WHO: Oswald Selwyn and Flora Wilkes WHEN: Last Saturday afternoon WHERE: Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade SUMMARY: This is not a date. RATING: PG-13 for swears STATUS: Complete
"You didn't really ask Tilly if I would meet you here, did you?" The question was hissed with an accusatory tone, far off the mark from the perfunctory polite clip Flora's speech usually adopted with the closest person she had to a rival inside the castle. Brian had ventured to the bar to order a round of drinks, and Tilly had left for the ladies', baffled at Flora's insistence that she didn't need to join her. She seized upon the moment, attempting to settle the niggling questions that had been plaguing her ever since she'd walked through the door and sat down at Tilly's table with the sinking realization that Oswald was in fact her date. Oswald, who delighted in telling other people what to do and rubbing it in her face when he got a better mark than her on any assignment. It was positively impossible that he had spoken to Tilly about her specifically, as Flora had mandated when she had consented to letting Tilly play matchmaker. It had seemed so safe at the time - surely no one would mention her name to Tilly Dawlish for that purpose, and Tilly had promised not to set her up unless that was the case. Flora pulled a packet of Pepper Imps from her array of bags, sullenly wondering what other promises from that conversation Tilly had broken. Did Oswald know that she'd told Tilly she'd never been kissed?
Oswald’s initial horror at having been set up with his rival who hated him had given way to embarrassment and dread - the only thing worse than being set up on a blind date with someone you were sure would come away thinking you were awful was being set up on a blind date with someone who already thought you were awful. On top of that, he was feeling a bit ill from having only consumed a single mulled cider with Morag today, so this, combined with his existential misery had taken most of the snark out of him. He didn’t much feel like arguing. He wanted nothing more than to get this over with, get back to the castle, and hide somewhere with his books to try to forget Hogsmeade had ever happened.
“No, is that what she told you?” Oswald said, frowning. Of course they had. He sighed, and rolled his eyes, melodramatic. “Brian pretty much forced me to do this. I said no, but he insisted. Said some girl wanted to meet me here. That alone was enough to tell me he was full of shit.”
He tried not to look at the Pepper Imps, instead pretending to stare at some stray salt on the table. “I can see we’ve both been had,” he said, with some sympathy. “Don’t worry, I won’t try to snog you or anything.”
Flora's hand jumped when tearing open the sweet wrapper, startled by the idea that snogging was part of the conversation. The little black imps spilled over the table, one landing in a small puddle left behind by the table's last occupants, and starting to smoke. "Good," she said, for lack of a better response to Oswald's non-offer. On one hand, she was pleased to know that he didn't secretly fancy her; on the other, she was confused by the discrepancy between his insistence that he'd been forced to attend (she hadn't been) and what seemed like pity for each of them being duped.
She popped an imp left in the packet into her mouth, disregarding the ones on the communal table. "It was probably Tilly's idea," guessed Flora. Boys weren't matchmakers, and Tilly was all too keen on the job.
Oswald slouched over his part of the table, resting his head on his hand. Despite his best efforts, he looked longingly at the spilled sweets before correcting himself and glancing away, lacing his fingers instead. If he didn’t think about food, he wouldn’t feel hungry, or at least, that was what he told himself. He willed himself to face Flora and give her an uncharacteristically apologetic half-smile.
“Well, if it was, Brian was definitely an accomplice, although I’m not sure what either of them expected to get out of this.” Oswald said. “Perhaps he thought that I wouldn’t show, and then he’d get to date both of you.” he teased, somewhat half-heartedly.
"No," Flora refused, and the steam coming out of her ears was half to do with the Pepper Imp in her mouth and half to do with her brain melting at the idea of Brian attempting to date her and Tilly both. The idea was worse than going on a date with Oswald alone. "I'm not supposed to date until I'm of age," she added, content in this context to cover all of her bases.
At least Flora’s apparent indignance was slightly amusing. Oswald chuckled and shook his head. “Please tell me this doesn’t count as a date, then. I’d hate for your brother to murder me for just sitting across the table from you.” he said.
That was the other reason she was never going to get a boyfriend. Vincent was intimidating to everyone in the school, even her, and that was without an attempt to integrate into his family. "It isn't a date," was all she said, as it seemed cruel to let the threat linger and ridiculous to imagine that Oswald would be her boyfriend. "I came with Tilly and Brian dragged you along," Flora reiterated. "It's just part of a Hogsmeade day." She looked over her shoulder toward the bathroom and the crowd at the bar, keeping an eye out for their conspiring cohorts.
Oswald sank back into his seat, looking relieved that she was backing him up on this, although why wouldn’t she, really? They knew it wasn’t a real date, that was for sure, but whether Vincent would agree was an entirely different story. He, too, glanced around the room, just in case the older Slytherin was lurking somewhere, although his attempts to look casual were only partly successful. Hopefully, their friends would return before anyone could draw any damning conclusions from the two of them sitting there unaccompanied.
Not wanting to seem paranoid, Oswald decided to change the subject. “So, what are you going to do once you leave here?” he asked her conversationally.
"Here?" Flora asked, gesturing to the pub, unsure if he meant this not-date, the Hogsmeade weekend, or leaving Hogwarts next year. "I have to go to Scrivenshafts still, and then back at the castle my dorm is going to have a girls night in." If he meant the latter, he would specify. She was sure he wasn't planning on taking the same career path she was, given a difference in classes. Mandatory Muggle Studies meant that it was only just barely possible to take the required courses to test for the further education programs offered by St. Mungo's. "You?" she asked, uncertain which one she was inquiring about.
Oswald himself hadn’t really decided what exactly he’d meant by the question - it had been vague, general, a way to keep a conversation going. “Leaving here. Leaving school. A bit of both.” he said with a shrug. “Staying in sounds fun. And I heard Scrivenshafts has a sale on. Probably some interesting stuff there. I’ll probably just head back to the castle, I guess.” Making small talk wasn’t really something he was used to, but he was making an effort.When he considered the question he’d asked a bit further, he realised that perhaps their expectations for their lives post-school were a more intriguing topic than their plans for the evening.
“After school, though, when you leave for good, what do you plan on doing? I’ve never really asked you,” he said, genuinely curious. She had to have some lofty ambition, he figured, considering how hard she worked. He’d always competed with her with little regard for why she might have wanted those top grades just as badly as he did.
Oswald being polite - almost friendly even - was making Flora uncomfortable.
She held her tongue with regard to his plans for the rest of the day (boys didn't have to spend time shopping for anything to do with their looks beyond the occasional razor or haircut; it wasn't fair). Oswald wouldn't enjoy wearing face masks, painting nails, and testing different fancy hairstyles, and if he didn't know already, Flora didn't enjoy admitting to him that this was what a girls night in entailed. Hedging her answer about what she wanted to do after Hogwarts, Flora crunched up the last bit of her sweet and swallowed.
"I'd like to be a Mediwitch," she lied. Only Lydia, June, and Madam Pomfrey knew that her ambitions were to be a fully-fledged Healer, and even if he was being nice, Flora wasn't ready to share that lofty dream with Oswald just yet. "What're you going to do?"
it really did not occur to Oswald that a girls’ night in consisted of anything different than what he did when he stayed in, which usually consisted of reading, teaching his pet rat tricks, or learning how to strum some new tune, but then, he didn’t usually think about how or why girls looked like they did. He was a Ravenclaw - to him, learning was how he preferred to spend his free time. He listened with interest as Flora answered his question, raising his eyebrows when she mentioned her plans of becoming a Mediwitch. Competitive as he was, Oswald looked quite impressed.
“That’s a good plan. That’s a really good plan,” he said, with some envy. When she turned the same question back on him, he looked back at her with a blank expression for a few moments - what did he want to do, anyway? Unfortunately, he did not have a lie prepared for such an occasion.
He thought about it for a second, and when he couldn’t think of something suitably impressive, he simply shrugged. “I don’t know. I just want to get the fuck out of Tottenham,” Oswald said honestly. He appeared defeated as he admitted this but did not elaborate. He flicked a Pepper Imp off the table as though it was at fault for his indecision.
Flora shifted in her seat, made awkward by her ignorance of what was the matter with Tottenham. When Oswald didn't explain, she held back from asking. They were rivals for top marks, but she wasn't made happier by the idea of forcing him into talking about whatever it was about his home that upset him. Instead she took a cue and flicked an imp, but aimed hers at Oswald.
Oswald feigned a scowl when he was hit with the candy, although his frown quickly turned to a grin and he laughed despite himself. He was more than happy not to linger on the subject of why his home was godawful, and his expression was one of relief when he noticed that their friends were returning from their respective activities.
“Heads up,” he warned her, feeling slightly less antagonistic toward Flora now that they’d shared these few moments of not lunging for one another’s throat. Then, casually, when he thought that no-one was looking at him, he picked the Imp off his shirt and popped it into his mouth.