Notes:

JKR et al./Robert Kirkman et al./AMC and developers of the TV show TWD own all characters etc. this story is based on. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Pairing: Beth|Daryl

Genres: Romance|Pining|Friendship|Hurt&Comfort (because I can't not write something with a little sadness)

Who's who: Beth's "not" a stalkerish 5th year|Daryl's "not" a grumpy 6th year

Setting: Hogwarts-AU|Dolores Umbridge era|HP: OOTP

Rating: T

What's what: flobberworm: toothless, classified as 'boring,' used to thicken potions (info comes from HP Wiki)|I'm not British or hail from that general area, sorry if what I write doesn't comes across as 'British enough'

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KINDRED SPIRITS, PART I: APART

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The scratching of frantic quills filled every window nook and hidden alcoves of the Hogwarts Library.

There was a near constant swishing of turning pages by students sitting under the glow of desk lamps and candles.

At a table sat a lone figure. One hand joined the music of quill scratches and the other strong hand anchored at a corner of his parchment paper.

His long fingers strained as they hugged themselves to the paper and met resistant against the tabletop.

Beth wondered if he would leave his fingerprints behind.

If he would claim it as his.

Beth blinked hard, her own hands clasped around her Charms textbook, palms dug into the thin hardcover edges.

What a stupid thought, she chided herself. He had marked the paper as his.

Beth had seen him scribble his name on the top margin.

His flexing fingers moved with such fluidity.

Beth had to stare.

Her eyes followed the clear view she had of his sun-kissed skin, and then she silently cursed the terrible, horrible sleeve that sinfully wrapped around his bicep.

Beth gulped and glanced down at the open book she had strategically placed on her table. Propped up with her notebooks and ink bottle, she could swivel her eyes from the boy to her book, at a moment's notice.

Her grip loosened around her book before letting go altogether. She ran a hand through her loose hair and refused to look up.

Her hands shook lightly, as she deliberately clung once more onto the hardcover book, fighting against the urge to move her eyes back to the young man.

Her pulse galloped faster.

Don't stare, don't stare, don't stare...

Her inner mantra failed.

Her eyes pulled back to him.

Those hands, she sighed to herself, refusing to acknowledge the oncoming shame she felt from spying on him, yet again.

As though unaware of his audience, he tugged at his rolled sleeves.

Beth watched him.

A thick hunk of flesh, which could only be muscle, refused to budge and allow the cloth to roll up and over.

She licked her lips.

Beth decided right then and there that she was not staring for an obscene amount of time. No, Beth was studying him, even better than that, she could rely on the excuse that she wanted to help him.

She was kind like that. Yeah, she was kind.

'Daryl, tear off your sleeves, then you won't have to worry about rolling them...'

Or,

'Oh, hey Daryl, I watched you - nonono - saw you trying to push your sleeves up, maybe if... if you didn't flex... all those muscles wouldn't be in the way.'

She pictured herself settling at his side. His taller frame would align perfectly with hers as he threw an arm around her shoulders.

His eyes, usually hard and carrying a heavy weight, would be soft and never stray from hers for too long. He would smile at her attempt to help him roll up his sleeves, causing his eyes to crinkle adorably at the corners.

It was unfair, borderline torturous, how she thought of ways to speak to him... but never did.

'D'you have a spare quill?' and 'can you move?' did not count as conversations, not in Beth's eyes.

For years, she had been a mere flobberworm.

If her Care for Magical Creatures class had taught her anything, Beth knew without a doubt that she was comparable to a worm.

Whenever this Dixon boy graced her eyes, she became a squirmy and slobbering mess.

Now, as she wished to charm his shirt from existence, Beth could not stop the wary thought that had picked at her repeatedly in the past. Whenever she had thoughts of being courageous and walking up to Daryl Dixon, this one wary thought would stop her. To him, she knew without a doubt that she was, in fact, a flobberworm.

Near useless and not to mention boring.

Beth blinked hard. She subtly swiped along her mouth.

No drool, praise Merlin!

She ran a hand through her hair and cleared her throat with a hmm-hmm.

At his own table, Daryl Dixon sucked in a sudden harsh breath.

She nearly jumped out of her skin because the noise he had made disrupted the symphony of quills etching on parchments and the turning of pages.

He had tightened his grip on his quill.

Beth feared it would snap under the weight.

His tanned skin now had a reddish hue, accompanying the flush on his cheeks.

As Beth slid her eyes back to her book with a resigned pout and her miserable thoughts filling her head, she failed to see his eyes scanning across the room, until they stopped at her lone figure.

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Notes:

A heartfelt and truly grateful thank you to FlyingRedPanda for being kind enough to beta read this chapter!

There are future installments I have in mind, at least 4 more, and are a lot longer than this first installment. Here are some of the planned titles:

KINDRED SPIRITS, PART II: TRANSPARENT

KINDRED SPIRITS, PART III: BLINDED

KINDRED SPIRITS, PART IV: TOGETHER

I'll admit right now... I love feedback. Don't be shy! I gladly accept constructive criticism, but flaming or hateful comments - will be met a reply in-kind. Don't like the content or subject, don't read it. Simple really.