honeysuckle. (cedric diggory.)

three. ( mad-eye moody. )

MILO WAGONER was waiting for Elaine when she trudged into the common room, sprawled across the bumblebee yellow sofa and looking much more excited and alert than she thought was possible. Yes, it was the first day of classes, but it was also much too early for her to even attempt to function. The sun hadn't even completely risen yet. When he'd asked her last night to meet him before breakfast, she hadn't known he'd meant at the crack of dawn. Curse him for being a morning person.

"Morning, Ellie," Milo grinned, jumping off of the couch at her arrival. He was jittery with excitement, and part of her was worried about what he wanted to talk about so early. "How'd you sleep?"

"Morning, Miles," Elaine yawned, then forced herself to smile. ( It probably looked more like a grimace. ) "I wish I was still in bed. What's up?"

"What's up is the incredibly electrifying and absolutely juicy sexual tension between you and a mutual friend of ours!" Milo exclaimed, positively beaming with delight at the scarlet flush that flooded her cheeks.

"Sexual tension?" Elaine groaned, flopping down into an armchair. The fern hanging overhead reached down and gently began to comb through her incredibly tangled hair. "It's much too early to have a conversation about a figment of your imagination, and you sound like Blake, which is the most insulting thing I could ever say to anyone."

Milo perched himself on the arm of her chair, and rather than responding, simply gazed down at her, his hazel eyes wide and round behind the frames of his glasses. His lips were curled into a soft, knowing smile, and his expression was akin to that of a proud father, excitedly watching his baby grow up. Rather than meeting his stare, Elaine chose to glare at the painting of Helga Hufflepuff, snoring loudly above the crackling fireplace, a bit of drool on the corners of her rosy lips. Elaine then felt bad for glaring; after all, she loved their House founder, and had frequently found herself on the couch in front of the fireplace, toasting Helga with a flagon of pumpkin juice she had nabbed from the kitchens.

"There's no sexual tension!" she finally hissed back, her face almost unbearably hot.

"Okay, sure, whatever you say, oh knowledgeable one," Milo sighed, bowing slightly at the waist and inclining his head in a teasing way. Elaine huffed and crossed her arms, wishing more than anything she was still curled up beneath her patchwork quilt. "Also, I wouldn't cross my arms like that, you'll wrinkle the fabric of your robes."