❝ MERLIN'S GHOST! ❞
❝ I MEAN, YOU'RE NOT WRONG. ❞
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Albany Bronwen was no Chosen One by any means, but being haunted by the ghosts of the greatest sorcerer of all time and a former king had to count for something, right?
❃ in which a lone...
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OVER THE COURSE OF the next few days, Albany discovered, to her disappointment, that Viola had been more than accurate in her predictions. She was getting asked to the ball left, right and centre, and it was becoming more and more difficult to turn each person away. She knew well that her anxiety over getting a date for the ball was incredibly stupid, given the number of people lining up to go with her, and so felt increasingly guilty with each rejection — but something didn't sit right with going with people she barely knew. She wouldn't be comfortable with them.
"So Fred asked Angelina," George was saying. "Naturally, she said yes."
He was walking Albany to Charms class, given he had a free period. She was looking forward to being done for the day; next week was all exams, so she had an extra week of holidays to enjoy. All that stood in her way was one final Charms class before the weekend.
"I knew it!" Albany exclaimed, and gave a triumphant fist-pump. "I was wondering how long it would take him. The two of them have been eye-fucking each other for weeks now!"
George chuckled, watching the shorter girl skip ahead with an extra bounce in her step. "You seem excited."
Albany whirled around, grinning at him. "I am! I'm really happy for them."
George raised an eyebrow good-naturedly. "They're not going out, just going to the ball," he clarified.
"Not yet!" Albany sang cheerfully. "Only a matter of time til they do."
"You think so?"
"I know so. Because I'll kill them if they don't," she said seriously. "It's so painfully obvious that they like each other."
George grinned. "I actually hadn't noticed until you brought it up that time."
Albany stuck her tongue out at him. "I thought you were the observant twin?"
"I am!" George argued, folding his arms defensively. "I was just... distracted."
"Oh? With what?" Albany teased, poking him.
She swore she saw his ears reddening. "Nevermind," he said nonchalantly, waving away the notion. "Anyway—"
"Hey Albany!" interrupted an unfamiliar voice, and Albany frowned immediately as she turned to face the approaching fourth-year.
"Do I know you?" she asked, her cheerful energy slowly fading.
The sheepish curly-haired Hufflepuff had clasped his hands together nervously. "Um, no? But — Wayne's my name, Wayne Hopkins — um, I was wondering if you'd maybe want to go to the ball—"
"No," Albany said, though bit her cheek at the crestfallen expression that crossed the younger's face.
