[Credits: Mozzie and Nolan are mine. Quentin, again, is claimed by Mozziethe creation of Austin and Arielle is owned by Oesed. In fact, originally, Arielle was not meant to be in this story, but she... came to me? D: And inserted herself? Bahaha! The title of the story comes from Metro Station's song Seventeen Forever]

One Mistake From Being Together

A ball. Contemplation had wrinkled her nose when Mozzie had first learned of this ball Now, though, a bud of excitement had planted itself within her stomach and continued to grow. The dress she planned to wear was spunky and paired well with her favorite, worn pair of Converse hi-tops. Aqua was such a bright, happy color that Mozzie imagined only good could come of it and this masquerade-themed ball. Unlike other girls Mozzie had overheard, she had no fear of finding no date and showing stag. While others would be accompanied by one, Mozzie would go with many.

How many was yet to be determined, as Mozzie was still in the process of bullying her friends into attending.

Arielle, of course, would be attending, because Mozzie’s best friend would pass up no chance to doll herself up, show off and earn herself some attention. Boo and Inez never missed parties or festivities and always backed Mozzie up. Nolan, of course, would go, because if he didn’t, certain doom awaited him. That Tristan had agreed to come without any reluctance should have surprised Mozzie, but after being dragged to so many of her courtyard parties, she assumed he had grown accustom to large dances. At the very least, he must’ve grown used to standing on the edge of the crowd with Quentin.

Quentin, whom was Mozzie’s next target.

He had Advanced Arithmancy while she was in Advanced Charms. In order to meet him after class, she’d fleed class early to make sure she was across the hall when he first walked out of class. The look on his face, at first, resembled mild shock but quickly returned to its usual blank state. A nod was his signal of greeting and Mozzie did her best to mimic his nonchalant appearance, as if waiting for him after class was something she did often.

“Mozzie,” greeted the boy calmly, his blue eyes clear and level.

She greeted him back in the same manner, cooly uttering his name. “Quentin.”

After, neither said anything at first. The last few students from the classroom trickled out and made their way past Mozzie and Quentin, leaving the two alone in the corridor. One brow arched over Mozzie’s dark eyes and she tipped her head at her friend in curiosity. “How was class?” she finally asked, feeling a bit lame, as she tipped her head towards the closed door.

Quentin shrugged. “Not bad,” was his only comment.

Mozzie honestly thought him insane. Why anyone would continue on with Arithmancy went beyond her. Ravenclaw or not, she had never fully grasped the class. Numbers and she did not get along very well. Ancient Runes was a perfectly useless class she was good at, but Arithmancy was dumped the moment she had the chance to. Nolan, of course, had kept it. Boys and their logical thinking minds. Hmph.

“Right. Well.” Might as well carry on, Mozzie told herself. Neither she nor Quentin was any good at small talk, really, so perhaps it was just as well that she skip that as it was. There was no point in wasting breath on speech that would never impact them and would be forgotten just as soon as it was said, right? The only sign that Mozzie ever gave if she was awkward or nervous was when she reached upward and tugged on her right earlobe and she doubted, as she did it, that Quentin had any idea of that quirk of hers. For that matter, what Quentin knew of Mozzie in little details, she had no idea of, but assumed it a small amount.

“Saturday. What’re you doing?”

With ease, Quentin lifted one eyebrow. He was not a fool and Mozzie knew this. She should just have forced him, the way she had everyone else. Granted, Quentin, though very much a part of their group, had never been quite like everyone else. Bullying him into stuff, though possible, was not as easy as with others. Despite this, she kept her face arranged in calm fascination, as though she did not mind whether or not he came to the ball.

Because she didn’t.

She just hoped he would. Because they always did stuff like this in a group and he was part of the group.

Yes, she assured herself. This was the motive behind her actions.

“The night of the ball, I presume?” asked Quentin, brow still arced into his dark fringe.

Mozzie’s lips pursed. She’d not expected him to just jump on it like that. Curious. Continuing to play it cool, Mozzie nodded and allowed a smile to light up her face as she tipped her head to the side again. Quentin attended the impromptu parties she threw so she figured there would be no difficulty in getting him to agree to come to the ball. His presence was needed for her to be able to have fun. Maybe she’d even get him to dance. Hmmm. Inez once let slip that the older boy could ballroom dance, which Mozzie found absolutely ah-dor-able.

“That’d be the night, yes,” affirmed the girl.

“Mmm.” Quentin paused then glanced over at Mozzie. “I may be busy.”

Her jaw dropped.

“But… you… you can’t be… no!” she sputtered, eyes widened. “Quentin, you have to go!”

He had to! The panic that swelled in her belly was due to Quentin going against all orders and expectations, of course. Quentin had to be there, or else the whole atmosphere would be wrong and she wanted him to go! She wanted to see him all dressed up and to make him dance and how could he not go? Her lips tugged into a pout for all of five seconds before she regained control and forced it, instead, to a look of mere disappointment.

Mozzie really wanted Quentin to come to the ball, though. That much, she knew. With a masquerade theme, she knew it would be fun and elegant and elaborate and enigmatic and beautiful and fun and exciting and why was he not going?! How could he possibly be busy on such an important night? Never mind that the Night Class would be there, mingling with the rest of Hogwarts, but she would! Er… and the others, too, of course.

“Quentin…”

The boy shifted awkwardly and Mozzie secretly took pleasure in his squirming. Served him right, for ruining her dream.

“Mozzie,” the boy stated simply, his voice a soft plea. Mozzie felt her stomach constrict. “You know I… don’t do all of that. And all the people there.”

“I’d be there,” she insisted.

A half-smile hooked itself upon Quentin’s lips and Mozzie felt, now, her heart tighten as well. Ugh, what was that about? She almost narrowed her eyes; Quentin seemed to realize the power behind that smile of his. That sweet, half-upturn of his mouth and the way his face turned to utmost serenity and looked just so cute. He probably knew very well and used it as a weapon! If that was true, then Mozzie felt it best not to let him know that it worked. What justice could exist there, anyway? No boy should ever have the power of a half-smile to use over a female. Beside, the power waned once the boys knew of it. Then, it was no longer sweet and cute; it then became cocky and arrogant and that was not sweet.

Merlin, she babbled even in her own mind

“That’d certainly be a nice incentive,” the boy allowed and Mozzie felt now her throat seize up.

What was with these body parts of hers? Why did they feel the need to betray her? Cheeks shaded a light pink, Mozzie smiled with bravado and fluttered lashes heavy in mascara.

“I’d love it if you were to go and keep me company, Quentin,” she wheedled. “After all, surely Nolan and Arielle are going to consummate their clandestine love for one another and Georgie will probably, gag, go off and flirt with Hugo and be sick with him if I don’t deter her. Boo will probably be all territorial over Tristan so who’s going to keep me company?” Now the pout on her lips was feigned, but looked just as real as it had earlier.

A chuckle that sounded one part nervous, two parts amused tumbled from Quentin’s half-smiling lips and he shook his head gently as Mozzie twirled a lock of her longer hair around her index finger. Half the time, Mozzie was unaware of her habitual flirting habits and this time, she was aware only of the fluttery lashes. The way she leaned in and nibbled nervously on her lower lip and glanced up from beneath her lashes were all unnoticed by the oblivious girl. All that mattered was that she persuade him and wheedle him into showing up at the ball.

“You drive a good bargain,” laughed Quentin, his voice soft and his smile now full, but only briefly. Instantly, it was gone, leaving Mozzie wishing it had lasted just a moment longer. “But… it depends. Homework and stuff.”

Vague. Mozzie harrumphed in her mind and pursed her lips.

“It’ll be fun,” she promised in earnest.

Quentin sighed, and it wasn’t the sort of sigh that one does when annoyed, but more like a defeated sigh. The sign that Mozzie was getting to him. The girl wiggled. When this task had become important to her, she wasn’t quite for certain, but once she had a goal in mind, her goal was to be obtained. Mission Quentin at the Masquerade seemed to be slowly taking off. Curiously, Mozzie noted that somehow, she was now merely a few inches from Quentin. How did that happen? Her breath hitched in her throat and suddenly, her coy charade fell from her face and her cheeks lit up just a smidge. On his mouth, Quentin wore a crooked smile as he looked down at her.

Oh.

This was very reminiscent, she realized, of just a few days ago. Her innards seemed to squirm as she brought the memory to attention; the tickling, the flushes, the accidental pinning down, the awkward tension, the flopping of her stomach. Mozzie felt herself growing short of breath again and had to look away from Quentin and stumble backwards, away from him just a step or two. Because whatever that was, was intense. The locked eyes and the memories and that smirk on his lips and her cheeks were red. Both hands pressed to the sides of her face, as if to quell the flush. Eyes on her feet, Mozzie struggled to catch her breath and regain composure. Rearranging her face was next to impossible and she was dismayed at her inability to appear nonchalant or even flirty. Instead, she just felt… like she’d run a mile, non-stop. When had her heart began to pound against her ribcage?

“Uhm…” both said, awkward, as they shuffled.

“Right. Uhm,” Mozzie carried on, determined to move past this, to brush over it.

Of course, she was only caught off guard, she knew, was because Quentin was beautiful and now and then, she allowed herself to get caught up in that. Yes. His eyes were intense at times and his hair, in its manner of casual disarray, carried her mind to thoughts that were improper to think about of just a friend. Like how lovely it’d be to run her fingers through it or how cute he looked when his cheeks bore a flush. Thinking of the night in the Common Room sent her pulse racing because Quentin had not seemed like Quentin at that moment. Of course there was nothing between them and obviously no reason to send her heart on a race like that.

Goodness, Mozzie, get a grip on yourself, the girl chastised herself. You can’t look at Quentin like one of those boys, because even if you were fool enough to fall for him, he could never possibly feel the same to you.

Mozzie could not find excuse for the way her stomach seemed to drop as she reminded herself of the last fact.

Fact: Morzella O’Niel was not to fall for her male friends.
Fact: Quentin Girard’s eyes were the clearest blue she’d fallen into.
Fact: Mozzie and Quentin were in no way made for each other.

Each thought was preceded by fact, so, obviously they were. Fact, that is.

Composure finally regained, Mozzie lifted her chin in the hair and offered Quentin a brilliant smile.

“You should at least check it out,” she told him, returning to her task of wheedling. This time she refused to let her eyes meet the smirk on his lips, lest she fall into that trap again. “At least for me.” Flutter, flutter, flutter agreed her lashes. “Besides, you could have fun. And… it’d be lovely to have you there.”

The chuckle that came from Quentin, though, sent Mozzie’s heart momentarily soaring. Only momentarily.

“I’ll try. For you, Mozzie, I’ll try.”

Mozzie did not try to decipher the meaning behind the manner in which her stomach dived and spiraled towards her feet.

“Great,” she told him, nibbling on her lower lip again.

“Great,” he echoed.

In silence that was one part awkward, two parts lovely, they stood with each other, looking anywhere but at the other’s eyes. Finally, Quentin gripped the strap of his bag, hoisting it on his shoulder. “Well… I’ve gotta get going… library…”

“Oh, yes, yes, don’t let me keep you…”

“I’ll see you later…? At dinner?”

“Yeah! Oh, yeah, go on, go on…”

Awkward farewells bid, Quentin turned and began to walk away. Mozzie’s eyes remained on his retreating back and when he turned the corner, she backed into the wall and pressed her back against it, letting her head fall back a bit. A cross between a moan and a groan fell from her lips. What exactly had that been? Ugh. By now, Mozzie was more than used to pretty boys; besides Quentin, Nolan, Tristan and Ollie all fell into this category. Rarely was she even phased by their pretty hair or lovely eyes or the boyish look they wore in their pretty little faces. So what had that been? Much force was required to swallow down the feeling in her throat. Boys and Mozzie were friends. In fact, few boys had ever struck her fancy, beyond friendship.

So why did Quentin make her feel all twisted up inside now?

“Asking Quentin to the dance, huh?”

The purr made Mozzie jump and pull away from her wall. Wheeling around quickly, pulse quickened again, Mozzie found herself facing… Arielle. The brunette blinked with curiosity at the blonde, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Apparating was not permitted within Hogwarts and, besides, Arielle was not old enough. So. Where had she come from?!

“What are you doing here?” Mozzie countered, swiftly avoiding the question.

Arielle smirked. “The Hospital Wing is one floor up, Miss O’Niel. But my, you certainly seem a peaky mix of pale and flushed. What is it? A fever? Have you got Quentin Fever?”

Mozzie O’Niel prided herself on the fact that though she wore her emotions on her sleeve, she was able to control them, most usually, and while her instinct was to widen eyes with a gasp, she instead raised her brows and blinked.

“Riiiiight. And you’ve got Disco Fever.” To back the deadpan statement, Mozzie struck a quick, disco pose, before she rolled her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Arielle, too, rolled her eyes. “Don’t play naïve, Mozzie. You know that I know you well and I knew you were lying when you told the Professor you were ill. I didn’t expect you to come to wait on Quentin.” One perfectly arched brow inquired in Mozzie’s direction. “Why didn’t you tell me you were asking Quentin to the ball?”

“Merlin’s Pants! I was not asking him as a date,” Mozzie told her friend, narrowing her eyes, as though this action would make Arielle believe her. Illogically, this was what Mozzie hoped. “All I was doing was ensuring that he’ll be there. Just like I did with the rest of you.”

A derisive snort responded and Mozzie reveled that her friend could look so beautiful, even with her face scrunched up like that. “You know that’s a lie. When you checked in with Nolan, it went like ‘You. Saturday. Ball. Or I beat you up’ and forced him into agreeing. And with me, you just knew. But Quentin? I heard you wheedling that boy.”

Now Mozzie rolled her eyes and huffed. “You’re taking things out of context, Arielle,” explained the girl. In some ways, she told herself, this was true. “Poor Nolan has to be bossed into everything he does and I knew you would never turn down a ball anyway. Quentin is different, you know that. He’s gotta be persuaded and lured. That’s not something I can effectively do around anyone else.”

“Uh-huh.”

Sigh.

“Look, Arielle. There’s a reason for it, okay? Now, you can drop it.”

Arielle wore a smirk.

“Look, Mozzie. I’m your best friend. Why don’t you just tell me the truth?”

A frustrated cry came from Mozzie as she stomped her foot upon the floor. “I am telling you the truth,” insisted the choppy-haired girl and the truth was that she was not even sure of the truth. As far as she knew, the words she spoke were honest, but the turmoil in her stomach begged to differ. She raked her hand through her hair and the varied lengths stood up and rumpled. Merlin, she felt awfully confused and muddled now.

Arielle continued to wear a knowing smile as she studied her friend which did not at all help to soothe Mozzie.

Why was she even confused?

“Arielle, I know where you’re going with this. And no. Just, no.”

A carefully sculpted arch appeared in Arielle’s brow, complimenting that smile of hers. “Oh?” was her languid, feigned question. A silken purr wrapped around her voice. “And where’s that? Do tell me, Mozzie.”

Another heavy sigh. “You need to stop trying to pair Quentin and I together, Arielle. Because it will never happen.”

Arielle feigned a snort. Mozzie knew it was feigned and the smirk dancing on the girl’s lips gave her away. “Mozzie!” She continued in that purring voice. “I was heading nowhere in that direction. However… if you were thinking it… maybe there’s a reason?”

Arrrgh. “Merlin! Arielle! Instead of trying to pair me off with someone clearly incompatible with me, why don’t you just relieve your frustrations and go snog Nolan like I know you want to!”

Mozzie knew just how to get Arielle off her back. Much as she loved her friend, it was a well known fact that Arielle, like everyone else of their group, was vain and self-centered. To change the topic to her gave Mozzie a few moments to get away or to train the conversation far, far, far from her and Quentin, because the very discussion of the two of them was making her stomach churn in a manner that was one part pleasant and two parts unpleasant.

Why had she felt the desire, again, to kiss him when they had stood so close together?

Why did she relish in their shared, private moments?

Why did she want to know what he was thinking?

Why did she want to collect his smiles?

Why did he toy so much with her emotions?

And why was she so confused and wanting to cry?

Drawn from her internal conflictions, she caught Arielle’s voice again, sharp and haughty. Actual words were not forming, but she caught snippets of her speech: Nolan, child, never, how disgusting, frustrations. Mozzie raised her eyes to Arielle’s and felt her brows tug down over her nose. Just what was Arielle going on about now? A churning in her stomach told her that her scheme had failed to deter Arielle.

“I think what’s going on is you trying to pair Nolan and I off with the feelings you’ve got for Quentin. In fact, you probably don’t even believe that Nolan and I would make a good pair, but you just need to vent out your inner-relationship-frustrations so you take it out on us!”

Dead-panned, Mozzie stared at Arielle. “You are preposterously absurd,” said the girl in a haughty voice, lifting her chin into the air. “Once again, I must remind you that nothing exists between Quentin and I and you really ought just give up on us. However, the way you and Nolan bicker and tussle about, one would already assume. In fact, there are others who assume. They’ve whispered about it. Wonder why you get less male attention, eh, Arielle?” Mozzie spoke in a flippant nature and she shrugged her shoulders with the same air, batting her lashes at her friend. “One day, and I await this day, you will give in to us and yourself and snog the daylights out of poor Nolan. Merlin knows he’ll never make the first move.”

Truth. In the expanse of their friendship, which dated back to days of pre-birth, Nolan had never initiated relationships of any kind with a female. Mozzie always had to covertly help him or else the female herself was assertive. What Mozzie had learned was that Nolan was awfully fond of the sorts of girls who carried themselves and were assertive. After all, he was her friend, right? Sigh. If only this time she could make things work, because Nolan and Arielle would be awfully cute with each other. If only they would actually admit their feelings and stop running from them. Such actions did no good for either of them. Lying to one’s self never worked; the truth would inevitably come out.

“And one day, you’ll stop pushing your feelings for Quentin onto me and Nolan,” said Arielle, her voice airy. “Then, you’ll finally snog the daylights out of him and the world will rejoice, for you’ll no longer be trying to pair us off to keep your mind off of your own feelings. Merlin!”

Mozzie felt her insides twist. “That is such a crock of mousse and you know it,” said Mozzie.

But the way her stomach churned suggested that maybe the lies were not coming from Arielle after all.