Detention. Scorpius bloody Malfoy had given him a detention. Sure, he had indulged his more mischievous side and charmed a snow-fall in the halls. Sure, he conjured up a few snow men and charmed them to chase students down the halls, exploding once they caught someone. It was all in good fun, and he didn’t injure anyone. Unfortunately, a night of cleaning the Owlery sans magic awaited him now that all the excitement had died down. Asher stood at the base of the West tower, waiting for Scorpius.
Er- right, call me old fashioned, but I tend to cheer for the English team when it comes to National Quidditch. Just seems weird to be from London and cheer for anyone else.
You’re welcome. You have a nice reading voice. Er- sorry. That’s a weird thing to say innit? I mean, it’s true, it’s just weird to compliment someone’s voice, but anyways I’m going to stop talking now.
☢ five four times asher atkinson almost sends a nude, and the one time he did (accidentally, to frances bletchley)
this is the story of how frances came into possession of four very risqué photos of a very embarrassed asher.
i. her name was claire. she was seventeen, the bassist for a band he had never heard of and, for some reason completely unknown to asher, she was infatuated with him. she was the first girl who ever sent him a text message containing anything other than the usual “what’s up” or “want to chill”. he was in the book shoppe, sorting through a new shipment of the latest teen obsession witches in wisconsin, when a double ding signaled a message to his phone. a picture, taken with very cleverly positioned shadows, and an accompanying message of “more where that came from, ;) your turn.” he could feel his neck getting red but he shoved the books onto the nearest shelf and ducked into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. a few minutes passed, a couple of tasteful nudes shot, and one overwhelming feeling. he never sent the photograph.
ii. she was small in stature but had a very large personality. she introduced herself to asher as ida. late one night, a beeping sang from his phone across the room, he pushed his laptop from his lap and opened up the brunette girls latest message, nearly dropping his phone as he caught a glance of the picture she sent. “missing you, x” followed by “show me how much you miss me, ash” she was all legs and silky sheets and he was a teenage boy. he pulled off his shirt and prepared himself...mentally. but, ultimately, talked himself out of sending her anything.
iii. tanya was smart, funny and had a devilish grin. they had a few dates, shared a few very heated snogs, and a bowl of triple ripple fudge brownie ice cream before she sent him a string of photographs that always seemed to come around this time in a relationship. they were tasteful, never showing her face or reflection, and always asking for a reply. he just couldn’t.
iv. the last short fling of the summer had fair skin and dark hair, a smile that could light an entire night sky and a love for books that almost rivaled his own. connie. connie never sent him any photos, but two a.m. would roll around and she would always say the same thing, “i want you, so bad. do you want me?” asher never knew how to reply, he knew how his mate tommy would answer her. send her the d, chicks dig it. but that seemed so absurd, why would he send a photo of that to a girl? it wasn’t that he hadn’t taken the pictures, just in case, he’d just never had enough nerve to actually use them.
v. frances bletchley. he’d run into her late that summer, wandering through diagon alley, she was heading up some sort of rally likely regarding the wtc, he stood politely and watched, asher tried to be supportive of his classmates, no matter how he might feel about the issue at hand. after her speech, she was chatting with some people and he approached her, telling her he thought she had some very good points, to which the witch replied there’s more where that came from- and handed him a card, suggesting he contact her if he’d like to get involved with the wtc. that night, he sent her a message, thanking her for the informative package she’d sent him via owl post, and they had a polite conversation. later, asher was scrolling through his photo-feed, deleting images from his phone in hopes of freeing up some space. he happened upon the photos from earlier that summer, selecting them all and dragging them to delete. or so he thought. oops.
Omigod, are you serious? You’re like, officially my favorite person. I wanted to bring some but my dad said I would only need quills, and I just can’t get the handle of them, you know?
“They say people aren’t afraid of heights, they’re afraid of falling. I think the same goes for pretty girls.” She shrugged, “Us lot?” Her attention was caught, and she turned to face the boy, crossing her legs and looking him dead in the eyes. “So.. Do I make you nervous?”
“Whoever said that is very wise. The idea of falling is about as unappealing as eating an entire plate of raw fish.” Heat rose in Asher’s cheeks as she spoke those last few syllables. Truthfully he was constantly nervous around people, especially in one-on-one situations; it is very difficult to be an extrovert with a social anxiety problem. “That has been known to happen on occasion, yes.”
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