HIS CHOSEN GIRL [MAJOR EDITING/REWRITING]

first year ➤flying lessons

The grand hall as usual is buzzing with excitement despite it still being the early hours in the morning. We sit ourselves at the Gryffindor table and I dig in to my waffles the moment they magically appear in front of me. Hermione chats with me for a bit before delving into her book and I know not to disturb her.

I begin to people watch, something I find myself doing often, although it's must more interesting to observe young wizards than it was to observe sketchy people doing illegal things in the depths of night as I hid behind a near by trash can.

To my surprise most of the attention lies with Neville Longbottom but that scenario quickly loses my interest as I realize they're only freaking about his remembrall. While it is quite interesting, I don't feel the need to go over and investigate because he showed me it yesterday in the common room. And because I'm a nice person,

I look around to see what other people are doing but most of them are crowding around Neville Longbottom because his grandmother sent him a Remembrall. Quite an interesting object it is, Hermione have me a full and in depth backstory of it yesterday night when Neville first showed it off in the common room and I had asked her after he left what exactly it did. There went a good 20 minutes of my life I'll never get back.

"Good morning."

I turn to see my favorite green eyed boy, not that I'm particularly familiar with many, to my right causing me to smile and I glance at his messy bed head.

"Good morning, ever heard of a brush," I giggle as Harry quickly runs his hands through his hair.

"What am I invisible?" Ron teases sitting across from Harry.

"Sorry what?" I reply cupping a hand behind my ear. "Couldn't heat what you said you were too busy stuffing your mouth with pancakes. Honestly Ron, are you part pig or something?"

"Shhh!" Hermione tuts to which I motion for the boys to scooch over so she can remain unbothered.

"Why's she always got her nose buried in a book?" Ron criticizes.

"So are you two excited for flying?" I ask quickly sending Ron into a ramble of how he can't wit to learn to fly and that one day he'll be a hero on the Quidditch team and blah blah blah I've heard it all before.

I really try my best to change the topic when the boys put Hermione down. I think if Hermione as a friend now that I know I can trust her with my 'secret life' for lack of better term. Because of this, I don't like when the boys make fun of her, just like when the roles are reversed, I don't like it it when she criticizes them either.

A day has never gone by longer but finally we're dismissed from our last class and it's time to start our flying lesson. It's like a stampede with all the first years charging down to the field. I hate to say that my mood sours just the tiniest bit when I make eye contact with Draco Malfoy, who flashes me a look of disgust. I must say that while Hogwarts may be amazing, I could probably live without having to attend nearly every lesson with Slytherin house. Whatever. I'm not going to let anything ruin this class. I've been waiting all week to learn how to fly.

Laid on the field ground in two even lines lie proper witch like broomsticks. I stand next to Harry and Hermione comes over and stands next to me. The Slytherins keep their distance from us accordingly, opting to stand in the line opposite ours as we wait for our professor, Madam Hooch to start the lesson.