Seventh Year Boys Dorm

"...I see." Sophia replied, getting the picture. She made a mental note to herself to steal an extra shirt from James, and give to Hugh later on. That way, he might not feel so self-conscious.

"Did you know that my mum had me when she was eighteen? Isn't that crazy?" she said casually, even though it wasn't the lightest topic of conversation in the world. But she had felt the sudden need to tell Hugh that.

"I think you've told me before," Hugh muttered, dotting the last I and crossing the last T of his essay. He felt rather satisfied, having finished it in such a short amount of time.

"I have? I certainly don't remember me. But anyway, have you had sex before, Hugh?" Sophia asked, rather blatantly.

As Hugh rolled up the parchment, he considered how to answer this. Risk the shame of admitting he was still a virgin, or go along with the whole honest Head Boy thing? "Uh... yeah..." he said with obvious discomfort.

"I don't believe it." Sophia stared at him as she stood up with her arms cross. Her bright red hair flickered in different shades in the soft light of the dorm, and her dark eyes were staring intently at Hugh, analyzing him.

"Listen Hugh," Sophia took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, and shut her eyes for a moment, before continuing with her spiel. "I know this because I'm still a virgin, and I know that I would be the only person you'd have sex with. Or so I think."

Would? More like could. Sophia was accessible, you see. There were many other, much more attractive and less sentimentally-weighty girls that Hugh would've loved to have, but not a one of them would ever go for someone of his stature, hair type, manner, all the rest. However, this didn't cross his mind. Only various mental images of Sophia and him, intertwined in their copulation and all those other fancy terms for it. Not to mention the rush he was receiving from the blood cycling from his head and other places and back again. "... Oh."

Sophia tapped her head with he index finger, and smiled weakly, and for the first, almost shyly at him. This was odd, for an especially outgoing and cheerful girl.

"I can't help but use my head, wherever I go, you see." she said, whispering at him. Sophia stared at him a long time... into those dark eyes, framed by those rather nice and curly eyelashes Hugh possessed.

Hugh Gearldson. The boy with the greasy hair, the eternal scrub. The boy in poverty, with less than three Sickles to his name. The boy who always wore his uniform, because he had nothing suitable to wear. The boy who took all the NEWT classes, mostly just to challenge himself.

The one who she sat beside, when she was all alone on the Opening Feast on her Sorting. The one who she sat next to, when she made a feather float in class.

The one who was in front of her, when she almost made his eardrums pop from screaming too loudly in a Quidditch game.

The one who's hair she morphed into a hair bow.

The one who she showed what was below the belt.

The one who stole his first kiss.

But none of this mattered anymore. No, what mattered was how they all led up and connected to this moment, as she gently took a hold of his tie, and led him to his bed, a sanctuary.

Not that they weren't already sitting on it in the first place, but, sure. Hugh found himself near mechanically dropping his essay, the roll of parchment hitting the stone floor with a bit of a bounce and a tiny whoosh as it unrolled itself. The springs of the bed creaked rather audibly as the two sat down on the green quilt, the rather thin piece of cloth and cotton giving beneath them. It'd begun to sleet outside, and there was a whispering like that of settling dust clicking against the window pane. Hugh found himself unable to speak, unable to ask Sophia if she was really, truly sure about this, unable to choke back the layer of thick saliva that had coated his throat from his own, growing fear and arousal.

The soft cashmere sweater was soon slipped off. Next came Hugh's robe, tie, and shirt. And then her pants. And so on. They obviously had a bit of a pattern going on.

An inexperienced one at that. There's nothing. No sweet talk or words, no foreplay. Nothing of that like. Just very gentle soft kissing and caressing, mostly led by Sophia herself. Just the bare minimum.

Ten minutes later, for the first time in Sophia's life, she was penetrated. The body of a male was entering her's. And there was nothing more to do but scream and shout.

Sweat, a bit of a pain. But it wasn't too much.

Nothing was too much for Hugh. She'd go through hell and back, just for him. Because she loved him, more than the moon. She always wanted to be with him until the day she died, and now, she would always have a part of him. His virginity.

Thirty minutes later, she had crawled under the arms of Hugh, completely nude, and she was sobbing. Her hair was a wreck, but that was nothing compared to the sorrow on her face, the tears running down her soft cheeks.

Never had Sophia the Unbreakable had appeared so vulnerable and so purely human.

For a time, Hugh gazed in a blank state of bliss at the silver curtain rod suspended directly above the headboard.

This couldn't end. Please, god, don't let this end. He was loved! He was finally loved! May thoughts of intruding roommates or the sleet turning to snow or the impending February or ANYTHING just altogether vanish from the very concepts from which they formed. May the sky and the oceans and the lands and the grounds of the school and the stone walls and the bones, flesh, and minds of fellow students all melt away into a bottomless slush of matter and energy, and may the two souls that lay in his bed be forever bound to one another like a pair of half-split bacterium living in that muck.

Clearly, the endorphins were still flowing away up there.

Hugh pulled Sophia closer to him, feeling her warm skin against his own, burying his face in her tangled mop of hair. She was both absolutely and infinitely beautiful.