Ravenclaw’s first match of the season versus Hufflepuff had left Roger still riding from the high two days later. With a score of 340 to 50 it was safe to say the start of the year looked good for Davies and his team. He had worried about the Dementors and the effects they could have on his team, but his worries had been for nothing. Having put off his homework with the excuse that he needed to practice, plan, focus and celebrate, he’d run out of reasons to back his procrastination. It didn’t stop Roger, though, from strolling lazily to the library and even taking a scenic route. He’d stop to talk to friends and classmates, walking slowly with his usual throng of friends and a pretty blond Slytherin with her arm looped through his.

The procession spilled into the library, sounding a light and cheerful as the beautiful fall day blotted out by the dusty windows.  Madam Pince immediately swooped down on the group, snapping at them for silence and shooing off those without homework. Roger stood alone in the silence after a promise to the Slytherin girl he would indeed ‘see her later’ then settled down to a table to work.

Charms first. He thought, figuring he would get the easier work out of the way. They were still learning the basics of Silencing Charms. The irony of studying silencing charms in the library amused Roger greatly. He’d remembered Professor Flitwick recommended some other titles for research and decided to give those a look, still not ready to sit and commit to writing out a short essay just yet. He stood and wandered over to the Charms section of the library, strolling past interesting and not so interesting topics, and letting his pale eyes linger on each title for a moment before moving onto the next. Finally, he reached Silencing charms, and paused, looking for the book in question. The space where the book should have been was empty.

It can’t have been gone long, Roger thought, eying the space and the lack of dust in the notoriously dusty library. Must be floating around somewhere. He raised his hand to shift through the mess of dark brown curls and gave a sigh of frustration. Looking up, he spotted a student not too far down the aisle from him. He’d seen the silvery hair and lithe frame plenty of times before, as the student wasn’t exactly unremarkable to look at. Perhaps he was a student volunteer for the library or had seen the copy floating around.

“Hey,” Roger walked up to him, “You wouldn’t happen to have seen the book ‘Theories of Silence’, would you? It doesn’t seem like it has been missing from the shelf for too long.”

To say he wasn't a fan of Quiddich would have been a lie, but Gale certainly didn't enjoy the days when his housemates played. He felt left out as they all cheered and wrote down their votes on who would score the most, and after the last game their spirits were rather broken. Already their spirits were broken, the moods were not their best, and the common room was like a pit of storm clouds as they all pouted and went on about what could be done better to improve. He never felt welcome, and never felt like he could chime in. Yet, how could they feel this way, Ravenclaw was a really good team and Roger…well he was Roger, he would play professional--Gale was sure of it.

Arthur didn't like sports, at least not the kind that didn't involve duels and sharp objects, and he was even less fond of flying ones. So they spent the entire match under the stands going over different fighting techniques and using the thick wood as target practice so that he could make sure Gale's aim was perfected.

'B-but, what if we cause the stands to fall?' he hated to think that he would be responsible for someone's death, but as they climbed higher and higher, Gale knew his concerns fell on deaf ears. Arthur never cared, he would find pleasure in the distraction of it, and sometimes when he watched some of the students fly by Gale could see the desire in his eyes to use them as targets.

'You worry too much about the little things,' The Slytherin boy hissed at him, 'Never see the big picture.' He was right, Gale knew that, but it was just hard to see what good it would do him fighting like this. Plus it was cold. He hated the cold.

The Library was the only place he could escape, as his concerned classmates would often drill him for answers, wondering where he got such marks and bruises and not liking the way that boy held so much of his attention; but they couldn't understand. It was love. Wasn't it?

'Hey--' He heard the voice call out for someone and looked up seeing Roger standing there with eyes the color of oceans and a smile like the sun. Arthur hated him, and Gale could see why. Roger was such an outgoing, happy, handsome young man who all the ladies liked and even half of his house. So just the fact that he was standing here talking to him, made Gale think there had to be some sort of mistake, and he looked over his shoulder to make sure no one else was there.

"Um…" At barely five feet, Gale was all all skin and bones, his hair was cut short to his shoulders and fell like razor blades around his chin, his glasses were nice but sat sometimes crooked on his face, and he was practically lost in his new robes. A lot about him had changed since his first year here with hand me downs and a colony of bugs living in his hair. It was as if he had stumbled on some secret wealth that no one knew about, and did a 180 from the wild child of the woods to the fashionable--respected shadow of Arthur Thorne.  No one talked to him, out of fear of Arthur's wrath and his knife under their chin.

"I have it actually," Gale's voice was so quiet as his face flushed with color as if even speaking was a strain, and from his position on the ground he curled the book proactively to his chest as he looked up at the Ravenclaw captain, "…right here." Was he about to be picked on? Was Roger that stupid? Where were his buddies? Gale looked around to see that Roger was alone but then looked back at him skeptically.

"What do you need it for?"

For as long as Roger could remember he had seemed to live in a bubble;  his mother had always fussed over him, worrying and nagging, and at Hogwarts he seemed as though he were surrounded by people. Given this, he seemed to never really notice the interactions outside his sphere. Oh sure, his popularity and circle cast a very wide net with friends from all houses, but when it came to actual dealings beyond him and his friends things were lost on him. He had noticed Gale, who wouldn’t? First time he’d commented on the unusual looking lad, asking who the pretty girl was, a friend laughed and had told him about the weird Hufflepuff boy with silver hair. Beyond that, Roger never paid much attention to him Gale, even forgetting his name and certainly didn’t trouble himself with some sullen Slytherin boy throwing dirty looks his way.

His brow furrowed slightly in confusion when the boy had looked over his shoulder, and an amused grin shown through.

“Yeah, you.”

Sometimes people seemed nervous to talk to Roger, which he thought was nonsense. He didn’t feel he was someone so intimidating he couldn’t be approached. His blue eyes fell upon the pile of books in the smaller boy’s arms, giving Roger the impression that he must be a student librarian.

“You have it?” His features lightened as a smile bloomed on his face, speaking softer toward the silver-haired boy in case his natural timbre was too loud for this strange student, noting the flush upon his cheeks. One might expect to see it on a girl’s face, or talking to students congratulating him after a match, but it seemed out of place in the library on a male. “Oh fantastic!” However, that smile faltered at the seemingly sharp note in Gale’s interrogation. His lips pulled into the smallest of a pout, then fell back into their usual neutral, devil-may-care smirk and gave a casual shrug. “Oh, you know, Charms work. Flitwick recommended this for some reading to get the idea behind Silencing Charms.” Roger paused, with the academic observation of a pathologist, and scrutinized him. Obviously this boy is younger than him.

“Soo, why do you have it?”

His new shoes made squeaking sounds when he stood, and Gale tapped his wand lightly over both pant legs performing the silencing spell perfectly without ever speaking the charm. His face was fifty shades of red as he gathered the rest of his things, but never once did he act as though he was going to let go of the book.

"I have it because it's one of my favorites, and that I read it often. I could probably quote it to you if you would like," Gale was the sort that read everything, and even the instructions on the back of his toothpaste entertained him. Yet, in books like this he really got lost. Charms was his best class, he even made a little extra money on the side tutoring those around him. He was well beyond his years when with his work, and could probably even pass his NEWTS. Taking his glasses off he tucked them away and blinked a few times to adjust to the difference in his vision; both eyes open he looked at Roger one more time before looking down to study the book. He didn't really need it, it was just his own stubborn pride that didn't want to give it up. He really could quote the darn thing, and was just reading to relax. They were in a library...he could find a hundred other books, and so he handed it over. However, after doing so rather swiftly, Gale took a few safe steps back and brought his hands together to keep them busy--knocking his nails together,

"I-if...If you skip through the first p-part, it's just philosophy," He struggled through the sentence realizing that he was actually talking to Roger Davies, and after a great match, "Chapter Three is when it really starts to pick up," He took a deep breath, having realized he was speaking through holding it, "And the chapters are b-broke down from there...for the different types..." Finally he said through his exhale, and had trouble keeping eye contact. He had lowered his a few times now and every time he lifted them to look Roger in the eye his cheeks burned and he quickly dropped his gaze to his shoes.

"Charms....I mean..the different charms." Right. Way to make a complete ass of yourself Nightingale. Pick up your bag and go to your room.

The sound levels in the library under Madam Pince’s rule were always kept very low, but even her obsessive drive to stamp out all noise fell short to the subtle sounds of life: a stray cough here, the scratching of a quill on parchment there, or the low murmur of students discussing a topic with their heads bent over notes and books. Roger never noticed the squeak of Gale’s shoes, or the fact he had just performed a silencing charm without using words, else he would have been incredibly impressed and felt just in awe.

“Ah, thanks but no thanks,” Roger said with a soft smile at the boy’s offer; he loved to read and it was one of the few times he could actually be alone. The constant throng of people around Roger gave him the illusion of being very social when in fact he’d often rather just be left alone to his thoughts. He liked his friends, he liked to converse, but the constant see of friends, fans and inbetween often wore him down. However, all of the popular quidditch players in school seemed to be followed by friends and admirers, so he seemed that was just the way it is. Swift reflexes allowed Roger to accept the book from the fast moving Gale in a fluid motion, though he seemed taken aback.

A look of concern crept to the corners of Roger’s eyes and mouth and he once more analyzed the boy’s appearance with icy eyes. It didn’t take a genius to see he was nervous as hell, stuttering and failing to maintain eye contact. Feeling as though it would be rude to refuse someone’s help who so clearly knew the book, Roger reconsidered his offer.

“You know, I could use some help though. It is a pretty big book and I do need to wrap up this essay in a reasonable amount of time.” He smiled warmly. “Would that be alright?”

Was Roger really asking him for help? Gale wasn't offering with that first bit, truly. He was just making suggestions, but he did try his best to seem eager and willing. Of course the biggest jock at the school would want his help, for being  Hufflepuff Gale was rather good at everything academic--he wondered if it wasn't time to see if he should have switched houses. So much had changed over the past few years, especially in his appearance. Where his hair had once been wild atop his head, it was not sleek and perfectly trimmed at his shoulders, where his speech had been rushed and sloppy was now direct and perfected (when he wasn't nervous and even that was being worked on). Nightingale, had traded in his old rags for new robes, was quick to clean his shoes when they got dirty, and very rarely went outside anymore. A child born to live in the trees this had been the hardest choice, but Arthur was right--he had other more important things to do.

"I…um," Nervously  he put his hair behind his ear and looked up at Roger, "I would happily help you yes. If you really want it." This was a chance to talk to him! To actually be useful to one of the most popular kids in school, how could he pass this up.

"Do you want to sit down?"

Roger’s smile widened when the boy agreed to help him. “Fantastic! To be honest, I’m only decent at Charm work.” He admitted rather sheepishly; Roger hated to seem as though he wasn’t a star-student at everything. “I understand it, of course, but Transfiguration and Arithmancy is where I am best. I guess I have a hard time translating the math behind the charming.” A shrug followed his statement to mask the shame. “Yeah, let’s sit!” Roger nodded his head toward the tables and began walking, pausing to wait for Gale to follow. “Oh, right, I’m Roger Davies.” After all, if they were going to study together they might as well know each other’s names.