Late Friday Afternoon.


It was the end of Fauna’s first week of classes. The weekend had arrived and she was grateful for the relief, even if it was much too short. After coming out of a bathroom stall and washing her hands, she took a good look at her reflection in the mirror. A pale, freckled face and tired eyes stared back at her. With a sigh Fauna fluffed up her hair a little and ran the tap, splashing water on her face so that she would look more awake.

As she patted her face dry she worried about the school year. This term, her final year at Hogwarts, would be especially tough, but for the first time she felt confident about her classes. She trusted her professors and was starting to trust her own capabilities more. Fauna thought it was probably her job experiences over the summer that had boosted her confidence, when she’d worked with Tilly and Covadonga, two people who took a strong interest in her and taught her how to handle unfamiliar situations- whether it was an impromptu piano lesson that ended with a kiss, or an escaped Runespoor barreling through Diagon Alley. Fauna felt grateful to them for what they’d done for her. She knew it had hurt her mum’s feelings when she told her she couldn’t work at the milliner’s anymore, but over time, Catherine had accepted it.

So it wasn’t the classes or her abilities that worried her the most. The new school administration did. Fauna couldn’t help but wonder if all the professors who had left and the ones who had arrived were connected somehow with the change in Hogwarts leadership. Everything she and Astrid were trying to accomplish was because of the new Headmistress. They’d talked to former Headmaster Greyfriar, Miss Gertrudis, Mr. Reid, and adults at the school. Hufflepuffs and other students actually seemed interested in joining Astrid’s cause. Was it enough? Fauna sure hoped so. It seemed so unfair that by the end of the summer Ollie had finally forgiven her for getting cozy with Devlin Matthews, and now, Ollie wasn’t even here for Fauna’s last year.

Trying not to let it get to her, Fauna rubbed at her eyes and turned from the mirror, intending on leaving the loo. She took one step forward and heard a stall door open suddenly. Fauna stopped in her tracks, surprised. She’d thought she’d been in here alone!

Waker knitted her brows as she stared at the blot. It was butterfly-shaped, like something a muggle psychiatrist might hold up and ask what came to mind-- only it wasn’t on a clean bit of paper, but soaking through Waker’s white school blouse. War in the form of two second year girls vying for the same Transfiguration text had resulted in a wardrobe casualty; while Waker was hardly a ‘fashionista’, she liked to look presentable, particularly now that she was donning a Very Important Badge.

It was said badge that had inspired the Gryffindor-ish call to duty. Waker had used her wand to try to separate the younger Ravenclaw from the Hufflepuff, but when it came to it, it seemed that getting her hands-- and shirt-- dirty was the only option. Twelve-year-old girls were vicious!

In the end, neither girl had walked away with the book, but one had certainly needed to owl home for a new bottle of Healer Howl’s Permanent Ink in Inky Black. The librarian was undoubtedly suffering a second coronary over the stain on the library floor.

Waker now speed-walked to the girl’s lavatory so fast that she could broken a world record. If she weren’t a witch, perhaps the Olympics would have been a nice aspiration. (With the promise of University afterward, of course.)

Bursting through the door without as much grace as usual, she traipsed toward the sink like a bandy-legged colt, long-limbed and anxious. But paused with the same widening eyes of a deer when she saw the Hufflepuff whose blue gaze was much better suited to such an expression. Of all the people to run into in the lavatory. Again. It was like the Hogwars Loo hated Waker Nolan.

“I didn’t--” She began, but stopped short, feeling ridiculous. There was no need to explain herself to Fauna Blake. And yet, Waker wanted her to know that she’d rather be anywhere else, with anyone else. “I didn’t know it was occupied. I’ll be gone in a minute,” she finished in a murmur, moving forward more carefully, but stiffly. She stood in front of a sink and mirror with one empty place between herself and the Hufflepuff, and drew her wand. The reflection of the splotch of ink on her shirt didn’t look like a butterfly right-side up and backward in the mirror. Instead it looked like a retired professor’s ugly mustache. The Ravenclaw seemed to twitch as she concentrated on fruitless cleaning charms. Permanent ink in the muggle world was tricky enough; permanent ink made by wizards was a nightmare of horror film proportions.

The surprised expression on Waker’s face mirrored Fauna’s own. Fauna stood there, stiffer than a suit of armor (which sometimes turned to look at passerby), and watched the Ravenclaw walk towards the sink to inspect the stain on her shirt.

Fauna listened to what she had to say and kept quiet for a moment, feeling more shy and awkward than ever because of how unwelcoming Waker’s voice sounded. They’d never been great friends, but friends nonetheless, so it still hurt that a boy could stand between them. She glanced at the bathroom door. Her pounding heart told her to leave, but something else made her stay.

Taking a deep breath, she moved towards Waker and hovered by the sink.

“It might… help to soak the shirt in soapy water,” Fauna said quietly, staring at the faucet to avoid looking the girl in the eye.

“If that doesn’t work, the house elves might have some good ideas,” she shrugged, glancing at Waker’s face in the mirror. Fauna knew her advice was unsolicited and that her presence was not wanted either, but she held onto a thread of hope anyway. Perhaps the shirt was salvageable, and perhaps their friendship was too.

What had Waker thought, really? That she would be able to skate through her whole seventh year without any awkward run-ins with the bashful Hufflepuff whom she’d caught snogging (sorry, studying with) Devlin Matthews in the light of the moon, like a page from one of Desdemona Vonderheide’s more riveting romance tales.

Yes. She had thought exactly that. That if she held her chin up and kept her eyes focused on the path ahead of her, that she wouldn’t have to deal with Fauna Blake. How many times had she managed to dodge potentially mortifying encounters with Devlin, after all?

Still standing rather stiffly, her eyes so intent on the reflection of the ink blot that she was nearly seeing double-- not pretty when it was double an inky, mustachioed blouse- Waker felt a strange shock go through her when Fauna spoke. It was silly, perhaps, but confronting ghosts had never been her forte. Waker liked to ignore the things she couldn’t correct.

Swallowing, she chanced a side glance at the Hufflepuff. Or, rather, at the Hufflepuff’s reflection. “Right. Thank you.” She spoke softly, not out of kindness, but because she couldn’t bare the echo of the lavatory, which always seemed to wonderfully propel the awkwardness. With her wand, she silently blocked the sink’s drain and the water fill the basin.

Turning away from the sink, she uncomfortably faced Fauna and reached for the top button of her blouse. Pausing, Waker felt her cheeks darken. She turned on her heel, quickly, and looked down toward the ground as she continued to unbutton her blouse.

“There was a fight in the library,” she explained, her back still to Fauna. Waker was possibly going to stick her head in the sink and drown herself, if the deafening silence didn’t kill her first. (Funnily, only a moment ago, she’d been worried about the room’s echo...). “Second years, fighting over a book,” she continued with sour humor in her throat. “You’d think it could recite pick up lines and buy them butterbeer.” Or write them love notes. Twelve-year-olds weren't quite into being 'picked up', were they? Or was Waker getting up there in years? Or maybe they were just girls who loved school a little too much. (Whoever did that sound like?).

Fauna didn’t know what she expected, but the simple thanks, however quietly and tonelessly it was said, made her feel better. She nodded, edging away a bit to give her some space as Waker filled the sink basin with water. When the Ravenclaw started to unbutton her blouse, Fauna gave her a confused look, and then averted her eyes just as Waker turned her back.

Like Waker, her cheeks flushed. For a second she’d been reminded of Ollie, which was all kinds of awkward. Fauna glanced at the door, thinking that now would be a good time to haul her perverted butt out of the loo before any other unwelcome thoughts could enter her head. Then Waker spoke, telling her what had happened, and Fauna looked up in surprise.

She laughed, too loudly, at the joke about the fighting second-years. Part of her reaction was due to relief that Waker was actually talking to her, and the other part could only be blamed on nerves.

“Uh, yeah. Those second-years, you know… always fighting over stuff.” What were the words coming out of her mouth? What was she saying? Fauna desperately wished she didn’t sound like such a Hogwarts dropout, but she couldn’t take it back now.

Fauna let out a sigh and leaned against a sink, glancing at Waker’s face in the mirror. It was time to apologize, or risk saying something ridiculous about the library fight again. “Uh, listen,” she began hesitantly. “You can tell me… to leave if you want. But before you do,” she went on quickly. “I just want to say… I’m sorry for what I did at the end of, well, last year. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Her nervousness was still apparent, but sincerity, too. Fauna tried to catch her eye, hoping that Waker would at least realize she was being honest, even if she couldn’t yet forgive her. Her apology needed to be acknowledged somehow to make this tightening in her chest go away. Fauna half-hoped Waker would give her the chance to explain everything, but that might be asking for too much.

Fauna’s blushes were easy enough to avoid, lest they make the situation more awkward, but Waker nearly cringed at the Hufflepuff’s loud laughter resonating against the bathroom walls. The only thing that could possibly make it stranger would be the presence of Moaning Myrtle, who, thank Merlin, had chosen another toilet for her main haunt.

Her back still to the Blake girl, the Ravenclaw wiggled out of her shirt and held it like a wounded flag before under her brown gaze. Spreading the ink stained bit over her palm, she examined it carefully, tapping it with her wand and muttering spells here and there. Not being the particularly homely-and-healer-y sort, they didn’t work quite as well as she’d hoped; the efforts like those when she’d still been wearing a top seemed rather silly.

At least, Waker turned toward the sink, submerging the blouse as if she were putting a beloved pet to rest in its grave. She saw Fauna’s surprised, blue eyes in peripheral, and wondered whether it had been a smart thing to initiate fake conversation.

And then came the apology.

She was too caught off-guard to wonder what would happen, should anyone of the more-corporeal-than-Myrtle sort wander in and see Waker Nolan in her bra, hovering over a nearly-flooded sink, and turning curious colors at the owl-eyed, apologetic Hufflepuff beside her. Waker looked up at the mirror again, at Fauna’s reflection, her own hands fumbling over the wet material, but not really paying attention to their task any longer.

What was she supposed to say?

’It’s alright. Let’s skip out of here like Dorothy and the Scarecrow, and unmask that Wizard, Devlin Matthews!’

Somehow it didn’t go down like that in Waker’s head. If only the world were a 1940’s muggle musical and Waker Nolan could hold a tune.

Eyes lowering again, evading Fauna’s almost guiltily, as if she’d shamefully lost the Staring Game, Waker finally noticed the basin’s threat to overflow. She turned off the faucet and began to scrub at the spot of ink. Soap bubbles bloomed.

But she didn’t tell Fauna to leave.

“I think it’s coming out a bit,” she murmured, purposely louder than a usual murmur, so that the Hufflepuff was sure to hear. Her mind and heart raced with the apology, wondering exactly how to approach it. With luck, she could go on avoiding any kind of straight answer.

She paused for a moment, letting the last ripple of water disappear. Then she began to scrub again, harder this time, her eyes so concentrated on the plaguing ink that she might have scared out the stain with her gaze. “Devlin’s very charming,” she admitted, her voice still low but clear. “He knows how to get people to do things... he knows what he wants, and he goes for it.” He was like a Slytherin; Waker sometimes had to look at old photos to remember why he was sorted into Rowena’s house. He was wickedly smart. “He knows how to kiss,” she added, still not daring look at Fauna again. It was Waker’s own strange way of acknowledging the apology, if not blatantly accepting it. “Even if... even when people hear about all of the things he’s supposedly done, it’s different when you’re there talking to him.” Less charismatic in Waker’s presence, perhaps, but charming all the same. She could see his hypnotic pull over others. Perhaps she had been harsh in assuming Fauna should take her word for it... but then she had shared quite the breakdown with the girl. And in this same lavatory. She took a deep breath and her shoulders tightened and loosened again as she recalled it. Hopefully Fauna had learned her lesson when it came to Devlin Matthews.

A long, awkward silence filled the bathroom, only broken by the light trickle of water from the faucet and the beating of her heart that pounded in her ears.

Finally, Waker murmured something about the stain coming out a bit. Fauna nodded, confused, wondering if she was going to avoid the topic. She needed Waker to acknowledge her apology before she left. Just a nod, or even a glare would be preferable to nothing.

Then Waker started gradually opening up, as if they were still friends. Fauna leaned in to catch every word, listening closely.

She described Devlin very well, especially with the point at the end. Drama tended to happen around Devlin- especially drama involving shunned, angry girls. Fauna thought that it was probably because of the friends he kept, but she couldn’t deny the rumors or his reputation. Yet, when he was right there in front of her, smiling and flirting, and sometimes confiding in her, she couldn’t help the emotions that sprung up or the attraction she felt for him. Every time she looked at him she felt a jolt, and it had only been building more and more since the end of last year. Since the time they’d met in a classroom after he’d helped that first-year girl.

Fauna nodded, slowly. “Mmhmm. He- yeah. He has a way of… he’s charming. Like you said.” Her incomprehensible sentences made her cringe, but Waker had expressed it much better than she could have.
 
Now it was her turn to open up. Fauna didn’t know exactly what to tell her, but she felt like she needed to say something, even if she made it worse.

“I… when he offered to help me with Divination, I was… surprised. He’d never really seemed to notice me before. I guess I wasn’t thinking… or maybe I just didn’t want to think,” Fauna admitted, talking slowly as she sorted out what she felt. “It was… I was flattered.”

She looked down at the floor and took a shaky breath. “I knew what you said about him, and I knew that he had hurt you... but I also knew that there had to be two sides to what had happened,” she said guiltily, afraid of offending her. “I hoped that getting to know him and being friends with you… that somehow, it wouldn’t conflict. Foolish,” she said, with a bite of self-derision.

Fauna paused, wondering if she should go on. “And then this summer-” she cut herself off, looking up at the girl. Maybe it was too fresh. Maybe she shouldn’t tell her about the kiss and the piano lesson. “Anyway, I don’t think… he’s interested in me anymore, if he even was. I’m not sure why he would be,” Fauna told her, not out of self-pity, but from honest confusion.

“I’m just sorry I hadn’t handled it better. I should have told you what was going on long before I met with him last year.” The memory of Waker’s shocked and pale face when she’d seen Devlin and Fauna together on the grounds still made her feel awful when she thought about it.

Waker tried to avoid noticing any awkward attention from Fauna. The fact that the Hufflepuff seemed hyper-engaged in her every word made the Ravenclaw feel uncomfortable-- and guilty. But Waker Nolan wasn’t exactly the sort of girl who melted into hugs and smiles and forgiveness when she saw scenes like the one she’d seen on the Hogwarts lawn last Spring. These sorts of confrontations... or passive aggressive anti-confrontations... always made her exceptionally dizzy. It had taken her quite a while to get accustomed to the openness of people like George, or Delilah, whom she missed dearly.

Fauna was seemingly much better at expressing apologies, but possibly not as ready to deal with coldness. Even if she fumbled or blushed, the Hufflepuff had a way of making Waker feel like she’d been too dramatic, too brash with her decision to exile her old friend.

So, Devlin had offered to help Fauna with the one subject with which Waker absolutely miserable-- the art of suspending reality long enough to think that the future could be read in the stars or the dregs of a teacup. And it was exactly the sort of rubbish Devlin excelled at, mostly because it was all made up. This truth made Waker feel even more guilty.

It was her turn to nod. She continued to gently scrub at her shirt in the warm water, using the old fashioned muggle method she’d nearly forgotten in her time at Hogwarts. Even washing machines had made her susceptible to forgetting basins and sponges, even while Waker, ever obsessive a girl, had the utmost admiration for the invention of soap.

It stung to hear the rest-- the bit where Fauna recalled their first encounter in this same empty lavatory. A shelter for girls, and also a place where secrets were told and spread. It was the most dangerous of retreats, but it was hard to find anywhere else where boys weren’t allowed. Unless you were George. He probably would have waltzed in without a second’s thought. This highly inappropriate thought almost made Waker smile, despite the pain of memory and present pangs of guilt.

Standing in her bra, skirt, and stockings, Waker drew her hands from the soft, soapy water and flicked them over the basin with one great, single-syllable sigh.

“I can’t choose your friends for you, Fauna. But Devlin... he lost something a long time ago, and I don’t think he’s going to get it back, as hopelessly charming as he still happens to be.”

The thing he’d lost, of course, coincided with another big loss for the boy, and Waker knew that it hadn’t been his fault. His destructive way of coping with his mother’s death, however, was on its last leg. He needed to grow up. Everyone did. Waker just wished she’d been able to help; it had made her bitter, knowing she’d had the opposite effect on him. And now they were utterly unhealthy for each other, and she had spite for anyone who took his side. Fauna Blake included.

“You had the right to talk to him, though... maybe I should have tried harder to do that,” she murmured, eying the girl briefly and brazenly, a certain frankness in her brown gaze. Finally, she turned back to the water, catching only a quick glimpse of her own reflection and resisting that ever-present urge to push back strands of dark blonde. Her hands were wet.

She tried very hard to resist, to discipline herself, to take what Fauna had said and run with it. But Waker couldn’t help asking: “This summer?” She probed, gliding smoothly over the next bit of the badger’s story. She suppressed her own guilt like a movie-goer suppressing reality. She’d planned to tell Fauna that she was perfectly lovely and the sort of girl Devlin probably would like, least of all because she was a girl, but mostly because he wasn’t as tough as he seemed. His playthings aside, Waker liked to think he’d always preferred... well, substance. Still, in the Ravenclaw’s mind, he wasn’t finished using people, and not nearly capable of treating girls how they should be treated. Not anymore.

Fauna couldn’t help but notice every nod and sigh from Waker, analyzing them to try and gauge her mood. She didn’t seem angry, which was good. Fauna was a bit confused by her first comment, when Waker said that Devlin had lost something a long time ago, but she didn’t ask her to explain. She didn’t want to mess up Waker’s train of thought and miss out on hearing something important.

Fauna met her gaze and shrugged when she admitted that she could have tried harder to talk to him. She wasn’t sure she agreed, actually. Waker had tried her best in a very difficult situation and Fauna couldn’t blame her, no matter what Devlin said. It was all right if the two Ravenclaws couldn’t be friends, but the hate and resentment between them baffled and upset her. If Fauna continued to talk to both Devlin and Waker, she felt like she’d always be in the middle, which was not a comfortable place to be.

This summer. Uh-oh. Fauna cringed and looked away. She wished she hadn’t brought it up at all, but since Waker had asked about it, she couldn’t lie. She’d done enough hiding.

“Yeah,” she glanced at her warily. “Um, I don’t want to hurt you… more than I already have, but if you want to know, maybe it’s better that I explain.”

It would be better this way, Fauna tried to tell herself, than for Waker to find out from someone like Vienna or Neely. She couldn’t be sure exactly how much truth went into those rumors.

“Um, so, for one of my part-time jobs this summer I was working at Reducto Records, giving piano lessons,” she paused after that, wondering if perhaps Jasper had told her. “I was really surprised when, uh, Devlin asked me to teach him how to play. I thought he was joking. But then he showed up,” Fauna shook her head, smiling slightly. Her smile soon vanished as she realized what she had to say next.

Glancing down at the floor, she fiddled with her sleeves and felt her heart rate speed up. “One thing led to another and… we kissed.” Fauna didn’t dare risk a glance at Waker because she knew if she did, she wouldn’t have the courage to tell the end of it. “But, then I brought up Jordyn, which was really.. awkward, and he said something that made me mad, and then I told him I didn’t want to be a fling, and left.”

Fauna took a deep breath and finally looked at her. “So, even if he did like me, he’s probably annoyed that I walked out, so… yeah. That’s what happened,” she murmured, thinking that the whole thing sounded really silly, but worried all the same about Waker’s reaction.

She hadn’t meant to hurt her? This preface, while it should have been comforting, made Waker’s insides squirm. Whatever was coming next was sure to be a blow-- in the bludger to the head sense of the word. It was a pride thing, a jealousy thing, a very private and ugly thing that Waker had never meant to share with anyone. Even George didn’t know about this particular hitch in the road... the one in which Waker stopped talking to Fauna Blake simply because she’d had a rendezvous with the viper known as Devlin Matthews. A small part of that viper, Waker felt deep down, still belonged to her. Not that she wanted it. It simply did.

More to the point, there was still the childish fear that Devlin had taken her friend. When they’d broken up, most of their friends had split like the Red Sea, effectively becoming Team Devlin or Team Waker in the tradition of Slytherin or Gryffindor. Those stuck in the middle got the worst of it.

Fauna had to explain things. Waker grasped at the sink edge behind her, quickly attempting to stiffle the knots in her stomach, the sheer uncomfortableness of all of this, by leaning as casually as possible into the basin fixture. She let her fingers trace the water, her eyes flitting from the stall doors to the window, whose light fell in strategic, sharp lines that didn’t quite hit Waker.

“Devlin already knows how to play piano...” She murmured, not able to suppress herself. Her eyes found the ground this time, but she could see the hazy outline of Fauna’s face in her peripheral. Fauna could hardly be described as anything but innocent or sweet, but the marked change from a nervous smile to... well, not a smile... only caused further discomfort for the Ravenclaw. Fight or flight situations never had a middle outcome. Everything was in black and white, and it was this exact limbo that Waker feared most. She could neither leave (not least of all because she was missing a shirt), nor pull out her wand and start hexing Fauna (who was only relaying a story where the clear villain was undoubtedly the boy whose name sounded so very like Devil.)

Pushing away those daydreams she’d had in the weeks following the terrible departure from Devlin, those glimpses of the boy’s smile, of his hands on the keys, she now focused directly on Fauna. It was the only thing she could do.

Tightening a little, even though she’d sort of known what the Hufflepuff was going to say (even if she wasn’t Astrid O’Malley), Waker nodded with a stiff neck and clenched jaw. She swallowed and looked back to the ground. And then toward the mirror. Her hand swished again through the lukewarm water, which was growing cold. She cast a simple heating charm on it, to keep herself calm and busy. “You kissed him after I told you all of those things, and after I found you, and you seemed so upset... you still kissed him...” She was going over it in her head even as she spoke the words. This level of candidness wasn’t usual Waker protocol. Sure, she could be candid and sassy, but she liked to plan ahead for situations such as these. But now she had nothing more to say than exactly what came to her in the moment. “But, like we apparently both know,” she continued, her voice tinged with bitterness, as she recalled what they’d discussed only a moment prior. “He’s very bewitching, Devlin Matthews.”

A bit of water splashed onto the sink’s edge and Waker stood up properly, no longer leaning on the basin for support. She flicked her hand away from fauna, letting the air dry it. “Remember, I told you, he tried it with me... I brought up his girlfriend then, too. And you...” She swallowed, glancing toward Fauna yet again. “You helped me. You talked to her when I couldn’t. I... I never thanked you. It takes a good person. A brave person.” A sort of choking laugh followed. Her ever-roaming brown eyes settled on the mirror again. She was not only staring at the Hufflepuff, but at herself. “I don’t know if that girl would have said anything if the roles were reversed. I’m glad you did. I’m glad you didn’t let him... win you over.”

But it wasn’t a game, was it? Waker almost cringed at her words. She was always preoccupied with alliances, with winning. Fauna wasn’t a trophy, she was a person. A friend. “Just don’t let him turn you into some sort of... conquest,” she added softly, struggling for the moment to find the word. And then it simply surfaced. “You’re not like those girls. You’re too good for that.”

Devlin already knew how to play the piano? Fauna didn’t know whether to laugh or get annoyed with him. It was definitely confusing. If what Waker said was true, and she had no reason to doubt her, then Devlin had asked for a piano lesson for the sole reason of seeing her. Or snogging her, she assumed.

She shook her head, losing track of her thoughts for a moment, and continued her story. When she was done talking, Waker seemed to avoid looking at her, and Fauna noticed how tense and detached she seemed. It was understandable, but it reminded her of how Waker had initially reacted when she’d found Devlin and Fauna out after curfew. Waker then repeated what had happened during the piano lesson in her own words. The way she said it made Fauna feel much younger, like she was a child seeking forgiveness from an older sister, instead of someone her own age.

A note of bitterness touched Waker’s voice and Fauna bit her lip and looked down. Sure, Devlin was ‘bewitching’, but she’d wanted to kiss him. She’d wanted to know what it was like.

“Remember, I told you, he tried it with me... I brought up his girlfriend then, too. And you...” She swallowed, glancing toward Fauna yet again.

Fauna looked up, worried that she was going to say that she had betrayed her, that she’d done something stupid, and that their friendship was over. But Waker didn’t say any of that. Fauna gave her a flabbergasted look when she actually went on to compliment her.

She shook her head, mumbling in protest, “I’m not.. I’m not brave.” She let out a self-derisive chuckle. Fauna didn’t feel like she deserved her praise after hurting her like that.

Waker’s next words stunned her even more. Fauna realized that Waker still cared about her, even wanted to protect her from being used.

“I… thanks,” she replied quietly, meeting her eyes. Fauna swallowed, trying to keep her emotions from surfacing. “Can we… be friends again?” Her voice sounded tight. “I just.. I know it’s a lot, at once. But, I miss.. talking to you.”

Fauna stopped fidgeting for the moment and looked at her, tears pricking her eyes. She couldn’t seem to help it.

While it was true that Fauna was on the shy side, it was also true that she had a good heart. Even Waker knew it, and had been stung by that fact after her initial anger had subsided a bit. Though there were still sour knots in her stomach, they weren’t as big or as acidic as they’d been on the dizzying night she’d discovered the Hufflepuff with Devlin. It no longer made her ill to think about it. Simply bitter.

But Fauna was underestimating herself if she didn’t see the hint of bravery under the sweet exterior. Being good by nature meant being bold even when you were nervous or afraid, didn’t it? She’d stood up to her roommate on Waker’s behalf, and she’d stood up to Devlin when she’d caught on to his game. She’d also tried, if in vain, to tell Waker what had happened, what had really happened... and here she was asking the bravest question of all, the trust of friendship.

Feeling her own eyes well just a bit, Waker looked away, to the sink. She gave her shirt a swirl and then rubbed concentratedly at the spot. She looked back to Fauna. “I miss you, too,” she admitted. Since Delilah had left school, she’d been spending most of her time with George, Leon, and Edmund. She loved George and her friends, but it wasn’t the same as having a girl around. Even if she and Fauna had never been exceptionally close.

With a flick of her wand, Waker let the sink drain itself. She dried her hand ever-so-uncharacteristically on the hem of her skirt, and then leaned forward like a tall, awkward baby dear to give Fauna a hug like the one the Hufflepuff had given her so many months ago. “I need a friend like you,” she confessed in an embarrassing murmur.

Pulling away, she exhaled in relief, and straightened up. She gave Fauna a once-over, and then turned back to the sopping blouse in the sink. Lifting it, she rung it hard both ways, and then unraveled it like a flag. Another wave of her wand, and the garment dried. She would need to learn a more sufficient ironing charm-- one on par with whatever the school elves used-- but the stain had disappeared, and her shirt dry. “This will do for now,” she said. “Er... thanks for the...” She mimed toward the sink and soap, feeling rather foolish.

After pulling her shirt and buttoning it properly, Waker gathered up her things. “Well, I guess I see you, then?” She began to walk toward the door, but paused after a few steps, and looked over her shoulder. “Do you want to meet in the library sometime soon? To study?”