The Same Mistake

“No really, I’ve got to go to the library. I haven’t done any of my charms homework, I’m terribly behind,” Ellie explained sheepishly. “I’ll see you at dinner, Seamus, promise.”

“I’ll save you seat,” he grinned eagerly at her.

“Perfect,” Ellie pecked his cheek. With a furious blush in his cheek, Seamus left Ellie at the entrance of the library.

“Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?” A cold drawl commented from behind the first row of books. Slamming closed a dusty volume, Malfoy stepped in front of Ellie to lean casually against the bookshelves.

Ellie breezed past him, heading toward the far left corner of the library where Madam Pince’s desk was located. She didn’t acknowledge Malfoy, didn’t spare him a glance. Taking out the folded sheet of parchment from the robe of her pocket, Ellie smoothed it out.

“Can you tell me where to find the book Charms for the Uncharming?”

Madam Pince looked up, her wrinkled face pursed. “It’s by Timeaus Reagan, looking in the Rs.”

“Thank you,” Ellie slipped the parchment back into her pocket.

Malfoy dogged after her, following her to the Rs section. He sat down at the nearest table fixing her with a bemused expression. “Do you really believe I care if you flirt with some meager boy?”

Still Ellie ignored him. Running her finger over the spines of the many books she searched for Reagan, T. It was a difficult volume to find, there were multiple Reagan, T’s but none who wrote Charms for the Uncharming. The sparsely lit library further inhibited Ellie’s ability to locate the book.

“I don’t give a damn who you flirt with, Frog. You’ll always comeback for me.”

Ellie's eyes caught on faded golden lettering. She extricated Charms for the Uncharming from the shelf, walked directly past Malfoy, and laid it on Madam Pince’s desk. “May I check this out?”

“Yes, of course.” Madam Pince nodded impatiently.

Ellie tucked the book under one arm. There was an empty table back near the entrance that Ellie chose to sit at. She placed the book on the table, took out a roll of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink from her robe’s pocket; she placed these items to the right of the book.

Malfoy sat down on top of the table. Ellie dipped her quill in the bottle of blue ink. Malfoy snatched the quill from her hand, twirling it between his fingers. “Have you even listened to a word I said?” he asked with annoyance.

Ellie lifted her wand. “Accio quill.” The quill shot from Malfoy’s hand landing with grace in Ellie’s open palm.

“Look at me; I’m talking to you,” Malfoy grasped her chin titling her face up to his. Ellie’s eyes looked past Malfoy, not at him which succeeded in further irritating him.

“I don’t think Ellie wants to talk to you, Malfoy.”

Malfoy’s fingers dropped from Ellie’s face. They both turned to see the speaker. “Ah, of course, Potter, budging in where you’re not wanted.”

“Harry,” Ellie’s tone held a warning.

“Come with me, Ellie. You can finish your essay in the Common Room,” Harry reached across the table picking up Ellie’s book.

“I’m fine right here, Harry.” Ellie held out her hand for the book.

“Ginny sent me for you; she wants to talk with you.” Harry tightened his grip on the book.

“Weasley’s twit of a sister –“ Malfoy began. Ellie seized the book and slammed it against his abdomen.

“Don’t you dare talk bad about my friend,” Ellie hissed. She gathered up her writing items and stormed from the room with Harry at her side.

Once they had reached the seventh floor, Ellie halted, catching Harry off guard. He stopped as well turning to Ellie curiously. “Tell Ginny I’ll catch up with her in a little while. I need to stop by the Owlery, I forgot to send a letter.”

“What?” Harry looked at her suspiciously. “You’re not going back to the library are you?”

“No, I’m not.” Ellie reached deep into the pocket of her robe retrieving an envelope. Ellie had put off writing the letter for as long as she believed possible. She didn’t have much information to pass on and the information she did have was shady at best. But the time had come when no word would have meant failure, and so she wrote the letter. Now it was time to send it.