Marshmallows

Marshmallows

by leftsockarchive

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For a location that was so well hidden from the rest of the world, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was one enormous place. None of the students that trudged its halls, or stole in the middle of the night through its dark and mystical corridors that had been cordoned off ages ago, or served its varied forms of detention (some of which were fair and appropriate; others of which were quite eyond what could be called civilized) over the years could ever dream of seeing every room in the castle, or knowing all of its secrets.

And there were many secrets. Some were big, huge, juicy, learn-them-and-die secrets, and others were just little secrets. Little secrets that really weren't secrets at all, but just things most students were too preoccupied or ignorant or stupefied to notice. They didn't notice because they were shoving sweets into their mouths, or poring over dusty tomes, or rowing with each other, or even trying to save the world.

Hogwarts was more than just a school. It was a home. Of course, for ten months of the year it was home to a whole lot of huge, screaming, smelly, interesting, exciting and sometimes rather ugly youngsters between the ages of ten and eighteen. Many of these youngsters enjoyed sabotaging perfectly good webs, which had taken hours of carefully planned swinging and threading to create, either by walking blindly through them or purposely prodding their stubby fingers into them and tugging viciously at the delicate gossamer craftwork...

But that is really beside the point.

It was also the home of professors, ghosts and house-elves. Nifflers and kneazles and blast-ended skrewts, too. Not to mention countless cats, rats, snakes, dogs, toads and owls. A myriad of owls--quite gruesome creatures, really, taking dives at perfectly quiet, innocent friends who simply minded their own business...

But again, beside the point.

It was even home to a rather smug giant squid that seemed to enjoy flailing its long tentacles above the surface of the lake as though it were tempting any and all to come have a swim.

It was a veritable zoo.

Of course, everyone knewts was home to many creatures. So that wasn't really a secret. Not even a little one. It's just that most students didn't notice all of the creatures that lived there. Not even the smartest witch to ever attend Hogwarts (or so everyone said) seemed to notice Delia.

She actually preferred it that way. She enjoyed being just beyond notice. She would perch in her own dark corner of the common room, high above the chatter of the smelly youngsters, and weave the most beautiful, intricate webs in the spot where the wall met the ceiling. When she was tired, she'd scurry into her crevice in the crown molding and have a nice bit of a kip.

Delia was born in the Forbidden Forest, and she left when she decided that the unabashed prostration that her family showed to her great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great-grandfather, Aragog, did not suit her. She knew that the castle had plenty of flies and beetles to munch on, so she bid her farewells and relocated.

Somehow, she ended up in what the humans called Gryffindor Tower. She was quite comfortable there in the slightly musty and dank surroundings, and was determined not to leave, despite the frequent appearance of owls delivering messages to the youngsters that lived there. To prevent herself from becoming the dinner of an ugly, scowling feathered rogue, she would just crawl back into her crevice whenever one appeared.

All in all, she had a good life. She spent many happy hours in Gryffindor Tower, snacking on tasty bugs that were stupid enough to fly into her webs, and occasionally receiving visits from her brothers and sisters, who would tell her about the happenings in the forest since her departure. She enjoyed hearing stories about the careless rovings of humans. She laughed for days at the story her brother told her of a great fat witch who had been carried off by the centaurs, kicking and screaming.

But, regardless of what she told anyone, Delia had a soft spot for hu them were quite amusing. The Gryffindor common room provided a nearly endless supply of entertainment. She found that she had become especially interested in the ongoing interactions between one boy and one girl who had arrived a few years earlier.

The girl was the one whom everyone said was the smartest witch to ever attend Hogwarts. She had an impressive mass of curly hair that Delia, in her light musings, secretly wished to tunnel through. The boy was very colorful, and one of the few humans to actually notice Delia. Everyone was tall to her, but he was extremely tall--much taller than the others, and he had hair the color of the sun. Several times, she had seen his eyes dart around the room and land on her. He would wince and scowl and his body stiffened at her presence. She only chuckled at his obvious discomfort. How irrational.

This tall, orange-haired boy was the sixth to come along over the course of several years. The year after he arrived, a seventh came, but that was a girl. All of them lived in Gryffindor Tower, and two of them looked exactly alike. It all became quite confusing. She had been glad when the two identical orange-haired boys left, rather dramatically as she understood it, because the common room was much quieter on the whole after that.

When this particular boy's eyes weren't darting around the room in search of her, Delia noticed that they were always fixed on this girl--the smartest witch to ever attend Hogwarts. The girl spent an inordinate amount of time reading and writing, and books were always splayed before her at whichever table she sat. She was quite bossy and always nagged the orange-haired boy, and another that had black, unruly hair and a curious mark on his forehead, but Delia noticed that her personality had softened a little as time passed, and her face grew lovelier.

Delia also noticed that the orange-haired boy, sitting next to her or across from her each evening in the common room, also noticed that thonality had softened a little as time passed, and her face grew lovelier. But this didn't seem to stop him from arguing with her over very small things. It especially didn't stop him from badgering her about the focus of her attentions and her dealings with other boys.

It was obvious to her that the pair constantly walked a very thin line together, with repulsion on the left and fascination on the right. Delia was aware of all the magic in the castle. But she knew that some things had nothing to do with magic. And everything to do with it.

***

11:17 p.m., 31 December

On this evening, the girl sat quietly in the puffy velvet sofa in front of the fire in the common room. She propped herself in the corner, against an old pillow that had lost its shape from being squashed by bums and punches, and who knows what else, over the course of who knows how many years.

She read a large leather-bound tome, occasionally pursing her lips and picking at the ends of her hair with her fingertips. She lifted her eyes from the pages every few minutes to stare into the fireplace. A sad expression flitted over her features, and then she resumed her reading.

The girl had placed a bag of little marshmallows on the table next to the sofa, and in between small sighs and her aimless gazes, she'd pop one into her mouth. Delia hoped she'd soon nod off so that she could angle down and nick a marshmallow. They were one of her favorite treats.

11:27 p.m., 31 December

The sudden sound of the portrait hole swinging open surprised Delia, as she thought that the girl was the only student left in the dormitory during holiday. The orange-haired boy walked in, carrying a satchel and his broomstick. He shivered and limped a little, and he had snow caked in his hair. The girl turned.

"Ron?" She sat forward a little and set her book down.

"Hi," he said.

The girl raised her eyebrows. The boy stopped a few feet from her and they both began speaking identical words at the same time.

"What are you..."

And again, simultaneously, "I thought that you..."

"I thought you had walked to the Hogsmeade gate by now. Why didn't you Apparate to the Burrow?" the girl asked.

"I walked to the gate, but then I turned around and came back. I decided I didn't really want to go."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. The house is really noisy and I, er... I should really be studying for the N.E.W.T.s and all, and I... because you... you said..." He trailed off and looked sullenly at the floor.

"Did you owl your mother to tell her you're not coming? She'll be worried sick about you."

He sighed. "Yes, Ient Pig."

"And since when do you care about the N.E.W.T.s?" Her voice rose slightly.

"I care about the N.E.W.T.s, Hermione! Just because I don't study for them every waking moment like you do, and I don't run off to the library whenever someone's trying to talk to me, doesn't mean I don't care about them!"

"All right. I'm sorry," she said.

"Look, I'll see you in the morning. I'm going to bed." He started to walk toward the boys' staircase.

"Wait a minute. Why are you limping?"

"What? Oh. It's nothing."

"It's not nothing, Ron. Look at yourself. You're shivering and covered in snow. Did you fall down?"

"No."

"Then what happened?"

"Hermione, why are you still up?"

"What? Oh, I don't know. I reckoned I'd ring in the new year, as they say."

"Hmm."

"How?"

"I don't have to tell you."

"Yes, you do."

"I won't."

"For someone as tall as you are, you're acting like quite a child."

"All right! I was flying in the Quidditch pitch. I crashed into one of the goal posts.&o;

The corners of the girl's mouth tugged upward ever so slightly into a smirk, but it was obvious that she fought the impulse to laugh. "Why were you out flying in the snow?"

"Will you stop nagging me?"

"I am not nagging. Excuse me for caring if you hurt yourself."

Delia saw something flash in the boy's eyes and he relented. "I just wanted to have a fly. That's all."

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it? Now come and sit down. Let me have a look at that foot."

"No."

"Ron, get over here."

"Uh uh."

"Ron!"

11:34 p.m., 31 December

The girl rose from her seat on the sofa and walked over to the boy. He watched her curl her fingers around his arm as she practically dragged him to the sofa.

"Take off those wet robes," she said. He shrugged them off and she pusd him down onto the middle cushion, directly in front of the fire. He grumbled with every step and his eyes continued to follow her as she sat next to him, back in her corner.

"Owww!" he said as she reached down and squeezed his ankle.

She tutted. "Will you stop being such a baby?"

She applied pressure to it and felt around the area. He scowled and drew short breaths. "It hurts," he whispered.

"Well, it looks all right. You didn't sprain your ankle. You just bruised it a little. You won't even feel it tomorrow."

"Can't you make me some salve to make it feel better like you did for Harry that time?"

"Honestly, you don't need it. Just sit here and warm up. You could get very sick if you stay wet too long."

"Are you going to give me a sermon now?"

11:42 p.m., 31 December

As they argued, Delia attached a strand of her silk to the ceiling corner and glided down a few feet. If they continued like this, maybe she could quietly maneuver down and hock a marshmallow.

The girl looked at the boy exasperatedly and reached for a blanket that lay draped across the arm of the sofa. She sat up on her knees and wrapped it around him, pulling each of the ends so that they crossed over his chest. Her fingers lingered a moment on the blanket and she smiled.

"Is that better?" she asked.

"I reckon," he mumbled.

The girl sat back against the pillow she had propped in the corner of the sofa. " why didn't you Apparate to the Burrow? Really?"

"Well because... because I... uh. I didn't want you to be here alone."

"Ron, what have I told you about..."

"You said you wouldn't come with me because you were going to study and you needed silence so you could concentrate."

"So you came back to be silent for me, I take it?"

"Yes! No. I, er..."

"Ron, you know that I am fine here by myself."

"I know. But..."

"But what?"

"We're friends, aren't we, Hermione?"

"Sometimes I wonder..." She smirked.

"So if I'm your friend, I can't let you spend New Year's Eve by yourself."

"I'm not by myself. Crookshanks is here, and everyone will be back the day after tomorrow."

"It's just that I'd... I'd miss you."

11:49 p.m., 31 December

The girl smiled but didn't say anything. She looked into the fire again and the two of them sat quietly for a moment. Delia spun a few more inches of silk and crept down a little closer to the bag.

The boy then reached across the girl and grabbed a handful of marshmallows. As he pulled back, he glanced down at the girl's wrist and picked it up with his free hand. He drew it close to his face and screwed up his eyes at the shiny silver bracelet she wore.

"Where did this come from?" he asked.

"Where did what come from?"

"This!"<

"My bracelet? It was a Christmas present."

"From who?"

"Ron, why does it matter?" she asked calmly. He did not let go of her wrist.

"Because I want to know!"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Is it from Vicky?"

"Ron, s name is Viktor."

"I don't care what his name is! Did he send it to you?"

"If he did, why should that matter to you?"

"It just does."

"I'm not going to accept that answer anymore, Ron. It's getting stale. You have to tell me why it matters."

"Because he is too much older than you and he lives in Bulgaria. For Merlin's sake..."

The girl sighed. "I'm not going to talk about this with you anymore. If you can't just say that you... If you won't tell me that... that... oh, forget it."

11:54 p.m., 31 December

Now if she could only get down a few more inches...

"Dad sent me the bracelet," the girl said suddenly. "He bought it whilst he was in Lisbon for the dental conference."

The boy smiled so widely that Delia thought his face would burst. "Oh. Okay," he said.

"That's it. Okay? Aren't you going to apologize?"

"For what?"

"For insisting upon driving me crazy!"

"Okay. I apologize. Happy?"

"No."

"Good."

"Ron-"

"Hermione, I'm tired of arguing. Let's talk about something else."

11:57 p.m., 31 December

"All right. What do you want to talk about?"

"Well, it is New Year's Eve, right? Tell me what Muggles do to celebrate."

"Well, there are some traditions. There is this song that they sing called Auld Lang Syne, andt people get extremely drunk. And also, um... kissing is... traditional at the stroke of midnight."

"Kissing?"

"Mmm hmm. You're supposed to kiss someone at midnight. They say it promotes peace, and increases your chances for a good year. And that it's supposed to ward off evil spirits."

11:59 p.m., 31 December

"Evil spirits, huh?" the boy said.

Delia's strand of silk, still clinging to her corner high up on the ceiling, was now several feet in length, and she dangled just inches from the marshmallows.

"Yeah," the girl replied.

The boy shifted closer to the girl and leaned in a little. The girl turned to look at him. Delia was almost inside the bag...

"Her-mi..." he whispered. He stiffened and tightened his grip on her wrist.

"Ron, what is it?"

"A spi... a spi..." His eyes widened and his face turned white. He sputtered and choked.

The girl turned and saw Delia. "Oh Ron, she's harmless. She's just come to nick a marshmallow. Look."

Delia took that as permission and lowered herself into the bag. She closed four of her legs around a marshmallow and clicked her pincers in thanks before swooping back up to the ceiling.

12:00 a.m., 1 January

The grandfather clock in the Gryffindor common room chimed, signifying the stroke of midnight. Delia perched contentedly in her web, munching on her marshmallow. She looked down as the murmuring of the conversation between the girl and the boy faded. The boy had not drawn back; in fact, he sat closer to her than Delia had ever seen before.
He leaned in, and she tilted her head just a tiny bit.

Her lips parted slightly, and he reached for her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

Their faces drew closer and closer until...

Delia looked at the pair, with their lips pressed together and their fingers hesitantly splayed on their objects of adoration. Her mouth was full of marshmallow and her web cradled her perfectly. Outside the window, the first snow of the year fell, and she thought, my work is done.

The End