Wesley didn't like Divination. But she did like Arithmancy.
Maybe it was the fact that everything always came out positive.
Or maybe it was just being able to work with solid, dependable numbers.
What-ever-the case, the tiny first year hurried into the class room, almost just waved, but then decided on saying,
"Hello Professer." instead. Wesley figured, if she was in a bad mood, she'd want people to say hi to her, because she probably wouldn't notice them waving.
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Biting down on his lip, Jake headed into the classroom and avoided looking up to the front of the room altogether. Barely registering what was being said, he sat at the very BACK of the room (something he never EVER did) and allowed himself to gaze out of the window. Shackleton now scared him. Ever since... the whole discussion thing.
Shudder.
Wait... book?
Meh, everything got flooded and Jake was certain other people were having that problem. Maybe someone WITH a book would be willing to share.
"Hey Professor," Jake said quietly, and it was glaringly obvious that he was no longer his bouncy hyper self. More like... a zombie.
Looking around for an empty spot in the back, the 11-year-old began to move to the empty corner, not wanting to sit next to Jake (having yet to move on after the fainting incident). But then, warily watching him, she noticed he didn't have a book.
Biting her lip, she
almost walked over by him and offered to share hers, which had arrived just the other day from Father and Mother. But she couldn't do it. It was... too embarrassing.
So in the end, much the coward, she took an empty seat in the corner, pulled out her text book, and started to read.
...
"The Soul Number, also known as the Heart's”
Jake needs a textbook. I have a textbook. It would be mean to just not share. He’d hate me even more…but…but…I CAN’T!... “Desire and the Soul Urge Number, is an element of the Core that describes”
I’m being so mean. He’s sitting there. He looks sad. I don’t want to be mean. I don’t want him to hate me. But I’ll walk over, and he’ll look at me, and he’ll hate me because I hurt him. I headbutted him, and he hates me. And he’s never going to forgive me. So I should just sit here. He’s popular. One of his friends will share… “your secret thoughts and wishes - what you long for in”
But what if his friends don’t have a textbook? What if they all get sick and can’t come to class? And then he won’t be able to read. And then he’ll be sad. And it’ll be my fault because I have a textbook, but I didn’t share. And he’ll hate me. But I don’t want to… “your heart of hearts and what is your dearest desire. This number”
...
One minute later, after unsuccessfully reading the first sentence and a little of the next, Wesley picked up her books, and shuffled over to her fellow Hufflepuff, hands sweating.
Biting her lip, she stuttered,
"H-hi J-jake. D-do y-you w-w-want t-to sh-share t-text-b-books?"
The child could taste the blood on her lip, from where she had bit. It didn't taste salty. Wesley wondered why everyone said blood was salty.