Continued from Everybody was broomstick fighting! Those sticks were fast as lightning! Title borrowed from Brandy & Monica’s song, The Boy is Mine. (Thanks, Jess!)

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The walk to the hospital wing had been a long and uncomfortable one—for all involved.


As decided, the girls arrived first, well ahead of Alistair and Fred, but despite the haste with which they went, it could not be over fast enough; once the boys were behind them, silence reigned supreme, bloated with tension and full of sharp edges. Esther – still fuming over Fred’s state and Ayla’s reaction (though she would have been just as angry, if not angrier, had the other girl denied any wrongdoing) – had ignored her the entire way. Ayla, to her credit, had at least stayed out of her way: a quiet, guilty presence close at her heels.

Which had been just fine, of course; only one of them was needed to tell Healer Sage what happened, and it wasn’t Ayla.

But that had translated into a stony silence while everyone watched Healer Sage examine Fred—the cold shoulder into near-myopic focus. Although Esther had been all ears while the healer made her diagnosis, there had been a brittleness to that attentive expression. As soon as Tempest let them go and the infirmary doors shut behind them, Esther whirled on Fred, features fixed into a smile of forced cheer before anyone was the wiser.

“Well!” she said, clasping her hands in front of her. “Now that that’s over with… Perhaps Alistair and I should walk you back to your dorms, Fred.” She cut Ayla a glance, cool and disparaging until it became a tight-lipped smile. “Before anything else happens to you.”

Ayla had been quiet the entirety of the walk to the Hospital wing, which in all honesty would have been much more tolerable if they had been going to the Hut out on the school grounds instead if back into the castle. She had stayed a step being the other girl. She didn't want to be anywhere near her at that time but she also didn't want to disobey Alistair request.

Ayla chewed on her lip as Esther regaled Healer Tempest of the harrowing tale of the monster Hufflepuff.  She was sure she was going to break skin. She allowed it though. It wasn't an admission of guilt so much as it was a desire to have it all over and done with. If the Healer felt so inclined to dock her points she could appeal to her Head of House, telling the real story.

Fred was examined, fixed up and ready to return back to his house. The relief that washed over her was rather short lived. Esther's forced cheeriness and jab was too much for the petite badger to take and she released the death grip on her lip.

"Just so you know," Her voice was low and as steady as she could make it knowing that at any moment she could either scream or burst into tears, "what you told Healer Tempest isn't what happened."

She glanced at Alistair for a moment. She wondered if he would back her up or if his house loyalty would have him siding with Esther on this. She wasn't sure how she'd handle one of the only two Slytherins to be nice to her, turning their back on her.

"I didn't hex Alistair and I sure as hell didn't try to hurt Fred." She took a deep shuddering breath, "also not tying to drown him." She thought about telling the other girl of her inadequacy with the Rennervate charm but held off, "It's just not something a pureblood's likely to understand."

This wasn't going to end well. She steeled herself for Esther's verbal attack because of course there would be one. She could have just walked away and let the Slytherin continue to be horrible to her the rest of the year but she needed to get this off her chest, consequences be damned

Esther rolled her eyes. “I only told her what I thought.” Because she wasn’t a liar or an idiot; she knew that if anything she said couldn’t be corroborated, it would not be in her favor, not with Healer Sage or Alistair – but Ayla just went on as if she hadn’t said anything. And then–

There it was. She should have known. People had written it off as sheer jealousy, but she hadn’t been so sure about that; the other witch had always seemed to harbor some strange, inexplicable resentment towards her that had nothing to do with having better grades or popularity. Esther had never gone out of her way to target her or even speak to her– why would she, when there were so many other interesting, better things to do? – and yet Ayla had made her out to be some kind of… cartoon villain anyway. So what else could it be?

If anything, Esther figured it had to do with her housemates. Some of them really were awful, in the truest sense of the word; if they weren’t purists, then they were horrid in other ways. Imogen in particular was a spoiled, pesky brat—Bilius an odious little turd. Callum had been an arrogant, sexist bully—no matter what the other girls said or thought of him, Esther hadn’t found that attractive at all. To hate an entire House for the faults of a few wasn’t fair, but given its history and what she knew of human nature, it was unfortunately, tragically understandable.

The use of her blood status as an insult indicated that the problem went deeper than that. Given the extensive history of pureblood prejudice, Esther could understand that, too. But since she had never believed in it, perpetuated or enabled it in any way, she bristled at the generalization. It was one thing to be thought ignorant or incapable because your interests or personality; it was another to have it blamed on something you couldn’t help.

Perhaps Ayla might have been right… If this was still first year, when the only people Esther had known were purebloods, household yōkai or Lipwitch employees. But it wasn’t. Her closest friends included Bastian, Juni, Lua and Connor—people who had taught her to know better. To be better. To imply that she wasn’t any better than the likes of Imogen, Bilius or Callum–

Esther’s eyes flashed, then narrowed dangerously. If Ayla thought Esther would return the favor with some, some purist garbage, then she would be sorely disappointed.

“I said I thought you were trying to hex Alistair and that it looked like you were trying to drown Fred,” she snapped, planting her hands on her hips. “Maybe if you would stop twisting everything people say to fit whatever– whatever story you’ve got cooking up in that head of yours, for one second, you would know that. But you just can’t help yourself, can you?” Esther looked her up and down before granting her a nasty, saccharine smile. “It’s what you do.”

Ayla crossed her arms over her chest. It wasn't an act of defiance or boredom but grown from a deep seeded low self-esteem. She hugged herself more than anything, waiting for the verbal back lash she knew would be coming. She felt wronged and betrayed and was desperate to get out. She doubted she'd get off scot free, not with the venom in Esther's eyes and words. As much as she wanted to be anywhere else she was also sick of everyone and the way they treated her. She shouldn't care what people thought of her but she couldn't help it. Despite the fact that she had a serious dislike for the Slytherin it rubbed her the wrong way knowing the Esther disliked her just as much if not more.

The pureblood comment had been a mistake. She could see that in the other girl's eyes but she hadn't meant anything by it. At least she hadn't meant what Esther thought she did. It was a cultural thing. Anyone that had been raised on muggle cartoons wouldn't have thought she was trying to drown Fred. After watching countless hours of shows like Looney Toons, where buckets of water were used to rouse unconscious beings on a regular basis it was like a reflex to do the same in real life. Perhaps she need to lay off the cartoons.

She was expecting the other girl to yell, to spit venom at her but she honestly wasn't expecting what she actually got. The confusion shone clearly on her petite features, "What does that even mean?" Ayla didn't twist things, reality was twisted enough as it was. If this was because of the rumors that had been circulating over the past few years the other girl seriously needed to get her head out of her-

Ayla shook her head, her brow furrowed. She really, really needed to walk away. There was no way this was going to end pretty, "Whatever. Go ahead and keep thinking you're so much better than everyone else. It's what you do best."