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Gabriel Montague

It’s the divide of my heart and my head and my sleeve

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Gabriel Montague

Forget Honorine Nott.  Gabriel Montague had far better things to do than to concern himself any further with her or her sordid little affair with that waste-of-time, waste-of-space loser, Trengrove.  Now that he was in a different headspace, one that wasn’t overwhelmingly filled with the sort of thoughts a teenage boy might expectedly have for an attractive girl, the pureblood was beginning to realize just how unproductive he really had been in other ways over the summer.  He wasted little time changing that now, spending more hours in the library than he had in his first year and carefully cultivating his own curriculum of study, which he immersed himself in whenever his work for his Hogwarts classes was done.

 

Sometimes Honorine was there, and he liked to pretend like she wasn’t, always burying his nose intently into a book and staring just a little too hard at the words on the page until she was gone again.  Sometimes Eleanor Malverne was in there, too—sometimes with Honorine, and sometimes on her own.  It took some time and a few more unwanted glimpses of Honorine and Dale batting eyes at each other before it happened, but eventually Gabriel saw Eleanor again.  And what he saw, he liked.

 

Eleanor was poised and no-nonsense, elegant and dignified, the kind of girl he probably should’ve pursued right from the beginning, especially since she had already caught his eye last year.  She was looking even prettier to him this year, especially after the time he caught sight of her telling off a group of cowering Junior League players for Merlin-knew-what (and especially after the time he caught Dale cornering Honorine after classes one day).  Eleanor had a presence about her, and Gabriel had a presence about him.  She was precisely the kind of girl he should have on his arm.  Honestly, it made so much sense.

 

That day when Gabriel walked into the library, Eleanor was there on her own, and Honorine was nowhere in sight.  There weren’t any empty chairs beside her, so he decided to create a seat for himself, dragging a chair from another table across the carpeted floor and shoving it between her and a bespectacled Hufflepuff sitting beside her.  The latter threw Gabriel an unappreciative look but shoved his seat over to make room without further complaint.

 

“Eleanor,” Gabriel greeted smoothly as he settled comfortably into the chair and primly crossed one leg over the other.  His blue-green eyes flickered over the book in her hand, one that he happened to recognize after a brief one-over as something he had borrowed earlier in the year.  Gabriel didn’t believe in signs, but if he did, he would take this as further confirmation that talking up Eleanor was something that was meant to be.

 

“Do you even have Transfiguration this term?  You’re not already concerned about making a good impression on the new professor, are you?”  He flashed her what he considered a winning smile.  Other girls might think it was too, but of course Eleanor was less easily impressed than most “other girls”, which was also why Gabriel liked her: he lived for a good challenge.  “As it so happens, I’ve read that book already.  There was an interesting chapter about the overlaps between Transfigurations and Charms, if I recall.”

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Eleanor Malverne

The day had dawned gloomy and cold, wind sweeping across the snow-covered lawn and causing the banks to drift, mist-like. At least, that was what Eleanor had imagined happening that morning. The window off the third year girls' dormitory had looked out the same on the depths of the lake as usual. Only the snowdrift where Dour Dagmar (the weather-predicting hag) usually sat declared the state of the world above.

 

Eleanor had eaten a hasty breakfast alone, munching on toast and taking momentary glances at a leftover Daily Prophet. All around her the Hall chattered with talk about the upcoming gala, who was going with who and who would be wearing what. Not that Eleanor was interested. She was too busy, involved with her studies extracurricular and otherwise, to waste her time prattling on about dress robes and hair-dos.

 

Not that hers wouldn't be impeccable, if she cared about that sort of thing.

 

She had finished her breakfast and made haste to the library. Through frosted windows along the way, she caught glimpses that confirmed Dour Dagmar's silent prediction: Hogwarts was surrounded. She found a quiet seat next to a rather unattractive Hufflepuff fifth year. A Hufflepuff would be good, less likely to interrupt her. She pulled the book she had taken with her ( Transmogrifications of Moste Interesting and Divers Uses, Silas the Serious, 18th century) out of her black leather satchel and flipped to the last chapter she had been reading.

 

Over the course of the next three hours, the library slowly filled as the denizens of Hogwarts prepared for that term's final examinations. Still there were whispers of the gala floating through the air; Ellie ignored them and steadily kept reading, until one of her players made an annoying appearance.

 

The Hufflepuff from earlier abandoned her immediately. He made not even a protesting sound. Gabriel immediately made himself comfortable and started prattling on about her book, about which Eleanor was sure he knew nothing. "I don't have Transfiguration this term, but some of us care more about learning than just 'impressing' professors, new or otherwise," she answered, eyes narrowed.

 

Gabriel looked even stupider when he smiled. Ellie was sure then that the second year had never so much as touched the writings of Silas the Serious, much less read them. "You read," she flashed the gold-embossed title in his direction, "this book? Are you sure about that?" Boys were ridiculous.

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