wanderlust ☆ n.longbottom

.:05:.

Dusk was sweeping the sky, colouring it a beautiful conoxion of orange and blue. If Daisy squinted really hard, she could see the outline of a few stars that freckled across the marbled blanket of sky. She was enjoying a moment to herself, attempting to capture the beauty she saw with a drawing. No matter what she drew, the picture always seem to incorperate Emmeline in there somewhere. In her current work, Emmeline was in the sky. Her peace was destroyed when Neville approached her, wearing a scornful expression. She already knew why his face was creased into a frown.

"It's five o'clock," he said.

"Congratulations, here is your trophy for being able to tell the time."

"Harry went to his detention."

"Good for him."

"I really think you should go."

"I really think you should keep your nose out of my business."

"Funilly enough, you made it my business when you started being my friend."

"How blissful that would be, if we never became friends. You're wasting your breath, Nev, I'm not going to go. She should be the one apologising to me for what she was saying about Emmeline."

"Is that Emmeline?" Neville asked softly, viewing her artwork. He knew how stubborn Daisy was and decided it was best not to fuel the dispute. He expected her to shove him off, claiming it was private. But she didn't. She moved the picture closer to Neville, pride tweaking the edges of her lips upwards. "It's very good."

"Thank you."

Neville hoisted himself up onto the window ledge and stuffed himself opposite to Daisy. His mop of brown hair cushioned his head as he rested it against the cold glass window. Daisy ripped off a page from her notebook and handed him a quill.

"Draw something," she instructed. "Draw what makes your heart smile."

He chuckled slightly, instantly getting to work. The quill traced delicately across the page until he was happy with his creation. He revealed it.

"It's a stickman," Daisy observed.

"A stick woman, actually. It's you. I thought you'd be able to tell from the piercings."

"Oh that's what those are, it just looks like a load of splodges." Daisy leaned forward, squinting.

"Okay so maybe I'm not an artist like you, but I think it's quite good. For a stick woman."

"What did you draw me for anyway? I told you to draw something that made your heart smile, not scowl from disappointment."

"I'm not disappointed in you. I'm just worried you'll waste your potential." At this, Daisy scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You do make my heart smile."

"Ugh stop being soppy. I expected you to draw like Trevor or a plant or something." Trevor or plants didn't make him feel the way Daisy did. He watched Daisy scrumple up the drawing and toss it into the fire.

"Hey! That was going to sell for millions."

Daisy looked at him. "In your dreams." She slid off the ledge.

"Where are you going?"

"To have a heated make out session with Dean Thomas. "

"Oh."

When Daisy returned, Neville was subtly trying to find out about what was going on between her and Dean. But Neville was not subtle in the slightest. "So, what's going on with you and Dean?" It tumbled out of his mouth more like an interrogation.

"What do you mean?" replied Daisy. She was more focused on Harry, who had just returned from his detention with Umbridge. Harry was very much trying to avoid all the questions that were being fired at him.

"Well you two have just spent like two hours snogging," he whispered back.

"Oh that," she smirked and then shrugged. "It's nothing serious. No man can ever tie me down, Nev. I like my freedom too much to give it up. Even though Dean is fit and is a good kisser." Neville could have easily gone without knowing the last part. He clung onto the fact that she wasn't committed to him. Not yet, at least.

Neville's heart sunk when he saw Dean approaching them again.

"Hey Daisy, was just wondering if you wanted to hang out?" Dean offered. He shuffled his feet nervously.

"I literally saw you like five minutes ago."

"Oh, yeah, I meant like at the weekend?"

"Probably not no."

Dean burst out laughing. "Ah, you crack me up! So, shall we meet here at like ten on Saturday?"

"I literally just said no. I'm off for a cigarette. Hopefully Umbridge finds me on the way and sentences me to death."

The two boys, who had been friends since first year, watched as the girl stalked away. They were both desperately in love with her, and she had no idea.

"I just can't work her out," Dean sighed. It seemed like a good idea for him to get advice on the person who knew her most: Neville.

"What's to work out?" Neville said, trying his best to disguise the annoyance in his voice.

"I really like her, man. I just don't know how she feels about me. Has she said anything to you?" Hearing Dean confirm what Neville had feared, stung.

"We don't really talk about things like that."

"Will you ask her for me? Ask her how she really feels?"

"We're not ten, Dean. You should ask her yourself."

"No, no, you're right. Maybe I should just man up and ask her out."

"You know what she would really like?" Neville's eyes were twinkling with a mischief no one would recognise.

"What?" Dean was eager.

"A big, big, public display of affection."

"Like flowers?"

"Bigger. Much bigger. Write her a song, and a poem. The bigger the better."

Dean smiled. "Got you, thanks man!" His mind whirled with ideas of how he could convey his love to Daisy in the biggest way possible.

"No worries." Guilt bubbled in the pit of Neville's stomatch. He knew she would absolutely loathe that and that's exactly why he was telling him to do it.