"Emily Poole, you are exceptionally ordinary" ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
"What a strange way to tell me you love me, but I'll take it," ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
In which Emily falls in love w...
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AS NOVEMBER TURNED into December, and the days grew shorter and the nights longer, Emily found herself being drowned in homework. Even in her first year of NEWTS, students were expected to handle towers of assignments in various assignments, and Emily quickly discovered those free periods she had so been coveting were in fact study periods.
It was an early Sunday morning on December 7th, and Emily was sat on one of the small benches in the courtyard, holding a mug of tea she had just gone to get in the kitchen. To amuse herself, Emily had bewitched the steam from her mug to dance in shapes and was currently admiring a steam horse trotting in circles above her cup.
Violetta was sat next to her, jotting down some last-minute alterations to her DADA essay on Dementors.
"Why are you even doing that essay? It isn't due for another 2 weeks," Emily said, closing her eyes and enjoying the watery sun against her freezing face.
"I have too much to do already for two weeks," Violetta sighed, "I might as well get it done,"
"I suppose," Emily said dismissively.
There was a silence filled only by the scratching of Violetta's quill against her parchment and the chirping of the few birds out in this cold.
At 8:00 sharp, the large bell of the astronomy tower tolled eight times, and the Violetta closed her books with a loud smack.
"Breakfast?" she asked, as Emily stood up and smoothed out the fur-trim winter coat her mother had gotten for her last Christmas.
"Always," she grinned, and together they walked through the snow-covered courtyard and through the large double door that led to the Great Hall. The Hall itself was quite empty, except for the occasional gaggle of early rising students. At the Gryffindor table, Emily spotted Harry sitting by himself, looking engrossed in a tattered old book that was sitting open at the table, and she walked towards him.
"That looks interesting," she noted, and Harry, so startled by her sudden appearance and voice, accidentally knocked over his glass of orange juice.
He cursed as he hastily stood up to avoid a stain on his pants.
"Oh– I'm so sorry here let me–" she reached for the book, but no sooner had her fingers clasped the side that Harry snatched it from her grasp.
"No don't–" he exclaimed, hastily brushing the juice off.
"Sorry," she said, slightly taken aback, as Harry dabbed away the juice from the table, going to sit down opposite him and pulling the nearest tray of scrambled eggs towards herself.
