Losing You

[Sebastian Creevey]

<sub>[ Crappy, but functional. ]

There wasn’t much that could tempt this Gryffindor from his bed early on a Saturday morning. The boy enjoyed his sleep. Oh, yes. He enjoyed it very much. What else could keep him looking tip-top for the ladies, if not a long, lazy slumber on one of the few days that it did not break any school rules? But for reasons yet unknown, he had abandoned his valiant efforts of vanity and the like, and was now emerging (surprisingly brightly for such an hour) from the dormitory washroom, squeaky clean.

Grinning from ear-to-ear, Sebastian Creevey cheerily crossed the dormitory to his trunk and removed the day’s attire. Nothing to fancy, just a shirt and trousers, but – in his honest opinion – still enough to make any girl weak in the knees. Conceit was not something he shied from, as any student would eagerly confirm. And why should he? Surely he could not be expected to deny his role as God’s gift to Womankind. That, my friend, would be a sin.

He ran a quick hand through unkempt golden locks, not bothering to consult a mirror before descending the stairs into the Gryffindor Common Room. Sebastian had long-since given up the vain battle with his hair; there was no reasoning with the unruly mop, and it was common-knowledge that Sebastian wasn’t a very patient person. A few persons inhabited the Common Room and were passed, unacknowledged. Anyone could see that he had something on his mind, something that left little room for waves and greetings.

Within moments, he had exited the Portrait Hole and was now taking great strides down the corridor. Again, no notice was taken of those who passed by. With his goal so near, it’s unlikely that a stampede of rhinos could break his concentration. A pity, as one of the passerby’s happened to be a particularly underdressed young woman who looked to be in dire need of assistance. Like I said: not even a stampede of rhinos.

Soft blue eyes lit up instantly as the sweet aroma of pancakes, freshly-baked muffins, eggs, bacon, and syrup overwhelmed his senses as he neared the Great Hall. Ah, yes. Now you see. It was the lure of his favorite breakfast that drew him from his slumbers. Having the night before (on one of his routine kitchen-runs) received notice of said breakfast from a very reliable source, Sebastian had set aside his contempt for all things ‘early’ in the spirit of indulgence.

Taking a seat at the nearly-empty Gryffindor table, the seventh-year smiled greedily as a heaping plate of food appeared before him. Oh, Hogwarts. It wasn’t often that he truly appreciated the school’s quirks, but he really couldn’t help but make an exception this time.</sub>

[Elizabeth Nott]

<sub>Okay so mornings really weren't El's thing... actually they never had been and probably never would be. To be ever more honest, no one in her family liked mornings, not even her darling brat sister Katie, but because they were back in school, she was just going to have to deal with it. However, Elizabeth Nott wasn't going down without a fight and she had planned to sleep in later then the rest of her dorm... that was until she was so hungry that she had to get up.

Gathering her strangth, she rolled out of bed and actually ended up on the floor. "Shit," she muttered and began to untagle herself from the vice grip the sheets had on her. When she was finally out she bolted from the sheets and down to the common room where she began getting looks. Looking down she again muttered, "Shit." Today was not going to be a good day.

She scrambled back upstairs and quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a beater. Running a brush through her hair, she pulled it into a ponytail. As she entered the fourth year Ravenclaw dorm she muttered something about her classmates being lazy as the remaining girls continued to softly snore in their warm beds. She grabbed her flip-flops and made her way out of the door and down to the Common Room. She stopped to talk to no one and acknowledged few with a nod.

The Ravenclaw Tower was situated at the top of the castle. just like the Gryffindor tower and no matter what she did or what direction she went in it was seven floors down and a pain in the ass. So she practically flew down them, skipping two at a time and was down in the Entrance Hall in record time. Well she was hungry! Taking only a moment to catch her breath, she entered the Great Hall and took a seat at the Ravenclaw table.

She looked at the food before her and began piling it on her plate. Usually she didn't eat much, but she was hungry. When she turned to the boy beside her to ask for the syrup, her eyes widened and she turned away. The person she was sitting next to was Sebastian Creevey, Gryffindor. Freaking Gryffindor. She'd sat at the wrong table. Hopefully, if she ate fast, he wouldn't notice and she could avoid total humiliation.

[[erck, not good, but it shall suffice.]]</sub>

[Sebastian Creevey]

<sub>Nothing like hotcakes to make you forget you were even tired. Ignoring the stares his groan of satisfaction prompted from those at his table, Sebastian sized up the contents of his plate. Let’s see… three hotcakes, good; scrambled eggs, excellent; four strips of bacon, it would suffice (for now); and…

He scrunched his nose in distaste, just barely restraining him inner child from diving into some sort of vile gagging motion. Pumpkin juice. What in Merlin’s name had wizardkind possibly done to merit such a god-awful beverage? More importantly, who the hell decided that it was a good idea to serve it with breakfast?

“Disgusting,” he muttered under his breath, pushing the glass away rather unceremoniously. Now beverage-less (and with good reason, too), Sebastian took to glancing about his table for a possible trade. Surely he could find someone to relieve him of his substance so deviously named ‘juice’. More like arse in disguise, if you asked him.

And so, blue eyes hopped from plate to plate, glass to glass, each more disappointing than the other, until finally landing on the glass nearest him. He must’ve been too engrossed in his meal to notice the seat next to him being taken. Still pumpkin juice. Damnit. Sebastian vaguely registered a tail of blonde streaming from the back of the assumed female’s head as he returned his sights to his own plate, lips taking the shape of a slight pout as he debated just how thirsty he was.

Wait— female? A female, blonde at that, who had taken a seat beside him and not made any attempt at conversation?
It was ridiculous. It was preposterous. It was downright rude.

But, before jumping the gun, he decided to venture another look.
Eyebrows hitched in a mixture of curiosity and confusion (never in his life -that he would like to recall- had he been ignored by the fairer sex), Sebastian took another look at the personl beside him, shocked to find that she was, indeed, a female. An unfamiliar female, but one nonetheless.

Admittedly, he was feeling a tad embarrassed by this point, but refused to let it show. Certainly she had some reason for sitting beside him. Yes, of course! It was all a clever little ploy to win his attention. Reverse psychology, he supposed. Ah. Well that was much better. He no longer felt quite as emasculated, which was comforting for the boy who still had no beverage, and who’s mouth was starting to tingle from thirst.

But something else was irritating him at this moment. The girl. She was surprisingly unfamiliar. Sure, she was younger than he, but Sebastian had made it a point to make himself familiar with (if not the names) the faces of those in his House. And this girl.. well, he just couldn’t place her face.

“You aren’t a Gryffindor, are you?” he asked, rather matter-of-factly, refusing to have his godliness undermined by the possibility of being wrong. Questions were for mere mortals. Hence, the matter-of-fact-ness.</sub>