TOGETHER (A HARRY POTTER LOVE STORY) 4

40

MILLIE'S POV:

The next morning, I found myself sat opposite my boyfriend in the Great Hall at breakfast, stirring my porridge unconsciously whilst I stared dully at the wooden table; behind me, yet another group of girls were squealing in delight at the news of one of their friends being asked to the ball. Straightening my back, I glanced up at Tarek, who sat silently, reading the latest copy of The Daily Prophet, whilst shovelling pancakes down his throat.

"Tarek?" I began gently, letting my hands rest in front of me on the wooden table. He showed no sign of response, his brown eyes continuing to scan the article he was reading. I cleared my throat, repeating slightly louder, "Tarek?"

He grunted, putting a forkful of pancake into his mouth as his gaze flicked up to my face.

"Where were you at break yesterday?" I questioned, ensuring to keep my voice light and casual. Ever since I had seen him with Tasha the day before, over-dramatic thoughts had been compensating my mind. I'd woken up this morning with the decision to assure myself that the interaction was nothing but a friendly conversation. I trusted him, of course, but absolutely not her.

"Studying," he answered, his eyebrows furrowing in a slight movement.

I nodded slowly, pushing my bottom lip out with my tongue as I continued, "Oh...where?"

"Library," he mumbled, his face completely unreadable.

I nodded once more, tilting my head hesitantly as I pressed, "Ah - with who-?"

"Why're you asking so many questions?" Tarek asked, with a slight chuckle.

"Sorry," I mumbled sheepishly, trying not to smile at the fact I had at least made him laugh.

"It's fine," he said, tapping my hand once with his, before removing his touch and returning his attention to the newspaper.

I couldn't help myself.

"Do you know a 'Tasha'?" I asked conversationally, making him drop the the article with a sigh, shooting me a look as I squeaked quickly, "Sorry! I'll stop now-"

"No, I don't," he said firmly, raising his eyebrows in a warning, final sort of way. I nodded, not wanting to push him any further.

Leaning my chin on my hand, I spent the next few minutes manipulating my mind into believing he simply didn't know her name, and had probably just asked one another a simple question in the corridor. Absentmindedly, my attention drifted to across the Hall, where my friends were sat; Ron seemed to be telling an animated story, grinning as he waved his arms widely to a chorus of laughter. On his left side, Mione was sat straight, rolling her eyes at the eager boy, though as he nudged his shoulder against hers purposefully, a smile edged its way onto her lips, along with a blush one would only notice if they were properly looking. On Ron's other side was Harry, with Madison sat casually on his lap, her hands toying with his tie as the messy-haired boy sent her a small smirk, fluffing his hair up with his fingers. Biting the inside of my cheek, I tore my eyes from the group, content with the fact that my leg was touching Tarek's underneath the table.

HERMIONE'S POV:

"...You know Dumbledore's bought eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta for the Ball, as well," Ron waffled on, causing the surrounding people to burst into excited chatter as I fought the urge to roll my eyes for the fourth time.

"And who told you that, Ron, Professor Snape?" I asked with mock-interest, placing my Potions notes back down onto the table and turning on the bench so I was facing him.

"No, I heard about it last week," he answered, throwing me a smug smile. "Speaking of the dickhead, though, he's evil, springing a test on us on the last day. Ruining the end bit of term with a whole load of revision."