First Crush

Beauxbatons
Library
Spring 2053


This wasn't right.

Ondrea's gaze was drawn up by a slight movement, a sheen of light flickering over dark waves of hair. Brown eyes lingered a moment, covertly taking in porcelain skin.

The girl tore her gaze back to her book, firmly shaking her head. No, no, no no no, nono, no. NO. Shrinking in on herself, the timid Vallée tried to focus on her studies.

A tinkling laugh drifted to her ears and she was looking up again, catching a glimpse of a sweet smile as she did. Ondrea smiled a bit in response. Then, her face heated up and she looked away again before she could been seen.

Only, she had been seen.

"Well, well, Miss Stammers-a-lot," a fifth year demeaningly addressed the girl. The blonde's companions laughed. "And just who do you keep looking at over there?"

"N-n-no o-one," Ondrea stammered, cheeks flaming. Fortunately, the older students could not see her blush.

"N-no one, at a-all?" mocked the blonde. She peered over at the table where a few of Ondrea's year-mates sat. "Aw... guys, I think she's got a crush on Rousseau. How cute! He is a little charmer, isn't he?"

"I d-don't!" the second-year protested, eyes wide. She shook her head in denial.

"She doth protest too much," said one of the others. "Don't worry, Montgomery. We won't t-t-tell. It'd be more amusing to watch you try." The fifth years gave another round of laughter and continued on their way.

Tears stinging at her eyes, Ondrea stared at her parchment. As much as their teasing had hurt--it always did--she knew that it was nothing compared to what it would be if they suspected the truth.

Ondrea hadn't been looking at Julian Rousseau, at all. She had barely noticed he was at the table. No. The person she was looking at was kind and soft-spoken with a smile that lit up the room; long dark hair framed a face bejeweled with two blue, blue eyes.

Lisette Josse. Ondrea's first crush. Another girl. A tear escaped to roll down her cheek. As though she wasn't enough of a freak, already. Why couldn't it have at least been a boy?

Shoving her things into her bag in an uncharacteristic show of frustration, Ondrea snatched it up and fled towards the door. What hurt the most was that the other girl would probably never know she existed at all. And even if she did, she'd probably know her as 'Miss Stammers-a-Lot', the girl afraid of her own shadow.

What good was having a crush, at all?