It's not like Stiles had any inclination to make an attempt to bypass the Age Line that Headmaster Hale drew around the Goblet of Fire. He's a little too busy trying to help Scott get a pretty Beauxbatons' witch's attention. It largely involves late nights in an empty classroom trying to learn French. Scott's accent is terrible. It didn't help that Derek caught them two nights ago and deducted an unhealthy amount of house points from both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.
Professor Harris has been eyeballing him all week like he's expecting Stiles to make a run for the Goblet. A thousand Galleons is a tempting enough prize. But Stiles' dad is already worrying about his son being at a boarding school alone in the Scottish moors so Stiles really doesn't think entering a competition where people have the horrible tendency to die will do anything to help with his blood pressure. Stiles is considerate that way. Even if beating the Age Line would be dead easy.
So he's eating his porridge at the Ravenclaw table because Derek's still glaring at him and Scott won't stop speaking really horrible French. It's sad that Stiles can tell the difference, but then he grew up learning Spanish in primary school so French is pretty similar. He's regretting telling Scott that. So Gryffindor table is out. And Danny won't let him hang out at the Slytherin table anymore since he always ends up asking if Danny finds him attractive. But sitting at his own table means he has to deal with other things. Like Lydia.
"We're down thirty house points," Lydia says, like she's discussing the weather, which they could be, what with the ceiling being the sky.
"Fancy that," he says over an obscene mouthful of porridge. Lydia wrinkles her nose in disgust.
"We're behind Hufflepuff," she continues. Stiles really wishes she was hanging out with Jackson rather than focusing her keen intellect on him.
"Ah," he nods because agreeing with Lydia is always a good way to not be hexed. He'd rather not start the day in the infirmary.
"I want that House Cup," she declares like Stiles is standing in her way.
"I'm not doing anything," he says holding his hands out in defense. Because really, he isn't. Unless learning French after-hours is against the school charter. It could be. The founders were strange and Derek was pretty pissed.
"Sure, and the fact that Derek Hale is glaring at you means nothing," she snorts. It's like she can sense who loses house points. It's eerie. Stiles wonders if she's a Legilimens. He should really schedule in some time to read up on Occlumency. "I thought this was settled last year, you know, when you stopped mooning over me and started having study dates with the Head Boy."
Stiles chokes on his porridge and makes an abortive attempt to self-administer the Heimlich. "What?"
Lydia just rolls her eyes like he's an especially dull wizard. Like Greenberg. And that hurts.
"You know, Derek Hale?"
Stiles takes a large gulp of pumpkin juice before sputtering it half back into the cup when he remembers he hates pumpkin juice.
"Derek's not Head Boy," he coughs out. Except Derek kind of is. Unofficially. What with Headmaster Hale trying not to show obvious nepotism. Some smarmy Hufflepuff is. And he defers to Derek all the time. Even if Derek's just a grumpy Prefect. Who loves rules and ruining Stiles' life.
"They aren't study dates," he says finally because Derek just shows up and dumps his Potions' textbook across from Stiles without any warning in the library. It's not planned. Though Derek is a helpful ear to bend on Care of Magical Creatures. And Defense Against the Dark Arts. Though Stiles wonders why Derek is even taking Muggle Studies. "And I never mooned over you."
Lydia just arches her right eyebrow.
"I appreciated you. For your devious brain. Which is in no way attractive anymore, by the way," he continues.
"Just keep it in your pants, I'd like to not have to worry about losing house points due to teen angst."
Stiles is bewildered. Because really. The only teen angst he has is the lack of any under the pants action. What with Derek appearing when Stiles even tries to flirt with someone. Moaning Myrtle won't even talk to him since Derek almost exorcised her last year. And that was just a practice attempt to get a date to Hogsmeade for Valentine's day. He ended up spending that weekend in detention supervised by none other than Derek Hale. He'll never admit that taking care of the Hippogriffs was pretty fun. Derek brought hot chocolate because it was cold. Which was strange but not unwelcome.
"I was just helping Scott," he says because Lydia is staring at him. "I wasn't doing anything wrong."
Lydia laughs. Like she knows something. It's a leery laugh. She's been spending too much time with Jackson.
"Ew, I could never with Scott, that's disgusting," he says when he catches on. His stomach revolts at the thought. "That would be like ten kinds of wrong. He's my best friend! And not even my type!"
"Hmmm, just try to only lose house points for classroom stupidity," she says. "I'd rather not lose to Jackson's house, he's already insufferable about winning the Quiddich Cup last year."
"And yet you're still dating him," Stiles mocks.
"You're one to talk," Lydia says, returning her attention to her breakfast.
Stiles frowns at her. He isn't even in a relationship.
He rubs his neck feeling a phantom itch, like he's being stared at. Stiles turns around to see and spots Derek staring at him, unsurprising, really. It one of Derek's pastimes. If Stiles didn't know any better, he'd think Derek was eavesdropping. Except that would be ridiculous, what with him being on the other side of the Great Hall.
When he catches his eye, Derek's lips actually twitch, which is an improvement from his death glare of doom he's been giving Stiles since he found Stiles and Scott in that classroom. Stiles returns it with a grin because he's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Derek in a good mood is rare, and should be exploited.
Lydia just sighs and shakes her head. "You are an idiot."
Stiles may never understand women. It's a good thing he's rather attracted to guys.
Now if only he could get a date.