May 22nd, early evening, before dinner

---

It was not a good weekend.

On Thursday, her precious yellow Alpaca plushie, Copernicus, had disappeared while she was in class. Juni was an alpaca plushie collector, a fact known by any one that entered her bedroom growing up. Copernicus, the giant yellow fluffy thing he was, was the first of her collection. The one that had survived the longest. Her father had gotten it for her when she got her Hogwarts acceptance letter as a congratulations present. When he gave her Copernicus, he then told her about the fact that he was also a wizard. That she had gotten it from him, and not to tell her mother. The alpaca was a piece of family.

 It had been in her room—she was so sure of it! Her first instinct told her that Conner had taken it (somehow) and did unspeakable things to it.  Juni had the right mind to hex him—and was so considering going up to his dorm and ripping apart his bunk in order to find it.

Two days without him, and she was beginning to go mad.

After going through her dorm one more time and lamenting about the loss of her dear plushie, Juni resigned herself to the common room.

Only to see a German Shepherd on the couch, snuggled up to the fluffy kneeless thing that was her stuffed animal.

“Baldur!” Juni exclaimed before looking around. Her eyes narrowed on the creature's master,  Sasha Schlagenwafer. “Where did he get that?” She asked accusingly, putting her hands on her hips and jutting her head at the dog.

Against better judgement, Sasha had returned to the Ravenclaw common room after Herbology.  With the remnants of the sack lunch-turned-dinner that he'd assembled that morning, he had every intentions of staying camped out at his chosen desk until Divination.  He rarely dined in the Great Hall and today had been no exception.  Finding a study spot after Herbology only to get up and go to the Great Hall for dinner and then relocate to the Divination tower was simply a waste of valuable time. 

He hadn't paid Baldur much mind when the Shepherd had trotted into the common room with something wooly in his mouth.  The unnaturally bright yellow hue guaranteed the thing in his mouth was not living and the dog had several toys of his own, including a small yellow duckling.  Instead, Sasha had focused on his books.  Until Juni appeared in the common room and began tossing over-dramatic accusations around. 

Perhaps feigning some sort of concern over the fate of what he'd presumed was the duck would have been the preferred response but he knew the toy would be fine.  Baldur preferred grooming stuffed toys and using them as pillows over ripping and destuffing them.  Sasha pinched the bridge of his nose and pivoted in his seat, finally getting a good look at the dog.  Baldur had, clearly, caught on to the fact that he was the focus of the conversation.  He lifted his head and glanced from Juni to Sasha before turning his attention to the toy.  A large tongue ran over the toy's fuzzy face, as the Shepherd set to 'caring' for the toy. 

"Clearly he concocted some elaborately fiendish plan to perform a stealthy covert operation in the girl's dorm to steal a yellow sheep," Sasha answered flatly.  He'd never been good at portraying sarcasm.  Instead, he was quiet for a breath before continuing in a tone that clearly indicated the answer should have been obvious. 

"I don't know.  I think he found it yesterday.  One of the cats must have dragged it out here and left it.  Or you left it.  No damage done.  Here.  Baldur, komm."  The dog jumped off the couch and, with alpaca in mouth, trotted over to Sasha.  Sasha took the toy, wiped it briefly on his trousers before handing it over to Juni. 

Juni snatched the alpaca from Sasha, as if it would implode if it was in the sixth year’s hands for even a second longer. She inspected it carefully, and was relieved to see that there was no harm done—it just smelled like dog. She could fix that, though. She looked down at the Shepherd and scratched him behind the ears. “Thank you for taking care of Copernicus.” She said sweetly, though when her eyes rested on Sasha, her expression was anything but sweet.

“You should really watch him more carefully! What was he doing in the girl’s dorm?” Chances were, one of her dormmates probably let him in. Juni liked dogs, but she didn’t want Baldur in there without someone who would keep an eye on him. "I would never leave Copernicus out in the common room. Connor's a hazard. He'd do twisted things to him. He'd taint his innocence." She stroked the alpaca lovingly and held him to her chest.

“And it’s not a sheep. It’s an alpaca, you uncultured Schlagenweiner.” Juni said with a lilt of humor to her tone. Really, with it’s long and fluffy neck, it was obviously not a sheep.

"Copernicus."

Sasha blinked, glancing from the dog to the fuzzy, cotton-stuffed lemon flavored ungulate to Juni.  She'd named the toy after a mathematician?  When there were so many other potentially appropriate names.  Like lemon drop.  Or Five-Year-Old's Drawing of the Sun. Fyods for short.   There, of course, was nothing to be gained from commenting on the toy's name.  Nevertheless.  "Copernicus.  Now there's a way to honor a man.  Name an ungulate after him."  How would he avoid lying awake at night dreaming that, some day, someone will think I'm important enough to name a plush ungulate after.

"He didn't go in your dorm," Sasha repeated, both insistent and a little desperate.  "Don't ... don't start unfounded rumors.  If people start complaining-"  Sasha glanced down at the dog who'd grown bored with the proceedings and had flopped down underneath the table.  "Maybe someone else brought it out.  Or, like I said, a cat.  He can't open doors anymore than the cats can." 

The older Ravenclaw glanced around the room, checking to see who was near enough to overhear.  Verifying the coast was clear, he turned back to Juni.  "Might I recommend, if you're attempting to accuse someone of a lack of culture, you should avoid pairing it with childish nicknames.  It makes you sound like a certain finger-pointing kettle."  He'd dropped his voice, hoping to further lessen the chance of being overheard.  "However, I do apologize for lacking the sophisticated culture of a miserly shepherd that you seem to have in abundance."

“Sasha, he definitely went into my dorm.” Juni said with certainty,  “But I’m not saying you let him in. One of my dormmates really likes Baldur and lets him in and feeds him treats.” In fact, Juni also fed the german shepherd treats just as much as her dormmate did. If not more. “He’s sweet. Don’t worry, I’m not going to complain about it to anyone other than you. It’s not like I want him to leave or anything. Dogs are better than cats anyway.” Juni liked cats, but she preferred the company of canine companions
.
“Childish nickname?” Juni gasped dramatically, “I’m sorry, I thought you liked to be called Schlangeweiner. Or is it Schlagendong?” She had heard Gigi say that one plenty of times over the Christmas holiday, though she personally thought her nickname for Sasha was better. Juni bowed dramatically, “Or should I call you ‘Your Highness’, Prince William?” She teased.

“No. Schlagenumpty[1] is a good one too. How am I ever going to decide?” Juni rather liked it when Sasha was... Impolite. Or as impolite as he ever got. It was a pleasant change-- he was usually so stiff and boring and sometimes he came off as ingenuine.

1.	Numpty is a slang term that is used in good or affectionate humor, meaning 'idiot.'

"Well, if you and your roommates are letting him in and feeding him, it's neither his fault nor mine that he got to your stuff."  Somewhat relieved by the assurance Juni wasn't going to go complaining to the Headmistress, it was easier for Sasha to focus on the faults in Juni's logic.  "Besides, if your dormmates had let him in your room, they also let him out with your llama.  Or goat.  Or, whatever.  So, go yap at them." 

“I’m sorry, I thought you liked to be called Schlangeweiner. Or is it Schlagendong?”

Sasha had opened his mouth to protest to 'Schlagenweiner' but immediately shut it at 'Schlagendong,' red flooding his face.  He was really starting to hate his name.  "It would be an improvement," he muttered, as she continued her teasing. 

"Are you done, yet?"  He scowled up at Juni, his face still a brilliant red.  "If I bother you so much, why don't you bugger off and find someone you like.  I can't change my name, even if it isn't mine.  So just...what do you want?  You have your stupid llama back."  For whatever reason, it was hard to sound authentically annoyed while saying "alpaca."  Stupid alpaca sounded more humorous than the current situation called for.

It seemed that she had gone too far. Sasha was a sensitive fellow, wasn’t he? Juni was surprised that he hadn’t grown a thicker skin after all of the drama that kid had been through.  She walked around the chair and decided on sitting down on the floor in front of Sasha, partially so that she could pet Balfour if he would let her.

“Awww, Schloogenwoogen..” Juni said almost sympathetically,  “I don’t dislike you. In fact, I actually kind of like you! Would I have really given you a horse poster for Christmas if I thought you were awful? No. I wouldn’t have. Do you really think I’m polite enough to give gifts to people I dislike?” Actually, she did give small things to people she disliked… But that was more out of personal generosity than politeness, and it was only when she felt like it.

“Own your name, then it won’t bother you if people joke around with it.  My name is just as easy to use to tease. My middle name is Anniken for Merlin’s sake. And Bastian? He calls me Juju.” Her face scrunched up unpleasantly.

“Besides, there’s a more important matter at hand. This. This is an alpaca.” She waved Copernicus at him. “Not a llama. Alpacas are bred for their wool, and llamas are load bearing creatures. Alpacas have sweet fluffy faces, llamas look like they're about to shank you at any given moment.”

When disapproval often came packaged with severe consequences, it was easy to be overly sensitive to harmless jabs.  It was usually safer to just assume teasing had originated out of malice and wasn’t veiled rejection.  Or, wouldn't lead to rejection.  So, when Juni insisted she kind of liked him, Sasha’s surprise was genuine. 

"Do you really think I’m polite enough to give gifts to people I dislike?”

“Isn’t that the whole purpose of party favors?” Sasha asked, shrugging.  “Especially if you’re strategic.”  Oh - he knew all about strategic gift giving.  His parents had made sure he was well-versed in such things.  Gift giving could be quite the opportunity for an underhanded insult. 

He opened his mouth, intent on pointing out all the flaws in Juni’s logic but she’d promptly plowed the conversation on to hoofed-animal biology. 

“Yes.  And Yes,” Sasha confirmed as she described the differences between the animals.  “But, neither a llama or an alpaca are citrus yellow and stuffed with cotton.  Nothing about that-“ he pointed to the stuffed critter.  “-implies shear me rather than pack me.  Besides - cross a sheep with a llama won’t it look a lot like an alpaca?"

“No,” came Connor’s voice, loud and ringing with drama, and the boy himself swanned towards them, thin hips full of swagger. “Oh my gawd, Schlagenbags, how could you even say that?”

Broomhead hair pink and tie undone for the day, Connor was, as per usual, his usual, slovenly, Connorly (im)perfection—which was to say, as a smile split his features, an unholy gleam lit him up as if from within, shiny and buoyant like the farts of angels. It was evening now, nearing dinnertime, and with the tedium of classes and classmates alike wearing him down the boy was both sagging at the seams and threatening to burst against them, sparse traces of frenetic energy zinging about him like a pinball machine. Usually around this time he’d be trying to sleep it off, but tonight he couldn’t. And it made him restless, itching to wiggle out of his skin (or at least his clothes).

But now, though– Spotting two of his favoritest favorite most favorite Ravenclaws ever (–although, it should be noted, for very different reasons—which seemed to be on par for the course when it came to his housemates, come to think of it), Connor’s smile set upon them like the very sun. Sometime after Christmas (or was it New Year’s?), he and Juni had gotten much closer, once she’d gotten over whatever it was that had been holding her back, and it had been for the better; he paid a little more attention to his schoolwork afterwards, and in turn he very gratefully urged her to do all the things she thought she shouldn’t be doing, first and foremost of which being rebelling. It was, all in all, proving to be a most fun and fruitful friendship.

Sasha, on the other hand, was a chump. A weirdly proper, uptight chump who nearly always had his nose buried in some book’s crack—not that Connor had anything against sniffing cracks, crack, or any (kind of) crack in general, but there was definitely something sad and vaguely objectionable about limiting yourself to the first one, especially if you looked like you still called your knob an ‘organ’ and your last name began with ‘shlag’. Frankly, Sasha Schlagenlanger was a sorry existence, and one to be pitied– from afar, of course, in case it was contagious.

But then, Connor had never been one to concern himself with boring, trivial things such as safety, so.

He sailed– well, skipped, honestly, with those odd little jumps and hip twitches seeming to punctuate his every step –towards them, as if following the beat of his very own track no one else could hear. To the giggles (or resignation) of the few looking on, he shimmied up to a pair of girls, fifth years, mouth slack in a lascivious, openmouthed grin; to a sixth, he gyrated before her (albeit at a smart distance away), smacking the air ever so politely. He continued in this vein until reaching them, Juni and Sasha, and it was not, perhaps, unlike watching a very small and rather skinny tornado in progress.

And he wound up before them almost just as fast, throwing them into proximity with his sheer, unbridled awesomeness. “Puh–lease tell me you’re edumacatin’ ol’ Schlagennips, ‘ere,” he drawled, draping himself over the Ravenclaw’s chair– the Ravenclaw– and snaking a hand down his front to give him a friendly twist at the tit. “Les’ he pollute th’ tower wiv ‘is fallacies,” and he gave Sasha a saucy smile, batting his eyes coquettishly.

Juni shook her head at Sasha. “Why would you invite someone to a party if you didn’t like them? When you’re celebrating, it’s awful to have people there that you would rather pretend didn’t exist.” She scratched Baldur behind the ear, when she glanced up once more she saw the lovely, the confident, the ridiculous Connor Todd.

She was glad to be his friend, and honestly couldn’t imagine why she had harbored feelings for him earlier in the year.
And the next thing she knew, Connor was draping himself over Sasha’s chair and.. Grabbing his pec. His man boob. Whatever. Either way, it was bound to make the former prefect before them.. Uncomfortable to say the least.
Juni struggled to  keep a straight face—her lips twitching up slightly. She thought she was doing a good job at it.

“Of course I’m educating Schoogenwoogen.” That was by far her favorite. “He keeps mixing up alpacas and llamas.” She held up Copernicus, “This is very obviously an alpaca. Esther has one too.”  Juni scooted over to the side of the chair and jabbed Connor in the back of the knees. Why? Partially because it seemed like a fun idea, and partially because she could.

Sasha knew there were schools out there that provided separate accommodations for students of differing class levels.  The boarding school he’d attended before Hogwarts, for instance, had very nice facilities that allowed A-Level students, grade students and the awkward adolescent in-betweens their own sleeping and common quarters.  Hogwarts desperately needed to consider mimicking that model. 

Especially for those instances when the Sorting Hat very clearly missed the mark.  Sasha had never been able to figure out how Todd hadn’t ended up in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff.  Perhaps he’d been born a proper Ravenclaw but had been dropped on his head a few too many times and the Hat had simply measured the boy’s potential.  The disheveled, unkempt and disturbingly uncouth lad couldn’t have been what Ravenna Ravenclaw had in mind when she founded the house. 

“There are different kinds of parties.  Not all are, you know, celebrations.” Sasha offered Juni, watching Todd warily as he approached the table.  He remained quiet for a beat, only continuing to explain once he was fairly confident Todd could overhear (which happened far too quickly).  “Sometimes they’re about establishing or reinforcing social order and hierarchy.  An opportunity to show a family you’re not fond of who’s more success- was zum Teufel?[1].” 

Rather than continue on his merry way when he’d found nothing of interest, as Sasha had hoped, Todd had chosen to insert himself in the conversation.  Physically.  Drape-edly.  Crudely.  Uncomfortably.  Terrifyingly uncomfortably. 

Sasha hoped the squeak had just been in his head but there hadn’t really been time to consider it.  Reflexively, he’d cringed away from Todd’s arm, alternating between freezing and trying to wiggle out from under his arm. 

“Stop touching me,” he half-demanded, half-pleaded.  “Verpiss dich![2]  Are you mental?” 

1.	What the hell/devil/f-
2.	piss off

The older Ravenclaw was saying sumthin’ while Connor approached, in that thin, milky voice that always seemed to register weirdly with the fourth year, but once again it registered as just that: weird, milky nothingness, murky with quadrisyllabic things, even in his ear as its dulcet tones reached a confused, panicky pitch.

As Sasha went all stiff ‘n twitchy beneath him, Connor felt his own features pull up into a broad, toothy grin. He clung on for dear life, stretching that thin, fabulous, flexible body across the chair to keep himself from tumbling off the chair. Unfortunately for Sasha, both their housemate’s contributions, and his own strugglings, resulted in the gangly fourth year sliding into his lap, further pulling the growing boy across him– on him– like a very handsy blanket. In fact, Connor felt his nose bend squishingly along the sixth year’s jaw, until he was draped over Sasha’s lap. Oh noes! Knees buckling under the force of Juni’s helpful pokes, “The very nerve!” Connor gasped– well, breathed, really– in Sasha’s ears, and kept an impressive grip on the armrest across, tongue practically sticking out of his mouth from the effort. “How dare he!”

And then a sudden thought struck him. Esther had one, but not him? Wot! “Where’s mine?” Connor demanded, effortlessly clinging to his unwilling human chair. “Juuuuuuuuuniiiiiiiii.”

Sasha’s words finally filtered. Perhaps it had something to do with the tone of his voice; there was something wonderfully universal, about it. “But Schlagenpoo,” Connor protested, gangly form curling amazingly around Sasha’s not unlike a snake, “what about our love?”