Ernie Macmillan looked over at the group of Hufflepuff witches.  Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott waved at him.  He had begun to wave back when he noticed Sally-Anne Perks, and he had trouble raising his eyes to her face because of the abundant change in her proportions.  She returned his smile and he turned his attention back to fellow Chaser Martin Cadwallader, who was laughing at his teammate’s lewd joke about the Demiguise shepherd.  Ernie rolled his eyes, knowing that was for his benefit.  “You know, my family’s been in the business for years, and we’ve never –“  

                    “Yeah, yeah,” Derek Adams laughed, clapping Ernie on the back.  “We know that’s what you tell the witches, but when it’s just us mate, you can be honest about them sheep.”  

                    “We have sheep, and Demiguise are not sheep.”  Ernie shook his head, muttering his retort in Scotch-Gaelic so that Derek and Martin couldn’t understand, then returned to his porridge.  Their end of the table had grown quiet as the fourth-year boys ate in relative silence while the fourth-year girls looked around at the first-years and the seventh-years and giggled, laughing and chatting.  He could hear bits of their conversation as it drifted across the table.                                                                                                  

                    “Have you met Professor Moody yet?”

                    “Cedric Diggory has to be the handsomest Champion.”

                    “At least he’s a Hufflepuff.  Harry Potter –“

                    “There’s Cedric now.”

                    Ernie glanced up as Cedric sat alongside him, thumping his back.  He only stayed for a moment, asking the team to get together, not for practice since Quidditch was cancelled this year for the Triwizard Tournament, but to continue training for next year.  He would still be Captain, and he didn't want a run-down flabby team.

                    They agreed, and he strolled away, pausing to chat at the Ravenclaw table.  Derek and Martin resumed their conversation about the recent Quidditch World Cup and the Triwizard, and Ernie looked at the girls again.  Susan was twirling a heather-colored ribbon around her finger, braiding it into her hair and when she saw him looking, she smiled.  The girls got a bit quieter, but he could still hear some of what was said even if he couldn’t distinguish most of the voices.

                    “– cute.  What’s his name?”

                    “Ernie.”

                    His ears perked up at the sound of his own name.

                    “– dating.”

                    “No.”

                    “– ass.”

                    “– pompous ass.”

                    His head jerked around, looking at the witches once more.  He saw Susan and Hannah, looking at him.  Susan was still twirling her hair ribbon, not meeting his gaze.  He was surprised at her.  She was supposed to be his friend.  She often came to him for advice on the various animals she found and took care of, knowing of his own love of them.

                    His work on his family’s farm raising and breeding Demiguise and Muggle sheep made him a natural for her to approach.  He knew the other houses thought he was pompous because of the way he spoke, articulating and enunciating maybe a little too much to avoid his burr.  After growing up listening to his grandfather talk about his own childhood of not having two knuts to rub together, Ernie was pleased to always have Galleons in his pocket.  He wasn’t a show-off, but he also didn’t feel the need to hide.  He was disheartened.  The Hufflepuffs knew him.  She knew him.  He couldn’t believe that she would –

                    “Are you all right, Ernie?”

                    He was staring past Susan, but when he finally looked at her, she smiled at him.  He was surprised she was smiling and more surprised at her words he had overheard.  “What did you say?”  His voice sounded odd to him; almost like it was someone else’s and then it gave a tiny crack at the end, all the more infuriating to him.               

                    “I asked if you were all right.  You look angry.”

                    “I’m fine.”  He said it quietly and turned away, but he was angry.  He’d heard it behind his back often, but never from someone who he considered a friend, and a fellow Hufflepuff at that.  He glanced at Susan again as she brushed a dark hair from her eyes, smiling and giggling with the other fourth-year girls.  Every now and then, they would have a quick look over at him, giggling.  Finally, he got up and left the table, abandoning his half-eaten bowl of porridge.

*****

                    “Did you hear me, Mr. Macmillan?”

                    Ernie nodded but didn’t move.  In actuality, he hadn’t heard Professor Sprout, but he heard Morag’s whisper.  “She said to trade with Wayne.”

                    “Wayne?” he whispered back.

                    “Yes, you’re with Susan today.”

                    “Sorry?”

                    “Now, Mr. Macmillan.  No more dither dather.”  Professor Sprout did not usually need to repeat herself. He gathered his tools and strode over, needing to go back for his Shrivelfig.  He tossed it on the potting bench and watched it rolling towards the edge.  Susan’s small hand stopped it from going over the side, and she held it out to him.  He looked into her dark brown, almost black eyes, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he snatched it from her hand.  He began to peel it without another word, exposing the inner cloves they would be planting and ignoring the strange look on Susan’s face.  He couldn’t understand why she was the one who looked hurt and confused.

                    Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her hand reaching for his knife, and he casually took it before she could touch it.  He flinched at the hurt look she gave him, but began slicing grimly, sliding the separated pieces to his left, away from Susan.

                    “Ernie, could I borrow your knife, please?”

                    “I’m using it.”

                    “I know.  I meant when you were finished.  Why are you angry with me, Ernie?”

                    He stopped slicing, holding the knife tightly in his right hand, his left grasping the hard table as he stared at his Shrivelfig.  “Would you really care to know why I’m angry?”

                    She nodded, slowly, remaining silent.

                    “I heard you.  In the Great Hall.  When you were talking to the other girls - you called me a pompous ass.”  He was looking into her face now, and her eyes widened in ire.

                    “No, I didn’t.”

                    “I heard you, Susan.”

                    “I didn’t say that, Ernie.  I would never say that.”

                    She touched his much larger hand.  He didn’t move.

                     “We’re friends, Ernie.  I was defending you.”

                    “You were –“

                    “I said you weren’t a pompous ass.”

                    “Who said –“

                    “Oh no...I’m not going there.  I wouldn’t talk about you behind your back.  Can I borrow the knife now?”  She smiled, brushing a dark hair out of her eyes.  He felt his face flush slightly as he handed her the knife, handle first.

                    “I’m sorry, Susan.”

                    “I would never say that about you.  I like you, Ernie.”

                    “Thanks.  You’re a good friend.”

                    He didn’t notice when she smiled at him again.  He was already watching Sally-Anne Perks walk over to Professor Sprout with her finely chopped shrivelfigs.  He also did not see Susan finish her cuttings and follow Sally-Anne, dropping off her own Shrivelfigs before leaving the greenhouse alone.