Cherry Lips // s. black

-JANUARY. 3.-

"...I definitely failed that."

"Okay dude. What's wrong?" Carmilla finally asked Charlie as he trudged up to her in the great hall for dinner.

Defence Against the Dark Arts hadn't gone well, her last class of the day. She'd been dished out another detention by Professor Umbra for bringing a pen to class instead of a quill. By the looks of it, Charlie's classes hadn't been the highlight of his day either.

They were seated at the Ravenclaw table, Charlie digging into a plate of spiced chicken nuggets. They were his favourite ones, and she had to stare oddly at a fifth year with wide eyes before they pushed it over to her.

Turns out she could be creepy when she tried.

Usually, she just tried to look like an average human, or at least a mildly off-putting pretty one. She seemed to be great at the mildly off-putting part. The pretty bit, she wasn't sure about.

"So," Carmilla egged, stabbing at a dumpling on the plate in front of her. She stabbed too hard, and it went flying. It hit a Ravenclaw boy in the back of the head, specifically the one that thought Charlie was about to become a death eater.

She smiled awkwardly at him and turned back to her friend, "what's wrong?

He blinked once, "nothing."

"Yes, there is."

"Nope."

"Tell me."

"There's nothing wrong."

"Just tell me so we don't go back and forth like this," Carmilla huffed, poking at her plate again with a grimace when a drop of hot wax fell from a candle above them and onto her previously green peas. Usually, she positioned herself where the candles weren't right above her, but she had been too distracted by the distant but scared look Charlie kept sending the Slytherin table.

"You're so stubborn," he muttered.

Carmilla sipped a goblet of cranberry juice, "why thank you."

Charlie tapped his fork against his cup repeatedly, the scratching sound sent uncomfortable shivers down Carmilla's spine. He ran a hand through his brown hair and slumped forwards in a defeated sort of way, "can you come to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure." Carmilla replied.

Charlie kept his gaze steady on her for a moment, and then his shoulder dropped.

Carmilla raised an eyebrow in question, but then she felt someone tap her shoulder and sit down next to her with an exaggerated sigh. She could smell the wet dirt and greasy broom polish from a mile away, knowing who it was without even turning, she greeted her friend. "Hey Prongs."

"Milla," James grunted, and rubbed his eyes aggressively, then pressed his forehead to the Ravenclaw table with a dramatic groan.

Charlie pushed over a cup of dark coffee, and James grabbed the purple mug with a grateful smile [finally, they were getting along] and then attempted to tip it over his head.

Remus sat down next to him, taking the drink out of his hand and sculling it in one smooth movement. He set the cup down, "someone cut his tongue out please, for the sake of all of us."

"That must be a record by now, Moony," Peter noted, picking up a stray potato off the table and popping it in his mouth. He turned to Carmilla, 'oh, and I have something to show you later, by the way."