I can't be late for Potions again. Snape'll have my head.
Nymphadora Tonks was running down the halls of Hogwarts, desperate not to be late, when-
"Oof!"
She found herself lying on the floor, textbooks strewn about her.
"I'm so sorry," she stammered, gathering her books. "It's my fault. I wasn't-"
"Not at all," the other person said.
Tonks froze with her hand poised to reach for her last book. She knew that voice.
She looked up. Of all the people to run into, she ran into him. Charlie Weasley, her house's star Quidditch player. Charlie Weasley, the boy she'd liked for a year now.
"It's completely my fault," he said. "I wasn't paying attention. I'm late for Transfiguration."
She looked down at her watch. It read 'late for Potions'. Damn.
"Potions, for me."
"Harsh," Charlie said with a cringe. "I'd better not keep you, then."
He passed her the last textbook and stood up. Then he offered his hand to help her up.
Once she was standing, he said, "I'm Charlie Weasley, by the way."
"Nymphadora Tonks," she replied. "But I go by Tonks."
Charlie chuckled and grinned at her.
"Nice to meet you, Tonks." He looked at his watch and continued, "We've both got to run now, but I hope we run into each other again."
He winked and then started jogging down the corridor to McGonagall's class.
Tonks didn't say anything. She was too shocked. Her watch now read 'You're dead, Snape's going to kill you', but she didn't care. She watched Charlie run down the hall and around the corner.
Potions didn't seem all that important any more.