May 3
11:30 PM

Waker didn't know what had possessed her to break so many rules in less than a ten-minute time span, but she had the distinct feeling that it began and ended with the name of the dear friend beside her. Every thirty seconds or so, the Ravenclaw looked over her shoulder, as if they were most definitely being stalked by someone more organic than their own shadows. She had veiled her pajamas in a charcoal blanket stolen from the end of her own bed, with the hope that she might blend more readily with the stone walls and corridor floors. The journey from Rowena's common room down to the dungeons seemed to drag on for at least the span of time Hogwarts had been a functioning school.

A visible exhale of relief overtook the Nolan girl when finally they found themselves standing in front of the giant painting of a fruit bowl. Feeling slightly foolish, Waker reached out and tickled the galley's gaurdian, shivering at the giggle which seemed reverberate throughout the long, winding, and desolate hall. Her grip on her wand tightened even as she grabbed Delilah's wrist with the same hand; she was sure that the laughing git of pear had woken the Headmaster himself. The doorknob it had produced was little consolation.

"Hurry," she whispered, pushing through the threshold and discarding her blanket on the nearest set of steel shelves. She hoped Wesley would have more luck in the stealth department if she managed to join them. Waker felt like a failure of a slinking soldier.

When the door was closed, the taller girl sank into a stool and closed her eyes, massaging her temples. It wasn't so bad, now that they were here. In fact, there were things that each she and Delilah needed to discuss, and Waker knew there were few places more appropriate than a room full of food and free, fast service. She felt a bit prudish for having whined about sneaking out past curfew; some things-- clearly the things being chatted about tonight-- were far more important than school rules. Friendships, too, Waker knew deep down, were infinitely more valuable.

"What can we get you, Miss and Miss?" Squeaked one of the elves. Waker looked around, blinking, and noticed that at least six of them had come out of nowhere. She wouldn't have been surprised if they had the ability to melt into the walls. And she was tempted to ask how they had mastered it. Even with more pressing matters, and the need to simultaneously cheer up Delilah and confess recent developments to her, the idea of being expelled was always in the back of Waker's mind.

Reluctantly (or maybe reflexively) smirking, the sixth year looked to her friend, the curiously melancholy mastermind of so many of their rebellious adventures. "Yes, Miss, what are we having?" She echoed. "I think something terribly unhealthy would do the trick..."


Waker's pajamas

Delilah could not believe her luck that she had actually managed to talk Waker, of all people, into sneaking out with her to the kitchens. Delilah was in a right mood the last few days, all because of a stupid boy. Delilah had not actually expected to fall for Atticus, wish to kiss him, or get angry when he dashed away after the kiss. Atticus was the weird kid that Waker and Delilah had laughed about because he had been so odd in drawing pictures of her. Still the more she got to know him the more she seemed to like him and the more time she spent talking to him the more she was attracted to him. This was what tonight was about; she needed to talk it through with someone. Plus Delilah really wanted to inquire into what was going on between Waker and George. It was not something she was bothered about because it had been nearly two years since George and herself had been together. George and Delilah were friends and she was over the relationship, and Waker and herself were friends so why not let them be happy together.

Laughter escaped her as Waker started to noticeably panic after the laughter echoed from the pear. “Oh calm down,” Delilah said among the giggles as she was ushered inside with the help of Waker and the door to the kitchen closed behind her. She wondered if Wesley was going to show up, she hoped she did. Delilah had her faith in the fact that Wesley whether she arrived or not would be much calmer when it came to slinking around the school.

“Definitely something unhealthy!” Delilah wouldn’t have it any other way really especially the way she was feeling. She looked to Waker and then down to the house elves that were ready and willing to serve them anything their hearts desired from the kitchens. “How about some ice cream and some chocolate covered strawberries? Maybe some biscuits and some tea?” Delilah looked at Waker for some sort of conformation but by that time the house elf had run off to start making the order. Delilah shrugged her shoulders and just sat down at the table.

“So Waker, I have been dying to ask you this since George asked me about you. What is going on there?” A smirk on her face and smile in her eyes, “I don’t mind just so you know, George and I are just friends and that boat has sailed.” Delilah chuckled some more curious as to what Waker was feeling about the old boy George. If Waker had kissed him well she would have no luck turning him down, if Delilah remembered George’s kisses could make you weak in the knees.

Delilah's Pajamas

Waker silently approved of the spoken menu with a smile, convincing herself that the strawberries would balance out everything else. But then...

The G word. She felt the color rush out her cheeks, so that her skin tone looked considerably less Waker-like, and very much instead like the tower of vanilla in the fancy formation of ice-cream that had just been levitated onto the counter between Delilah and herself. Even the spoon being offered to her by a pair of tiny elf hands was negligible as she sat there, frozen, staring at her friend. Tough she was not the one who had been raised by devoutly religious parents, Waker had nevertheless been preparing for this moment as if she were going to clamber into a confessional box and ask forgiveness for having broken some moral law or twelve (and, worse still, for having very much enjoyed breaking all of them with George and having repeatedly wondered whether she mightn't try it again). It was one of those crazy, unwritten rules that everyone between the ages of thirteen and eighty-five knew: To... er, mingle... with a friend's ex was most definitely punishable.

Only, this was Delilah she was speaking with, and not some harpy with a passion for the Cruciatus Curse. Waker knew that she was lucky to have such a friend. Despite their almost-comical differences, they always got on well, and there were very few people who were as understanding as Delilah. Even on the night when Waker was supposed to be discovering what was plaguing the other girl.

"I..." Possibly, definitely snogged your ex when we were supposed to be studying. Now we're possibly going to fail potions. It was definitely worth it. It didn't have quite the elegant ring Waker sought. But a simple Are you a Legilimens? sounded a bit brash and deranged, even if they were close.

Finally noticing the elf at her knees, who looked on the verge of suicide at Waker's rejection of his expertly-shined utensil, the Ravenclaw took up the spoon faintly, and then excavated the side of the ice-cream mountain with a passion she rarely advertised. She took a much larger mouthful than necessary, nodding at Delilah with downwardly evasive eyes, as if the gesture perfectly answered her friend's question and was a proper thanks for the undeserved generosity. She had been prepared to confess, eventually, but had not expected Delilah to know anything beforehand... or to give Waker permission to do what she had already done. Waker took her time swallowing before finally speaking. "Wow, this is... wow. Your taste is impressive." In more ways than one.

Right, so, back on topic. She knew she couldn't avoid a proper answer, not for very long.

"I'm glad you don't mind," was the first thing that rushed out of her mouth, even though she had planned to apologize for not asking permission first. In retrospect, the idea of asking George to wait a minute and make sure their cauldron didn't melt while Waker just dashed up the Ravenclaw common room for a quick chat with Delilah seemed slightly mood-killing. Waker felt the color return to her cheeks, and then some. She was really glad Delilah didn't mind.

"He talked to you? About me?" She squirmed now, feeling both mortified and childishly excited. Her face remained as casual as humanly possible. "I mean, I was going to ask you myself, talk to you... about George." There, she could say it out loud. "But you seemed kind of preoccupied, and the holiday has been very busy. I'm sorry." Waker smiled now, a little guiltily. "But I'm not sorry that I kissed him," she amended with surprising quickness, her mouth officially winning its race with her brain, something she was usually painstakingly careful not to let happen. To her own ears, her admission sounded almost louder than the disgraceful laughing pear in the corridor. Her mouth opened, closed, and opened again. "Right, I forgot to mention that part, too, didn't I?"

They were going to need way more sugar.

"So, what's been going on in your life?" She plucked a chocolate-covered strawberry from its display and studied its divinity like a word-cross puzzle. Her eyes moved back to her friend in acute concentration. She was not only glad to turn the attention to Delilah's personal life, but she was sincerely worried. She knew she should have tried to find out sooner. "You don't seem like yourself."

Delilah had the sudden feeling she was attacking Waker as if for information the way she seemed to look. Delilah had not meant anything by it and really had no intention of making Waker feel guilty about her experience with George. Del had no real clue what it actually was between Waker and George but whatever it might be why should she be the one to stop them? Delilah did believe in forgiveness, she was a Christian after all. Being a crazy ex and saying now to what ever it was between Waker and George was like murder, but of happiness or a relationship. Boy, her father would be proud of the way he mind went towards the Ten Commandments, it as if she had listened to something. Of course her father probably had not intended it to come up in a conversation such as this.

"Wow, this is... wow. Your taste is impressive."

Now if that was not a double-entendre nothing was and what was more so shocking to Delilah than hearing one in everyday conversation was that it had come from Waker. “Yes, this is quiet sweet and tasty is it not?” Delilah asked with a raised eyebrow at Waker. To think that George would have caught Waker’s attention, perhaps it might have only been with the way he has change and straightened up this year.

Delilah decided to focus her eyes on her dish of ice cream taking a few bites now and then. She didn’t want to feel as if she was staring the poor girl down. Plus all this talk of George had made her think of her latest boy that had caught her attention. Atticus had been on her mind for days, from the first moment she tripped over him. Delilah saw him in class, she saw him outside of class a few times and the overwhelming urge to kiss him had been too much. Delilah had seen an opening to steal and kiss and she had gone for it, but only to have Atticus run off afterwards.

“Why in the world would I be mad Waker?” Delilah finally looked back up to Waker. “It has been years, I am definitely over George so he is all yours.” A chuckle left her lips as she looked up at Waker. “It isn’t has if you are coveting anything that belongs to me, your neighbour.” As she spoke the word neighbour she made the air quotation marks and giggled a bit more. “I don’t think my father expected me to use the Ten Commandments in such away, but you know I have to twist it a bit to make it work for us.” Delilah shrugged her shoulders as she looked back down to her bowl of ice cream as it slowly started to melt, but it did look absolutely delicious. Only as she looked back at her bowl did she realize that Waker might want to know more about George’s inquiry into what he asked. “Yes he did ask about you, but I won’t go into details it takes away the fun of finding out for yourself doesn’t it?” Delilah smirked as she took a bite of the chocolate covered strawberry. “Really it is okay Waker, kiss him all you want I don’t care.” It was true Delilah had been rather preoccupied this holiday but not in the way Waker was thinking. Now she felt sort of bad she had not been available for Waker to approach, had it not been for the random meeting in the Girls Bathroom she wouldn’t have spoken to George.

Of course Waker had to notice something had been going on in her life. She dropped the top of the strawberry top to the bowl before taking a scoop of the ice cream. She didn’t want to talk about this but she knew if there was anyone to talk to it was Waker. Delilah quickly glanced to the door of the kitchen wondering if Wesley would bounce in at the last moment. Delilah didn’t mind Wesley knowing about this but it sort of felt like more of a private thing between Waker and Delilah to discuss.

“I know you think him strange,” she started off trying to think of how to explain this. “I think he is odd too but you know in a good way.” Delilah was pretty sure Waker was a smart enough girl to figure out who she was discussing. “He doesn’t look as much since I found out about the drawing.” Rubbing the back of her neck she let her eyes drift back up to Waker. “I thought he might like me you know.” Delilah looked down at the bowl of ice cream. She was stressed about saying this to Waker because she so obvious thought him to be a complete weirdo.

Why had he run away? Delilah wasn’t sure she could say it out loud to Waker and make it all the more true that Atticus had just dashed away from her. Delilah was furious with Atticus but she was also mad at herself. She knew eventually she was going to have to talk to Atticus again but she didn’t want to get turned down or told that he wasn’t interested. Kissing Atticus had been amazing, his lips so soft and the way his hands had moved in her hair was so intoxicating. Everything about that kiss was intoxicating no matter how brief it might have been. If you asked Delilah which kiss she liked better, Atticus’ brief one or ones she shared with George she might just have to say Atticus. Maybe because she was so over George and the power he had once held over her. As Delilah looked up at Waker she realized who she wanted to talk to more than Waker and it was her brother. Of course that would be more of a different discussion than with Waker as it would be less about boys and just more about how she was feeling. Sometimes it was just easier when you could talk to your twin.

“I kissed him Waker and he just ran away.” Delilah finally said it and the words sort of hurt. It was as if the actual action was real now that someone else knew about it. Delilah looked at Waker and shrugged her shoulders. “I like him Waker I cannot explain it but something draws me too him. He is so different, so quiet, he can see beauty in the world others just don’t see.” Delilah stopped and looked at Waker waiting for some sort of reaction.

The Nolan girl could tell that Delilah had seen through her pathetically casual comment on the quality of the ice-cream. There was a reason each of them had been sorted Ravenclaw. She almost cringed, feeling foolish for having tried to momentarily avoid her friend. And for what, really? Delilah had not so much as frowned at her when she'd mentioned George. Her blessing was a good as gold.

"I know you are. I know it's sort of dense of me, but there's... it's a rule." A favorite word, and concurrently the bane of her existence. "You know it is," she insisted, as if trying to prove herself correct by arguing her friend's decision not to argue over the Gryffindor. Of course it was true that George and Delilah hadn't dated in a long time, and Waker knew that the other girl had no interest, or she would have heard about it by now. She also knew that Delilah was openly much more free-spirited than she. But the logical part of Waker's brain seemed incapable of processing this sort of information in light of those unspoken relationship laws and corridor fairytales of backstabbery. Also, there was a slight (read: very huge) chance that she was afraid of having her friend's approval, and thus having very few road blocks to stop herself from... what, exactly? Liking George? Kissing him? Enjoying spending time with a guy who wasn't the deceased author of Prefects Who Gained Power?

Despite the seriousness of her own turning expressions, Waker found herself almost choking out a laugh at Delilah's clever use of scripture. "I'm such a cow," she said at last, squeezing her eyes shut and grinning abashedly in defeat. She placed a hand over her brow, as if shielding her eyes from the sun, and her own embarrassment. Her claim to good marks in the classroom meant little in the face of this sort of test, which Waker always overthought and consequently failed miserably. She had stepped into the kitchen concerned that she might upset Delilah, but now she was all too aware that her own level of distress had caused the biggest chunk of the drama... of which little actually existed, apparently.

Waker dragged her spoon through the ice-cream, periodically pressing its frostiness to her lips and savoring the melted cold while her mind raced at a much quicker pace. She felt as if a lot had been lifted off her chest in a very short period of time, leaving her displaced and feeling sort of hazy... in a good way. Now expulsion was not at the top of her list of preponderances. (Well, alright, maybe it was tie.) She only flashed another grin, this one slightly calmer and less guilty, when Delilah suggested she kiss George to her own content. The more she thought about the Gryffindor, the more she definitively decided she would have to take her friend up on that offer.

Dissolving the friendly interrogation she was already planning in her head-- she did want to know what George had said to Delilah, and old habits of planning too far in advance seemed very incapable of dying-- Waker waited for the other girl to dish the details on what was nettling her. The answer nearly made the usually-composed Ravenclaw drop her spoon.

"Atticus Pennyapple?" She cited disbelievingly. She clearly remembered the first conversation they'd had about the Slytherin, whom Waker personally believed had far too much of the creepy stalker hormone flowing through his veins. She also remembered asking whether Deliah liked the boy, the answer to which seemed opposite of what she was now hearing. Try as she might to reserve judgment, especially after her friend had given her the green light to snog Gryffindor's keeper, Waker couldn't keep the subtly critical glow from her eyes. Delilah deserved someone who treated her like a person, and not a limited-time-offer creative catalyst. The boy was talented, most definitely, and arguably interesting. But those qualities didn't excuse his behavior. Most importantly, Delilah was entitled to someone more... No-Mr.-Maddox-I-Will-Not-Steal-Your-Daughter's-Hair-For-My-Next-Art-Project-and-Bury-Her-Under-the-Quidditch-Bleachers-When-I'm-Done-With-Her.

But then those words, 'I thought he might like me,' made Waker feel utterly appalled with herself. Maybe she was being a touch dramatic in thinking that Atticus would permanently afflict her friend. She swallowed hard, her mouth twitching out of its tiny frown into a slightly more hopeful expression. "Well, of course he likes you," she asserted in an awkward, comforting way-- and yet her tone was confident enough to imply that it was both obvious and logical that any boy would like Delilah. "He just expresses it in a weird way." Hello, understatement, so nice to meet you again.

She couldn't decide which was more shocking: the part where Delilah had kissed the starving artist, or when said sketchy sketcher ditched her after having the nerve to play with her heartstrings.

"Del..." Waker struggled for a moment. There was no formula for this kind of discussion. There were very few things she could say to comfort her friend without blatantly lying about her opinions on Atticus (even if they were overly harsh). She did think the boy liked her friend, and it was plain that Delilah liked him, too. And, in theory, she wanted nothing more than for the girl to be happy. But if the first kiss were that unhealthy, Waker could only shiver at what kind of dysfunctional relationship this would make... As if she were one to talk on the subject of relationships.

"You're smart," she reasoned at last. "And a good person. And if you have a reason for liking him, then... it's not my job to doubt you." She had chosen 'doubt' over 'judge', because abstaining from using the words Atticus and judge in the same sentence seemed an impossible feat. And, well, it was no secret that Waker was often overcritical. Announcing that it wasn't her place to doubt her friend didn't mean that she could promise not to do it. It was a compulsive behavior as much as any other. "It was ridiculous of him to run away, but I'm sure he still likes you. I mean, good god, he was drawing the detail in your pupils a few days ago. If that's not devotion..." The Ravenclaw trailed off for a moment. "He was probably just scared. Maybe it was his first kiss." Waker couldn't decide whether such a notion would really surprise her or not. But given his penchant for female company, she was perplexed. "I guess you should talk to him. You're both old enough to have a casual conversation." But apparently not old enough to kiss girls. Ahem.

"And..." She hesitated. Taking a cue from Fauna Blake, who had hugged Waker in the girl's lavatory only a week ago, and quite possibly also from George, whose overt friendliness was rubbing off on the girl, she leaned sideways and put her arm around Delilah, squeezing her shoulder and being careful not to topple her own bar stool in the process. "Just be careful."

Pulling away again, Waker plucked another strawberry from the plate and took a bite. "If Greyfriar finds us now, I think we've actually got a legitimate excuse, between the two of us."

Rules, of course there was a rule involved in the way that Waker thought. That girl and her darn rules she always on about the rules and in turn on Delilah case about it. She some how managed to bring rules into everything, even dating. “Christ Almighty Waker you should be a bloody prefect or head girl or something with your rule obsession.” Delilah rolled her eyes with a bit of laughter as she moved her spoon around in the ice cream laughing a little. “What is the big problem with dating or liking a friends ex-boyfriend.” Delilah laughed more as she looked up to her blonde friend, “Are you a little nervous about liking someone Waker?” Now she was serious perhaps that was what was the big issue that was hanging over the situation of liking George. George was a perfect gentleman he was an excellent boyfriend and not one to push anything. Delilah felt an old feeling of a shiver run down her spine as she thought of the times she had shared with George, they had been good.

She could hear it now already in her voice, skepticism of her confession and she knew she played a part in making Waker feel that way. Their first discussion of the boy had been more along the lines of how weird the boy was for drawing her and how strange it was that he watched her and knew her so well. Well that was all still true but something about him had drew her to him and his talent was less than weird now actually rather enjoyable to see the way he worked. He had such an eye for the world and saw it in a way that Delilah could only dream. “Yes Atticus Pennyapple.” Delilah spoke with a heavy sigh and rolled her eyes, she wanted to just say get over it and that it wasn’t a bit deal but she supposed she should explain herself a bit more to a friend. How much she wanted to wish that Waker was speaking the truth that Atticus did like her, beyond being just a potential piece of art work in progress. Delilah doubted herself, which was not something she did that often.

Doubt the word had come up as she had expected it too. “Waker I know you are going to judge him, hell we both did on the first day we discussed him. But I don’t know there is something there I just cannot explain.” Delilah took a big scoop of ice cream savouring the taste and it was actually rather soothing. She listened to Waker as she spoke her piece about devotion. “You know I don’t think it was his first kiss, I am just confused at the need to run away.” Delilah looked back to Waker with a shrug of her shoulders. “Maybe he doesn’t like me like that as a person, maybe I ruined it by tripping over him multiple times?” Delilah couldn’t quite figure out how she had messed up a simple kiss enough for him to run away from her like that.

Delilah leaned her head against Waker as her friend hugged her. “Thanks Waker, I figure I just need to talk to him.” She said quietly taking another strawberry from her bowl.

While it might have been the utmost compliment in any other situation, Delilah's announcement that Waker should hold any school title for her fondness for rules caused the other girl to fight back a blush. It really was pathetic, how hung up Waker could get on these little details. The big picture was much more important-- and uncertain. One couldn't compartmentalize and alphabetize and formally reprimand things like this. It was what Waker always claimed to want, a relaxed attitude not so utterly wrapped in academia. And here she was being offered it, and it was daunting. "Well, thanks," she muttered darkly, rolling her eyes, but finding herself smiling a bit nevertheless. "I don't know, maybe it's not. I should just stop listening the prats who whisper these things to each other in the library." Libraries were for reading and homework. (Another rule, she thought with a flinch of her eyes. This habit needed to be broken!).

"Nervous?" She almost scoffed, but there was an edge to her tone, and it was betraying. Waker blinked in succession, her eyes roaming different crevices of the kitchen with each bat of her lashes. Anywhere but Delilah's face. "No," she lied plainly. "Maybe just... not used to it." That sounded more reasonable. And less blatant. She was definitely nervous to like George; or nervous because she liked George. "It's just that since Devlin, I've--" She had had to bring him up, hadn't she? So much for the ceremonial burning of diaries. "I've definitely snogged other people," she assured her friend, lest she sound insanely desperate and wretched. She sat up a little higher to make her point. "But not really... taken an interest. Not like this time. Like with George." The ones in between had not been interesting enough to lure her away from half-brewed cauldrons or to cause Waker to omit lengthy details of her laboratory observations on homework sheets, as had happened only two days ago. And there had not been very many of them. "We're very different, aren't we? Too different?" She didn't know whether she could handle another experience like the one with Devlin, whom, at one point, she had thought she'd known as well as she knew Delilah.

Delilah's confirmation of the boy's name was unnecessary, as they both seemed to be hyper aware of just whom they were discussing, but it brought a striking reality to the whole situation. Atticus Pennyapple. Fact. The more Waker dwell on it, the more simultaneously guilty and anxious she felt. It wasn't the same sort of anxiety that poked at her conscience when she imagined being tossed into detention for breaking curfew. It was unrelated, deeper even. Would it be better, as a friend, to encourage Delilah, or to warn her? Well, she had chosen her path.

What really got her was that Waker knew the feeling: being unable to explain something. It was terribly unnerving, particularly for this Ravenclaw. But even Waker had to admit that it could also be... exciting. Especially (unfortunately) when it came to boys. "I just hope whatever it is you can't explain is a good thing," she said, trying not to sound too discouraging or wary, especially now that she had more or less recommended Delilah go ahead and talk to the boy. She too indulged in another bite of ice-cream, pondering the mystery that was Atticus Pennyapple. She had to laugh Delilah's second question, but in the friendliest way possible. "I don't know who would mind a bit of limb tripping, if your lips on his," she pointed out. Ironically, Waker would have worried about and questioned the exact same thing Delilah was asking now, were roles reversed. "Maybe confessing that he likes you and wants to kiss you ruins his identity. It's not very Mysterious Slytherin Artist to give himself away," she resolved, amused even if she was still suspicious.

No sooner had the hug ended and the proper attention the strawberries begun when a clamber from the other side of the kitchen made Waker jump like a soaked feline. The elves seemed to be in the process of a nightly reorganization of the pots and pans-- for none of the skittish creatures so much as winced at the echo of metal. "This place is going to be the death of me," she assured Delilah, placing a hand over her own fluttering heart. Now she knew why Rowena Ravenclaw had opted for the northern most tower. "What's the cross thing you do, or is that Catholics?"