With two individual playing fields, the green lawn of the park was filled with clusters of spectators and groups of fidgety, eager ponies.  The grounds were filled with a myriad of colors from the beds of blooming, summer flowers lining the field to the variety of colored uniform polo shirts.  As each team had four players and each player had between two to four ponies to ride in the course of the game, there were plenty of horses around. 

It had been a fast and exciting first half of the game but they were ahead by three points.  Though each of the first two quarters had lasted only seven minutes, the fast pace and the rigorous play always made it seem to go forever.  If they continued to play as they had been, they should have a solid, much needed win.  Not only would it be a solid boost after the shambles of the last quidditch game, but it'd also help reassure Gerhard Schlagenweit that Sasha was still on top form.  Despite having not ridden since the few weeks over winter holidays, the game was going rather smoothly.  His reserve horse was being a bit fussy but his own polo pony, Johanna, was running strongly.  And turning smoothly. 

The break during halftime was well-deserved for all and Sasha was taking full advantage of it.  The reserve pony he'd be riding again in the third quarter was still off being cooled by one of the team helpers.  Having just come off the field from the previous quarter, Johanna's flanks were still darkened with sweat and wisps of steam lifted off her back.  The mare had every reason to be exhausted after the pace of the last quarter but, in contrast to what the sweat might indicate, she was still filled with extra energy.

After securing the stirrups up out of the way, Sasha led the bay mare out along the path along the edge of the field.  Despite the sweat glistening from bay mare's back, she fidgeted anxiously, clearly frustrated at their slow pace.  She arched her neck and shuffled sideways, glancing behind her as another horse was led out on the game field for another game. 

Again, Johanna pulled up and swung her head around to look at something behind them.  When Sasha looked over the mare's back, he thought he spotted someone he recognized but, after realizing how unlikely it would be, he shook his head and urged the mare forward.  She needed to cool down and stretch her muscles before the next half of the game.

Having narrowly escaped accompanying an ancient family friend for the second serving of tea that day, Neely had wandered off on her own, leaving the small cluster of wizarding houses and shops that dotted an otherwise distinctly muggle area, and heading for the green fields in the distance. The outdoors might not have had glossy mags flanked with Arius' face, nor elves willing to serve up iced cocoa, but at least the air was pleasant. As Neely walked, pausing to stare at things or to smooth the folds of her summery dress, she thought about all of the brilliant things she would be doing next week. She became so absorbed in these thoughts that she didn't notice what she had stumbled upon until she was standing beside a few other onlookers, on the sidelines of the field's center.

Could it be? Horses, check. Saddles, check. No wings. No carriages. No mascots, but colored, collared, freshly pressed shirts. A rolling ball, and swinging sticks that looked like Engorged versions of the custom elf-sized mallets in her kitchen. Having not only passed her Muggle Studies exam, but having also passed with a mark that even she hadn't expected to earn, Neely found that she was actually legitimately interested to peak one of these so-called polo matches. And, if the decent grade report wasn't enough, the horses and pretty uniforms also offered incentive to her hungry eyes.

Leaning against the fence, the Woolfolk girl pulled gently at the brim of her sun hat, tugging it to one side so that her eyes could take in more sun. It was definitely a polo match. She didn't even need to see pictures to know. No, Neely was the resident expert on polo in the Slytherin house (ahem). Perhaps with some thanks to Sasha Schlagenweit.

Sasha Schlagenweit. He'd looked right at her. Just now!

Sasha. Neely was convinced she had an extra sense, or something. Perhaps she was a Seer, and didn't know it yet. She would have to flick through the new Horoscope charts in Prestige, and see if there was a new power on her horizon. Or she might decide to consult the Divination professor next semester. School might not have always held her fancy, but Neely tended to like subjects like Divination, because they held bubbly, airy elements and whispers of mystery and drama. None of that This-Happened-Then-and-That's-That business, like with History of Magic or Potions. She could babble her way through a verbal presentation in Divination and impress enough to pass, and it was fun, too. She actually thought she did a good job.

Neely pulled herself up onto the freshly painted white rung that sat some few inches above the grass, and leaned further into the field. "Sasha!" She called, waving an arm like someone lost at sea. Her opposite hand held the back of her hat, which threatened to elope with the breeze and escape Neely's new found fit of excitement. Of all the people to meet on holiday, and right now.

As the Ravenvlaw retreated, Neely let out a quiet huff of disapproval, and a sort of "Oooh." which should have been followed by "boys." Having no way around the fence, because she had not spotted the entrance to the field, Neely clambered over and power-walked toward the boy and his horse. Her hand moved repeatedly to her hat, to keep it from being murdered by gravity's mits. Nature had no sense of humor. Or, apparently, style.

Her determined pace becoming a stroll when she was only meters away, Neely stopped on the other side of the mare. "Sasha!" She repeated. "It's Neely!" She hadn't seen him since the end of term feast, when he'd inexplicably stood up to Analiza Snark, and had been hexed for his boldness. "You haven't been expelled, have you?" She asked immediately, bluntly, and unabashedly. Sasha Schlagenweit was the last person she would pinpoint as someone who would have his wand snapped in two... until she'd seen the (presumably) suicial scene in the Great Hall.

Flitting between topics like a butterfly, Neely considered the odds of bumping into a classmate somewhere outside of wizarding London. "Oh my golly Godric, this is so weird, running into you here! I watched you playing-- I think. Polo." He was wearing the uniform, and she'd seen the same mare. She gave it her attention now; it was hard to ignore. She tried to remember whether it was one of the ones he'd showed her. Finally, she circled around the elegant creature to measure up her classmate. "Is this one of yours?" She was possibly a touch jealous. "I'm good with horses. L.G. and I are tight like an Unbreakable Vow," she explained, clapping her palms together flatly, like magnets, or a steeple. She took for granted, of course, that Sasha knew L.G. was the shortened version of Little Gelar, which was the endeared version of Gelar, who was the half-unicorn-half-something-possibly-an-Abraxan. Also, a baby and the color gold.

It was Johanna that had noticed their company first.  Sasha's mind had wandered back to the game - both this one and the last one at Hogwarts.  He'd spaced, officially letting his thoughts wander off into a subtle trance as he tried to clear his mind and gather his wits for the second half.  Johanna continued moving forward but swung her head around to eye Neely as she caught up with them.  The mare pranced slightly next to him but since she didn't moving along with him, Sasha remained oblivious to the the presence of anyone else. 

Sasha felt the tension on the horse's lead as the mare came to a stop, just as he heard the familiar voice next to him.  Likewise, he stopped and turned towards Neely, surprise etched plainly across his face.  "Neely!" he exclaimed, tightening his grip on the lead as Johanna reached her nose out to sniff at the brim of Neely's hat and brush at it with her agile lips. 

"You're ... you're here!"  He was too caught off guard by the turn of events to even think about hiding the surprise (and a bit of disbelief) in his voice.  He quickly shook his head as he pulled the mare's nose away from her hat.    "I'm - I'm sorry.  I didn't ... I mean, I know I mentioned it.  I just ..."  Sasha, Sasha, get a grip!  She came!  Rather than voicing all the doubt you had in her coming, perhaps you should be appreciative she did come.  He took a deep breath and bit his lip to keep himself from apologizing more. 

"Thanks for coming.  I do appreciate it."  Just to be on the safe side, Sasha cast a glance around them but no one he recognized had noticed them.  His sister was, likely, off somewhere at one of the other matches.  One of his teammates was walking his own gelding a short distance down the field but Sasha as less concerned about his teammates.  Satisfied he wasn't two sentences away from self-disaster, he turned back towards Neely. 

Sasha froze, his heart in his throat.  "Expelled?!"  He hadn't even considered the prospects.  He wouldn't have been ... Professor Greyfriar wouldn't have let him be expelled.  Right?  And, it wasn't his choice anymore, was it.  "Oh, God.  You don't think they will, do you?" This was why Sasha avoided getting into trouble - the ramifications were just too daunting to consider.  What would happen to him if he were expelled?  He slowly shook his head.  "I ... I hope not.  I don't know what I'd do," he admitted.  "I really don't know what I was thinking.  The game and that - I keep ..." 
The botched quidditch game and his display at the End of Year feast kept playing through his mind with varying degrees of discomfort.  And, he hadn't had much in the way of opportunities to talk about either.  The end of the year had come so quickly and he certainly didn't talk about it at home.  No, he was too busy making up stories about his Chemistry final and the football season.  But, his mind still saw Neely as the pretty, popular Slytherin girl he was getting paid to tutor.  Chances were slim she wanted to hear his musings.  But, then, he hadn't expected her to come to the polo game, either.  She was rather confusing.

"Yeah?" he asked, blushing slightly.  "You were watching?  What do you think?  I know it isn't quidditch but ... well ... it can get exciting."  Sasha's eyes followed Neely as she circled around the mare.  He nodded to her question.  "Yeah, Johanna is mine.  She's my newest.  The grey I was riding for the first bit isn't mine.  He belongs to the club.  You are?" he asked, somewhat surprised by the bit of news.  She hadn't mentioned being good with horses when she'd seen the pictures.  Maybe she'd forgotten.  "What's L.G.?" he asked.

"Uh, yes." Didn't he see her? Of course she was there! Sasha stated the funniest things sometimes. When he wasn't apologizing for them. She would have given him a curious face to go with the sassy reply, but became distracted by the creature investigating her hat. She giggled and grabbed at its brim, backing just a little and cautiously touching the mare's nose. "Don't sound so shocked," she added, finally pulling up the brim of her hat again and staring at him more properly again. She smiled a little. It was too easy to make him nervous. She glanced around them, wondering who else was here with him. So far, it was just Sasha and the mare in the immediate vicinity, and a bunch of people doing other things in the distance.

Perhaps she'd been a touch brash in her word choice. But Neely wasn't always particularly conscious of jumping the wand. She could tell she'd frightened him, caught him off guard. But perhaps that was a good thing, because if Sasha was expelled, he didn't know about it yet-- which made it less likely of an outcome. Neely had heard plenty of horror stories to know that the Ministry made it clear, and quickly. They delighted in owling bad news. It had to have boring, working at a desk and being unable to check up on well-behaved citizens all day. "If they haven't yet, I think you're alright. My mum had a friend whose brother was expelled," she said, leaning closer to whisper loudly. It was a disgrace. "They didn't let him get on the train home. They just took his wand and--" She mimed breaking something in two, much like one might mime slitting a throat. "He got an official letter within hours. I'm sure you're fine. They need you there, anyway. Who else are they going to ask to be Prefect? You've only got people like Beatrix Dark," she laughed, completely unaware of the impending irony. "But golly, Sasha, you'll get yourself Crucio'ed if you keep talking to Madam Snark like that. Don't you know who her family is?" For a smart boy, he was decidedly sheltered. She was still slightly floored that he'd dared to speak up like that to any adult at all, let alone Analiza. She wondered whether someone had spiked his Pumpkin Juice, or if she'd misjudged him.

"I think..." Though she was mostly unaware of his blush, Neely thought she would let him sweat it out for a moment. Again, it was too fun. And she was Neely, after all. People usually thought she was pickier than she was, or not nearly as picky as she actually was (which was saying a lot, because she was most certainly ridiculously picky). Rarely did they hit the mark, and though she complained about being misunderstood, she often didn't mind either perception. It was beneficial, to be considered overly elitist by some of her peers... and also to be considered angelic by unassuming adults. Finally, her koala-like cheeks bunched into a smile. "It looks pretty cool. You can't fly, but those bats seem nicer than the beater ones." She gave a little wrinkle of her nose. She loved the excitement that surrounded professional quidditch players, but the idea of being smashed in the face with a beater's bat was frightening. She wondered how poor Evie dodged them. At least Sasha was tall. Granted, Slytherins made the task of beating look like loads of fun. "And the horses are gorgeous," she couldn't help gushing. "You looked good. You must have brilliant balance to ride and hit at the same time." Neely had had etiquette lessons, and knew how to walk in tall shoes, and carry loads of unnecessary possessions at one time, generally all magically squeezed into a handbag, but riding a live creature and hitting balls seemed a bit out of her field. She couldn't be amazing at everything. It was cuter and more fun to cheer, anyway. "Did you win?"

Reaching out to rub Johanna's nose again, Neely repeated the mare's name. "Mmhmm, I'm a natural," she said, quite casually, but seriously. She might have let her chat with Tulojow go to her head. Just a little. "They love me." Who wouldn't? "L.G., you know, the baby unicorn at Hogwarts." Her eyes darted back to Sasha and tilted her head, her tone implying that he had to know what she was talking about. Then again... "Maybe I'm the only one who's seen him. I helped name him. His mum died and he doesn't know his dad. He could be anything." It made her anxious, having to wait and see, but at the same time, she wanted Gelar to stay a baby forever.

"Is this what you get to do all summer?" Neely quizzed, a hint of suspicion in her voice. Again, she was still a bit jealous he had horses. Neely wasn't accustomed to other people having what she couldn't. "Don't you have a super Ravenclaw-y internship or something?" She was in the habit of wanting to know everything about everyone, even things she readily forgot.

He opened his mouth to apologize yet again.  Was it really that remarkable that he hadn't been expecting her to show?  This wasn't exactly the type of event Sasha expected wizards would show up to.  But, he was willing to follow her instructions and try not to be so shocked.  And, he would try to  not to continue to apologize.  Despite the effort it took. 

"You don't think so?" Sasha asked.  He, visibly, shuddered as she pantomimed snapping a wand.  "That'd ... that'd be horrid.  I couldn't imagine."  He had been foolish to have reacted without thinking and it was just now that he'd started thinking about what the full effects might have been.  But, she was, more than likely, right.  That Snark woman didn't exactly seem like someone that would beat around the bush.  In retrospect, given how quickly she'd drawn her wand and hexed him, if she'd intended on expelling him, she'd have taken delight in it by now.  From what he'd seen so far, she probably would have reveled in threatening to there in front of the whole school.  "Thank goodness," he breathed, reaching his free hand out and scratching the mare's face. 

"I'm not a prefect yet," Sasha pointed out.  He wouldn't know until he got his letters - which may not be until the start of the year.  Perhaps, somehow, they'd try to let him know even if he didn't get his whole supply list.  "I don't really know what came over me," Sasha admitted, shrugging off the warning that he'd get cursed as an exaggeration.  "I just ... Professor Greyfriar's done so much for me - he was the one that came to my house with my admittance letter to Hogwarts."  That was only the start of the things that Professor Greyfriar had done for him.  "He just didn't deserve to be talked to that way and I didn't know who she was at the time."  Sasha shook his head but shrugged his shoulders slightly.   "Not really.  She's related to Gavin, right?  I know he's kind of a troublemaker but I don't know a whole lot beyond that.  Does it really matter?"  He didn't see how who this woman was really changed how she could talk to the former Headmaster.   

She was hesitating to answer.  Whether it was to buy time to soften the criticism (something he would have done) or for some other reason he wasn't sure.  But, he'd prepared himself for the worst by the time she finally answered the question.  "Yeah ... I know it isn't as ..." he'd started to agree with what he'd expected was the inevitable criticism before he'd realized she seemed legitimately intrigued.  "Really?  Yeah - I mean, the horses don't fly, but it sometimes feels like you are."  He watched as Johanna sniffed at Neely's extended hand.  He blushed again as she complimented him, shrugging his shoulders.  "Well, yeah, it does take a lot of balance.  The really good professional players can even swing the sticks under the horse's neck and feet as they run to hit the ball - I'm not that good yet," as Gerhard pointed out regularly.  "But, it has helped with chasing."  He cast another glance around, just to be sure.  "Controlling the broom's not that different than the horse."  Sasha grinned and shook his head.  "We're only halfway through the game.  But, we're winning.  Hopefully, it'll go better than the Quidditch Cup game ... though I'm sure you were thrilled"  Her team had won, after all.  Despite Grosvenor's unorthodox techniques.

"So, you ride?" Sasha asked, assuming that such a thing was logical if she was a self-proclaimed natural.  Johanna seemed content enough with the attention but she was rarely that picky.  He knew she didn't have her own horse but that didn't stop many people.  "The baby ..." he looked around again.  "...unicorn?  There's a baby unicorn at school?  Since when?  When did you see it?"  Why hadn't he seen it?  How incredible was that?  "Wow - what was he like?  You named him L.G.?"  He grinned slightly as she described the animal.  Mother was dead ... didn't know his father.  "Kind of sounds familiar," he commented but then looked up, slightly shocked at what he'd said.  "I mean - sort of.  My mother's alive, obviously," though it might not have been obvious.  "I guess, only the father part."

"Polo?" he asked, not sure if that was the this she was referring to.  "Well, not all the time.  We've got a bunch of polo games all summer, depending on how long we stay in the running.  But, I do a lot of other horse shows, too.  I'm doing an internship in Hogsmeade during the week, but most weekends I'll be at shows.  The first show's in a couple weeks in Brussels."  It was bound to be a busy summer.  "And, my family goes back to visit family in Germany for several weeks each summer."  He shrugged - it was probably more details than she was looking.  "What about you?  Are you still going to France?  I'll be going to Bordeaux for a show in August.  It's very nice." 

Thankfully, Sasha seemed to come to his senses, even as Neely offhandedly flitted from doomsday possibilities to 'alright-maybe-you're-not-going-to-die'. She was glad not to have to spend a whole lot of time backtracking and convincing him that he wasn't going to have his wand thieved by the Ministry in the middle of the night. He was more reasonable than she gave him credit for. And, if she were a little less oblivious, she might realize he was exceptionally reasonable compared to Neely herself.

"Oh, please. You're going to be made Prefect," Neely insisted, still gently rubbing the mare's face. "You and Jordyn both. You're too smart. Did I tell you how well I did on my Muggle Studies exam?" She added, sounding more than a bit pleased. She tilted her head at the mention of Greyfriar, whom Neely had never particularly minded, and had always tried to compliment for the sake of remaining in his good graces, but whom she did not know as well as some students. She was, admittedly, more the type who would try to impress people like Analiza Snark. "He came to your house?" She asked, frowning. She'd been thrilled to received her own letter (though it was obviously no surprise), but she hadn't been given such a ceremonious and personal invitation. "Is it near his? Where do you live, again, specifically?" She inquired casually, flipping hair over her shoulder and listening harder than usual. An army of horses and visits from Greyfriar: she was going to have to investigate. It was too mysterious and tempting not to pay Sasha a visit.

Calling Gavin a troublemaker might have been an understatement, but Neely took it as a negative remark. Whatever Gavin Snark happened to be, he was also the lush seventh year whom Neely's best friend desired. And thus, by default, an admirable sort of bloke. "Does it matter?" She repeated incredulously, almost placing a hand on her own cheek. "The Snarks are famous... infamous. Analiza is the Head of the Department of Mysteries, and her brother is the coach of the Falcons, and her sister is one of the best designers in the Wizarding world!" How had he not known that? He must have. But why didn't he think it was important?

Swinging a stick around a horse's neck sounded a bit dodgy, and Neely was secretly glad he hadn't attempted it. Taking out a hippogriff was one thing; a pretty horse or pony? No thanks. She'd thought Sasha did just dandy without such a move. In fact, despite having watched him play quidditch, she was more impressed this time around. She was accustomed to quidditch. Polo was more or less a foreign concept, one which she'd glimpsed now, but it still held that allure of far off countries. And it wasn't bland like other things to come out of muggle culture. Once upon a time, she would not have pegged the quiet, polite Ravenclaw as someone to be involved in such sports, however more refined polo was than, say, wrestling. "Are you going to do this professionally? Do they have that? Like Quidditch?" She wondered. Then why was he at Hogwarts? That wouldn't make sense. Sasha was much more of a hidden tale waiting to be revealed, now that she was beginning to consider him outside of how well he could tutor her for a Spring final. And yet his way of life still seemed light years away from what was most logical to Neely. If the game was only half over, he was going to have to pay more attention in the second half. "Oooh... Well, good luck! Don't worry, Slytherin was bound to win," she explained, almost sympathetically. It just made sense. "But you're not playing them now, are you?" She grinned, glancing to the field again. She who was on the rest of the team, and where they went to school. "I could spy on them for you... the enemies." And feed her own curiosity in the process.

Uh oh. Neely opened her mouth and closed it again. She hadn't alluded to that, had she? She hadn't said she rode horses! But... admitting it now that Sasha thought she did would be all sort of lame. He already had all of polo talent, and he was going to be a Prefect, probably, too. If they'd been shopping, Neely would have been in her element. Since they weren't, she had to improvise. "Oh, a bit," she said slowly, shrugging. She was suddenly thankful for the brim of her hat, which she tugged down needlessly, seemingly to keep the sun away. "When I have time. I'm very busy, you know." 

"Yes-- actually, we should probably keep it on the down low," she said, her voice going whispery, but still loud. "He's only been there for... er, the last part of school." Yes, that sounded about right. "His full name is Gelar, but L.G. stands for Little Gelar. Cute, isn't it? I bet he'll be all over the lessons next year. But I already know him," she reiterated. Because it wasn't clear. "He's adorable. And gold. I think he fancies girls, but I can introduce you." Most unicorns seemed to favor females, it seemed. Neely had no complaints. Finally, her mind wandered away from Gelar and settled on what Sasha had just said. He'd mentioned his father once before, when they were talking about their siblings. He'd also implied he didn't know him... well, at all. But here he was, confirming it again, after awkwardly dodging the content of the letter Neely hadn't read a few weeks ago. "You have a step-dad," she recalled. 'Is he awful? Is he here?" She looked around suddenly, her curiosity peaked yet again. It was rare to discover so much about someone she'd never paid any attention until less than a month ago. Were so many Hogwarts students this mutli-layered. Probably not. Neely was still fairly convinced the entertainment at school began and ended with a handful of Slytherins. And everything worth knowing about other people was usually taboo. But Sasha seemed somehow a bit easier to sympathize with, maybe because Neely had her own skeletons in the family closet (though obviously not to the same degree). And because he'd helped her.

Of course he was interning. Neely's probable Seer skills hadn't failed her. (And, really, Sasha just seemed the type). But polo, horse shows, interning, and holidaying. It was a lot for someone who seemed socially distant. "Who's in Hogsmeade? Signature is there-- you might see me when I'm visiting Finn Grosvenor," she invented. "He's Ava's brother." She was still working on the details. Like her age, and the fact that Signature was for adults. Oh, and Finn Grosvenor had better things to do than entertain a gaggle of future fifth years. Negligible. 'Mmhmm. Definitely going to France. Golly Godric, I'm counting down the days," she sighed. "It's going to be brilliant. Bordeaux is cute," she added. "I guess carriage rides in France isn't totally a crazy idea now, is it?" She smirked.

For someone who hadn't seemed to know that Sasha existed only a few short weeks ago, Neely seemed to have quite a bit of confidence in him.  Perhaps, in retrospect, the safety of his wand seemed reasonable.  Her faith that he, among all the others in his year, would be made prefect seemed less obvious.  Was she being polite or did she really believe it?  "I'm a Ravenclaw," he felt compelled to point out.  It was a rather significant detail she seemed to be overlooking.  Individual intelligence seemed an unlikely primary factor when evaluating whether an individual Ravenclaw would make Prefect. 

"No!  You didn't!"  A broad grin settled on Sasha's face matching the enthusiasm that Neely was showing.  "You did well, then?  The tutoring helped?  I'm glad to hear that - really I am."  The Muggle Studies exam had seemed easy enough - at least to him but he opted to not mention that much.  "I can help you study next year, if you'd like," he offered without giving it much thought.  He shrugged and shook his head dismissively.  "It's common - well, not always Professor Greyfriar.  But, since, you know the parents of muggleborns are bound to get a bit confused by the letter, they have school officials deliver it.  So they can explain and answer any questions."  Normally, it wasn't the Headmaster that came - it was a task frequently delegated to the Deputy Head or Heads of Houses.  And, indeed, the first time around, it had been one of the Professors that had come.  But, when that meeting had gone horribly wrong, the professor had left after a few quick memory charms.  A few weeks later, Greyfriar had come by to plant the lie that Sasha would be going to some boarding school in Switzerland.  "I live south east of London - outside of Guildford.  It's kind of in the countryside."

Johanna fidgeted some, shuffling on her feet as she grew impatient with their current lack of movement.  After nodding his head to, (hopefully) clearly, indicate that Neely was free to continue walking with them, he began moving down the path once more.  "Yes, does it matter," Sasha insisted, though a little quieter the second time.  "She works for the Department of Mysteries?" he asked, glancing sideways, surprised by the information.  "Why does she want to be Headmistress, then?  It's a big jump, isn't it?  But ... no ... it doesn't matter," he repeated.   "It doesn't matter who she is or who any of her family is.  She shouldn't have spoke to Professor Greyfriar like that."  Sasha remained quiet for a few steps.  "So, you like her, then?" he asked, hoping the question sounded as passive as he intended it to be. 

"I don't know," Sasha admitted.  "I don't know what I'm going to do."  Most of the time, his attention and focus was so much on just getting through each year with minimal obstacles.  Post Hogwarts life had, rarely, even registered in his head.  "I used to want to.  Either polo or some other equestrian sport."  And, his family still thought he wanted to - it was, largely, why his summers were still so filled with shows and games.  "My family thinks I'm applying to a really elite riding school when I ... finish school."  He flushed and immediately fished around for an alternate subject.  And, while the quidditch game wouldn't have been his first choice, it was better than nothing.  Or the previous topic.  "Well, only because they are dirty cheats," he said.  The furious blush was inevitable - but the grin betrayed that he hadn't intended the comment to be taken seriously.  He understood that some games were won and some lost - though the kiss in front of the whole school had been unnecessary.

Picking up on subtle social cues had never been Sasha's strong point.  And, so when Neely insisted that she rode a little when she could, Sasha accepted it at face value.  And, followed it with an earnest and simple question.  "What are you busy with?" 

"Little Gelar," he repeated.  It seemed funny but, perhaps, in a cute sort of way.  "And, you got to name him?  I'd love to meet him if - you know ... if it weren't too much trouble.  You think he'll still be there next year?  It's not fair, really," Sasha couldn't help tagging on at the end of the thought.  He never really understood why the unicorns had to prefer girls.  It seemed so wholly unfair.  And, it wasn't like boys had their own creature.  They were fascinating creatures and had always been a favorite of his.  Despite being a boy. 

Sasha shrugged slightly, but nodded his head at the same time.  "Yeah, I have a step-father.  Well - my mother's husband.  He's not my father, though."  A fact which Sasha knew Gerhard would not approve of him discussing.  Sasha was fairly confident, though, Gerhard wouldn't readily find out that Sasha had told a fellow Hogwarts student.  "He's not - he's not awful," etiquette and habit urged him to say.  "He's just very ... demanding.  He has high expectations and doesn't really ... well, compromise on them much."  He grew quiet for a few steps.  "And, I just usually don't meet them," he finally added, shrugging again.  After a few more steps, "not that it matters."  Which was, of course, a flat out lie - a fact that was quite evident in how much Sasha tried in everything.

"Oh, no.  He's not.  He's at work," Sasha said, quite relieved of that fact.  Despite never having played a game of polo, Gerhard would have taken every opportunity to critique every missed stride, ball and goal.  "My younger sister's here somewhere - she was off talking to one of her friends, I think."  He glanced around and spotted his sister standing, talking to some other girls a short distance away.

"A fellow named Altair Gairden.  He has a Magiczoologist clinic in Hogsmeade.  It's interesting but tiring, too."  At least on top of everything else.  "Ahh," he said, vaguely.  "I never been to Signature - some of the other Ravenclaws talk about it.  They said it's supposed to be a lot of fun if you can get in.  Do you go there a lot?"

Sasha stating he was a Ravenclaw only made his doubts more humorous, mostly because Neely didn't see how it explained anything he was trying, or trying not (one never knew with him), to say. She might have been a little... fluffy in the mind at times... but she'd known his house and wasn't likely to forget it. She'd even remembered Fauna Blake was a Hufflepuff during all of that time she'd made no effort to remember the sixth year's name and had simply remembered her as 'the girl with the eyes'. Neely crossed her arms lightly, an 'oh really?' expression flitting across her vaguely pouted face. Again, for someone so smart, he often managed to realize very little. Or at least, that was Neely's opinion. "Sasha..." She began, treading carefully. Her brain raced over her argument, but she tried not to let it all out at once. She could do that sometimes, when she wasn't careful. Throwing inborn slyness to the wind was never a good thing for a Slytherin. But now they were speaking of Ravenclaws (so kindly pointed out, in case she had forgotten). "I don't think anyone will ever forget you're a Ravenclaw."

With the attention turned on her own achievements (thanks to her own chatty mouth), Neely attempted to sound a little more casual, less surprised-- but it was a failed and half-hearted attempt, and she still sounded exceptionally pleased, because she was. Her parents had been happy, too. And seeing Sasha smile that wide was a bit of a lucky occurrence from where Neely watched. She'd been through a dozen tutors, some good but unwilling to put up with her demands for longer than a week, others completely useless or dense, and a few simply too intimidated (for whatever reason) to be of any help. Sasha had really, honestly helped. It felt weird to recognize that, but she did. "Mmhmm, my score was fabulous... I think you're the only person who could have told me so much about polo," she teased, grinning with hands on hips. "And football." Slightly less entertaining. "I'll definitely be cornering you for the O.W.L.s." He'd already offered, of course, and Neely was pleased to hear it. She wouldn't have to blackmail or bully him into it. Or come up with a story about dead animals and sob on his shoulder until he agreed. Pretending L.G. was dead might have been overkill, anyway. And yet Neely wondered for a moment whether he was naive enough to believe it.

It was a foreign concept, living in a world where magic didn't exist. She'd tried to understand it several times, but mostly it made her giggle or frown. When Sasha had tried to teach her about televisions, for example, or explain the cultural stipulations of believing in the existence of ponies, Neely had thought muggles needed a group trip to the Healers. "So Professor Greyfriar came to your house..." She mused aloud, summing up what he'd already said, and she'd already asked. His explanation made sense, but at the same time, it was still hard to believe. "I hope he didn't go through your stuff. That would be embarrassing." She couldn't imagine the headmaster scrutinizing the various trinkets on her shelves, in front of books that were not always loved. "Did your parents like him? I bet he tried to butter them up, huh?" Neely's brows shot upward and down again, dancing a little. She was usually one to brown-nose adults; the idea of the Hogwarts Headmaster flattering muggle parents was hilarious and amazing. If Greyfriar had got around to Sasha's place, Neely might have to give herself a tour, too. She hoped there was somewhere to Floo outside of Guildford.

Tagging along beside Sasha as the horse began to move, Neely resisted rolling her eyes. He just didn't understand. The name Snark mattered a whole lot. "She... She...!" Neely's mouth struggled, but no words came out. Why had Analiza Snark decided on a sudden change of careers? "It's in the Prophet," she hissed quickly. It was bound to be, in fact Neely had seen a headline or two, but she hadn't perused any current events articles since summer had started. The gossip columns were more her cup of tea. She did adore Rita Skeeter's life work, though, and would have to catch up on her reading. Perhaps while lounging around in France, between parties and shopping. "Professor Greyfriar shouldn't have tried to ignore her," she pointed out. "It works both ways, doesn't it?" Why was she defending the woman? Because it was what she was raised to do. "I love her sister, she's a genius. Her boutique is the best in London," Neely explained, not answering the question one way or another. She really didn't know Analiza Snark, but her twin sister was in the field of Neely's dreams, and her brother was a well-known coach. Neely's father not only worked in the quidditch business, but mingled heavily with other old wizarding families. She was quiet for a moment, wondering what Sasha was thinking. She'd gotten to know him a bit better over the past few weeks, but he still a closed book. It was impossible to know what he was thinking, even when she tried to play games with his head. "Sometimes change isn't so bad, is it?" Says the creature of luxurious habit.

It was strange that a boy like Sasha, who seemed to be focused within the confines of Hogwarts, and here on the field too, didn't know what he wanted to do in his adult life. Neely was arguably more flimsy, and knew exactly what she wanted to do-- or she had a sort of tangle of ideas, anyway. Fashion. Fame. Fortune. Fabulousness. The possibilities were endless for a socialite. She glanced sideways at the boy as they walked, this time fully aware of his blush. "Are they going to be disappointed if you work for the Ministry instead?" She giggled. It was every parents' dream: to have a child who could earn however many N.E.W.T.s and waltz into the government building, or St. Mungo's, or Gringotts. (Except for Neely parents, who simply wanted their darling angel heiress to be happy.) "Or you could totally be a professor. But I think you should work for the Ministry. You have that..." She flourished her hand. "Thing."

Professional athletes were exciting, though. "What about Quidditch?" She added (since they were breaching the topic), still ticking off the possibilities, hoping Sasha would suddenly decide and tell her, so that Neely could know first. She liked to be the one who knew things first. She knew a lot of things about other people, too-- many useless, some buried under others, but a lot of things all the same. She wasn't the only person who knew what had happened at the last match, however. Everyone had seen Ava's unorthodox move. Neely had been watching beside Arius, and had even told the man she was betting on 'the blond Ravenclaw' in an attempt to show some interest in Rowena's house, the supermodel's alma mater. Noticing his smile in her peripheral vision, Neely smirked, looking straight ahead. "Ava isn't a dirty cheat. She's gorgeous. I bet you loved it." Neely had long admired many of the older Slytherin girls, Vienna and Ava in particular. She wanted to be liked by them, and to be like them. "Or was that your first kiss?" She added, almost accusingly, in a near sing-song voice, as she bumped his arm with her shoulder.

She might have been able to tease him about girls, but she hadn't escaped the corner she'd just painted herself into. Sasha had swallowed her lie about horseback riding, much like he had the story about Cashmere's death, and Neely felt simultaneously relieved and careful. She would have to remember not to forget. "The holiday, you know," she said vaguely. "I've been packing for France and considering internships options, and visiting family. There's no time to go riding." Which sounded rather pathetic, but Neely held her chin up and stuck to the story.

Introducing Sasha to Little Gelar was much more plausible than Neely knowing how to ride a horse. "Oooh, yes! I don't think Tulojow will mind-- she's the gamekeeper, she lets me call her Tulojow," Neely explained, as if it were everyday that Hogwarts staff invited her to be on a first name basis. Even if she'd just been giggling at the idea of Professor Greyfriar visiting Sasha. "I think he'll be there because he'd be sort of homeless, otherwise. Who wants to let a little kid sleep in the forest alone? Gross." She shuddered. Then again, it had been loads of fun to wander into the forest after curfew and hit her enemies with paint balls. "It's totally fair. Girls are gentler, prettier, nicer, and we become mums."

Neely wasn't sure how she would deal with a step-parent, but she had visions of screaming matches and thrown vases and crocodile tears to outdo any of dramatic scenes past.Why her silly brothers wouldn't accept Corina as their father's wife, though, she couldn't fathom. "He sounds boring," Neely concluded bluntly. "Or a meanie. You really shouldn't give into him. Make him feel guilty." It seemed to work with parents and non-relatives alike. "If he thinks he's hurt you, he'll let up. If he doesn't, try running away from home. Leave a long letter. They'll beg you to come back." For someone who had never tried it, she was confident in the plan. Neely knew a lot of ways to wrap Mummy and Daddy around her fingers.

It was sort of sad, though, that someone like Sasha wasn't good enough in his step-fathers eyes. It made Neely feel awkward, and kind of... well, bad. She didn't have his grades, but her parents usually beamed at her when she returned home for the summer. When they were home, anyway. Corina had met up with Neely for a mother-daughter weekend before disappearing again, but it was just as well. "It's weird how you're a wizard and can do magic and you don't meet his expectations," she pointed out. "Shouldn't he be amazed, like most muggles?"

Following Sasha's gaze to a group of girls in the distance, Neely slowed and narrowed her eyes in an effort to study the one he'd gestured toward. A sister was much more interesting than a father for many reasons, a major one being that she was closer to their age.

"An animal clinic and you haven't met a unicorn," she murmured. "Oh, Sasha." Her eyes were still on his sister, however, and Neely began to backtrack even as she answered his question about Signature. "I plan to..." She paused a few steps away from the Ravenclaw and his mare, and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Hello!" She shouted. "Sasha's sister!" Her high voice echoed and Neely waited for the girl to acknowledge her. She waved an arm toward herself, attempting to lure the younger girl. Looking back over her shoulder, she grinned at the Schlagenweit boy.

Even before Neely had gone and stated his name in that ever so obvious you're-being-ridiculous tone, Sasha had turned towards Neely and asked, "what?" in that ever so obvious I-have-no-idea-what-your-problem-is tone.  He'd gathered her meaning well enough from the crossed arms and the expression on her face.  As far as he could tell, his house should have made everything clear.  Was she really going to make him spell out why it wasn't obvious he was going to be prefect?  She thought he was reminding her?  It hadn't ... It wasn't ... it was an explanation, not a reminder.  "I'm not ... I didn't think you'd ... I was saying ... oh, nevermind," he said at first, fairly convinced that trying to explain wouldn't help matters.  But, the reality was, it did matter.  He turned back.  "I'm a Raven... ah bloody.  Most Ravenclaws are ... well ... intelligent.  It's why I'm a Ravenclaw!  They can't look at us and go: oh, you're intelligent.  You must be prefect.  Wait, but you're intelligent to.  So you should..."  He had, of course, no idea who he'd be imitating so his mimicked voice had been entirely random and probably not as serious as he'd intended it to be. 

Indeed, discussing her achievements was much better and less complicated.  She was much more willing to accept them as achievements and well ... she'd already achieved them.  And, complimenting someone else was always infinitely easier than oneself.  At least for him; Neely seemed much better at it.  "Really!  What did you ... I mean, you don't have to tell me what you got.  But, I'd be curious to know."  Well, curious to know how well she had done and, also, curious to know what was considered a fabulous score in the Neely camp.  "Well, yeah.  I'm bound to be doing plenty of studying.  So, you probably don't even have to corner me unless you ... well ... I mean, I'll be studying a lot, anyway."  Halfway through the sentence, Sasha had become quite, uncomfortably aware that he was actually looking forward to the prospects of tutoring Neely.  He hastily turned his attention putting his hand on the mare's bridle to settle the already relatively calm animal.

Sasha shrugged his shoulders and nodded, but didn't immediately elaborate.  Of course, Sasha had known what to expect when the Headmaster had appeared at his doorstep - or at least he knew what to expect for himself.  How that meet and greet as going to go down had been a mystery.  It had been such a strange and surreal meeting - as much so, if not more than the first one.  He didn't want to leave her hanging, necessarily, but also knew there was really very little more he could say without prompting more questions, confusing her or revealing too much.  He was tempted to, once again, say it was complicated but he knew Neely was probably tired of that brush off.  So instead, he offered a brief answer:  "he didn't go through my stuff," and left it at that.  There was no way to approach the question of what his parents thought of the man and, despite the guilt for remaining secretive (especially in the face of the eager and curious dancing eyebrows), he remained quiet and avoided looking at Neely.

Sasha shrugged his shoulders.  "I don't get the Prophet over the summer," he explained with another passive shrug.  With the exception of Slytherins visiting his polo games and, of course, the internship he snuck off to, Sasha remained, essentially, cut off from the wizarding world during the summer.  "Ignore her?" Sasha said, stopping once more and turning towards Neely.  "He wasn't ignoring her.  She'd come barging in in the middle of the feast chiding him for ... well..." Encouraging bad behavior, was how the sentence was supposed to end.  It was mildly ironic that Sasha had taken Greyfriar's stance.  And it ... it doesn't work both ways!  Professor Greyfriar was Headmaster.  She was not.  She shouldn't have spoken to him in the way she had.  I don't care who she is."  Though, the truth was, Sasha should care.  If she was Headmistress, she would end up being privy to his situation.  Sasha would be as dependent on her as he had been on Profressor Greyfriar.  This change had the potential to be very bad.  But, "sometimes," was the answer he offered.

Neely was listing off the possible career paths in such a casual manner - so many possibilities that Sasha had simply never offered himself the opportunity to consider.  It seemed ironic and sad that, as much as he could imagine how tickled most wizarding parents would be if their child entered the Ministry straight after Hogwarts, Sasha had to nod his head.  "Yes.  They would be disappointed.  I ... Quidditch?  Professionally you mean?  That would be ... You really think I could ... I mean, Hogwarts is one thing but ..."  His voice faded off and he shook his head.  He really didn't have a clue what he'd want to do.  "Gerhard's - my step-father pretty much has it all planned out for me.  Finish school and go to the Spanish Riding School in Vienna, Austria, ride professionally, get all ... well ... famous, I guess. And, then work for him at DeutscheBank.  He's really hoping I can get back to Munich.  Or Berlin, but if not at least in London."  In other words, play the part of the family heir - like they were still some aristocratic family form the Weimar Republic.  Sasha shook his head.  He couldn't avoid it this time, "it's all really complicated."

"I ... what?!" Sasha said, blinking as he looked at Neely.  Loved it?  "No!  I didn't ... it cost us the game!  I ... No!"  Color had flooded his face and Neely's follow up question didn't help much.  He stared, gaped-mouthed a her as she bumped him.  He shook his head, slightly, before shrugging his shoulders awkwardly.  "I didn't ... I don't know," he stuttered.  Even he knew that sounded foolish - how could he not know?  Of course he knew and, of course, it had been his first kiss.  If a stolen quidditch tactic really counted, he repeated to himself.  "Well, ... I mean, ... if you aren't counting like aunts and stuff... I guess.  Yeah."  Was that pathetic?  Probably.

Finally, in all those moments of confused befuddlement on Neely's part when Sasha explained the muggle world, Sasha had a hard time comprehending her statement about not finding time to ride.  But, perhaps, unlike him, she wasn't expected to get up at ungodly hours of the morning to make time.  Nor did her holidays turn into excuses to follow the show circuit.  But, the conversation had shifted to orphan baby unicorns before he'd had an opportunity to respond.  "Oh.  I hope we get to see him next year."  Sasha eyed Neely dubiously for a moment.  He had a hard time believing that girls like Ava Grosvenor and Vienna Pascal were, really, gentler and nicer than some boys.  The prettier was harder to contest though.  All in all, it still seemed rather unfair.  "We become dads," however was the only argument he could come up with. 

Sasha sighed, shaking his head slightly.  If it were only that simply.  Not giving into Gerhard wasn't an option.  Sasha wasn't sure what, if anything, could actually make Gerhard feel guilty.  "He doesn't let up," Sasha offered simply as he chewed his lip, slightly.  "They wouldn't beg for me to come back.  He probably wouldn't even let me back.  My older sister stayed at some friends for a couple days without permission and got sent off to military school.  He wouldn't let her back."  Of course, there was much more behind the story - those few days of Jacoba's escape had just been the culmination of years of rebellion and defiance.  And, whether he'd let her back was really undetermined - after finishing school she'd never tried to return.  At first, Sasha simply let the comment about Gerhard being amazed at Sasha's magical abilities slip by.  There was, really, nothing to be won from commenting on it.  And, he hoped that that would be where the topic would rest. 

But, before he knew what was happening, Neely was calling Ana over.  Sasha froze, panic rising in his chest as Ana began to cross the field, followed by her group of friend.  "Nein!" he called, desperately.  "Bitte, eine Moment!  Wartet!  Ich muß."  The outburst had worked, momentarily.  Ana had stopped, looking quite confused but the confusion only seemed to spark her curiosity.  The only thing gained, really, was she seemed to ask her friends to wait.  Sasha covered his face with his hands, feeling close to tears.  "Oh God, wait.  Neely.  You can't,.." he started, turning towards Neely, his hands shaking as he took hold of her shoulders, causing Johanna to start.  "I ... you can't ... she doesn't ... you have to pretend you're a muggle," he finally blurted.  "I ... please.  I'm begging you."

Though they both spoke English, it was as if something had been lost in translation, probably due to the combination of Neely's misunderstanding and Sasha's constant over-thinking. She listened to him fumble for a moment, Neely still looking as huffy and displeased and mildly offended as ever, but coughed out a little laugh against her own will when he began to use another voice. Her arms unfolded slowly, like magnets of the same charge being pushed apart even while someone tried to keep them together. "Of, fine. Remind me not to compliment you again," she muttered, rolling her eyes and shaking her head, but looking more pacified now. "You'll end up in the crazy house the next time someone calls you smart." Lifting her hands as if clacking invisible castanets, she mimicked him mimicking... whomever.  

"An eighty-seven percent," she said. "I think that's an E." Which was close to an O. "I would have gotten a one-hundred," she added quickly. "But I forgot about those silly cards or flags or whatever in football, and I left out a muggle ministry term, and then I was confused about televisions in showers... you said people have them in their showers, right?" She added, knitting her brows. Her face returned to a glowy sort of expression when he reiterated that she could ask for his help again. It was a good thing; maybe she would do well on the O.W.L.s (well, duh). And, really, if she was honest, she thought it was sort of fun to study with the boy. There was enough humor and interesting conversation in it that she could handle the textbooks and writing, too. "Sounds like a plan. But we'll need snacks next year."

Sasha had a way of weaving between extreme reservation and sporadically admitting important, personal bits of information or honest opinions that kept Neely on her toes. He was less verbose on the subject of Knox Greyfriar, which made it immediately more interesting. It was another thing she would have to store for later if she was going to stay in his good graces. And the way he'd seen the drama at the feast unravel, too, was exceptionally different from how Neely had perceived it. But then, she hadn't involved herself directly. It would have been social suicide for a Woolfolk. As baffling and momentarily insane as it had seemed, it was also sort of admirable... Neely hadn't thought Sasha was that dangerous or ballsy. It made him more... something. Neely was uncharacteristically quiet while she listened to his argument. It was met with a simple and unanswering 'hmmm' as she swayed along beside the boy and his mare. She would simply have to teach him more about wizarding politics when school started up and he was confronted with changes in the castle.

"Why not? You can kiss people mid-air and not fall off a broom," she laughed. She hadn't really paid a ton of attention to Sasha's quidditch skills, admittedly, given the distractions of the last game-- but she'd definitely watched after Ava's little trick. And before that match? She hadn't paid him any attention at all. It was funny, how she could attend school with someone for four years and not know a thing about him until she needed his help. Only, Neely didn't think it was unreasonable. They were very different people. It sounded like Sasha's idea of Sasha and his step-father's idea of Sasha were different people, too. It was one thing for him shut up and take it from his peers, but from his family? One word in his map of the future caught Neely's ears. "You're going to be famous?" She asked. "It would be lovely, wouldn't it? I want people to know my name, too." They would, of course. She had no doubt. And then: "Ahh- I knew your surname was a mouthful, but you're actually from Munich?" There was a perpetual mindset among teenage girls, a fairly standard one, that deemed many a foreign things (people, places, goods) immediately more interesting than their domestic counterparts. "Like, were you born there? Not in England?"

Shaking with laughter now, Neely was delighted to hear that poor Sasha thought the whole game was lost because Ava had kissed him. Adorable and naive. Slytherin had won because Slytherin would always win in the end. Granted, it had been a brilliant move and a contributing factor-- but she didn't think it was cause for Ravenclaw to take out a hit on the Schlagenweit boy... and that was saying a lot, for someone enamored with drama. "You're lyyyyying," she teased. "You're the color of a tomato. Look at you!" She would have pulled out her trusty mirror for his benefit, but she was sure he could feel himself radiating. She loved it. "Err, aunts definitely don't count." Because Neely was an expert. Most of what she knew had been gleaned from magazines, romance novels, and gossip, granted, but she knew enough. More than Sasha, especially. "At least it was a good person for a first kiss. I mean, you would have never kissed Ava in everyday life, would you?" She pointed out, not intending to offend him. It just didn't seem particularly likely. Girls like Ava Grosvenor ate boys like Sasha for tea snacks. Consumed with giggles again, she added, "But on a broom... in front of the whole school... and you didn't even get to react..." It was fairly amazing.

Letting his argument about unicorns fall on dead ears, because she'd definitely won and it would be cruel even by Neely standards to argue his last attempt, she returned to reflecting about his family. "Military school?" Neely would die. "Forget boring, he sounds like a lunatic. Golly, no wonder you don't like to have fun at school." Neely's own family wasn't in a particularly pretty state, with her older brothers being estranged, but that was as much their own doing as her father's.

She stirred a little when Sasha began to shout in German. Neely knew it was German because, well, aside from the conversation they'd just had about Munich and Berlin (not to mention the last name), she'd traveled enough and met enough of her parents' foreign friends to know it when she heard it, even if she had no idea what he'd just said. Watching the girl stop in tracks, Neely whirled around to Sasha. "You speak--" But she was cut off. His hands were on her shoulder and he looked ready to impale himself on a nearby fence. "I... what?" Neely's eyes widened like an owls. Pretend she was a muggle? Was this a joke? It couldn't be. She'd never seen Sasha remotely so emotional. He really was begging her. "Sasha... why..." It was suddenly much easier to piece together, but it brought more waves of confusion. His step-father wanted him to be a muggle athlete, and Professor Greyfriar had gotten personally involved in the matter of his education. And then the letter in the Great Hall... Neely had told enough lies in her life to know. "Your family doesn't know? At all? They don't know you're a wizard?" It was outrageous. How had he pulled it off that long? How... She stared at him, searching his face. She wanted to argue with him, demand to know why he thought a muggle life was preferable to the kind she had, and why he was ashamed to have magic when it was obviously the greatest thing to happen to anyone since Arius' September cover of her favorite fashion glossy, and ashamed of Neely herself, but he looked so terrified and defeated that she couldn't. It was a million times worse than when he'd found out that Cashmere was still on the first of nine lives. She swallowed her own accusatory and offended outburst.

"Where do I go to school? With you?" She asked murmured quickly, shooting a glance over her shoulder. She was a good actress, at least.

Were all girls this complicated?  As far as Sasha could remember, Megan was never this quick to offend for wholly inexplicable reasons nor was she so quick to relax (again, for reasons that were entirely lost on him).  Someone needed to invent some sort of practice device for learning to talk to girls.  Like those simulation rooms on Star Trek - or better yet, like in that cartoon about mutants.  Surely, magic could somehow manage that, right?  And, yes, he'd come to realize (a little too late) that she had been complimenting him.  "You're ... thank you," he finally conceded only a half dozen sentences too late. 

Eighty-seven percent?  Sasha could recognize that that was really quite good by most people's scales.  "That's fantastic!" he concluded.  "That's ... congratulations!  So, your parents were pleased?"  He asked, remembering that that had been one of the initial factors that had urged her to the Ravenclaw table.  "Yeah.  I suppose those flags were a bit tricky.  And, yes, some have televisions in their showers.  But, not many.  More muggles have telephones in the shower." 

Sasha scowled at Neely, shaking his head.  Somehow, he doubted that such a thing could be used as an argument for quidditch team recruiters.  Yes, you should sign me because I can kiss girls mid-air and stay on my broom.  I'm sure all your other players can't do that.  "Actually, they probably wouldn't care."  It had been intended as one of those internal, only-for-oneself comments but somehow it had managed to sneak out.  "Well, I don't know.  How famous do professional riders really get?  Outside the sport."  Sasha shrugged.  Among the aristocratic class, there were some that followed polo and other equestrian sports closely, but it wasn't like many showed up on the cover of magazines.  But, it was the aristocratic class Gerhard cared about.  He had more of a chance of being famous for quidditch than he had for riding.   Sasha shook his head.  "No.  Jacoba was born in Germany - Berchestgaden, actually.  It's a small city south of Munich, in the mountains.  But, my mother and step-father moved here before I was born.  I was the first of my family to be born here.  But, they want to go back." 

"I'm not lying!" he declared in his own defense.  "And, I know!"  His cheeks and forehead were burning and it was one of those things like crying.  Having someone point it out didn't make matters better.  For a moment, he couldn't help wondering what had happened to the world.  He was here, at a polo match, talking with Slytherin Neely Woolfolk about kissing Ava Grosvenor.  Was he dreaming?  No - he couldn't be.  He was sure if he was dreaming, he would have woken up long before the humiliation had reached these levels.  "That really sounds like a good first kiss to you?  What?  You would have wanted yours in front of everyone too?"  Somehow, in his mind, assuming she'd already been kissed seems quite logical. 

Sasha wasn't exactly interested in pursuing the conversation about his step-father.  For better or worse, he was spared the need by the rising sense of dread and panic.  All this talk of what his step-father might allow and do was theoretical.  Unless things went badly here.  As he stared at Neely, he could see the gears churning in her head, putting the pieces together.  And, as the pieces seemed to fall in place behind her eyes, the color in his face blanched from red to purple and, finally, drained to a milk white. 

And, then, the question came.  The bridge of his nose wrinkled as he scrunched his eyes shut, trying to force the surge of shame away.  He took a step back, looking from the ground to Johanna and glancing back towards Anna who was crossing the last short distance towards them.  Slowly, he shook his head.  "No.  They don't know," he finally forced himself to admit, swallowing hard.  It was almost physically painful, forcing the admission out of him for the first time since starting Hogwarts.  "They don't really ... know ... about magic.  Its ..." he was going to say complicated again, but cut himself off. 

He took a deep, long breath, trying to force his expression back to one that was less emotionally torn, dropping the reins to rub his face quickly.  "I ... I don't know," he admitted, quickly, shaking his head.  He didn't know how to incorporate other people into the lie.  This was exactly why he kept the two worlds separate.  It was easier and safer.  He dropped his voice and quickly added, as Anna moved up along the other side of Johanna.  "Switzerland.  We go to school in Switzerland."  There hadn't been time to evaluate whether her admitting she went to school with him was, really, the best option.  With luck, Anna wouldn't ask too many questions.  To buy himself a few more moments to get himself back to normal, Sasha busied himself with something on Johanna's saddle.

"Hello," Anna said, slowly, warily, clearly confused.  "Did you need something?"  Anna looked from Sasha to Neely.  "I'm Anna.  You know Sasha?"

Shrugging off the thanks, Neely took a moment to glow in his praise. It was nice, being congratulated for good marks; it didn't happen often. Even moments of cleverness in the classroom were largely overlooked. People didn't expect it from her, and she didn't exactly expect it from herself, either. Usually it was good hair, pretty shoes, a rich father. She liked each of those things, she liked being Neely, but it wasn't so bad being recognized for her genius. (Well, relatively). It made studying more appealing. "They were thrilled. They bought me new luggage for France," she confessed, though it hardly needed to be dragged out of her. "Thanks," she added at last. "For your help, and... for not telling anyone I needed it." Though it was not the most well-kept secret. She loved the spotlight, but she couldn't easily forget that it had been thanks to him that she'd passed Muggle Studies. Maybe Ravenclaws were better at leaving their mark than Neely credited. She looked away a bit as she spoke. Perhaps her own ego had finally caught up with her. It was a little awkward, showing gratitude to someone who wasn't at least twenty-five and frequently featured in the tabloids.

There he was, batting down comments again. Neely let out a huffy breath, that was a cross between the tiniest hint of a laugh and an annoyed sigh. "They might care. You should ask them. If you want to play quidditch," she added, since he still seemed undecided. How could asking hurt? Quidditch people were all about boasting, they loved that sort of thing. Chances were, Sasha could tell his story and then sit patiently and listen to six more from a middle-aged mid-life crisis coach living vicariously through his players, and he'd be offered the starring role. That, and he was probably good. She wondered if polo coaches were the same, or if there were polo coaches. They hadn't really covered that part, come to think of it. And why was he asking her about riders? Wasn't he the expert? "Well, if you don't know, probably not very famous." It was the logical conclusion. But... again, Neely couldn't help thinking it... sometimes Sasha was so ridiculously unaware of what was right in front him, that the simple things (like who was famous, and who wasn't) escaped. Neely thought he just needed to chill a bit, maybe catch up on his pop culture news. Maybe she'd bring magazines to his house and tutor him.

"Oh," she said, hoping she didn't sound disappointed. She'd always been tempted to make up stories about being born outside of the U.K., on some lush tropical island... or the standard: Paris. Instead, she'd just gone head first at the issue, proclaiming her family's long and respected English history whenever anyone dared to ask. It was a lucky thing they were discussing Sasha and not Neely, or he would have missed the second half of his match, and the next three games, too. "Why did they move here if they want to go back?" It didn't make much sense, but maybe it was like when her father bought property somewhere but never built on it. "Where would you live?"

Nearly out of breath from laughing, Neely almost doubled over. Somehow, Sasha's 'I know!' had done it. Her side was killing her, as if she'd just been crucio'ed. Staring at his apple-colored cheeks, she tried to gather herself. She took a deep, calming breath. "It does sounds sort of rubbish, now that you mention it," she said with a grin. "But Ava is a good one to have it with." She assumed so, anyway. Ava was well-liked by many of the older boys. The ultimate kissing scenarios in Neely's mind, however (and there were several), were usually much more classically romantic. "I don't-- wouldn't have wanted it like that, but what's there to be shy about? You're getting kissed and they aren't."

The confession wasn't one she could have fathomed. When Sasha had persuade her not to read the letter, Neely had figured it contained one of the standard lies teenagers told their parents, perhaps to a slightly heightened degree, since she had ruled out a few possibilities when she'd first quizzed him. Even one of those would be shocking, coming from Sasha. But this...

Neely's eyes stayed glued to him, even as his moved away. She was still trying to take it all in. The shock that he was too afraid to tell them what he was, was more... well, shocking... than the fact that he'd gotten away with it for this long. Mouth parted and brows still trying to claim their natural state of rest, she wasn't sure what to say. There wasn't much she could say, now that Sasha's sister was closing in on them.

Tearing her eyes away from Sasha at last, Neely turned in the direction of the girl's voice. She didn't know what Sasha had said to her in German, but it had apparently confused his sister as much as it had Neely. Or maybe it was Neely was confusing. (What? Was that even possible?) "Hi, Anna," she said cheerfully, in an overly-bubbly voice she so often used to greet people she was trying to win. "I'm Neely. I'm from Switzerland." Wait, that didn't sound right. "School," she amended. "In Switzerland. I go to school with Sasha." With a glassy smile, she looked back to the boy, looking for some sign of encouragement. She hoped he wouldn't be useless through this. Turning back to Anna, she floated forward a few steps and reached out grab the sides of the girl's arms. She offered air kisses to each cheek before pulling away and pulling up the brim of her sun hat again. "I've heard so much about you. I can't believe we're finally meeting!"

It took an immense amount of self-restraint to, out of sheer habit, not say something to negate or belittle the thanks she offered.  He was far too used to either being ignored or criticized that he just simply wasn't accustomed to the long line of compliments, thanks and, generally positive comments that seemed to have surfaced in the last few moments.   "Well, I knew you could do well," Sasha offered, a vote of confidence being a much easier route to take.

Rolling his eyes, Sasha shook his head.  "Of course, I know famous riders - I meant for those outside the sport," he said.  It would seem foolish if he didn't know who they were - but one didn't exactly open up the newspaper and see pictures of the famous dessage or military riders.  It just wasn't the popular sport these days.  The pages were always filled with footballers and other sports.  "What I mean is, even if I become the most famous rider, it's unlikely most people will know me.  Right?"  This was all assuming, of course, he wanted to be famous. 

"I'm glad you find it amusing," Sasha quipped, the scarlet hue taking its dear, sweet time to fade from his face.  Her laugh, though, was contagious and, while remembering the actual event brought a sense of mortified horror to him, he couldn't help continuing to grin shyly at the amusement Neely found.  "It was rubbish!" he insisted.  "I ... what's there to be shy about?" he repeated.  "You mean, other than loosing the game?  I ... so maybe they weren't getting kissed.  I don't know, I would've liked to have ... you know ... been someone I, well, liked.  Not just because of a game."  In other words.  Not a fake ploy.

Sasha wasn't exactly thrilled about the idea of explaining why his family was here.  Money and avoiding retribution had been the primary reasons, as far as Sasha could tell.  But, it was safe to say his family wasn't that keen on the idea of that story getting out anyway.  However, it was a conversation that would have to wait for later - that was, if Neely remembered to bring it up.  Sasha doubted he'd be the one reminding her of it. 

Something rather uncharacteristically dark and ominous rose in the back of Sasha's mind and, for a brief moment, Sasha was half tempted to climb up on Johanna's back and leave Neely in the mess she created.  But, the feeling was momentary, fueled entirely by fear, and it left him with a twisted, awful taste in his mouth.  He remained frozen, continuing to fiddle with the trappings on the saddle, wishing that, by pure will, he could just vanish somehow.  He was convinced there was no way through this - sure Neely had done well on the Muggle Studies final but that was entirely different then this.  Understanding muggles and pretending to be one were two very different things.  He couldn't help but cringe when Neely greeted his sister, but proceeded to take several long, deep breaths and, as casually as he could, ran his fingers through his hair, before, finally, approaching the two girls. 

"Oh, really?" He heard Anna replying to Neely as he approached.  "You're in Sasha's classes?" she asked, after returning Neely's air kisses in greeting.  Anna shot a confused and, obviously, surprised glance at Sasha after Neely stated she'd heard much about her.  "Really?"  Anna asked, looking back.  "He's never said anything about you.  Are you friends with Hannah?" 

Panic rose again and, after a deep breath, Sasha swallowed it down.  "Well, no.  Not exactly," he said, quickly, looking pointedly at Neely.  Oh goodness, oh goodness.  "Neely goes to the Haute École but she's in the arts program.  Hannah's in the sciences program with me.  I met Neely this last year when she joined the riding team."  Sasha watched Anna closely as she looked from Sasha to Neely and back.

"So ... you came to see Sasha's match?"  Anna asked, curiously, lifting an eyebrow slightly.  "Is that why you haven't mentioned her at home?" she directed the last question at Sasha.  "Du weißt schon, das er ihr nie zustimmen würdet."   

Sasha's academic encouragement still floating in her head, Neely wondered if these famous riders were anything like famous quidditch players. She envisioned the bit of the match she'd just watched taking place in one of her father's stadiums. She could almost see, it really, if the goal posts were removed and cute little resting areas for the horses were put in. "Unless you make sure people know. You could be the first famous famous rider." That made sense. Absolutely. "Oh, you could bring polo to wizards!" And, hopefully, their good sense of dress. Some of the boys who sauntered around Hogwarts were absolutely hopeless in their personal style. Sasha was a sharp dresser, though. Neely had just not paid much attention until now, because he seemed so quiet outside of class.

Though it was brilliant poking fun at him, Neely was glad to see he could smile about the situation. Eventually. It made her laughing like a lunatic look slightly less... insane. Not that anyone in their dreams could find Neely insane. No, no. "It means you're kiss worthy, though, doesn't? If Ava Grosvenor thinks so," she pointed out, calming down a bit more. It took a moment or two before she could fully analyze her own words. It might have been a quidditch tactic, something done purely in the heat of the game, but Slytherin girls were still choosy. Ava wouldn't have kissed just anyone. She glanced at Sasha again, appraising him from the side. What he said made sense, too. She knew it, but it was less fun to admit when she could go on testing his limits. Who didn't want to be kissed by someone they liked, and someone who liked them back? "So..." She spoke more slowly now, bidding her time, but the next question was obvious before it left her mouth. He'd really walked into it. Poor thing. "There's someone you would have liked it to be, then?" She grinned, waiting for an answer. She'd already tried to find out whom he fancied when she'd interrogated him about that letter he'd had with him when she'd first approached him. Well, sort of. Neely always wanted to know these things. But especially now, about Sasha.

When Anna approached, Neely was more focused on playing the part of muggle and simultaneously, silently filling her own curiosity than she was focused on studying Sasha's reactions. Of course, she'd thrown him fleeting, knowing glances here and there, between speaking with his sister. Though it had been upsetting to hear that he hadn't told his family about the wizarding world, or his own life as a wizard, Neely quickly found herself getting into the role of muggle. She'd never tried it on for size, but it was exactly the sly, dramatic sort of challenge she loved.

Hannah? Who the bloody blood-lolli was Hannah? Neely racked her brain, going over the yearbook pages for a Hannah in their year. Even Sasha didn't go to school in Switzerland, she felt there was a good chance this Hannah person was real. She looked toward him again, her eyes narrowing. Had he made up an entire crew, too? He was worse than Neely herself!

She didn't know why, but suddenly Neely found herself wanting to compete with this fictional little wench who was so good at science. Anna should have heard about the amazing artist, Cornelia Woolfolk! (Even if she didn't exist).

"He hasn't?" She asked, trying not to get so lost in the role that she might pout. Instead, she forced her lips out of their tiny, momentary purse and grinned wider. "Well, Sasha's a little shy, you know..." Glancing yet again to the boy, she lingered there for a moment before turning back to Anna and winking. "But, yes, I'm an art student." She added cheerfully. At least Sasha had made her an interesting muggle. Neely could handle it from here, she thought. No wands. Televisions in showers. "Hannah is a complete dear, too. A bit plain, but..." She lowered her voice to a loud whisper as she voiced this last bit, shrugging one shoulder in her familiar, perky way. It wasn't really a shrug.

The riding team. Right. Neely was an expert. She'd half-convinced Sasha, anyway, so hard could it be to convince his sister? "Mmhmm, he invited me. I love polo, and I love seeing all of the mug-- shots," she invented ridiculously. "I draw the riders between plays," she elaborated. "With coal... and nail polish." She was an artist. "But Sasha is my favorite to draw." She hoped he would feel guilty for this Hannah nonsense. "I'm sorry-- is that why what?" She couldn't help it. The question just came out. It was only fueled by the bit of German she didn't understand. Even if this was a purely fictional life, she felt slightly scandalized for being swept under the rug, like someone's shameful secret. She was Neely the artist!

The surprise was evident on Sasha's face as he looked at Neely.  Become a famous famous rider?  Did she really have that much confidence in him?  It was flattering and, secretly, Sasha was somewhat pleased.  A famous, famous rider.  He could see that now - some headline on some strange magazine article.  Or ... magical polo ... why not?  They had flying animals.  Thestrals or hippogriffs or even ... polo on those massive abraxan.  It was like polo for the gods.  And, exactly, how much larger did he think his head was going to get?  Neely was contagious.      "Maybe," he said, vaguely.

"I'm ... I'm kiss worthy?"  Sasha repeated, dumbfounded.  He was willing to recognize himself as many things - bright, logical, athletic.  But ... kiss worthy would have, likely, never entered into the equation.  "I'm not ... How am I ... what makes someone kiss worthy?"  It baffled him - almost as much as standing here talking about his kiss worthiness with Neely Woolfolk.  Her next question dumbfounded Sasha and his chin dropped, the color once more ebbing into his face.  This was getting to be an all too common occurrence around Neely.  "I ... I don't ... know.  Maybe?  I mean ... Well ... I'm sure it's the same with you," he said, turning the question around on her.  Turn around was, after all, fair play.

This seemed positively destined for failure.  That had become clear the moment the conversation had turned towards this hypothetical Hannah.  Despite Neely's initial enthusiasm, Sasha was convinced she'd quickly find herself over her head. 

But, as the conversation ensued, Sasha was amazed to find that Neely was, relatively, holding her own.  And, was it possible?  Enjoying herself.  The amazement was obvious in his expression as he looked towards Neely.  He could only imagine the questions that were bound to come whenever Anna happened to return to her friends. 

"No, he hasn't," Anna said, clearly surprised by Neely's own surprise.  "So, you are friends, then?" she asked, her interest now focused entirely on Sasha.  Clearly, there was more information to be taken from Neely than Sasha himself.  But, after watching Neely wink, the confusion seemed to morph into an inquisitive curiosity. 

Sasha nodded, but glanced at Neely, in case he was taking the wrong path.  Somehow, saying he was her tutor would seem quite out of place.  "Yes ... we are friends.  But, you know, that project on chemical oxidation Hannah and I had worked on last term kind of took over everything.  It just ... never occurred to me to mention ... anything but."  Hopefully, it wasn't a comment that would offend Neely - given this was all made up anyway.  And, she must understand, by now, that this was - as he'd claimed many times - complicated. 

"He invited you to come to the game and he's your favorite to draw?"  Anna asked, glanced from Sasha to Neely.  A look of patient sadness settled on Anna's face and she slowly shook her head.  "So, you and Sasha ... is that why he hasn't mentioned you?" Anna asked, completing Neely's sentence.  "He knows better."  Anna looked over Neely with a new, appraising intensity before slowly shaking.  "Sasha, bitte.  Sag mir, dieser ein Witz ist."