4:14pm
February 10, 2009


This was crazy. 

"Mysti? You in there?"

Figaro had gone down to the pitch to find the Hufflepuff Quidditch team captain; not for her skill on a broom or to badger her once again for just one more chance to at least be an alternate, but to ask what was likely to be the most embarrassing question ever.  Everyone was talking about the Spellpunk party that was going on over Valentine's Day.  An amazing dance party taking place off-campus hosted by a nightclub owner from London.  There was no way Figaro was going to show up without a date again.  Maybe when he was younger, he didn't care about flying solo, just hanging with his mates.  But as they were getting older, more and more of the boys in his year were pairing off and he was feeling the pressure.  He just had no idea who to ask.  Sure, lots of the girls in his year were kind of hot, or tried to be.  And some of them were pretty cool.  But it was more of like... in a chummy way.  Before he didn't see the hassle, but now, it seemed... urgent.

He pulled his oversized knit cap down harder over his ears as he approached the Hufflepuff locker room.  The team had just finished practice and he'd passed a bunch of the players on his way down from the castle, but not Mysti Ketteridge yet.  Hopefully she was still in there somewhere because she was just the person he wanted to talk to.

Peering in, he called her name again.

"Oi, Mysti?  Knock knock?"

Mysti was pleased with herself, and with her team.  Practice had gone well.  They’d worked on basic training, skill toning, as well as a couple new plays.  Everyone seemed to have gotten them down, and liked them.  Now, Mysti put away her gear and looked around the locker room. She looked at her reflection in a mirror for a moment.  Hair in a ponytail with a few stray hairs out, a couple smudges of dirt, and a little sweaty.  The girl shook her head and decided to try and ignore her reflection. Everyone else had left, and she decided to have a sit with a drink of water and her playbook.

Then, Figaro Sellaphix, a classmate of the same year as Mysti, poked his head in looking for her.  The girl was a bit confused, wondering what had brought him down to the Quidditch field looking for her.  Maybe something about classes? Except she didn’t have all of her books with her if he had questions about that.  Some kind of trouble? She was a prefect too, so perhaps he needed assistance? Of course, the easiest thing to do would be for Mysti to ask what he needed.

“Yeah? Hey Fig. What’s up?” Mysti looked over at him and gave him a smile. For a moment she remembered her current appearance and pushed a bit of hair out of her face. Oh well, after almost 5 years of knowing each other, she figured he should be fine with her being a little dirtied after practice.

Uh, well good.  She was here.  He realized with a flush of nervousness that he was hoping he might not find her and be off the hook.  But well. Here she was.  She looked pretty with her windswept hair and her quidditch gear.  Grass stain on her knee.  He flashed a smile and took of his hat and smoothed down his dirty-blonde hair.

"Oh yeah, nothin'," he replied causally.  "Last match was brilliant.  Well done. Might've heard me yelling."

He sat down on the bench she was sitting on, but about five feet between them.

"So! You look... nice." He swallowed and nodded with a grin. 

This was crazy.  There was a reason many kids only asked out people in other houses.  For living alongside each other, often time housemate relationships were more... sibling-like.  They just knew too much about each other.  They came back to the commonroom from class or dinner and were probably tired and ready to just relax. Change out of school robes into scrubbies and sweats and lounge around.

But, he knew Mysti.  Made it seem easier somehow.

Thankfully, Fig didn’t seem to have a problem with her appearance. Instead, he complimented her on the previous game. Mysti smiled, happy for the compliment.  Sometimes she doubted herself, and it was always good to get support from her comrades.  Then he sat down on the bench with her.

“Thanks, I might have heard you. It gets a little distracting out there.” She said, adding a laugh at the end.

And a compliment? Mysti wasn’t really used to this kind of attention.

“Er.. thanks.” There was a slight silence, “So, did you need something? Or just want to talk quidditch?”

It seemed a little awkward for Mysti.  But then again, it wasn’t that awkward. She knew Figaro, and had since first year. That’s what happens when you’re in the same year and house.  Though she was still curious as to why he seemed to be avoiding some subject.  If she knew what he was going to ask her, then perhaps she might have been a little more lenient on the silence.  But Mysti didn’t have a clue. So she waited to see what he wanted to talk about.

"Quiddith," he said flatly.  "No."

Mysti wasn't acting all giggly or smiley or nervous like he'd seen when other people get in situations like these.  She was just looking at him frankly like he was going to ask her about their revision for an upcoming Transfiguration practical.

He'd not thought about it until now, but part of him just wanted to tear off the bandaid and get it out the open as soon as possible.  He opened his mouth to do just so and then closed it again, psyched out.

"No, not Quidditch.  Um, more like...okay so you know about-." He cut himself off and let air out of his puffed cheeks.  He scratched the back of his neck.

"Maybe you could be my girlfriend," he finally suggested.

Suggested? Damnit. That's not what he was going for.  Smile, Figaro. 

He smiled and raised his eyebrows as if to say, how about it, buddy? I'm cool.

Ok, so it wasn’t quidditch.  Was he acting odd, or was it just her imagination? Mysti noticed he was a bit nervous, and didn’t quite understand why.  That’s also partly because of having not been in such a situation before.  Well, the last time she was crying and just kissed someone she never thought she would. Mysti didn’t know to try and connect the two incidents.

Mysti cocked her head to the side, somewhat confused.  He kind of sighed and scratched his neck. Was he frustrated? Didn’t people look like that when they were frustrated? Mysti didn’t realize she was being frustrating if so. And then the suggestion came. Like a question she wasn’t expecting.

And she kind of just... stared at him for a moment. “OH! I’m sorry... I...”

Then she remembered a conversation a few weeks back with her friend Sophie. She had confessed to Mysti, that she was developing a crush on the very boy in the Quidditch locker room.  She said something about seeing him in his underwear in the girls bathroom. And about him looking like a glowing flobberworm. But a charming one. Whatever that meant.

“I... can’t. I’m sorry. I was kind of seeing someone... but that’s over and I’m not quite over it. And I have a friend who kind of likes you and it wouldn’t be fair to her...”

Wait, she shouldn’t have said that, should she?  Hopefully Sophie wouldn’t hate her for kind of ousting her. Mysti didn’t want to upset her friend. But didn’t really know how to turn a guy down. She didn't mean to bring up Trent either, but that happened too. Lack of experience was something that made that difficult.  Her face flushed and she was a bit embarrassed for being in such a situation.  But Mysti didn’t know how to avoid such things. If anything, now she had to focus on controlling herself, lest she turn her hair red without realizing it.  Now THAT would be something she wouldn’t want to have to explain to Figaro.

Well, that wasn't the reaction he'd wanted or expected.  She looked... sorry for him or something, which he didn't get.  She looked so damn nervous and let down as if she'd have much rather had him bother her about getting on the team yet again.  She didn't have to be like that; couldn't she just say no?  Well, maybe if she had, he'd just badger her about it and ask why.  So perhaps better that she...

"Wait, what?" He took a double-take, clearly caught by surprise.  And interest.  Someone liked him? That was well unexpected.  He figured people liked him, but no one had ever shown him much fancy. 

"Really!" he grinned wide and crossed his arms, his mood having changed at nearly the drop of a hat.  "Really?" 

So maybe Mysti wasn't at all interested, or whatever, but Figaro was more intrigued than let down.  He was sat up straighter on the bench and looking damn smug about all of this.  A million faces were running through his mind.  Kit Branwell, maybe.  Or Quinn McAvoy. What about Maddie Pratt? Was it Neely Freaking Woolfolk? He laughed and shook his head at the very notion of Neely fancying him.

"Well?" he asked her. "Who?  Let's have it."