A/N: Two next-gen characters I adore, in a tiny little ficlet. Enjoy, and please review.

Warning(s): A bit of bad language and some rogue commas.

This Boy I Like

He's magic, of course he is, but really magic like you wouldn't believe, and he was this Big Bad Prefect and he scared the shit out of all the firsties (still does, when he visits) 'cause his hair changed into the craziest colours (it just does) and he snogged Victoire all over the place.

All of the kids fell in love with him.

And he wants to be a Cursebreaker when he grows up—

Though most of the time I don't think he could ever grow up, not really. After all, he's twenty seven and still him.

And his dad was a werewolf and his mum had bubblegum pink hair.

That'd be his favourite colour, except he has a policy to not have a favourite colour.

And he's beautiful, even though he doesn't seem it at first.

It's because he likes to fool about with his nose too much.

And he's too quiet sometimes and plays chess fantastically well, so well he beats his not-really-aunt Hermione, which is funny 'cause she's "the most brilliant witch of her age," and his almost-uncle Ron, which is funny 'cause he's just really fucking good at chess.

And he likes boys as much as girls but (sometimes) I think he likes me best of all.

And no matter what he looks like he has this crooked smile and one funny tooth.

And I've known him forever—

He was ten when I was born, which sometimes seems ancient and sometimes feels like no time at all.

And he says I'm lucky that I didn't inherit the family "ridiculous complexion" and ruffles my hair.

I'd mind it a lot more if he didn't braid it gorgeous after.

And if the ruffling didn't mean he has to brush it more.

That's the boy.

Oh, and he really likes rare steak.

This Girl I Like

She has red hair that's almost blonde and legs that stretch for miles and she's a bit tan year round and she's got bright brown eyes like her mum and a funny nose like her dad, a nose that normally a girl couldn't get away with but of course she does.

And she likes to have braided hair but she doesn't like to bother doing it herself. She likes to have someone do it for her.

And she likes leaving her books places for people to find and love almost as much as she did.

And she's likes the classics and cheap thrillers. She's not really intellectual or anything, and she doesn't read a lot of books, but the ones she does she loves like nothing else.

Especially Anna Karenina.

She doesn't wear perfume but she always smells good, like soap and sweat and girl.

Oh, and she's clever with numbers and plays Quidditch quite well.

And she's got this smile that could start wars and launch rockets and she knows it, at least a little bit.

And she has a thousand cousins that are almost-but-not-quite mine.

And her favourite thing in the world is to sit in her gran's kitchen and listen to ancient pop songs our parents liked on the radio and listen to someone hum tunelessly along behind her and have them braid her hair.

And sometimes that someone is me.

And sometimes, when this happens, she does crosswords, and occasionally she asks me, like "the crumple-horned blank, eight letters, seventeen down, sweetie."

(Which of course she should know, considering her middle name.)

And sometimes we just talk (in whispers though 'cause not all our conversations are exactly PG and Gran would be pissed if she heard).

And sometimes we are quiet.

Which is fine by me.

Because, really, look at that hair.