"Gerroff me!" one of the Beaters shouted, as the other Beater flew towards him and playfully tackled him in midair. Acts like that weren't uncommon on the Ravenclaw team, because almost everyone on the team was like one big family. The Beaters (Christopher and Sebastian) had been best friends since almost the time that they could walk. The three Chasers (Miles, Geoffrey and Michael) had bunked together in the same room since they had come to Hogwarts. The Keeper and the Seeker (Avery and Arthur) were brothers, separated only by three years. Miles was good friends with everyone on the team, not just the other Chasers, finding it easier for them to function if they were all on good terms.

Miles blew his whistle, pulling his broom up, and hovered in the air for a moment. "Good practice today, guys!" he called out to his team, who had stopped to watch him. "Now, don't forget the match on Saturday with Slytherin. We're gonna beat 'em again!" he cried, raising one fist in the air. "And we're gonna rub it in their faces again," Avery snickered, punching Arthur on the arm. "Just make sure that this one can keep his eyes on the Snitch and not on Clara." Arthur rolled his eyes. "You're only jealous because you're the older brother and you don't have a girlfriend, Ave," he informed his brother.

The team flew down to the ground and left for the locker rooms, arguing amiably amongst themselves. Miles could only laugh at them. They were Ravenclaws, among the smartest of the school, and they certainly were good Quidditch players, but they all acted like kids sometimes. He easily reached one arm out and caught the Snitch in a hand, having had his eye on it for the last five minutes. He could have been Seeker, but he liked the thrill of being Chaser far too much to give it up. Flying through the air and scoring a goal to the cheering of the entire stadium was like his own personal drug; something he could never live without.

Ten minutes later, Miles had all of the balls in the boxes except for one of the Bludgers, which was playing a game with him. Every time he got close to it, it would dodge away. Every time he turned around, the Bludger would whiz close by his head - not close enough to hurt him, but just enough to make him cry out. He hated that one Bludger, and he was quite convinced that one of the Gryffindors had hexed it for fun. Just as he was diving onto the Bludger and wrestling it to the ground, he heard a voice behind him. It took him another moment to get the ball into the box before he could turn around to see who it was.

Hestia. Miles should have known her voice from the first syllable she had uttered, but he had been preoccupied trying to get the stupid Bludgers back into the box. He remembered how the first time he had ever seen Hestia, he had been a second year, and he had been trying to help the old captain, Montag Humphrey, get the Bludgers back into the case. Except Montag had thought that it would be great fun to let Miles get the rogue one into the chamber by himself. He had ended up getting a broken nose and a black eye, but it had been worth it when he had seen Hestia smile at him and ask him if he was okay the next day.

It hadn't even been the fact that she had asked him if he was alright, it had been the fact that she had been watching him the day before and had remembered him. Actually, he shouldn't have been all that surprised, since he was the only boy in the school with a black eye that day (He had refused Madame Pomfrey's offer to get rid of the black eye with a simple charm, instead keeping it so that he could try and look a little dangerous and daring. Second year boys did things like that, and with a chuckle, he realized that now he would still probably do the same thing).

Miles smiled at Hestia, heaving the box over one shoulder. For most of the guys on his team, it might have taken a bit more effort than usual, but for him, it was easy. He wasn't one to brag, but he was more well-built than almost any other boy in Hogwarts, except for perhaps Fletchly. But there were rumors going around that he was half-giant, so he didn't rightly count in Miles' eyes. Miles had been a lean, mean Quidditch machine for the first five years in Hogwarts, but for the last half of his fifth year and now his sixth year, he had been bulking up - and fast. His goal was to become a world class Quidditch player when he graduated.

He chanced a glance up at the sky before he went to talk to Hestia. It was just beginning to darken, and there was snow lightly falling. It had been snowing for all of their practice, and they had finally stopped because Geoffrey and Michael had been complaining that their broomsticks were now iced to their pants. The falling snow only reminded him that Hestia would be going home for the holidays soon - hopefully, after the last Ravenclaw/Slytherin match before the holidays. He always played better when he knew that she was watching him from the stands.

Miles hadn't ever gone home for a Christmas holiday. Nor for Easter or Spring break. It wasn't that his family didn't want him home, or he didn't want to go home with them. It was quite the opposite, rather. He had one younger sister, Miranda, who wasn't a witch. His mother was a Muggle and his father was a Wizard (He was how Miles had learned to play Quidditch) and Miles always wanted to go see them. Something always happened every year, though, that prevented him from going home. One year, it was because Miranda had the flu, and he didn't want to catch it. Another year, it was because the family couldn't afford to fly him all the way back to America.

"Hey," he finally said to Hestia, after almost five minutes between her greeting him and him saying something had passed. Miles motioned to the box with his free hand. "Oh, you know me. Nothing more that I like than to wrestle with some crazy Bludgers. You should really try it some time. Gets your blood pumping." He grinned at her, knowing that he had about as much chance as getting her to go near a Bludger as she had getting him to wear a dress to Hogsmeade. It had taken him almost an entire six months of prodding to even get her on a broomstick with him.

Miles kicked his way through the snow (How had it gotten so thick so quickly?) until he was standing by Hestia. He looked from her, to the box, to the locker room. Finally, instead of trudging all the way over to the storage room within the locker room, he took out his wand and levitated it over. There. Now he had saved himself five minutes with Hestia. He turned to her, pocketing his wand in his back pocket. "So. You going home this weekend?" he asked, a trace of sadness in his voice. He hated when they said goodbye, because it always seemed like one of those cheesy movies. " 'Cause I don't want you to go."

Miles had always been the kind of guy who worried about what certain people thought of him. People like Slytherins, and students in the years below him; he honestly could have cared less about what they thought. His friends, and Hestia, though, he obviously cared what they thought about him. If one of his friends thought that he was acting like a jerk, and that he needed to be corrected, Miles would instantly ask his friend how he could fix what he was doing wrong. If he got into a fight with someone, he was quick to get angry, but even quicker to man up and apologize. Once you were on Miles' side, you weren't ever going to leave, even if you became the biggest ass ever to reside in Hogwarts. He was going to protect you until his dying day.

Hestia was a different story. He felt even more protective around her, always worried that one day some guy might come around and sweep her off her feet, and then she wouldn't be his anymore. He remembered when they had been third years, and they had just started to become friends. She had begun to date a fellow Hufflepuff named Adam, and Miles could hardly squash down his jealousy that there was another guy in her life that was just as important as him for two and a half months. To this day, he still relished beating the Hufflepuff Quidditch team for the sole purpose of seeing how disappointed Adam looked.

By their fifth year, Hestia and Miles had become the best of friends, despite the fact that she was a girl, he was a boy; she was a Hufflepuff, he was a Ravenclaw; she was shy, he was outgoing; she was anything but athletic, he lived and breathed Quidditch. He knew that some of his friends from Ravenclaw liked to make fun of the Hufflepuffs, and before he had met Hestia, he had entertained the notion that Hufflepuffs were stupid and slow and didn't want to learn; therefore they were put into the worst house. He had even thought for a while that Hufflpuff was an even worse house to be put into than Slytherin.

But then he had met Hestia, and all of those notions and ill-concieved ideas had flown right out of his head. She had to be one of the most dedicated, loyal, amazing people he knew. She was even more studious than some of the Ravenclaws he knew; she would stay up and pull an all-nighter to study for a test that she had been going over for the last two weeks. She did all of her essays and homework assignments the day that they were handed out, and she always gave them to him to check over, but he could never find a flaw in them, apart from a few spelling mistakes and grammatical errors. Sometimes, he thought that she should have been the one in Ravenclaw, not him.

Sometimes, when he thought things with them were going to go in one direction, they ended up going in another. Every time he thought that he was going to maybe make his move, something happened where they just couldn't. It seemed that they were having some sort of block about getting together, and it was just stupid. Like, one time, they had been in the Shrieking Shack, thinking that it might have been something cool to see, and Hestia had freaked out because she thought she heard a ghost. Miles had hugged her, telling her that it was okay, and he was about to say something kind and romantic, when one of his friends came bursting out of nowhere, making ghoulish noises.

Miles smiled at Hestia, a grin, really. She wasn't going away this time? Now they could hang out all during the break, and eat together, and sit in front of the fire together, and drink hot chocolate. The rules were incredibly lax when only a sixth of the castle was there over the break; a few Slytherins whose parents didn't want them home, a c0uple of Muggleborns who hadn't been able to make it home, and the occasional kid who just wanted to stay. "Awesome! Excellent!" he said, unable to keep his grin from spreading. "We can go out to Hogsmeade on Christmas, if you'd like. Get a Butterbeer or something, what do you say?"

Hestia looked so cold and red at that moment - was she red because of the cold, or because she was blushing? He couldn't really tell - that Miles wanted nothing more than to reach forward and wrap her in his arms, but that might have just been a tad awkward. Besides, he wasn't really even sure if she felt the same way about him. All signs pointed to yes, but one couldn't be cautious enough when testing the waters of love. He didn't want to make one move and ruin their entire friendship. How much would that have sucked? Besides, they were already a lot closer than some of the couples in the school, like Lucius and Narcissa. They just seemed to date for show.

"Nah. I'm toasty warm," Miles teased, looking down at himself. He still had all of his Quidditch gear on, and he actually was pretty warm. The padding was thick, and therefore kept the biting cold out. He was wearing gloves underneath his Chaser's gear, and he had a hat on his spiky hair. He would have offered Hestia a coat if he'd had one, but he unfortunately had not thought to bring one. "You look cold, though. All chattering teeth and whatnot. Want me to make you warmer?" He was flirting now, just a bit, and he wanted to see how she would react. He hoped that she would flirt back, but knowing Hestia, it would probably go right over her head.

Miles Wood had had a very interesting life so far. He was born on December 12th, to Paxton Wood, who was a Wizard, and Stella Wood, who was a Muggle. He had one sister, Miranda, and his mother was expecting another baby, another girl, whom they were going to name Megan, in keeping up with the tradition of naming their children something that started with 'M.' As much as Miles wished that he was going to have a younger brother to play Quidditch with, he was rather excited to have another little sister, even if they were going to be sixteen years apart. Actually, he would be happy with a younger sibling who had any magical powers at all.

Miranda was always unhappy about the fact that she hadn't gotten any magical powers or a Hogwarts letter when she had turned eleven, but Miles had. He tried to make it up to her, by buying as much Wizarding stuff as he could right before he went home for the summer holidays and letting her use his wand, even if she couldn't cast any spells. He also sent her a letter by owl at least once a week, because she was so fascinated by his owl, Zaire. She was forever feeding him treats and trying to make him act like a baby. She was only eleven, after all, and had just turned eleven in August. She still had a bit of kid left inside of her.

When Miles had been eight years old, and Miranda only two, he had managed to turn his pet rat, Solomon, a horrid shade of purple. He had been so excited that he had raced out of his room and stood by the door for two hours, waiting for his father to get home. Paxton couldn't have been any happier, and had gone out and bought Miles his very first broomstick that weekend. They had spent hours and hours out in the backyard, teaching him how to play Quidditch, with Miranda and his mother watching all the while. His mother was extraordinarily tolerant of the things that her husband and son did with magic, and she was forever asking her husband to do some of the chores by magic.

When Paxton had graduated from Hogwarts, some twenty years ago, he had decided that instead of getting jobs at the Ministry, or going to help out in other, poorer countries, he would go to America. He had heard plenty of good things about it, and he wanted to experience it for himself. He had been in London all of his life, and if everyone else was going east, he was going to go west. He never liked to conform to things, which was why he had gone to America. His first day there, he had bumped into a girl around his age, named Stella. They had fallen in love at first sight, got married two years later, and had Miles shortly after that.

Miles always figured that when he met his perfect girl, it was going to be something like that. He would meet her one day, out of nowhere, and he would fall in love, and she would love him back and they would be able to just ride off into he sunset. He thought that that was what had happened with him and Hestia, back in their second year, but he wasn't so sure anymore. Miranda always teased him about talking about her too much, and his mother was forever 'planning' their wedding (Something about a destination wedding in Hawaii, but he never really paid attention to her when she rambled on about stuff like that).

Well, he surmised, if he liked her so much and she liked him so much - presumably - then why were they only at the best friend level instead of the dating level? He had to admit, where they were right then was just fine, and all he wanted to do was add to that the fact that they held hands a little bit more, and they kissed. Oh, and that he had caught the eye of one of the prettiest girls in Hogwarts. His friends, jerks that they were, had to admit that Hestia was beautiful. Often, they made fun of her being a Hufflepuff and all, but like Christopher had said one time: if she wasn't a Hufflepuff, half of the guys in school would have been trying to get with her.

Miles didn't understand the whole Hufflepuff thing. Sure, she was in a different house, but why did that matter at all? She was in a respectable House, it wasn't like Hufflepuff was a lot of no-good, lazy layabouts. They worked just as hard as everyone else, if not harder, to try and get good grades and graduate. He never understood the point of House rivalries. Quidditch was fun, sure, but the meanness didn't have to transcend the Pitch and infiltrate everyone's daily lives. He was sure Hestia didn't know, but he had given quite a few of the Gryffindors and Slytherins a good punch because they made fun of Hestia and her friends. He tried to keep things like that on the down-low, because she probably wouldn't have thought it good that he was fighting in the hallways.

Actually, it wouldn't have really mattered if she did find out. Miles was a born fighter, and if anyone dared to try and badmouth his best friend, he would be on top of them, beating the living daylights out of them in a moment's notice. Ravenclaws were the ones that were supposed to be able to fight with their words, but he always found his fists better at talking. Perhaps he should have been in Gryffindor, for he was brave enough to never shy away from a fight. Hadn't Hestia wanted to be in Gryffindor in one point? All of the Houses were stupid, in his opinion. If he had his way, they would all just be normal students without the bigotry.

"Perish the thought!" Miles exclaimed. The idea of Hestia leaving Hogwarts to go to the French school was more than he could handle. "Then I wouldn't get to see your face everyday and that would be just sad." he continued on. She had become a fixture in his life, he wasn't sure how he would be able to function if he didn't get to see her everyday. They had three or four classes together, their tables were close together at lunch, and they spent almost all of their free time together. He couldn't play a Quidditch match if he knew she wasn't in the stands watching him.

Miles nodded at Hestia. "We'll do the works, then. A carriage ride," For the holidays, Hagrid always had a team of English horses ready to pull the students that had stayed around for a while. No charge, of course, but it was always fun to be driven around Hogsmeade in a carriage. "Then a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks," There was nothing better than being able to go into Madame Rosmerta's bar and warm up from the cold with a nice Butterbeer. "And finally, I'll take you round to any shops that you'd like and buy you something." He didn't care what she wanted or how much it was, he was going to get it for her.

Miles had never really been one for material gifts; he found it more romantic to give a girl something that she could have forever. In his fourth year, he had started to date a girl named Juliet, and on their first date, he had managed to get a horde of fireflies (With Hagrid's help - bless him) to spell out 'Miles Hearts Juliet.' They had dated for the better part of their fourth year, before breaking up. She was dating the boy that Hestia had dated in her third year now, wasn't she? They were still friends though, no matter how much Miles loathed Adam.

Miles gave Hestia a lazy grin. "Well, I'd give you some of my padding, if I weren't, you know, warm right now. And you? Playing Quidditch? The day you try out for the Hufflepuff team is the day McGonagall gives Dumbledore a lap dance in front of the whole school." A rather disgusting thought, but it showed just how unlikely the scenario was. A moment later, when she began to shuffle towards him, Miles freaked out - if just inside his head. Hestia was advancing rapidly, and he hadn't thought that she would actually say yes, which made him all the more nervous. What was he supposed to be doing? Oh, yes, warming her up.

He stepped forward, pulling off his bulky Quidditch gloves, and dropping them in the snow. When Hestia made her way through the thick, powdery stuff, and was standing by him, he gave her a slight smile. "Now, remember, you asked for this," he joked, before putting his hands on her waist and pulling her closer to him. He turned her around so that her back was pressed up against him, and he kept his arms around her waist. Since she was a good three or four inches shorter than him, he had to lower his head, to whisper in her ear. "Feeling any warmer?" If she could see him right then, she would have seen the enormous smirk across his face, which he wasn't even trying to conceal.

Miles had been racking his brains for the longest time to try and remember what his life had been like B.H. - before Hestia. It had only been four years since he had met her, but in that time, it was like every single moment from before then had been erased, and it had been filled with just her. It was funny to think that he, a near six foot tall guy who looked a lot older than his sixteen years, had his life completely ruled by a shorter, totally adorable, sweet girl who liked to giggle. A lot. Was that what married was being like? If so, Miles and Hestia were certainly getting a lot of practice from just being best friends.

Miles always wished that his father had stayed in London so that during the summers he might have been closer to his friends, but then he realized that if he hadn't, he wouldn't have met his mother and then they never would have had him or Miranda or soon-to-be Megan. America was fine to him most of the time - it was interesting to be one of the only American students in all of Hogwarts, although after a while it was irritating to have people comment on his accent - but he was never able to see his friends or do anything with them over the summer, apart from write a lot of letters and hope that maybe one of them invited him somewhere.

Which was why when they were fourth years, and Hestia had gotten a letter from her parents telling her that they were going on yet another trip, but this time she could bring a friend, he had been overly excited. From the minute the roll hit his back and the note was being shoved into his hands, that was all that he could think about. Going on vacation with Hestia. An entire two weeks of just hanging around with Hestia. And her family, but that was fine, too. When their plans had fallen through, he had moped around for the rest of the summer, wishing that an owl would fly through the window, a letter with Hestia's handwriting all over it saying that it had been a joke and they were still going.

Miles' family wasn't poor, per say, but they weren't exactly rolling in the dough. His mother was a dressmaker back in New York, and she worked in the famous Kleinfeld Bridal Store (Which had been featured on several Muggle shows and was flocked to by future brides everyday) but that didn't mean that she made a lot of money. His father wasn't working with anything magical at the moment, and was, in fact, a plumber. It was kind of embarrassing to tell people that his father went around and unclogged toilets for a living, but at least he had a job and his father didn't just sit around a huge house all day and get drunk (Ahem, Adam).

Sometimes, though, he just wished that they had a little bit of extra money for him to go home at the holidays. He missed Miranda's little gap-toothed smile; he missed how his mother would get all stunned by his father using just the tiniest bit of magic to Levitate his bags up to his rather cramped room on the second floor; he missed how his father would constantly give Miles little grins across the dinner table, right before something would happen, like all of the salt spilling out onto his dinner, or his seat giving way. His father was much like a little kid in those aspects, but he loved him anyway.

Miles wasn't much of a prankster - his most elaborate one was probably the time he had put Saran Wrap over the toilet seat in his house and his mother had nearly wrenched his head off - since he had inherited much of his personality from his mother. She was a bit quiet, but she had a spunky personality. Stella reminded him a lot of Hestia - or was it the other way around? - in her physical aspects. Paxton looked exactly like Miles, only aged about twenty years, but all of his pranking ways and love of eating anything sugary had gone to Miranda. He couldn't wait to see what happened to the new baby, who was probably going to be another Paxton clone.

Miles chose this moment to smirk at Hestia. "You'd miss me too much? Are you trying to tell me something, Miss Jones?" He raised his eyebrows and wiggled them suggestively, before laughing. He highly doubted she had meant anything beyond that she would miss him as her best friend. "What would you miss the most? My attractive face and body, my sparkling wit, or my charming personality? You don't have to choose at once, I know it's quiet overwhelming to be faced with a specimen like myself," His voice was haughty, but his eyes were anything but. They were twinkling as he spoke, his face serious.

Miles could never tell a lie to anyone, or try to fake something, because his eyes always gave him away. They were an incredibly dark brown, almost black in some lights, and no matter what he was doing, they could tell people what he was really thinking. If he was joking around, like he just had been, they would be creasing up at the corners and there would be a glint in his eyes that would tell anyone that he was kidding. If he was sad about something, but he was trying to act cheerful, the spark in his eyes was gone, and they just looked empty. He hated having his emotions out there in the open, but he couldn't do much about it.

"Carriage rides, check!" he said, drawing a check mark in the air. He hadn't known that they had given them up until last year, when he had ventured out into the middle of one of the empty fields that surrounded Hogsmeade (In twenty years or so, the fields would be gone, filled up with more shops). Miles shook his head at the girl. "No, don't. I have no idea what to get you this year - I'm going to be honest - and I think I would just rather buy you something. It's not very... what's the word? Special, I guess, but it's better than me going out and getting you something so horrible that you would never wear it or use it."

He could have stopped and told her that it didn't matter how downright terrible anything she got him was, he would have worn it every single day of the week if it made her smile, but he had just ended his sentence with another nod of the head. He made a face at the nickname, something she had thought up in their third year, and had never let him live down. "I'm still getting you something, Hessy" he retorted, putting emphasis on her own nickname. They had been third years, what did you expect? Adding a 'y' to the end of the first half of one someone's name had been a genius move to them back then.

As Hestia began to giggle, Miles groaned. "Is this that bad?" he asked, not moving, save to readjust his hands. He didn't want her to think that he was trying to feel her up or anything. Every time Hestia shifted, even a tiny bit, it sent tingles up his arms and down his legs. He couldn't remember the last time they had been like this - they probably hadn't ever. Sure, they hugged a lot, mostly on Hestia's end, but they had never stood like this. It was a refreshing change of pace, in his mind. Maybe, since she wasn't moving or trying to get away, it meant that she liked it, too. Girls were so hard to figure out sometimes.

"Sicko? How am I a sicko? I'm merely trying to save you from getting frostbite and dying, Hess," Miles said, feigning hurt in his voice. "And that's my payment? I get called a name? Maybe I should just let you freeze, then." He still didn't move, and was silently thanking God that he had remembered to put on the cologne that he had gotten from her last Christmas before practice. "Juliet? Who's she?" he murmured, vaguely, trying to recall any other girl's face while he was standing out there in the snow with Hestia. He wished they never had to move, but they probably would, eventually. Damn school.

Miles opened his mouth, about to reply to Hestia, when her words caught up with him. He did a bit of a double take, before blinking repeatedly. Had Hestia really said what he thought she had just said? They joked about each other all of the time; they were best friends, so it was only natural that they did that. And he had thought plenty of times that Hestia might have liked him, but he had never thought that she would actually say them outloud, not unless he managed to get the balls to ask her out, which he was currently working on - actually, he had been working on it for about three years now, not seeming to get any closer.

"Oh, well...thank you for that sweet, if not a little creepy, compliment. I think it's a compliment. It is a compliment, right? You're not making fun of me? Because you know how hard I work to have my gorgeous physique," he joked, tapping his abs with one hand. Ever since he had started to seriously work out and play Quidditch, exercise was like breathing to him. He got antsy if he went more than a day without at least a good session of jogging, and if his family ever did go anywhere (Which they never did, but he was being hypothetical) he would scout out the best places to have an early morning run.

Hestia was talking about the carriage ride again, and Miles smiled. It was actually pretty fun, if you got one of the more crazy drivers, of which there were only a handful. All of the drivers were people who had volunteered for the job for some extra money; probably for presents for their children. A few of them were just ordinary guys who worked in the Ministry, and there was a rumor that Professor Flitwick was going to be one of the drivers that year, but Miles highly doubted it. The little guy probably couldn't even see over the reigns of the horses, much less be able to steer them around pedestrians in the street.

"Hey, if we get one of the good drivers, you'll be thanking me. It'll be one of the most epic rides of your entire life," he joked, before blushing. He hated when he used words like that; it made him sound like even more of a stupid American. All of the kids in the school used to make fun of him for the way he spoke, up until the time he became the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain in only his sixth year. Then they still made fun of him, but with a good natured tone, and showing that they respected him more than made fun of him. It was nice to be respected after having been made fun of for being an ignorant outsider.

Miles studied her for a moment, before commenting, "Maybe I'll go to Scarborough Faire and get you some parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme." He punctuated the sentence with a rather mysterious smile, knowing that she probably wouldn't get the reference at all. Miles' father, despite being a plumber, was an avid reader of all things Middle Ages, and he had tried to teach his son and his daughter all about the things he loved. Miranda couldn't have been more disinterested, but Miles, out of love for his father, had humored him and learned a few things to keep him happy.

One of the things that his father had always been trying to get them to learn was a song called 'Scarborough Faire' that had been created sometime in the Middle Ages, although the original writer of the song was unknown, and would most likely remain that way forever. It was a nice enough song to listen to, a love ballad, although when one dug deeper, it was apparent that the song was by a man who was jilted by his lover, and therefore lost some of the nice quality to it. The writer goes on to assign his true love impossible tasks, to try and explain to her that love sometimes requires doing things which seem downright impossible on the face of it. The singer is asking his love to do the impossible, and then come back to him and ask for his hand; this was frowned upon in the Middle Ages for any lady to ask a man to marry her.

The meaning of the song was deeper than that; the actual quote he had gone on to say to Hestia there in the field was something that, if he had had to explain it, would definitely detract from the sweet moment. The four things that he had just said that he was going to go and get for Hestia were of different meanings each, but when combined, and the lyrics of the song analyzed, came down to this: he was going to get her parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme, and the girl that he got it for was going to be his true love. It was as simple as that, although Hestia, again, probably didn't get it, and he was just spouting nonsense for her.

The nickname was interesting, though. "Yeah, well, I thought we agreed you were never going to call me 'Miley' again; not after I proved my manliness and showed Adam a thing or two." What Adam had done was the lowest thing a guy could do, in Miles' point of view, besides take another guy's girl. Actually, Adam had done that as well, although he and Hestia had never exactly been together. It was universally accepted in Hogwarts that Miles and Hestia were going to end up together, although the two of them hadn't the slightest idea that there were actual pools going around as to when they were going to get together, started by Miles' oh-so-helpful friends.

When he had heard people giggling and gossiping about Hestia and Adam's breakup, he had grabbed the first Hufflepuff to walk by and had questioned them to great lengths, finding out everything. THen, he had gone on to question a few more. He had found out so much by the end of their little discussions it was almost as though he had been there and witnessed the events first-hand. He could name everything from the time that Adam had pulled her aside to the names of all of the Hufflepuffs in the room to where Hestia had run off, crying, after Adam had said his final words, a smug look on his face.

Of course, Miles, being her doting best friend, had searched the castle high and low to find his best friend after she had disappeared. He had been so close to giving up, following six or seven dead leads, when he had heard one last thing from a gaggle of Gryffindor girls, and decided that he should try one last time. If he couldn't find her, he would just go and wait outside of the Hufflepuff dorms until she came back, which she had to eventually, because she would need her books for her next class. He hadn't stopped to think that she might have taken her books, or she might have skipped class, showing just how determined he was to see her.

He had gone around to find her in a hallway that he couldn't recall ever going down, and that was were Miles realized that he was utterly and irrevocably in love with his best friend. It all made sense then; the looks that he gave her, how he was so overprotective of her, how he wanted to punch every single guy who looked her way. If he had been a smart guy, he would have sucked it up right then and there and told her how he felt, but he was scared that she was going to reject him, and so he kept it a secret for the next three years. Probably a stupid move, but he was sure that he was going to tell her at some point.

Miles felt that something between them was probably going to change that night, he could feel it in his bones. It was only confirmed as Hestia grabbed his hands as he tried to move them. He smiled, shaking his head a little, a smirk on his face that just wasn't going away. Every thing Hestia did made him feel like she was just trying to reconfirm what he was desperately hoping was true. He had spent years trying to imagine the perfect time for him and her to finally get together, but he had never thought about them standing outside in the cold, on the Quidditch Pitch, with him trying to get her warm, but at the same time, it was so fitting.

Miles chuckled, before moving a step closer (As though that could actually happen). He could feel every single breath she took in, every single slight movement of her muscles, and all of it made him want to just kiss her, but then he would feel like an idiot afterwards if it wasn't what she wanted. She probably wanted some big display, like Adam had given her back in their third year. Hadn't he shown up in front of her with a box of her favorite chocolates (There Miles had just been thinking that Adam was curious, instead of trying to milk him for information after class one day) and a huge bouquet of roses, asking her in front of everyone to be his girlfriend?

"Well, I'm not going to let you die, Hess. I'll never let you die," Miles said, his voice confident. "In fact, I'd jump in front of a Bludger for you. Or a bullet. Whichever you decide is more dramatic." This little banter thing that they had was always fun for him. It just gave him more and more ways to try and get something out of her, a reaction, a confession, anything at this point would be welcome, but if she was as in love with him and he was with her, she was a thousand times better at hiding emotions than him. He was surprised that he hadn't yet been called out on his pathetic crush on her by Hestia herself.

Miles nodded. "Well, that's good then. Isn't she from Romeo and Juliet? I wouldn't call one of the greatest heroines in one of the greatest love stories of all times nobody," he joked, before listening to her rattle off a list of girls for him and then giving her answers in a staccato fashion. "Too nosy. She'd be all over everything I did and everyone I hung out with. Too in love with James Potter to see a foot in front of her face. Too clingy. I'd never be able to see you again, because she'd always be convinced that we were carrying on a secret love affair behind her back." It wasn't a secret love affair if only one half of the reputed couple was in love, right?

As for Hestia's last question, Miles' eyebrow shot up in surprise. He lost his bearings momentarily, and let go of Hestia, rubbing the back of his head and causing the hair there to stick up comically. "Uh, Hestia? Hestia...Hestia...I know that name from somewhere," he joked, lamely trying to save himself. "But uh...y'know what? I could see myself with Hestia," he casually said, looking down at the snow, his cheeks red at this point. He looked up shyly, before letting his eyes drop back down. "In fact, I don't know if she knows this, but uh, I've had my eye on her for quite a while." There you go - it was all out in the open now. He just needed her to yell at him and tell him she didn't like him for him to feel like the biggest idiot in the world.