sixth year as he talked to his friends. "Come on Odenkirk, just how often are we going to have this same conversation before you realise how wrong you are?"

No Ravenclaw liked to hear that they were wrong – especially if you couldn't back it up with proof. Desirae was the same, scowling at me but gesturing for Carissa to try and 'talk some sense into Graz'. As if, in this situation, I was the one that needed to see sense.

"Come on Graz," Carissa nudged me with her shoulder, "you know how downright oblivious boys can be when it comes to stuff like that. The entire house knows that he likes you, but he's probably too oblivious to realise it."

"Or," I started pointedly, "this house is made up of busy bodies who are craving some drama so they're looking to find something where there is nothing. Yates, you of all people know about being a busybody."

"Now you're just being hurtful to get me to stop talking about it," she sniffed.

No, I bit my tongue to force back my retort. If I was being hurtful, I would point out how both Desirae and Carissa were experiencing problems in their relationships and were using this – me and Lysander – as an easy escape so they didn't have to focus on their relationship problems. I could have pointed out their lack of emotional maturity but I kept that to myself.

"I'm telling you," I started instead of voicing my inner thoughts, "I'm fairly certain that he doesn't like me. So, can we please stop talking about this in the middle of the bloody common room where anyone can hear us?. And can we instead focus on the Alchemy coursework like we planned to? Please?"

Desirae and Carissa shared another eyeroll and I swore I heard Desirae murmur something about 'textbook deflection' under her breath. Just how was I supposed to tell her the truth without outing myself? Without letting them both know just how devastated I was to know the truth? Because the truth was, I knew Lysander didn't like me back – I'd heard the words leave his mouth with my own ears. And there was no denying that.

I'd picked up the most horrendous habit of lingering in the classroom of the lessons I shared with Lysander but didn't share with my friends. Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy granted me the time to be truthful for once about how I felt about Lysander without worrying about my friends ribbing me for it. In these lessons, I could steal glances at him when I took breaks from my notes. And when the lesson ended, I was slow to finish packing my things, and I swore it wasn't my mind that was playing tricks on me – because he was looking back. More often than not, he was looking back.