If Finn was confident in only one thing (though, to be entirely honest, that was far from true), it was that he knew Delaney Baker like the back of his hand-knew, like a book, her love of flowers, of the outdoors, of the springy grass beneath her feet. Certainly on an absolutely flawless April day such as this, it stood to reason that the only place she could possibly be was outside?

Sure enough, no sooner had he ducked out of class early, seeking fresh air (and, admittedly, Del herself) when he spotted her. After tousling his mess of chestnut hair, only further tangling it, Finn shoved his fists deep in his pockets and sauntered over.

She sat alone, near to the lake said to house so many strange creatures. Finn himself had tested those theories more than enough times himself-and skinny dipped, for good measure. Grinning at the memory, he glanced down at Delaney.

God, she was pretty. It was crazy how much she'd been on his mind lately. Lately? Try forever-and a day. Of course, it wasn't going to stop him flirting with everything that had breasts and stood on two legs. Still-it did mean that her face flashed in his mind every time he did. And that was...unsettling to say the least.

Especially as she didn't seem taken with him. Him. Finn. Who didn't like him? Who wouldn't? And better yet, why?

The smile dropped swiftly from his face at the thought, but he quickly flashed it again, white teeth gleaming. "Hey there, sweetheart. What are you up to?" he spoke up, startling her out of her reverie. Fleetingly, he wondered what she'd been thinking about. Probably not him, that was for sure.

As it always did when Delaney rejected him, Finn's heart plummeted. Quickly, though, he covered up his disappointment with a cocky smile. "Ain't" he echoed, pressing a hand to his lips in mock horror, "Well, miss, if you'll excuse my saying so-you don't sound like a very proper young lady at all." Dropping the affected tone, he asked rather lazily, "Bet if your governess hears you talking like that, she'll have a conniption. Wouldn't want that, now would we?"

Finn wandered closer toward her, careful to look supremely casual. Then, without batting an eye, he plopped right down next to her. The two were quiet for a moment, and the silence stretched between them. Then, grinning, Finn tossed his shoes to the side, rolled up his expensive pants, and dipped his feet in the water.

Finn was just observant enough-and, it was true, cocky enough-to feel assured that he had seen the beginnings of a smile in his companion's eyes. Ordinarily, he would have jumped on such an indication as a chance to tease and taunt her relentlessly, but something about the peaceful quiet between them rendered him uncharacteristically silent, or at least for a few moments. He was so at ease sitting here with her-so utterly comfortable and carefree. Didn't she feel it too, the way they fit together like pieces in a puzzle? Why was it the only girl he gave a damn for happened also to be the only girl who wasn't attracted to him? It was confusing and, furthermore, downright bothersome.

"That's nice," he remarked, grinning, "Because judging by that devious little smile on your face, it seems you care an awful lot for her constitution. As for yours, well-I guess I won't question it." He looked her over for a moment, perhaps a little too closely, then added coolly, "Seems like you're not the sort of girl to faint at the sight of bugs. Refreshing, really. Damsels in distress get boring after a while." Winking, he teased, "Don't tell'm I said that, though. Wouldn't wanna be spendin' the weekends cooped up in my dorm without a date."

Eagerly, careful not to give himself away, he examined her face for even the mildest of jealousy.

At Delaney's biting reply, Finn replied with forced solemnity, "I'm gonna hold you to that, kid." Only when she met his eyes did he give in, allowing a chuckle to rumble deep in his throat before passing his lips.

Whatever Finley had expected from this pleasant little visit, Delaney's confiding in him with any sort of genuineness had never so much as crossed his mind. Nevertheless, the fact that she had turned to him-had let those thoughts spill out of her in such a seemingly careless way-gave him hope. If she hated him as much as she claimed, after all, she would hardly have taken their conversation this far-right?

Finn was no city boy, having been raised himself in a rural chateau with sprawling acres, and he was certainly not opposed to getting down and dirty; his impressive quidditch record made that entirely clear. Still, he had never before seen the land in quite the way Del described it. Finley wasn't very deep-or at least, if he was, he kept it under lock and key. Dirt was dirt, grass was grass; you stepped on it, and you moved on. All that blather about the grass shining like emeralds and the stars twinkling like diamonds was utterly ridiculous, just as his stern and no-nonsense mother had condemned it to be.

But Del-well, it was hard not to listen when she talked. Perhaps it was the fact that she was one of the few people he listened to-or that her words, earnest as they were, were more convincing than those of others. Whatever the case, Finley found himself looking at things through the eyes of someone else-of her.

it was both unsettling and oddly soothing all at once, this sensitive side of him that he tried so hard to repress. "Ah, it's pretty and all, I suppose, if you go for that sort of thing." he replied teasingly, waving a hand in a casual 'whatever' way. The silence, particularly being that it was such a lovely day, was overwhelming. Finn glanced sideways at the girl who seemed utterly unreachable, and he found himself saying, more serious now, "You talk about all this stuff like-like it's real or something. It must mean a lot to you."

Finn could see that Delaney was affronted by his nickname, and he couldn't help but be amused. Of course, he hadn't meant to offend her; it had just slipped out-likely, though he would never dream of admitting it, because the use of derivatives gave him a lofty feeling that he enjoyed terribly. Regardless of how insignificant a factor Finn imagined the apparent slight to be, he wondered whether or not it would case Delaney to close up again, a flower folding in on itself, and take all her secrets back with her. Girls were weird that way, after all; just when you thought you had them down to a science, thought you knew their every move, one like Delaney came along-and you were baffled, starting from scratch all over again.

He turned to her, hoping to smooth the whole thing over, and found that she wasn't looking at him, but rather off into the distance. Following her gaze high in the sky, he just caught, blinking, a heart-shaped cloud-or at least he thought that was what it had been, but it quickly dissolved into feathery little puffs, and he waved the thought away with a chuckle.

He was surprised when she finally spoke, and was even more surprised to find that he regarded her question with solemnity and genuine interest-pausing to note with a grin her reflection of that same demeaning nickname- before replying, "My family is over in Ottery St. Catchpole. It's rural enough I guess, all out there in the meadows and everything-but I never really gave it much thought. My family's so huge, it was never really about the place-it was about the people. All of this-" he added, gesturing to the vast expanse of sky and rolling green grasses, "Was just a background to something bigger. I mean, when my brothers and I were playing tag or seeing who could dive into the lake from the highest branch, we weren't exactly breathing in the surroundings." He paused a moment, eying her, and said finally, in a matter-of-fact way, "You're different than other girls-you know that? I've never met anyone like you before."

Crazy? Chuckling, Finn flicked a stray strand of chestnut colored hair out of his eyes. Yes, it had certainly been that-crazy, and chaotic, and wonderful. There was always something to do, somewhere to go, some new game to play-and people to do it all with, of course, for he had so many siblings that he was wont to lose track of them from time to time. It was perhaps for that reason that even as a brand new first year, the transition from home to Hogwarts had bothered him not in the least. Already, his older brother, William, was there, and his sister, Fanny, would arrive a year later. Besides, he was accustomed to making friends and socializing with ease.

To that end, it was difficult to fathom what Delaney's childhood must have been like. How could one live without noise and chaos? Without sisters and brothers to taunt and tease and love? "Your sister hated you?" he echoed, his nose scrunching in blatant disbelief. "Bloody hell. But-why?"

How could anyone hate a sibling-and better yet, how could anyone hate Del? He had been, needless to say, a rowdy and obnoxious child, and while his brothers and sisters had found him annoying in their own right, they loved him regardless, as did his parents; they had to, because...because they just did.

When Del quieted suddenly at his words, Finn feared he had said something horribly long without realizing it. Girls could be touchy, after all, and perhaps he had offended her again, somehow? The thought made him wince, and he only just resisted slapping a hand to his forehead in exasperation at his own stupidity. "Del, I-" But no sooner had his lips parted in the beginnings of a tentative apology when she leaned forward and, like something out of a dream, kissed his cheek.

Finn fought back the oncoming flush, and succumbed to the unexpected-but no less welcome-perfection of the moment; he had never imagined in his wildest dreams that he would ever reap anything, had begun to think he would be chasing her for years, and now...

No, he told himself, irritated, It's just a peck on the cheek for a friend, that's all. Just a friend. That's all she'll ever be.

Finn wasn't entirely sure why, but suddenly he was less eager than ever to flirt with her. He wanted her, of course, more than ever-wanted her with a burning that consumed everything else. But something he saw in her that she had shielded from his view before-an innocence, a sweetness-made him feel shamed. He had never gone about anything the right way, had he? All this time?

"You think so?" he asked wryly, pressing a hand to his cheek where her lips had been only seconds ago. Suddenly, strangely, he didn't.

"Killed...your mum?" Finn repeated quizzically. No. Never. Resolutely, he believed that she had left something out-an important piece of the puzzle. Delaney couldn't harm a fly, let alone her family-let alone her mother. Whatever she had done, though-or, at least, believed to have done-it was clear in her eyes that she felt responsible, and terribly guilty, for it. Finn wanted to reach out and comfort her, to take the pain away; in fact, he leaned towards her, an infinitesimal amount, before drawing back in alarm at what he had almost done.

"I'm sure none of that was your fault." he said with certainty, meeting her eyes. For once, his smile wasn't cocky, or flirtatious, or even beguiling; it was simple, and kind: a real smile, and one he didn't show often.

It was very evident, too, that she regretted the kiss they had shared, and Finn accepted the fact with exasperation and a twinge of disappointment. It was as though the two of them were running around the same circle; every time he grew closer, reached out a hand and nearly brushed her, she sped up and disappeared. Endless, and only very rarely satisfying.

At her jibe, Finn was careful to maintain his smile, but something had gone out of his eyes. Ordinarily, the compliment would cause his ego to blow up, and a cocky smirk to grace his face, but it meant little now. "Yeah, that's me." he agreed, winking-albeit, rather halfheartedly-at her. "And what about you, Ms. Hard-to-Get?" Finn added, nudging her shoulder teasingly with his.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wished he had never spoken at all, and he inched away from her as though to pretend it had never happened. Would she be offended again, or would she see through him right down to his core, realize his genuine love for her, and reject him? Or would they simply go back to the way they had been before after all this-him flirting, her avoiding him at all costs. Whatever the case, he felt with a jolt that he had just made a huge mistake.

Despite his reputation for preoccupation, even Finn noticed the tear that slid down her cheek following her reply, for all that she wiped it away quickly. Ordinarily, Finley was no less competent a charmer with a crying girl than any other, but this was Delaney, and he found that he was awkward, entirely at a loss for words, helpless to comfort her.

"I'm sure she would never have forgiven himself if you died for her to live." he replied, thinking of his own mother, her warmth, her persistence, her fervor. "How could she have lived without you?" That much, he felt, was genuine and true-and with those words, more than anything else, he had given Delaney more of him than he ever had any other girl.

Del, though, was so much more than the clump of 'any other girl's on whom he had wasted all his efforts over the course of the past few years. No, she was different, not in a great and obvious way, but in little ones; that, though, he was learning, made all the difference.

And that was why Finn was taken by storm, never having suspected for a moment that she felt the same way.

"I-" It was the first time in his life that Finley had to expend effort into looking offhanded, and he made a vague, sweeping gesture that might have met anything, or nothing at all. "Yeah. Yeah-I think that could be. Good."

What was he saying? Suddenly he was ten years old again, getting his first kiss on the cheek from a neighborhood girl and flushing from his cheeks to the roots of his hair.

Closing his eyes against the stumbling words, Finn willed himself into calmness. It was no use, though, because his heart was racing. Why was this happening? He had kissed so many girls before, it should have been nothing at all!

Leaning forward, he brushed a strand of honey blonde hair from her eyes and pressed his lips to hers. He was uncertain, strangely so, not sure whether to pull her in and cradle her, or to keep his hands to himself. What did she want? It was hard to tell, even if she had asked him, and so he settled for simply pulling her closer, taking his face in her hands from where he sat in the grass, his knees tucked under him in the grass.