On her way back to the library after a brief shower that left her hair still in damp curls, Miranda looked up from her book, eyes landing on Rowland. Oh. She stared for a moment, and then tried a smile. But, without another word, Miranda attempted to walk right past Rowland.
"Off to the library?" Rowland smirked. She looks beautiful like that... STOP!
Miranda tried to keep her gaze focused on her book, evening if her feet had stopped walking not far from Rowland. "Yes, I am," she replied quietly. She winced inwardly -- he was going to make fun of her...
"...Alright," he said quietly. Damn. "...I.." he stopped. DAMN!
Miranda chanced a glance over at Rowland, damp ringlets bouncing. "What?" she asked.
"Nothing," he muttered. You're a LESTRANGE. Not a bloody ROOKWOOD. "What the hell are you doing? I thought you were going to the bloody library?" Rowland spat out.
Miranda's eyes widened, and she nearly jumped. "Oh! Right... I'm sorry," she babbled, fumbling with her book. And yet... her feet never moved. Aw.
Rowland swung his leg over the ledge and found himself walking towards Miranda. No...no... Stopping a few feet away, he nervously stuck his hands in his pockets. "Don't apologize." he whispered gruffly.
Miranda knew she should step back, but her feet were still not cooperating. She stared up at Rowland, breathing slowly. "Okay. I won't. I'm sorry." Shoot! -DON'T- apologize! "I mean... oh, Rowland, I'm sorry -- ugh! Sorry about that -- ahh!" Flustered?
Rowland smoothly reached out, gently touching his finger to her lips. His own movements threw him off, and he hastily pulled his arm back. DAMMIT!
Miranda fell silent immediately, eyes wide and staring. ... mrph. She smiled a little, wondering if Rowland had changed his mind. "I love you..." she whispered, maybe too soon.
Rowland looked down, his jaw tight. He knew he should hurt her, get her to leave... but he couldn't make himself.
Miranda fell silent again, brow creasing slightly. ... or maybe not. "Sorry," she mumbled again, turning to leave finally.
"I love you too."
Miranda froze. She eyed Rowland warily, not sure what to do now. Like a deer in the headlights.
"I bloody wish I didn't," he said, his voice barely audible. "I bloody don't want to fall in love. Certainly not now, and definitly not with you." Pause. "But I don't want to live my whole life not caring about anything... or anyone." Longer pause. "I'm not someone you should have fallen in love with, Miranda."
Miranda silently studied Rowland... before reaching out and taking his hand gently. "... I'm sorry, Rowland," she said quietly, managing a steady composure. I really should just leave him alone...
"I don't care if your bloody sorry," he said, moving back a step, out of her reach. "I don't want to bloody love you, but I do. Now make it stop." Real mature.
Blinking, Miranda's brow slowly creased in a frown. "Well I'm... I'm... -bloody- sorry you hate being in love with me, Rowland!" snapped the Ravenclaw, tired of being patient. "It's not like I asked for this either! I... I... I don't even -know- you! I've never talked to you before this year -- and hey, -you- were the one who invited me up to that blasted tower!"
"Yeah, cuz I wanted to SHAG you, but not bloody FALL IN LOVE," Rowland retorted quickly.
Miranda blinked. So... he did want to... to... to... shag me. Suddenly, the words slipped. "So why didn't you? Tom and Catriona are in love -- and Linda says they're..." Miranda murmured, letting her voice trail off. Naive Ravenclaws.
Rowland raised his eyebrows. "Well... Miss Goshawk, you were -ready- to be taken advantage of, then?"
"What? I didn't... didn't..." Miranda stammered, suddenly flustered. She hadn't meant to imply anything... "Oh shut up!" she snapped, blushing crimson. What was I asking about anyway...?
Rowland rolled his eyes. "Do I look like a first year Gryffindork to you? I hardly shut up when told."
Miranda scowled, pursing her lips together. He could be -so- infuriating, sometimes. She glowered for a moment, thoughts too jumbled to make sense of. Argh. "... being a Gryffindork would be much more pleasant than a Slutherin," she murmured. ... that was stupid. Mrph.
Rowland smiled in spite of himself. "... Did you just make that up?"
Miranda paused. "... yes," she said quietly, her cheeks hot. I'm such an idiot.
Rowland looked down and laughed, a geniune laugh, grinning widly. The difference in made in him was astonishing... He felt... happy. That wasn't normal. He looked up, still grinning, his eyes twinkling slightly.
Miranda blinked, taken back by this... change. Pleasant, as it was. His grin was really cute. "Are you okay?" she whispered, hoping she didnt jinx herself.
He tried to stop grinning, but only made himself laugh again. "Yes, rather, I will be..." he straightened, looking down... Was that a blush? "Sorry."
Head tilted slightly, Miranda watched Rowland -- hardly conscious of her own smile. "Aww..." she said unexpectantly. "You're kind of cute sometimes, you know..." Buwhaha.
Rowland actually blushed then, and turned around, gathering his robes, which he had been usuing as a cusion against the wall. "Right, I'll be off..."
Miranda stepped forward. "Now?" she blurted, reaching out -- but stopping herself before she touched him. "... we're not yelling anymore, Rowland."
Rowland turned back to her, his smile gone. "Smart observation there, Goshawk," he said, though his voice was gentle. What the hell are you doing? Get out... she's already seen too much of you... You're just making things worse...
Miranda wasn't about to give up, now. "Rowland... why do you have to be so rude all the time?" asked the girl softly, brow crinkled slightly, as it always was when she was thinking.
Rowland looked at her quietly. "... That's who I am."
"No it isn't," Miranda insisted, even shaking her head slightly. "Just a moment ago -- when you laughed... and smiled... That's you." She paused a moment. "Yes, that's definitely you... Not the mean, rude, bitter person you pretend to be..."
"I'm not pretending," Rowland spat out, scowling. "You just -want- me to be that other... weak... form of myself. You can't believe that I actually am this mean, rude... and bitter."
Miranda shook her head again, stepping closer. "No... you're hiding." She make a slightly contemptuous face. "Just because you're a Slytherin, doesn't mean you have to be so crude and sarcastic."
"No, Miranda. There's more to me then a Slytherin. Hiding?" he scoffed, taking another step back from her. "I'm a goddamn Lestrange. Who the hell are -you-?"
"Miranda Goshawk," she replied firmly, tactfully avoiding her unpure bloodline. Miranda crossed her arms, tired of trying to convince Rowland to stop lying to himself. "But if that's not good enough for you... then I'm not going to waste my time with you, Rowland -Lestrange-."
Rowland looked at her, raising his eyebrows. Good enough? "Fine. Then go." He knew that he didn't mean that. But he was a Lestrange, dammit.
Miranda was silent for a moment, her own temper rising. "Fine!" she snapped suddenly, turning and walking pointedly over to her book (which had been abandoned on the windowledge at some point).
Rowland blinked. Nobody walked away from him... "You're serious..?"
"Yes," Miranda replied, sounding more sure than she felt. She grabbed her book, holding it to her chest as she moved away down the hall. "Good bye, Lestrange."
Rowland inwardly cringed, watching her turn. "Don't." Shit
Miranda faultered, standing near the door. "Why?" Shoot.
"Because I don't want you to," he said stubbornly. Okay, at least it's a step.
Miranda kept her back to Rowland. "... okay." Lame response.
Rowland looked down at the ground, and inwardly cursed himself. "...I'm... sorry..." he said through gritted teeth.
... What? This caused Miranda to turn, frowning deeply. "What?" she asked, breathlessly.
"...I'm sorry," he said, not meeting her eyes. Well. That was a first.
"Why should I believe you?" Miranda asked.
"Because I've never said sorry before," Rowland retorted, and then looked up quickly. "Because I don't lie."
Unexpectantly, Miranda snorted softly. "Please. You lie everyday -- to yourself. Don't you?" she accussed, still frowning.
Rowland rolled his eyes. "To myself, sure, but to other people I don't. I have nothing to protect."
"So you actually -hate- being in love with me."
Rowland looked down. Now he was confused. "..I... what?"
"Do you?" Miranda asked firmly.
"....No." Damn. DAMN. "Not completely."
Miranda allowed Rowland a moment, studying his expression carefully. "Do you often find yourself being someone you're not, just to look... capable among your peers?"
"...I'm used to who I've become," he said honestly. "And I don't care what peers think...I don't..." he stopped. WHY am I even doing this?
"Do you like yourself, whether or not you're... 'used' to yourself?"
"...No. But I never have." DAMMIT.
Miranda was silent, again, for a long time. She took a deep breath, nodding. "Rowland, do you think I could help you... at all?"
"Help me?" he asked, looking sharply at Miranda.
"Yes. Help. Or will I just hold you back..." Miranda asked quietly, her voice still firm. "... and only hurt you."
Rowland rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Help me. Help me?" He laughed outright, cruelly. "I'm not a bloody... PROJECT for you to figure out, Miranda. Look, I know you're into Lord of the Rings and all that rubbish, and doing your school work, but I'm more then just a bloody project. I'm more then just a bloody Lestrange too!" he stopped. Shit.
Miranda blinked, barely catching his slip. "... I didn't -say- that, Rowland!" she protested, eyes wide. "I... just asked if I'm going to be a hinderance to you or not!"
"Do you think I know, Miranda?" he shook his head. "I don't bloody even know how to get through the day without getting you off my bloody mind."
Miranda sighed. "So is that -hurting- you or not? Is it so bloody terrible that you can't stop thinking about me? That's all I want to know!"
"... No, it's bloody killing me. I can't sleep without dreaming that I'm with -you-, I can't eat at the Great Hall because I'm bloody scared I'll be seen looking at you. I am in bloody love with you Miranda, and all I want to do is be bloody with you, but I bloody well can't." Shit.
"Why?" Miranda asked urgently, actually letting her arms drop. "Why cant you? I love you, Rowland!"
"Because!" Rowland cried, throwing up his arms in exasperation. "I'm a Slytherin, you're Ravenclaw. I'm a Lestrange, you're a Goshawk. I'm pureblood, and you're not!" He stopped. "... because I dont want to... hurt you..."
"I don't care!" Miranda said sharply, actually... well, throwing herself at Rowland and wrapping her arms around his neck. Her book fell -again- to the floor with a thud. She pushed herself up on her toes, kissing him... urgently.
Rowland would have been pushed off balance, but his arms found his way around her waist, pulling her even closer against him....and as she pulled back, he stared at her with a genuine expression. Then, without thinking, he leaned forward and kissed her again, intensly.
Miranda sighed inwardly, sinking into Rowland's arms and quickly adapting a more... subversive attitude. She closed her eyes softly, parting her lips for Rowland. Mmm. Rowland.
Rowland drew back after a moment. "C'mon," he grunted softly, disentagling himself and immediately starting off down the hall. Wait. He paused after a step or two, glancing back at Miranda.
Miranda blinked, but followed nonetheless. The path Rowland was taking was familiar by now -- this corridor led to the Room of Requirement. She bit her lip, nervously taking Rowland's hand.
Shit... Stay calm. Rowland muttered, taking her hand awkwardly. For all his suave and sexy moves, he was still nervous with such simple gestures...
And so Miranda followed Rowland's lead, smiling to herself... and leaving a copy of The Two Towers abandoned in the corridor. All you need is love...