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Arya had been looking forward to this party ever since it had been announced. Sure she should have been studying for her OWLs but as some of her more fun loving friends had pointed out, she had been studying like a madwoman for the past few months. She deserved a night off. She deserved to have a little fun. And so she was here. Ready to have fun. As long as she didn't see her father. It wasn't that she didn't want to see her father, but if her father was here, it would mean Vivian would be here, and Arya really didn't want to see her wicked step-mother. Hopefully her father was working and his ridiculously young wife would decide to stay at home and Arya would be able to enjoy herself in peace.<p>
She'd gotten new dress robes, especially for the occasion. Dress robes that said, nope, I am not a little girl anymore. She had bought them entirely without her father's knowledge. Sure, she had charged it to him, Madam Malkins had been more than accommodating in that manner, but he hadn't seen them. She wasn't sure he was going to approve. They were by no means slutty, or scandalous, but she was definitely dressed differently to any way he'd ever seen her. The rebellious side in her hoped a little that he would turn up just so she could show him the robes. The side that liked to please him, hoped that he didn't. After all, he wasn't the reason that she had bought the robes. She'd bought the robes to show all the Hogwarts boys that she did, in fact, have boobs these days, even if they were still a little on the small side. She was okay with having small ones. They would just get in the way if they were bigger, and outside of Hogwarts, she was a rather athletic girl.<P>
But now was not the time to be thinking about that. She was at a lovely party, everyone around her seemed to be having a marvellous time, and she was sitting alone at a table, picking at her salad. Arya needed to eat. She was practically malnourished these days. It wasn't her fault. She tended to forget to eat when she was busy studying, if someone didn't drag her off to the Great Hall at some point. She just wasn't very good at remembering trivial things like food when she got on a roll. Who needed food anyway. Honestly. She'd given up looking for her friends. They'd been there one second, but she couldn't see them anymore, and there was just too many people in this place to even think of finding anyone. Arya made the conscious decision to stay right where she was, and let them come to her.<p>
She sighed heavily, and plonked her elbows on the table. Not exactly ladylike, but who was watching. Probably no one. Arya Parkinson was not the type of girl that turned heads, unless they were turning away from her because she was boring them so much. Her elbow connected with a fork on her table, and sent it flying to the floor. She bent down to pick it up, thinking about the precious study time she was wasting coming to this party that had promised to be so much fun. What utter dragon dung that had been. She stopped as a pair of shoes came into her line of sight, standing almost directly in front of her. She followed the shoes upwards, and peered into the most heavenly face she has ever laid eyes on. "Hello," she said, her face breaking out into a huge dreamy smile.
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AND ALL WE HAVE IS HERE AND NOW I'M HAPPY JUST TO HAVE YOU YOU'RE ALL THE LOVE I NEED SOMEHOW IT'S LIKE A DREAM ALTHOUGH I'M NOT ASLEEP I NEVER WANT TO WAKE UP</marquee>
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No one had to say anything to him, he already knew this was going to be a crazy night, and surely it did not falter or disappointment. Although, the Hufflepuff did not have a single clue how rough things were about to get. Everywhere he turned friends, professors, and workers were spewing out feelings that were unnatural. Heath felt as though his best mate had gotten the worst of it with his ability to profess his love to this Lottie chick who, in Heath's eyes did not seem so attractive. Not because of looks but because of personality and she seemed like an awful bore but they were on each other like two dogs on a hot afternoon. He never judged, never cared enough to say anything but still get a room. He took another hit of his finely lit blunt and then deciding that there was nothing left he might as well head back. He had been clearing his mind- allowing everything he had found out to fully be recognized and processed. He had never been fond of big parties and nor ones that consisted of so many things he could not keep track of breaks were nice. He listened to outside chatting done by those who were not victimized and stifled a laughter at things people were noticing. Who had done such a thing? Someone should be given a medal.
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He watched his foot as he smashed the last of it's embers and then with all of his might, Heathcote Barbary headed back into the dysfunctional party. The world seemed oblivious to him, only knowing him when he was his mates, but invisible alone. He liked it that way, it was easier to watch in amazement the things people say and do, and besides he never wanted to be a part of it all. He never needed to make a scene unless it was for the music. Music made him want to live and be lively- not the weed or the alcohol- but simply the thrill of a rhythm. He slid through the people, trying to not get lost in the hazy eyes and lop sided smiles, until finally he found himself at the tables. He had not ate anything but by the looks of it he did not want to- besides he would stay up late tonight and head to the kitchens like he did every weekend and devour the room and it's goodness. Besides the elves like having him there so it was a win win. He dodged a petite woman with blond curls who just so happened to be throwing herself at man with rather psychedelic hair.
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He wondered what made everyone forget about recent events? What made everyone decide to make this the night that they get shitfaced and forget what had happened the last time they let their guard down. Normally he would not care but last time resulted in death and he nor did he want his friends to lose anyone. He watched the world continue to spin and thought maybe it was some sort of coping mechanism. He ran his hand through his hair and decided that he should possibly get this cut off- it was rather ridiculous but his whole being made him reconsider and say down with the man. He had just been ready to sit down when a girl with dirty blond hair looked up to him. He had started to smile when he suddenly noticed something was odd with Arya Parkinson. Pure bloods, such as herself, we oddly against hot men with long hair but suddenly she had changed her whole attitude. He began to back up figuring it was for the best, "Uh, Hello. Are you drunk?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.
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Heathcote Barbary. On a normal day, Arya probably wouldn't have glanced twice at him. Sure, as musicians went, he was definitely on the cute side, but no. He just was not a boy that she would associate herself with. The truth was, as open minded as Arya thought she was, the prejudices that had been instilled in her since childhood were just too difficult to silence. There certainly were men that could pull off long hair, and Heath was one of those lucky men, but that didn't mean that it made him look respectable. He looked like a hippie. A ridiculously good looking hippie, that made Arya think about doing things that she normally didn't think about doing, but a hippie none the less. <P>

There was a rational part of her brain that knew these feelings had to be artificial, but it seemed as though the rest of her wasn't listening to that part of her brain at the moment. The rest of her was quite content just to keep gazing up into what she supposed to be the face of a god. Surely someone that beautiful could not be a mere mortal? Arya was more than happy to believe that he was a god incarnate. After all, she really did love her mythology, and many a time had wishes for it to be a reality. It seemed as though she would be getting her wish tonight. He would have to be Apollo, Arya decided quite quickly. The god of music, light, the sun, truth, knowledge and other stuff. Definitely Apollo. It was fitting. She was pretty sure that he was in a band of some description, which was the music, of course. And all that other stuff, well, that just fell under the category of the marvellous epiphany Arya had just had regarding her unwavering devotion for him. It just made sense.<P>

<b>"Drunk? No! Of course not. I don't drink. Why? Should I be drunk? Do you want me to be drunk? Because I can be,"</b> Arya replied, her words sounding like a huge jumble, even to her own ears. Maybe she was drunk? But no, she couldn't be. She hadn't drunk anything all night. She definitely wasn't drunk. It was strange the way that she was feeling though. Like she was drunk, but not. It just seemed very important that she keep talking to Heath. After all, she had never felt this way about a boy before. Sure, she had fancied boys before. Not that she had really confided that in anyone. But this was different. This was all-consuming. She was finding it difficult to focus on anyone, or anything, but Heathcote Barbary. That how she knew it was love. There was also somewhere in her mind that was reminding her that she was betrothed to another person, but it seemed unimportant at the moment. She'd never really met her betrothed, and at the moment, it just seemed like a silly idea that belonged in the recesses of her brain. The man in front of her was more important than anything right now.<P>

She gazed up at her Apollo, unable, and unwilling, to prevent the dreamy smile that slid across her face. <b>"Your hair is really pretty, you know. Has anyone ever told you that? I normally don't like long hair on boys, but I like it on you. Can I touch it?"</b> She had the overwhelming desire to just run her fingers through his hair. She imagined the feeling would be glorious. Entirely different to running her fingers through her own hair. Her hair was quite often tangled and full of knots, since Arya usually had things on her mind other than brushing her hair. She imagined that Heath probably had more important things on his mind too, but she didn't for a moment think that his hair would be full of knots. It would be like running her hands across silk.</div><div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 9.5px; text-align: center; padding: 0px 15px;">
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AND ALL WE HAVE IS HERE AND NOW I'M HAPPY JUST TO HAVE YOU YOU'RE ALL THE LOVE I NEED SOMEHOW IT'S LIKE A DREAM ALTHOUGH I'M NOT ASLEEP I NEVER WANT TO WAKE UP</marquee>
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As a child he hated the thought of smoking. Allowing the smoke to pass between his lips as he often found his mother doing on the porch bench over looking the sea it seemed like such a lonely affair. However, when he came to Hogwarts boredom transpired into loneliness and he took the advice from his mother and allowed the haziness of happiness to keep him company. He ran his hand through his hair and tucked it behind his right ear as he watched Arya pronounce what she felt. He smiled, though it was shy, not knowing exactly how to respond, "Uh, thanks? Are you alright? What's going on tonight?" He felt out of the loop after having escaped watching Kirley make a spectacle with Charlotte Greengrass. He never judged but often found himself leaving a room before having to do so.
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He liked being outside anyways. Rooms kept people far too close for comfort and sometimes he had a hard time thinking letting alone having a good time. He watched the others around the room, watched the professing of love, and he had no desire to join in though he would mind taking advantage of it. He tugged on the sleeves of his jackets and felt uncomfortable not wearing either the uniform or just a regular pair of jeans and a shirt. He had never dressed up before and now found himself feeling awkward and tall and far too casual to be mixed in this crowd.
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He had slipped past the crowds but now he stood noticed by her and she was beautiful. He never spoke to her, though, like most girls he would have liked too. However, the thought that something had been put in the drinks discouraged him from making an approach knowing that her feelings were false. After all, she was a Parkinson and while he did not believe in all of these ridiculous notions he knew that she did or at least he thought she did. "I was it twice a day so you know that's why it looks awesome." He joked but knew she would take it seriously like the others were with their words. He raised an eye brow and then shrugged, "Uh, sure why not. I mean I would be enamored by it too." He was awful but this was the most fun he had all night.
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He never cared much about what people thought of him and he did what he pleased. If he insisted on blowing bubbles of gum and then having them pop in class then so it be it. If he liked to sit in the corner by himself and debate over the many meanings Aristotle had met then whatever. So when he bent over slightly he did not pay attention who would take notice. How many times did a man get asked a question such as that, he had to oblige. "So Parkinson, are you enjoying your night?"She had been the first person to talk to him and the first to flirt with him even if it was under some sort of potion he decided to at least play along and if led to a little bit of snogging then it would be great. Heath was not a picky man after all. He sounded like such a perv but he was not he just knew that moments aren't meant to be passed up. Though he did find the fact she was only a fifth year disappointing.
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He turned to look for the other Weird Sisters now wanting to make an escape but he figured that shot had long passed.
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Arya watched Heath tuck his hair behind his ear with avid fascination. Was it strange that she wanted to be the one playing with his hair. Honestly, she just wanted to tackle him to the ground right there and then, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she realised that it would be terribly impolite to do that, especially considering they had never actually spoken before. Better they engage in a few moments of idle chit chat first, with Arya impatiently waiting for enough time to have passed before she jumped him. <b>"I'm perfect. I don't really know. Everything in the room pales in comparison to you."</b> Normally, Arya would be mortified at having been so direct in making those sorts of statements, but it didn't seem to matter tonight. <P>

On a normal day, Arya would have complained about the unfairness of dress robes. All men got at least eighty percent more attractive when they put on dress robes, but the same could not be said for women. Probably because there were so many different styles for women to choose from. The whole thing was entirely unfair, and clearly designed to give men the upper man. If she had been sober, Arya would have said all of this to Heath, but instead, settled for saying, <b>"You should wear dress robes more often, they look really good on you."</b> And they did. Very good. But the more Arya looked at him in them, the more she began to imagine what he would look like <i>without</i> them.<P>

Luckily, his comment distracted her from getting too far with her daydreaming. She couldn't believe it when he said that he washed his hair twice a day. <b>"Twice a day? Really? Don't you think that's a lot? You're stripping out all the natural oils in your hair, that's not very good for it,"</b> Arya replied, sounding more like herself in that sentence than she had all night. If she had had any sort of objectiveness left in her, she would have realised in a heartbeat that he was teasing her, but in her current state, Heath could have told her that the moon was pink, and was the top producer of Puffskeins and she would have believed him. <b>"But it does look very nice like this."</b> And she was back to being a lovesick teenager.<P>

The second that Heath granted her permission to touch his hair, her face split out into a huge grin. <b>"Really? Yay."</b> He was right. She was enamoured by it. Arya searched for the right word to use to describe his mane. It was....glorious. Magnificent. Incredible. She wriggled her fingers in thinly veined enthusiasm, eager for the moment when they made contact with his hair. The moment they touched his hair was as amazing in real life as it had been in her mind. So it wasn't as much like silk as she imagined. Actually, it was nothing like silk. But that didn't matter, because she was <i>touching his hair</i>. This was quite possible the best night of her life.<P>

<b>"I am now,"</b> she replied, just a little breathless. Heathcote Barbary asked her if she was enjoying herself. That had to mean that he cared at least just a little, right? <b>"Are you having fun?"</b> she asked, peering up at him. Now that he had bent down so she could play with his hair, she realised just how beautiful his eyes were. Unsurprising. Everything about him was beautiful. But his eyes especially. Like two deep pools that she could just drown herself in. Arya wasn't the type of person that stared. She was usually too busy with her nose stuck in a book to notice anyone's eye colour. But she was definitely noticing Heath's now.
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AND ALL WE HAVE IS HERE AND NOW I'M HAPPY JUST TO HAVE YOU YOU'RE ALL THE LOVE I NEED SOMEHOW IT'S LIKE A DREAM ALTHOUGH I'M NOT ASLEEP I NEVER WANT TO WAKE UP</marquee>
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