10:16 a.m.



At one of the tables set up by a window, Esther held court with a smattering of her peers, playing them all like a finely tuned instrument under a friendly guise of interest. With these tables there was no spots at either end to sit at the head of– an obvious sign of just whom this group belonged to –but the fourth year made do with mere posture, something about the careless perfection of it that made her seat the head of the table anyway.

With wide, earnest eyes, she listened to one girl - a Hufflepuff - report on a housemate’s apparently awful taste in boys, patiently sifting through all the excessive like’s and you know’s until they all properly understood the magnitude of the housemate’s offense—or, at least, someone with a more interesting story could chip in. Or simply happened by.

Not that it was a terrible story, really; it was just… There were only so many ways one could expound upon a thing, until even company such as themselves started to dry a bit around the eyes.

When the girl took a breath, Esther saw her chance and took it. “Todd happens to loads of people,” she cut in soothingly, reaching out to pat the girl’s hand. “Just look at Veronica Ward. And Brittany Jensen.” And Kelvin, she wanted to add, but didn’t. Her friend had been acting oddly ever since the Yule Ball, but for once the Slytherin was hesitant to pry. He was acting normally enough—just not as normally as she would have liked. “He’s like a rash,” she concluded aloud, with enough fondness in her tone to take out the sting, “It passes,” and as if to signal the end of that, Esther took out a compact mirror, flipping it open with a decisive flick of her wrist before letting it hover mid-air on its own.

She liked Connor well enough– certainly enough to jump onto his back and demand he carry her to the next class, when a worthier steed was nowhere in sight –but he was, well, Connor. What made him funny was also what made him cruel, and for all he allowed some people to lead him about by the nose that was only because he let them; if he didn’t like you completely, then you were in for a very nasty surprise—hardly obedient  proper boyfriend material.

Still, Esther conceded that was only one standard to measure him by. Boyfriend material or not, Connor Todd was still a very good kisser.

“What I want to know is when he’s having another one of those yoga sessions with Taylor,” another girl chimed in, her tone oily with interest as she leaned in, casting the others a salacious grin. Esther rolled her eyes at her reflection. “Have you seen him in those pants?”

“Ambrose is way cuter,” someone scoffed, as she casually inspected her nails. “Smarter, too.”

“Because he’s dating Trishna?” the first girl shot back. “Please. He’s like, totally helpless on his own.”

“Like a baby bird,” Esther hummed innocently—maybe too innocently to be real, perhaps, though with her eyes firmly on her own reflection it was rather difficult to tell otherwise. She inspected her eyeliner critically. “You can be helpless and cute. Cyhirae has good taste.”

And just as she thought they would, the girls paused, their argument temporarily forgotten in favor exchanging a Look. Esther smiled faintly into the mirror.

“Um,” one started.

But then the library was suddenly flooding with the ten a.m. crush, and a welcome face appeared. Esther brightened; the compact mirror flipped shut. “Lua!” she beamed, standing and waving over the Gryffindor, “Hi,” and she pecked the girl’s cheek, looping an arm through hers. “How was Divination?”

---

outfit

Lua, coming from Divination for a study break in the library (or a break, at least), was feeling very clairvoyant. The corners of an unnecessarily colorful chart stuck out of her textbook, which the Gryffindor carried pressed to her chest as she pressed through the crowd. Fly-away strands of hair made it obvious that she had labored over the thing (and had also been excited to dash down several winding, ever-changing flights of stairs to the library). Between the chart, and the increasingly clear mind that yoga had gifted her, she thought she’d made fairly good predictions in the day’s lesson. Even if she hadn’t, part of the magic was the unpredictability.

Eyes darting only momentarily toward the librarian’s office— Lua found him a bit imposing, sometimes gloomy-looking, very no-nonsene, like he needed a holiday in the sun similar to the one CeeCee had detailed, but she supposed those kinds made some of the best librarians— it was not hard to spot Esther from several tables away and behind the bobbing heads and shuffling feet of the other students filtering into the study area. Lua smiled brightly upon catching her friend’s eye, and slipped between a Ravenclaw and the corner of a chair to reach Esther.

“Very illuminating,” she answered triumphantly. Her eyes widened a bit with half-earnest, half-humorous mystery as the Slytherin looped an arm through her own. “I saw a bottle in my tea leaves and predicted extra Hogsmeade dates. Or else my brother’s next letter will be hungover. One of those, I think! How are you? Do you have a lot of homework?" She slowed her pace, having made it past the welcome obstacles of portrait-lined corridors and other people’s shoes, and wandered with her fellow fourth year past the table where it looked like Esther had been keeping court. She had a very impressive ability to attract an audience, Lua thought. She was charismatic, and obviously very friendly. She might make a good politician, but Lua was too fond of her friend to lump her with the public figures her parents bemoaned. Not that Lua thought there weren’t good politicians out there! There were some brilliant people in the world, campaigning for real issues. Lua believed in them.

Lua greeted the other girls with a smile as they passed, unaware that her name had been on their lips only seconds prior. She was closer with Esther than the others, but she found them all friendly, or at least interesting. If they happened to spend a lot of time pondering Connor Todd in yoga pants, Lua couldn’t blame them. Giving the Slytherin a friendly tug as they headed vaguely toward one of the many Charms aisles in front of the windows, Lua began to chatter. “Someone charmed sunglasses and beach towels onto all of the suits of armor on the second floor,” she giggled. “I heard some of the professors are mad, but they look brilliant! They seem to love it.” She had seen them when dashing from the lavatory up to the seventh floor after breakfast, and was sad that she hadn’t had time to stop and ask the knights about their sunny attire. “They’re very ready for spring!"

She waved at the others, who were already forgotten as soon as Lua had arrived. Neat, sleek black hair whipping about her face as she looked away, back at the Gryffindor, a smile broke across her face, pinkening her cheeks with amusement. She giggled at Lua’s mention of her brother; she could only wish her own brother were that interesting!

“Do you have a lot of homework?”

“So much,” she said, pouting. It was a look that nearly always got her things, but this time it was merely a moue of displeasure. “I don’t even want to think about it!” Esther wasn’t a slacker– she wasn’t, okay, she simply had priorities –but if it wasn’t Potions, Charms or Muggle Studies, it was a bother, and she just… couldn’t be bothered. Anyway, she more than made up for it during class. Most of the time.

Of course, now wasn’t one of those times, and she relished it. Studying? Ew! This was how you passed the time. “I’m ready for spring!” she laughed, tossing her hair. And indeed she was; her trunks– being the veritable walk-in closets they were –were well provisioned with the latest fashions. Just thinking about them… “I’m sick of all this rain and slush, and needing to wear like five layers of coats.” Because how could you show off your cute clothes? Chiffon blouses and necklaces weren’t meant to be buried under heavy (but fashionable!) coats and scarves. A girl could cast all the warming spells she liked, but that didn’t keep the damp from settling into one’s clothes. Or did anything about the dreary landscape, either; Hogwarts in spring was definitely greener. “Maybe the professors were mad because they hadn’t thought of it themselves,” she offered slyly.

Entering the aisle, Esther kept them close to one shelf, silver-tipped fingers skimming along the chairs seated at its built-in desk. A boy turned in his seat, frowning; he abruptly blushed at Esther’s swift, flirty smile—though she and Lua were already moving on, passing him just as soon as he’d thought to open his mouth. “Have you heard about Bevans? Trish-”[1] the one who had been pro-Connor’s butt, “said she’d heard her crying in the bathroom a few days ago,”[2] she said, fingertip brushing against a spine, the boy already forgotten. She quickly shot her friend a guilty  contrite glance. “I mean, I hope she’s okay! I can’t imagine what it’d take to push me to that…”

1.	Tricia Spelter, fourth year Gryffindor and Girl of the Grapevine; NPC.
2.	Completely hearsay, until deemed otherwise by Star! c:

Poppy Finnigan was not in attendance for Esther Morrell's morning meeting of the minds, for she had to hold court elsewhere – with her own reflection. It was pertinent to spend time in front of a mirror whenever possible, you see, and Tuesdays provided a wonderful opportunity to do just that. After the fourth years' early morning session of Herbology, Poppy had skipped off toward the loos off of the Slytherin girls' dorm as quickly as her tiny and stick-like legs would carry her, teetering only slightly in her modestly high heeled shoes as she clicked, clicked, clicked her wobbly way toward her makeshift vanity. Though she treated every class like her absolute favorite whenever necessary, Herbology was decidedly dirty, and it made sense to the miniscule blonde to save her real primping until after she was through with her filthy, filthy studies in dung and dirt. There was hair to style! Potions to apply! Admiring to do! Once she'd carefully used her wand to curl each individual tendril of her hair and then made enough kissy faces at herself in the mirror to ensure that she looked cute from every angle, she jumped down from her perch on the sink, strapped her click-clacky heels back on her feet, and teetered her way toward where she knew she could find the girls, her dressy curls bouncing with each springy, wobbly step toward the library.

She'd brought books along, of course. She'd look suspicious coming into the library without any books, and she wanted to appear studious as she clicked and wobbled her way past Morgan's door with a chime-like greeting of “Good morning, sir!” She'd grabbed her books for potions, because she was certain something was due in that class. Something was always due in that class. The professor was a heathenish slave driver with a torture complex! Once past the office door, Poppy's frantic clicking transitioned seamlessly into an unhurried sort of stride, as casual (and more importantly, un-wobbly) as she could manage. She did like to be prompt and early on occasion – the first sunny face in the room – but if you were going for fashionably late, you really did have to commit.

“Oh, I am sorry, girls!” she gushed dramatically as she approached the table of seated students, “I meant to be here, really, but I am just having the absolute worst hair day imaginable, and I couldn't seem to fix it,” she pouted with a flip of her immaculate head of bouncy curls. Whether the girls agreed or disagreed (and how could they agree?!) they were going to look, and that would make all of Poppy's hard work pay off. That was all she wanted from them, really, so the moment she caught Lua and Esther having a rather cozy little conversation a few paces away she scrambled off with a coy “Excuse me!” and a huge, friendly grin, hoping she might shoehorn herself into the far more exclusive looking conversation, where she was certain that there was plenty of real dirt to be found.

“Hello girls!” she greeted, completely cutting in without any regard for what was being discussed prior to her arrival, her voice a sing-song of friendly notes. Her face was plastered with the kind of toothy smile that looked altogether too innocent. “Listen, dears, have either of you done the potions?” she asked, making no indication that it was a remotely urgent matter. It really wasn't. So what if it was due that same day? “Oh, I'm so sorry!” she added a moment later, “Did I cut in in the middle of something?” she asked, her eyebrows rising guiltily. “My goodness, I'm so sorry! What was it you were saying?” she queried, sounding innocent, hoping for some intriguing news.   

Lua looked exceptionally sympathetic for Esther, whose homework burden she understood. The Gryffindor loved school, but she was not the most studious person in the year. Frolicking on the grounds or exploring the library for reasons other than Charms essays were activities that captured her heart, made Hogwarts the magical place that it was. But Charms essays could be fun! Especially if she had her peers to keep her company while she wrote. It took longer, but it was always worth it.

“Me too,” she said, with a huge grin. “But I love all of the seasons. I don’t think spring would be as fun if we didn’t have snow and wind first!” Even so, Lua looked forward to wearing shorts and lingering in the pumpkin patch at odd hours without shivering. “Tank tops feel better after you’ve been wearing gloves and turtlenecks all winter.” Esther was very fashionable. Lua was positive she could pull off any sort of clothes at any time of the year, rain or shine.

She giggled at the idea of the professors being mad because they hadn’t used their imaginations. “I wish they would let us decorate the classrooms. History of Magic could use a bit of color.” History was best when it sounded like a story that Lua could recreate in her head. Whenever they studied Godric Gryffindor, he burst onto the stage in her mind, looking a bit like her grandfather despite the perfectly clear portrait beside his name in the history book. In fact, lots of the old men in their history books looked like Lua’s grandfather in her head, or else she cast random characters from beloved films. Many of the women looked like McGonagall. “Maybe the professor would let us charm some of the maps.” Weather all over the world, moving in real time, and cute, animated versions of various magical landmarks, capitols, and communities dotting the globe: it would certainly bring color to the classroom.

Lua walked slowly, idling with Esther here and there. She didn’t notice the disappointed boy whose missed opportunity to flirt with Esther had left him frowning again. When the Slytherin brought up Bevans, Lua automatically though of her housemate, Nicholas, whom she saw regularly in the common room. But then it promptly carried on to Katy. There were many relatives at Hogwarts, and it always made Lua miss her own. “No—“ She began, but then stopped, drawing in a breath of oh no as Esther elaborated. Lua wasn’t close to Katy, but she never liked to see people upset. Sometimes a good cry was needed, it could be a positive experience, but there was the chance it wasn’t. “I hope she is, too,” Lua agreed, her face fallen a bit. “I’ll be sure to say hello to her at dinner. I hope she knows she can talk to people!” Friends to lean on were very important. Perhaps someone could suggest the counselor. Lua was a firm believer in therapy of all kinds.

Lua turned, slightly messy hair animated as ever, just like the girl. “Poppy!” The Gryffindor beamed at the tiny Slytherin, who, like Esther, was always well-dressed, a pleasant sight. “Oh, it’s alright, of course you haven’t— but I haven’t done the potions,” she admitted apologetically. “We were just worrying about Katy Bevans,” she explained. She looked to Esther and then back to Poppy, her face soft with concern as she inadvertently contributed to a rumor. “Someone said she was crying. I hope she isn’t still upset!"

Esther startled slightly at Poppy’s sudden appearance– displeasure, maybe, crossing her features –but it was only a flicker; soon enough her composure reasserted itself, and as she smiled at Poppy it was as though it had never been. If anything, she straightened, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin with a shake of sleek, perfect hair. “I think she’s doing better now,” said Esther delicately– casually, even, as she swept a hand against her hair, twirling a lock of it around her finger. “But it wouldn’t be the first time—or so I’ve heard.”

A little vague, perhaps, but where Poppy Finnigan was concerned information was even more valuable; gossip, everyone knew, was an important vein to a girl’s status among her peers. The more you knew, the more interesting you were, the more influence you had. And influence was everything.

For one, it made a pretty decent substitute for trust. And as much as Esther liked Poppy…

“There’s always Potions Club, Poppy,” Esther offered sweetly, releasing that lock of hair to clasp her hands—falling into a sedate but confident pose. “Of course, they only meet at three–” which, admittedly, would be too late by then. “But I’m sure there must be someone who could help!” Members of Potions Club often joined for one reason: homework, or actual interest in the subject itself.[1] Being a member of it herself, Esther had sat in on her fair share of meetings, for both reasons—sacrificing precious time for herself, perhaps, but it was for the greater good. which was reaffirming her superiority over everyone else Real enthusiasts, on the other hand, held down the fort (for walk-ins) voluntarily. Certainly their president rarely strayed far from the dungeons.

1.	Tutoring sessions excluded, because one doesn’t have to be a member to be tutored.

“Katy?” Poppy asked, a look of concern sweeping over her features, her expressive eyebrows jumping and then crumpling on her forehead as if trained to perform. “Do you think it's because of...” she started, pausing for only a second before switching over to a nearly soundless whisper, her eyes darting one way and then the other before delicately mouthing “her mother?” She gave her head a sympathetic shake, her bouncy curls swaying gently in time. She sighed, seeming to fill her entire body up with air in the process. “I couldn't even imagine! It's heartbreaking!” she gushed, managing to find it in her to keep her voice low when she really would have preferred to pour her heart out. The other girls seemed to have more or less moved past that part of the conversation, but Poppy had gotten caught up in her own empathy and was too busy feeling just terrible for Katy and her plight, whether real or imagined. She'd spent plenty of time crying whenever her parents' divorce became particularly hard on her. If one of her parents died? She wasn't sure she'd ever stop!

“I think it's perfectly fine to cry sometimes,” she admitted, “Emotions are just beautiful. And it isn't as though she doesn't have a valid reason, the poor dear!” she sighed again, “I think we've all seen her crying before, Esther. I don't know how she gets on! I really don't!” Poppy sniffed just once, in solidarity. “She's so strong!”

Potions was a fairly dull subject in comparison, and she found it a bit difficult to transition from an emotional topic to one as dry as homework. The fact that Lua hadn't done the assignment was promising, however – it meant that Poppy wasn't the only one who couldn't be bothered! “I've just been so busy with assignments recently! We have so many subjects and giving my all to each and every one of them is taxing! Sometimes it catches up to me!” She gave her head another good shake. “Prioritizing is tricky, isn't it?” School would most likely never be Poppy Finnigan's first priority. They didn't teach anything that she felt she needed in order to succeed in the life she envisioned for herself! It was offensive! Sure, Hogwarts may have been a magic school, so it made sense that they taught, well... magic... but there was just as much metaphorical magic in the theatre, not to mention in the written word! Why did nobody seem to believe in her dreams?!

“Tell me honestly...” she started, speaking softly and conspiratorially to both girls, looking from one to the other. “What do you think about Professor Di Luca?”

Lua was confused about the comment on Katy's mother, but now very concerned, too. It seemed that Poppy and Esther knew everything about everyone between the pair of them. They were like a pair of sixth year prefects to Lua, whose own nosiness oft veered into the land of niche interests and the less populist points of the rumor mill.

“Oh, I agree!” Lua said, face showing it. A proponent of opening one’s self emotionally, the Gryffindor stared admiringly at Poppy as she espoused a sage personal philosophy. “Crying is very healthy for your spirit. It’s like water for plants,” she said. “And you’re the plant. Sometimes you need a good cry to flower.” She did not mean flowering as in growing one’s hips and chest, but growing spiritually. It was part of what she was trying to achieve with her yoga sessions with the trustworthy, bendable Ravenclaw.

“Prioritizing is tricky, isn't it?”

“It is! I find meditating helps.” Except when Lua fit meditation into her schedule where studying should have been a priority. But not everything could be about homework. There had to be balance! Lua was glad, nevertheless, that Esther knew the schedules of every club. She was good at that sort of advice. The Gryffindor looked toward her with a smile of praise.

“That reminds me, I’m really excited to see what the end of the year production will be for the drama club.” Perhaps it wasn’t the easiest leap from one topic to another, but Lua didn’t seem to notice. She looked between the pair of them. If Poppy appreciated emotional displays, perhaps it was a nice fit. “Are you guys going to volunteer?”

But as soon as she got the random comment in, things slid to back to potions and the lion’s head bopped to the side, hair spilling. “She’s very… smooth,” she noted. Lua tried to find the good in everyone. The professor was plenty smart, organized, and sleek. Like a scary adult relation of some of her Slytherin friends, almost, only Lua found it much easier to talk to the latter— even if she did not have a particularly hard time talking to anyone, intimidating professors included.

While Poppy was busy being swept up in feelings and Lua sympathized with every sincerity she had, Esther– didn’t quite frown, exactly, but her expression did go carefully neutral, which was telling in its own way.

Because as much as Esther did cry… There was crying, and then there was crying. One was useful, got you things such as contrition in another person (as well as a subsequent urge to make up for their mistake) and people on your side (though it should only be used sparingly, and as few tears for maximum advantage at minimal loss of dignity). The other… not so much, perhaps, although she suspected that might have more to do with what kind of person you were or wanted to be.

And Esther, for all her airs and graces and maybe-foibles, was not that kind of person. She might fuss and toss her hair and bat her eyes, but she also looked ahead when she was passed over for her brothers, and resolved to be even better when told she was lacking. Crying– that kind of crying– had never gotten her anywhere. Maybe it helped her feel better for a while, but mostly it just made her sad. And weak.

But neither friend needed to know that, and so Esther bobbed her head in agreement, features crumpling into a moue of sympathy when she straightened and smoothing into a smile at Lua’s praise. Perfectly sleek, styled hair positively shimmered with the movement.

Dark eyes brightened at the mention of the drama club, but took on a thoughtful, no less bright gleam at the mention of their esteemed teacher. Maybe she was harsher than their previous professors, the elegant Professor Vaillancourt and graceful Professor Naceri, but it was a ruthlessness you couldn’t help but admire. With every clipped word and tilt of her chin, there was a very palpable sense of edges and danger. She was a darker contrast to her predecessors, but no less equal.

“She’s very… smooth,” said Lua.

“But sharp,” added Esther, agreeing with her friend yet having a concrete image of the woman she admired so much. ‘Sleek’ also came to mind, though more in the way big cats were, or certain dragons. “And she clearly knows what she’s doing.” Something she couldn’t say for some teachers, who were good at their subject but not at teaching, or were good at teaching but lacked any sense of style or finesse. A few of them even lacked all three!

It was a tragedy, really.

“I hope she stays,” Esther finished, beaming the smile of a teacher’s pet.

“Meditation?” Poppy asked, her eyes growing saucer-like with interest, “For prioritizing?” Her brow wrinkled, then relaxed, and her eyes went even wider, if possible, her brows leaping upward and hovering there. “Oh, you have to tell me more!” she insisted with an eager nod, reaching out one hand to touch Lua's forearm. Poppy was an artist, after all, and meditation sounded like something an artist might do. “I'm struggling, really and truly! I wish our professors understood that our lives have direction and that their busy little homework tasks really aren't serving all of their students!” she sighed, transitioning almost seamlessly from her bright, chipper nod into a forlorn, burdened shake of her head. “I wish I had the courage to forge my own path, but I simply need to stay on for OWLs,” the tiny witch declared, martyr-like. Staying in school was a sacrifice!

And Lua's mention of the drama production just served to prove her point! She smiled an enthusiastic, and somewhat triumphant, eye-crinkling smile at the very mention of the theatre, her one true home (in her opinion). “I, without a doubt, plan to audition! And once we begin rehearsals, prioritizing won't be an issue at all, because the production will be my priority!” That seemed obvious. Why should she seek to excel in something like transfiguration? That was rubbish meant for the unwashed masses. She planned to make an eternal life for herself on stage. “I don't expect our teachers to understand.”

Particularly Professor Di Luca. She listened to her friend's opinions, her eyes narrowing with interest as she actively nodded along. The adjectives the other fourth years had chosen were just vague enough that she felt she could agree with them without compromising her own integrity. Esther's wish for the professor to remain in her position was harder to agree with, however. It was no secret that the potions master had no love for Poppy Finnigan. She favored students with natural affinity rather than nurturing it in those who were still developing. Poppy had trouble with developing in general... mentally, physically, the works. She needed all the nurturing she could get! She clearly wasn't going to be getting it from Professor Di Luca, and with OWLs coming up next year, Poppy wasn't sure a little change in the faculty lineup would be the worst thing in the world. She chose to take the tactful route, however.

“We're going to need the best professors to prepare us for exams next year. I'm sure the administration won't fail us. What's a school without successful students, after all?” she asked with a jaunty shrug and a smile.

“It helps you calm down and find balance, so you put everything into perspective and decide what’s really important,” Lua elaborated. There was little doubt that the things Lua found most important others might not, and vice versa. But it worked! “It doesn’t make homework any less, but it makes it doable,” she added. “Why have a panic attack when you can do some nice breathing exercises and get in touch with yourself? Having some you time makes a huge difference.”

She was pleased that both girls looked interested in the drama production. “Oooh, you should! You seem like you’d make a lovely actor,” Lua encouraged Poppy. “You, too,” she insisted too Esther. Both girls had a way with their expressions. “Do you want to act when you graduate?” She asked, eyes roaming back Poppy, whose apparent focus on her craft over schoolwork caught the Gryffindor’s attention.

Lua could agree that the professor (and all of their professors, for that matter) knew the subject well. If she relied on her Gryffindor bravery in some classes over others, it just meant she was putting her sorting to the test! “I’m sure the Headmistress is looking out for us,” she agreed. “Plus they have magic!” Something her muggle family had never dreamed of, however colorful a bunch of they were. A couple of people in her family were on-and-interested in Wicca practices, though. It had to make hiring professors easier.

“Are you already worried about next year’s exams?” Eyes swept from one girl to the other. “That’s ages from now!”

As they continued to chatter, occasionally outside eyes would turn in their direction. Lua, usually not minding that sort of thing at all, did not even seem to notice. “What are you guys doing this summer?”

As Lua shared her wisdom (–which could only be called as such, seeing how the Gryffindor was nearly always cheerful and carefree), Esther nodded along—as stately, she rather fancied, as any princess giving her approval (although in its own way the movement was as eager as that of her friends’). Her grandfather often said the same thing, though perhaps not in so many words (or with that much earnestness) and more on the topic of spiritual balance itself, rather than crying.

Oblivious to Poppy’s opinions (though if asked, she could probably venture a guess), Esther agreed as well. They were going to need their best teachers next year, to prepare them for their OWLs– which were probably some of the most important exams of their lives. And she was certain their Potions Mistress was one of those qualified adults.

She was feeling quite confident already—feelings of caution, of course, aside. She was Esther Morrell, one of the best of their year! So long as she kept on with her schoolwork as she already was, there was no way she would fail.

(The challenge, she was quite certain, was seeing that her friends succeeded alongside her.)

Taking her friend’s question about exam anxiety as rhetorical, the Slytherin latched onto her last question—taking care, of course, not to appear too eager. “I’m interning at Runwitch,” she supplied proudly, with a careless flip of her hair. And it was something to be proud of—Violet Islington was only one of the leading voices in the fashion world today. So what if she was a vampire? And even if it would mostly consist of fetching coffee from Alohomocha—well. An insider’s view of the business would only be invaluable.

“Mama said we might go to Paris or Milan, but that depends on the internship,” she continued, sighing a tragic little sigh, before turning to Poppy in askance.

“Oh, I agree!” Poppy gushed, still speaking in a library-appropriate hushed tone, which, when coupled with her strong eye contact and firm insistence, made her words seem somehow even more affirming. “I always try to find time for myself. I'd be foolish not to! Perhaps I can meditate on Wednesdays,” she mused thoughtfully, tilting her head to one side so that you could almost see her thinking. She looked a bit like a tiny dog. She wasn't entirely sure how to meditate, to tell the truth, but that was neither here nor there. She'd work it out... if she still cared a whit about meditation by the time Wednesday rolled around, anyway. That was questionable.

Her head straightened right back out when Lua dropped her little compliment. It was a compliment based on absolutely nothing she'd done... but it was what she wanted to hear, so Poppy did not seem to care. “Oh, darling, thank you! It means so much to hear that from you!” she beamed – reaching out, again, to gently lay her fingertips on the gryffindor's shoulder. “I do dream of the stage, yes – or, barring that, radio theatre!” she explained brightly, punctuated with a quaint but eager nod. “I just adore the dramas on the wireless. I have since I was young. You can feel their words at your very core! And the scripts are so compelling! Oh, I can't even talk about them without getting excited!” Much of her enthusiasm was genuine – not for show at all. She clasped her hands together and set them under her chin, the picture of joy. She sighed, contented. “I've thought about writing for them as well. I wish I could start now! It's everything I dream about!” She looked about ready to burst. Clearly, she didn't need to do the potions homework at all! She was going places! Lua thought so!

Exams were so boring to talk about in comparison. “I'm not worried about exams, no. I'm just aware of their importance, so I find them worthy of my concern,” she declared – though the truth was, she'd rather talk about them then actually do anything required to excel on them. They mattered to others. Poppy knew what was important to her. She just liked keeping up appearances. She was going to need some serious remediation when the time came... if not sooner. 

Perhaps this Summer... because, unlike Esther, Poppy didn't have any impressive sounding plans. She was immediately filled to the brim with an odd combination of awe and jealously that, like oil and water, didn't quite mix. An internship? Poppy was only fourteen years old, and would be fourteen for months and months yet – the thought that she might be able to find herself an internship for the summer before sitting OWLs hadn't even occurred to her! She schooled her expression, forcing her typical brand of crinkle-eyed smile to materialize on her pixie-like face. “That's incredible, Esther!” she exclaimed, and it wasn't even a lie. The biggest thing on Poppy's mind was 'why hadn't I thought of that?' “My mother works in publishing, you know. It's her passion,” she added with an affectionate smile.

She saw Esther looking at her, and whether it was really there or not, Poppy detected something expectant in her manner. She was still working on what she was going to say, however, because she certainly wasn't going to Milan, and she wouldn't lie. She decided to ignore it. “What will you be doing, Lua?” she asked brightly, with an air of lovable obliviousness.

Wednesdays were perfect for meditation. Mid-week! Lua nodded and grinned approvingly.

“Radio theatre! Do you try all the different voices yourself when you practice, or do you like take on one role and method act?” Lua respected the career path: it was not the most stable thing in the world, but anything that put one’s character over logic seemed to win the Gryffindor’s approval. (Not there were very many things that did not.)

Maybe Poppy wasn’t worried about exams, but her answer made her sound so prepared already. In that casual, glossy way that did make Lua impressed with Slytherins— even if they were each individual! And Esther was always prepared, the sort of friend Lua knew kept track of all of their assignments in a neat and organized way. While the Gryffindor was usually a bit more all over the place, she would definitely go to Esther first for advice on putting together a planner or study group. They were studying now, weren’t they? Well, they weren’t, really… but that’s what made it so fun.

Paris and Milan… Lua’s face lit up more. Esther had such an exciting life; Lua hoped to dot a map with such lovely places one day. “That’s so cool, Esther! I once accidentally heard a conversation about working there. I was walking in Diagon Alley, behind this woman wearing very pretty shoes, they were electric blue, and she was talking about dinner with someone famous.Or I think they were famous… everyone around me was trying to listen and pretend like they weren’t, but you could kind of tell. But she didn’t seem to mind. She was very glamorous. And all of those clothes must be more than the queen wears,” she said, grinning. “I bet their closet is the size of a quidditch stadium.” Lua would love to get lost in such a place. “Maybe they’ll work around your holidays since those are fashion capitals, aren’t they?” She encouraged.

Poppy, too, seemed to have an impressive connection to the publishing world. Working for a wizarding magazine had to be heaps more fun than working for a regular, one, too… all of those bits of paper flying everywhere. “What magazine?” She asked, before answering the other girl’s question. “Oh! Probably working. I want to save up some money so I can travel, too. I might go to the beach with my family, and do lots of yoga. There are some great festivals in the city this year.”

Esther positively preened under her friend’s amazement. But really, it wasn’t anything new (although it certainly never got old). “I hope so,” she smiled gratefully at Lua, slightly puzzled– curious– at Poppy’s non-answer but sufficiently distracted. The idea of missing out such important events– the glitz and glamour and beautiful excitement—it simply didn’t bear thinking about.

And her eyes rounded in similar admiration, in light of the smaller Slytherin did disclose. Publishing wasn’t reporting, exactly– wasn’t a spot on either end of an interview, so to speak, in touch with the action as Esther might like –but it was nonetheless important, for it was the last gateway for news to become News, which meant those working in it would be the first to see and hear of it. A connection like it—it was, for once, enough to give this Slytherin a rare stab of envy. No one in her family did anything she found remotely as interesting, or shared her interests. Wandmaking? Healing? Archiving? Ugh.

There was Isui, of course, but a hapless two-year-old hardly counted. The mention of festivals was a welcome distraction. i

“Oh?” Esther cocked her head to the side, new interest– and a new smile– lighting her features—Milan instantly forgotten. She had been to a few before, but aside from one (a rare brother-sister experience borne from boredom and a generous whim) they had all been rather restrained affairs, attended in formal wear and under the watchful eye of her mother. The Morrells were only a small branch of the much larger and renowned Prewett tree, but Esther’s mother was still proud, a stern and imposing woman with strict ideas about appearances, and so they hadn’t been very fun at all. Beautiful, yes, but not fun. Something casual, with friends and freedom and sand and sun—Esther blinked owlishly, gut suddenly curling with want.

“That sounds brilliant, Lua,” she said honestly, hands clasped about her front. “Poppy?” She looked to her housemate for agreement, before quickly pressing on, “which ones? Are they seasonal? Musical?” She beamed at them both, “maybe we should all go to one, together,”– them, Bastian, Juni and Kelvin—even Connor, all of them.