For once in his life, Desmond didn’t think – he felt.
“Are you sure you don’t want to join us? Tryouts are not that far away and you could still use the practice.” Mercutio, Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain, cajoled his boyfriend as they lingered at the entrance of the library. They stood close enough to suggest that they were more than friends, but far away enough to avoid being shooed away for public indecency.
“Merc,” Desmond started, clearly exasperated. Even so, he catered to Mercutio’s whims. “I spent three hours waving that stick around yesterday. I think I deserve a break.” He really really did. Honestly? His muscles ached from overexertion. Surely he deserved a reprieve with the books just this once?
“But…” Mercutio started again, before he was swiftly silenced by a pair of lips. Ever since Desmond discovered that this was an effective way to shut his chatterbox up, he had been employing the tactic rather liberally. They parted within seconds and Desmond had to resist smirking at the sight of glazed eyes. “Next time, alright? Now go – Kermit’s probably waiting.”
Following that, Mercutio finally left, swaggering in a way Desmond should find annoying but didn’t. Turning to face the rest of the library, Desmond hoped no one they knew actually saw what happened. He wasn’t ashamed of Mercutio. No, of course not. But being tagged as twitterpated would be mortifying.
The next table Desmond spotted was already occupied. But he took a double take when he realized the figure at the table was someone he knew – Eloise Beauchamp. “Oh, hello Eloise.” He slid into the seat without invitation. They had shared many tables before. “How was your summer? And what are you reading this time?”