Pretty, tall, and quidditch-playing, and he'd talked about her, what, twice? He had to laugh. "I'm not sure why you're worried about that. You're very pretty, play quidditch, and—well—maybe not tall, but I like that you're short," he said, as if she ought to know that by now. He lifted his free hand and twirled a finger around her now bright pink braid. "I don't think Miss Bonaccord can do this either," he added, giving it a little tug. She'd said she'd learned to control it, but it seems she has a little ways to go. It didn't matter to him, though; he preferred it pink.
It did really explain everything. Now he felt silly for getting so worked up over the bracelet he'd bought her, and even more silly for assuming she didn't like it. If she liked him—really liked him—it made sense that she would have liked the bracelet whether or not she was a bracelet type of girl. He peeked down at their joined hands. The sight of the little sunflower charm peeking out from under her robe made heart skip a beat.
"And to think I spent all summer believing you fancied Ned." Once again, maybe she did. Maybe she liked them both. He still wasn't convinced that he could possibly be more likable than his more successful dorm-mate. She wasn't the only one who'd been battling with jealousy.
It did really explain everything. Now he felt silly for getting so worked up over the bracelet he'd bought her, and even more silly for assuming she didn't like it. If she liked him—really liked him—it made sense that she would have liked the bracelet whether or not she was a bracelet type of girl. He peeked down at their joined hands. The sight of the little sunflower charm peeking out from under her robe made heart skip a beat.
"And to think I spent all summer believing you fancied Ned." Once again, maybe she did. Maybe she liked them both. He still wasn't convinced that he could possibly be more likable than his more successful dorm-mate. She wasn't the only one who'd been battling with jealousy.
