September 9th

From the bar stool kicked a pair of snowy-white cashmere slippers, the exact colors of the marshmallows Neely plucked from the china bowl in the center of the table and delightedly drowned in her steaming cocoa. Usually, she had it iced, but after nightfall on an early autumn evening, warm chocolate seemed more appropriate. And she could always take a bit of the chilly beverage to go, if she fancied, complete with a few goblets for Jordyn, Evie, and Fergie, if they were still lingering in the common room or finishing up homework. Neely was so thoughtful a friend!

“Don’t worry, Sasha, I’ve got spies in the corridor,” she hummed, smirking at the Ravenclaw, whom she had convinced to visit with her in the kitchens. It was a prime study location, they were less likely to be bothered by other students (accepting those who were equally willing to trample over mealtime hours). “And your badge will get us out of trouble if we stay past curfew,” she added, nodding toward the silver Prefect ‘P’. The elves, though, would rather fry off their own hands than disobey orders-- even from a fifth year Slytherin. Or precisely because they were from a fifth year Slytherin.

She hadn’t imagined he wouldn’t show up. They’d already agreed to a night of cocoa, ages ago. The lure of studying made it easier, she thought. And now that they were dating (ahem), Neely felt cheerfully obligated, and hoped Sasha felt the same. It was fun! Like a date in Hogsmeade... minus the bustling crowd of the Three Broomsticks, or the wait in Honeydukes. They could have sweets whenever they wanted: tonight’s dessert menu consisted of vanilla-almond meringues, cinnamon-powdered tiramisu parfaits, and similarly-spiced sweet sticks for swirling in the rich chocolate.

“Oh my golly, don’t you love the new Runes professor?” She asked, spreading out her Ancient Runes notes. Neely hadn’t been so excited for a teacher since the lush Gryffindor Head of House had taken over the animal class. But that came with the complication of animals, a hurtle she was slowly jumping with the help of the school gamekeeper-turned-nurse. “If I were a teacher, I would dress just like her.” Professor Cornelia Woolfolk. Who would protest?

"I'm not worried," Sasha said, giving his head a quick shake.  Why would she think he was worried?  He'd only looked at the door to the dungeon hallway twice so far and he was fairly certain that some sort of motion had drawn his attention both times.  Sure, it was getting close to curfew and it was a bit of a trek from the kitchens back up to the Ravenclaw portrait and, sure, he didn't have any really good concrete reason to be here.  Other than Neely had asked (and avoided using some story about deceased family pets to convince him) and, despite the borderline rule breaking, he'd been looking forward to the late night cup of cocoa.  And, studying.  And, maybe even, catching up with Neely. 

Ok.  So, perhaps, he was a little worried.  Less for the potential rule breaking and more for the consequences if he were to get caught rule breaking.  Between the end of the previous year and the public punishment dished out to him at the sorting ceremony when he'd come in late, dripping wet, after swimming an overboard first year across the lake, it was clear Headmistress Snark wasn't going to be giving him any free passes.  If he were one to complain (which he'd never been), he might have mentioned he felt slightly singled out by the new Headmistress.  But, any such comments remained nice and secure in his own head. 

He countered her smirk with a slightly awkward grin before quickly glancing down at the shimmering "P" on his chest.  Blushing, he shrugged his shoulders as he lifted his cup.  "So, you were right.  I wasn't sure until I got it on the Express.  I figured with ... you know - given the new Headmistress, I was sure she would have given it to someone else.  But, I got - it was exciting."  The type of thing one usually got really excited with their parents about.  "But, I wouldn't ... you can't use your badge to get preferential treatment.  It's not - I'll just sneak like most people."  He blushed slightly and grinned.  It was kind of exciting. 

"Professor Reid?  Yes, she's good - it was a good class.  I didn't know we were getting a new teacher, though, did you?"  If any of the students had heard the gossip, by now it seemed obvious that Neely would be among them.  "Do you know if they just retired or if ... did Headmistress Snark - you know - fire him?"  He hoped that wasn't the case, but he'd been suspicious.  "And, what about that Professor Grimlish?  She's-"  Quickly, Sasha reminded himself that Divination was a class Neely was particularly fond of.  "- interesting.  Do all Seers, you know, dress - uniquely?"  It definitely seemed to be a trend amongst the Seers he knew - with the exception of Neely, of course.  Maybe it came with experience.

"How was the rest of your summer?  How was France?  Were you there for that wind storm in August?" 

Neely shrugged innocently. It wasn’t worth fighting about-- not yet. Certainly there would be plenty of precious time to waste on her favorite needless pastime, drama. But if Sasha wanted to pretend he wasn’t as readable as last month’s Teen Witch feature on tangerine pedicures, he could carry on with his bad acting. Neely knew the truth: he worried about everything. Also: Hannah was totally dead.

Mouth forming a giddy o, as if Sasha were telling all about Mary-Sue McWhoever’s ventures into another common room, and the resulting chaos, she marveled at the idea of not discovering one’s own Prefect badge until the day of the feast. Talk about a long wait. Neely would have offed herself by then. Jordyn had found out much sooner, and there had been much gleeful celebrating in the shiny pin’s honor. “But didn’t you have a Prefect’s party in the front of the train?” She asked, encouraging insider information; of course, she’d already gotten the basic run-down. Most of the Prefects, aside from Jordy-love and Sasha, were a useless bunch. Sasha could have claimed to be fashionably late, she reasoned.

“It’s good Madam Snark didn’t expel you. Wouldn’t you hate to have to go study Chemistry for real?” She asked, wrinkling her nose, and looking again at the actual assignment spread on the table. “Or you already do...” She mused aloud, remembering what he’d told her. “I’m much more fun than that lot in Switzerland, though,” she concluded with sassiness. “Maybe what happened last term was a test. Maybe she liked that you stood up.” It was a crazy theory, but Neely felt oddly compelled to comfort him, or to encourage bold behavior-- though of a different, Neely-relatable sort. “I mean, she must think you’re a Gryffindor who got placed in the wrong shoe closet, so if she gave you the badge, she obviously expects you to use it however you want once in a while. Isn’t that part of why everyone wants one?”

Duh, Sasha.

Still, he seemed more willing to sneak about now than he had last semester, when Neely had had to elaborately fake Cashmere’s death simply to get Sasha to join an innocent schoolyard game. In the dead of night. In the forest. With bruising, staining bullets of wet paint, and untamed Hufflepuffs.

“Mmhmm.” It was exactly an affirmation. Neely just liked to be ‘in the know’. “I knew there would be a lot of switching around when Greyfriar left... and, well, the gamekeeper was supposed to be the Care of Magical Creatures professor, but I guess ours decided to stay.” Neely frowned for a moment. “He’s nice to look at, anyway. And I can still visit Gelar. And Tulo is the school nurse now, so I bet she’d read over my essays on sick animals...” There was an idea! Neely still owed her a fashion consultation, come to think of it. She only wished she’d be able to convince Pratt to give her credit for the cat essay.

“I think she’s more of an Astrid than a me,” Neely confessed, leaning forward now, as if it were taboo to speak ill of the quirky new Divination professor. The Woolfolk girl still revered her, and wished to make a good impression. Though, admittedly, Sasha was very right about her attire. “She could have a great career if she changed her wardrobe. I bet she could write prophecies for Witch Weekly.” Obviously the epitome of investigative journalism and most respectable and scholarly branch of Divination. “The Seers in Knockturn Alley dress like tarts, but they’re all as fake as the knockoff bags they sell on weekends. I’ve seen some very nice ones at the Ministry.” And then there was Neely, self-proclaimed almost-sort-of-definitely a Seer (still coming out of her Seeing shell).

“France was gorgeous,” she sighed, blowing on the hot cocoa. “There was a bit of wind, but no storm. The weather here is way more lame.” Cold and rain? That was only good for layering. “What about you? How was Hannah?” She spoke the name like an Unforgivable. “Did you enjoy her funeral?” She hummed, playfully bumping shoulders with the well-dressed boy.

"Well, I was late.  As always," Sasha admitted, shrugging his shoulders, glancing down, once more at the badge.  That little shiny "P" seemed, strangely, more satisfying than any "O" on any of his end of year marks.  Which would be more satisfying, the "P" or a long list of "O"s on his O.W.Ls had yet to be seen.  He felt like he'd worked four years for the prefect's badge - he would have worked five years for the O.W.Ls.  But, for fear of appearing vain, he shrugged and looked back up.  "It's always the first chance I get to look at the new school books so - I kind of got distracted with those.  It took me a little while to...well, notice the badge." 

And, now, here he was as a prefect, playing chicken with curfew.  And, enabling another student to do so as well.  Not that he thought he could do anything about it, even if he didn't approve.  And, while he was well aware that their whole 'relationship situation' was just a ploy for his parents, he found himself less than motivated to, currently, enforce the whole curfew thing.  But, no, that didn't stop him from worrying.

"I don't know.  I fear she still might," Sasha said, only half joking.  It was starting to feel like it would be a miracle if he got through this year.  Though she'd expelled a few students, Headmistress Snark seemed to be currently content with making him a public example.  He chuckled slightly.  "I dont' know.  If last year was a test, what was this year?  I mean, what should I have done?  Left the girl in the ... of course not!"  No, chances were, he'd have gotten into more trouble for that.  "Yeah - that'd be ... I don't want to try to go to a muggle school.  I've tried to keep up, but - I'm afraid ... Hannah would walk over me in Chemistry class."  He smirked ever so slightly before quickly taking a sip of his cocoa.  He managed to study that other stuff just enough to convince his parents he was, in fact, learning it.  But, between everything, that was about it. 

He grinned around the lip of the mug.  Of course, not really actually knowing this lot in Switzerland, it wasn't a safe comparison to make but there was something intriguingly fun about Neely.  "Well, Switzerland's pretty fun.  They've got big chess boards-"  Okay, so he probably wasn't helping his case much, yet.  "And, alpine beer gardens and good skiing." 

"Me?  A Gryffindor?  I doubt it.  I'm about as brave as a puffskein."  Sasha shook his head, figuring the comment hadn't been meant in any seriousness.

"And, I guess we got a new gamekeeper as well.  And the year's only begun.  I wonder who we're going to loose during the year."  In his mind, it wasn't exactly as much a question of if but when.  "She expelled Ollie and Darcy so quickly it - Guess things are different now."  He was fairly certain he didn't like the change - it made him feel even more isolated at school.  "I don't trust her," he admitted.  "Why is she even here?  She's not teaching -"  Sasha took a deep breath and another sip of his cocoa, looking up as one of the house elves came shuffling over with a plate of tea biscuits.  It was clear, the new Headmaster didn't like him and Sasha felt uncomfortable relying so heavily on someone who, so plainly, was against him.  And, he wasn't even sure he could rectify that situation. 

Divination was still far from his favorite class.  Self-introspection was unpleasant enough; letting someone else look that closely wasn't exactly a pleasurable experience.  This year, he'd hoped it'd be easier since he could be working with Neely - and there wasn't as much to fear from letting her read him - but things hadn't worked out that way.  "How did your reading of Trent go?"  Sasha asked, a little tentatively.  It had been easy enough to see from where he had been sitting that she hadn't been thrilled about the arrangement.  "When do you start tutoring me?"  He asked. 

"So you weren't there for the storm?  It was nasty.  At least in Bordeaux.  They even canceled the afternoon classes."  Sasha nodded; the weather here was, definitely, not his favorite.  That was one of the things he thought might be an advantage to moving back to Germany after school.  They had real seasons down there.  Brisk, colorful falls and nice snowy winters.  Sasha sighed slightly at the mention of Hannah but blushed slightly as Neely bumped his shoulder.  A very subtle coy grin spread across his face and, despite his better judgment, he shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, she's doing well.  And, no, I didn't go to her funeral.  Her brother got a nice job in Vienna, apparently."  He shrugged his shoulders.  "My stepfather is hoping we'll patch it up this year even though I told him she started dating this boy from Graz over the summer."  His stepfather had been furious but it had seemed the easiest explanation for Sasha's failed trip.

The idea of Sasha being late to anything was hilarious, and Neely had to suppress a giggle, because she knew he meant late for the semester. It was that silly (giant) lie he had told his family! School in Switzerland... boys. “You know, you don’t have to read your books on the train. If they’re that exciting, you can just borrow mine over the holidays, so you can do important when you get to the Platform.” Like greet friends, girlfriends (ahem), and shiny new badges. For such a smart cookie, he sure didn’t think some of the most obvious things through, did he? “Do you stay up all night after the feast doing homework, too?”

Every year?!

“Well, you’re not that werewolf girl or the one setting things on fire. You should get an award for jumping in the lake,” Neely encouraged, waving her spoon around violently, as if it were her wand. “Do you know what kind of disgusting things live in there?” She shuddered, remembering having jumped in a favorite outfit, with the promise of George Carter participating in her fashion show. “I went swimming in there once...” Neely frowned, and took a deep sip of her cocoa. “I’m surprised you got her away from the squid before it drowned her.” It was more of a light pondering than anything else, really.

“Hannah would also be the last girl standing against the wall at the school dance,” Neely assured him, eying Sasha carefully as she stabbed a marshmallow with a cinnamon stick, and plunked it into her mug. “Do you think they’ll have any dances here this year?” She added in a more pleasant chirp, her blue gaze softening hopefully. It was a loaded question. Neely’s eyes at last settled on Sasha’s smile, half obscured behind the warm drink. She reflected it; she didn’t know why it made her feel jittery when she’d paid him no mind only half a year ago.

Neely let out a sigh when the boy started defending Siwtzerland. She had no qualms with the country, only what it represented to Sasha. “You’re brave enough to go skiing,” she said, rolling her eyes. Surely it meant he a bit of lion in him. (If more refined, and admirable than those natural rivals of the Slytherin house). At any rate, he could take leaps in other areas. With a bit of convincing.

A new gamekeeper... Neely wondered over the fate of her favorite Unicorn-Something Hybrid. “Yeah, but...” She reverted back to her point about Olivia and Darcy. They had done the opposite of what Sasha had done-- even if, technically, Olivia hadn’t done anything but be herself. No doubt Neely’s parents would be inclined to suggest that werewolves and school children were a dangerous combination. Granted, they hadn’t discussed it over the summer. Neely was less worried about either girl simply because they had been Hufflepuffs with whom she hadn’t ‘meshed’.

“I dunno, but I can’t believe she hired him,” Neely said, finally coming around to her first blatantly negative remark about Analiza Snark. “Demetrius wants me dead! What in the world does he know about Astronomy?” Everything. “He’s only here to torture me... you have nothing to worry about. What if I’m next?” She asked. It had only just occurred to her.

Moving on to a slightly less personal but obviously more repulsive subject-- Trenchcoat the Slytherin Outcast-- Neely whirled a finger around the edge of her hot mug, letting it make that strange, glass whistle. “Horrible. He’s worse at Divination than you,” she admitted. And then, with a sort of ‘oops’ face, she laughed and reached over to take Sasha’s hand. “Sorry. You know what I mean. You’re a genius in everything, just a little... rusty there. But I’ll start right away! I actually already started reading the signs of your future,” she lied. “And I think... we have a mission.”

It was an innocent little lie, and one which would undoubtedly help the boy.

“Nope. No storm. It was nice and sunny. You could see every owl in the sky...” Speaking of owls...

Leaning further over the table, despite having been born and bred to proper ettiquette, Neely seemed to soak up Sasha’s words like the newest bit of corridor gossip. “So you did let her get away,” she said, beaming. Leaning over, she sneaked a kiss of Sasha’s cheek. It was rather brief and chaste, for Neely wasn’t quite sure now to go about these things now that they were ‘dating’ (in her mind, anyway). The magazines hadn’t been so specific... She hadn’t felt comfortable asking Jordyn yet. She assumed her friends assumed that Neely should know exactly what to do. And Neely was determined to prove that was the case.

"Next ... next summer, you mean?"  Sasha blinked several times, his mind working quickly through the implications of Neely's offer.  Of course, borrowing her books would require crossing paths in the following summer - an eventuality she was already planning for?  It wasn't the offer, as much, that startled him.  Alright, it did.  Was she really hoping or ... maybe ... planning that this whole charade would persist into the summer?  And, despite the fact that it was all for show, Sasha couldn't help recognizing he was pleased with it - and not because of the opportunity to get a sneak peak at his textbooks. 

"I ... no!" Sasha said, laughing incredulously.  Did she really think he was that nerdy.  "Not all night.  I ... sleep."  Some.  A few hours.  Okay.  Maybe he didn't sleep much his first night - but that wasn't uncommon, was it?  Or, before his third year but that, of course, was because he was starting whole new subjects!  But, there was no doubt that there hadn't been a lot of sitting up all night, hunched over textbooks.  As soon as the first years had been delivered to their dorms, Sasha had crawled into his bed.  Swimming across the lake with a first year (even a small one) was exhausting.

"True," Sasha said, shaking his head.  What had been happening at school lately?  Students - his classmates - were setting hellish fires on the hospital wing and ... werewolves.  As (especially compared to him) one of royalty of the gossip circle, had Neely known?  Dropping his voice, acknowledging the full scandalous nature of the topic, Sasha leaned across his mug of cocoa towards Neely.  "Did you know?  About Ollie, I mean.  Don't you think - You think they'd tell us if there was ... someone like that in the school." 

"Yeah," Sasha confirmed.  "One of them stole my shoes," he admitted, cringing slightly at the memory of whatever it was wrapping around his foot.  Kicking off his shoes - and the thing - had been preferable to getting dragged down.  "I go swimming in there all the time.  When it's warm.  But, just along the edges.  Never that far out.  I certainly have never swum across the whole lake."  Well, it wasn't the whole lake.  The boats had moved a short distance off the shore before the girl had fallen - or been dumped - in.  But, Sasha didn't usually find himself in a position to boast about much.  He wasn't going to waste this opportunity.

"You really don't like her, do you?"  Sasha asked, referring to Hannah.  He chuckled slightly as he broke off a piece biscuit.  It was moderately amusing that someone could have such animosity towards a non-existent individual.  "I ... dances?  I don't know,"  he admitted.  For once, if it was a loaded question, that fact was lost on Sasha.  "I mean - maybe.  I don't see why we wouldn't.  Maybe around the holidays?"  Somehow, 'brave enough to go skiing' didn't quite seem to be one of the traits the hat had been looking for in a Godric-to-be.  It hardly seemed that courageous an activity.  "You've never skied?"  Sasha asked, between nibbles. 

Curiously, Sasha watched Neely, waiting for whatever would follow the "but."  Surely, Neely couldn't still be defending the Headmistress, could she?  Sure, some of her disciplinary decisions were justifiable.  If burning down a wing of the castle out of spite wasn't expulsion material, Sasha wasn't sure what was.  There were far more appropriate ways to settle disagreements.  And, as much as he didn't like her, Headmistress Snark was still the one in charge.  But ... he shook his head, unsure himself.  "I still just don't understand why she's here."  Perhaps it was just residual bitterness from Professor Greyfriar leaving the school.

"You mean, Professor - or - our Astronomy professor?"  For some reason, saying 'Professor Woolfolk still just felt ... strange.  And, hearing Neely call him Demetrius didn't feel any less awkward.  "Well - that's probably an exaggeration," Sasha pointed out.  Surely, her brother didn't want her, literally, dead.  The word was, probably, being used in that girl language manner.  Where 'dead' meant miserable.  Much like how 'I don't care' meant there was only one right answer. 

Sasha flushed slight and was about to offer some personal defense or explanation for his shoddy abilities with Divination but, before he could get fully worked up apologetically, Neely had latched on to the news of Hannah's new found relationship.  Sasha froze as Neely leaned across the table towards him, the color and heat in his cheeks growing steadily as she leaned towards him.  A thin, embarrassed smile flickered at the corners of his mouths even as confusion and - was it frustration? - filled his head. 

How was he supposed to respond?  What was appropriate?  She ... she was Neely.  She was - she was in a different league.  Out there - on a polo field when there was only his sister and the memory of a non-existent girlfriend when it was all a joke - sure, maybe he could measure up then.  But - she'd said it herself!  Her parents probably still didn't even know his name.  He just wasn't - Back at school, he was just Sasha.  And it was still just a joke for his family's benefit.  But, no one had ever taught him how one was supposed to behave in jokes - and she probably didn't want him embarrassing her in front of classmates. 

His smile faltered slightly and Sasha dropped his gaze, quickly lifting his mug to his lips to mask the uncertainty.  "A mission?" he said, hoping to distract her from his confusion.  "What kind of mission?"

“Mmmhmm... or over the holiday, if we get bogged down with new books.” It was bound to happen in the hell known as O.W.L. year. “You’ll probably be running around getting new robes for Spring, so finding time to read can be tricky...” Seasonal wardrobe changes were a must, naturally. Surely a boy as well dressed as Sasha would know that. “You go home for Christmas, don’t you?” She prodded, as if recalling... she had never given it thought before. Neely always left over the winter holiday, and only ever remembered those few, older, remarkable Slytherins who didn’t. Usually for some wonderfully tragic or wonderfully rebellious reason. “Don’t sound so shocked,” she added, almost scoffing. Sasha was silly sometimes. Was it that much of a surprise, that Neely knew how to plan ahead? She was an expert planner!

His defense of his own study habits-- or lack thereof-- made her giggle. “Of course you don’t,” she laughed, winking at him and raising a spoon for a moment before letting it clink daintily on the edge of her warm mug. She stirred the rich chocolate again. “I always wondered what it would be like to be a Ravenclaw,” she confided, her voice a loud whisper. It was almost an unspeakable confession. She looked into the hot cocoa’s non-reflection before peaking up, almost shyly, at Sasha.

Shaking her head, Neely admitted-- she may as well be truthful with the presumed herself to be dating, at least sometimes-- that she hadn’t known about Ollie. She was completely innocent in that regard. Had Neely known the truth, the school would have known the truth. It wasn’t so much that Neely was outright malicious, so much as the fact that a werewolf wondering the halls was much too big a secret for anyone to keep. But then she did like to impress her peers... “But I always knew there was something weird about her. Golly Godric, she had a head of hair on her, didn’t she?” If only she’d been prissier, she might have been able to use it to her advantage. “They couldn’t have told us, though... no one’s parents would let their kids go to school, unless they were off their brooms. Or hippies like Astrid’s mum and dad.” It wasn’t an insult so much as an inherent truth.

“Stole your shoes?” Neely repeated in a horrified hiss, emphasizing each word. It was almost not believable. Shoes were the most sacred of possessions, everyone with a brain knew it. But then how many times had Neely been wary of someone getting their greasy little mits on her own pricy pumps? Her newest set of ballerina-delicate Mary Janes had cost a pretty galleon... or many. “You should meet George Carter. He goes swimming in the lake, too. He’s nuts.” She rolled her eyes before taking a long sip of the cocoa. “He dragged me in, that’s the only reason I went...” Neely wrinkled her nose, and shivered, despite the fact that she’d rather (secretly) enjoyed herself (in the few moments she wasn’t complaining about the cold or the very real possibility of meeting her death in the inky depths). Surely she deserved Sasha’s sympathy. But then... “You could be one of those muggle lifegaurds we learned about in Muggle Studies,” she said with a sort of wicked but admirable smirk, brightening up. “With the little red bathing suits and a whistle.”

When Sasha laughed at her, Neely nearly pouted. He was learning to come around to his own boldness, wasn’t he? Or was she again underestimating him? Sasha was full of surprises; they never seemed to end. Neely found herself drawn to the coy, handsome blond with each passing day. Which was fine and dandy, since they were now supposedly an item. She suspected once some shoddy student publication got ahold of the news, all would be peachy in the corridors of Hogwarts. Fifth year’s smartest Prefect and most avant-garde dresser. A perfect match. Duh.

“What’s to like?” She demanded. “She’s boring. I’m adorable.” An acidic grin followed this, and then a flutter of lashes. Neely went from devil to angel in record time. Her hands folding under her chin, she stared owlishly at the Ravenclaw. “I’ve taken loads of dancing lessons,” she added. “If we have a holiday ball, we’re definitely going.” As if there were any other possibility.

Shaking her head, she sighed. “No. Mummy wouldn’t take me on her last retreat. And Daddy says I’m probably too delicate to ski anyway.” Mmhmm.

Neely shrugged, the mystery of Analiza Snark’s appointment clearly bypassing them both. They could argue it for ages and not get anywhere. Neely had better ideas. For now.

Like complaining about that fool of a brother.

“It is not an exaggeration. He thinks I stole what’s clearly mine,” she piped, now waving her spoon. “Merlin, he’s going to get me in my sleep! I’m soooo glad he wasn’t a Slytherin. He can’t have the password, at least.” It was a small consolation. “What would you do, if some deranged half-brother showed up and started teaching our lessons?” She asked pointedly.

And rather ironically, given the evening’s ulterior motives.

Neely was pacified by Sasha’s blush. Which she’d become very fond of, really. She liked that she could make him blush... freeze... stutter. He always seemed to stutter the most in her company, she felt, and that was as wonderfully excellent as it was vaguely infuriating. As much as she wanted him to come out of his shell, say what meant, stop apologizing and being so nice to everyone (Neely excluded on that last rule), these things also endeared her to him. He was a gentleman, not an ape-ish fifteen-year-old.

She reflected his smile, much more confidently, and her hands snaked around her mug again. It was an innocent gesture (ahem). One she would have to try again before the night was over. “It’s a secret...” She began, letting go of her cup for the umpteenth time, and twirling a strand of blonde before hopping down from her stool. She grabbed his hand, used her free one to brush her fingers lightly over the shiny badge on his chest, and then pulled him toward the kitchen doors. “Come on. You can try to guess.” As if.

"New books?  Over the holidays?  You mean, over Christmas?"  Sasha couldn't keep the edge of worry out of his voice.  They really were going to hammer it into them over the year, weren't they?  It'd be a miracle if he survived.  For once, he wasn't really excited about the prospects of more books - now that he was well into the second week of the year, it just made him more aware of the amount of work ahead of them.  "Usually, I can get over the Zurich for some shopping during the holidays but I can't really shop for wizard's clothes, you know?"

Sasha nodded his head.  "You go home for the holidays, too."  It was a conformation, not a question.  He remembered seeing her on the Hogwarts Express the last few holidays.  "We go home to my grandparents for the holiday.  My mother likes to go to Midnight Mass in Munich."  It was cold, but nice.  And, while, he didn't really look forward to holidays with his parents, Sasha loved the look of Munich at the holidays. 

Sasha lifted his cup of cocoa and took a sip, pausing to peer curiously cross the rim at Neely.  A grin turned up the corners of his lips around the rim of the cup and he took a sip before setting the cup down and, finally, chuckling when it was relatively safe to do so.  "I'm sure it's more exciting to be a Slytherin," Sasha added with a chuckle.  "I only seem to have fun when I'm around you guys, after all.  When's the last time you've had a lot of fun around a bunch of Ravenclaws?" 

Slowly, Sasha shook his head.  Really, what his parents would do if they found out was irrelevant.  There came a point when one's anger had reached its highest levels.  It was like worrying about what one's parents would think about you getting a failing grade in a class after having burned down the house and totaled the car.  The fact there'd been a werewolf would be greatly overshadowed by ... everything else.  Sasha wasn't sure what he thought about all of it and he found it much easier to ignore what his impressions might be.

"You got dragged into the lake?  That's horrid."  Sasha admitted, scowling sympathetically at Neely.  Sure, he jumped in the lake regularly but he also had his own experiences with getting dragged in beyond his will.  "Fauna and Mystique dragged me in last year, too.  It was cold.  It's not nearly as bad when you go in on your own free will.  You should try it some time.  I mean ... maybe with someone other than George."  Wasn't he the bloke that was held back?  "I ... what?  You want - "  His face bloomed a brilliant, deep red.  "I ... I don't think you want to see ... in that.  I ... red's not my color."

Perhaps, this was one of those times reason should have convinced Sasha to remain quiet.  But, he couldn't resist a quiet, coy, "well, Hannah's quiet."  A brief, subtle smirk flashed across his face but quickly faded to uncertainty and confusion.  They were going?  To the dance?  Slowly, Sasha swallowed, glancing around the room as if the house elves in the room might come to his rescue.  A few looked up as if expecting to be able to help him with more cocoa - but that wasn't the help he was going for. 

Did she mean what it sounded like she meant?  "We ... are ... you mean us?  Together?  To the dance?  Like, with other students?"  Sasha asked.  It was only belatedly that it occurred to Sasha that those weren't, exactly, wise questions.  Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet to follow, but the confusion was still plastered on his face.  "But ... you know.  My parents won't know the difference." 

It was strange-- but oddly rewarding-- to hear about Sasha’s holiday experiences. “Mass...” she echoed, trying the word on for size. It sounded vaguely familiar. She guessed it had something to do with those funny traditions muggles went about participating in on Christmas-- not just trees and presents, like Neely was accustomed to, but also songs that weren’t about merry hippogriffs and St. Nick.

Koala cheeks bunching characteristically, showing some mixture of flattery and self-satisfaction, Neely nodded most knowingly. As far as she was concerned, she’d taught Sasha how to have fun. Why, before Neely, he’d probably never even played a midnight paintball game! Last semester had been the first one she’d joined, too.

Playing the victim was easy. “I did... it was...” She lamented, with almost a sniffle. Only a moment ago, she had told him she’d jumped in. Jumped, dragged, who was paying such close attention? She couldn’t understand Sasha’s perpetual need to tell the truth exactly it was-- while also managing to expertly stumble over the easier words, as if they were mortifying to repeat. But it was adorable, and adorably naive... and something she wanted to work on, for the times when Sasha would have to lie. And there would be such times, if he continued to hang around with people like Neely. “Does that mean you want to go swimming with me?” She piped up like a chirping baby bird. The prospect was a good one; if Neely could successfully get Sasha to swim with her in the lake, she wouldn’t even mind the squid or waterborne diseases that awaited her perfect pink toes. Well, not entirely. She giggled, not accepting his excuses, but reveling in them. “Green, then! We’ll pick it out at the next Hogsmeade trip.”

With an audible gasp, Neely nearly slammed her cocoa onto the counter so that it was close to sloshing over the edge, and sprinkling a poor little elf with warm, sticky chocolate. “Quiet? She’s a mute! She’s... not real,” she murmured, confessing exactly what Sasha had been trying to drill into her brain most politely since the first mention of his imaginary friend. “Anyway, you don’t like talking to me?” She pouted a little, but appraised his expression carefully. His reaction was important. “I can be quiet... in the library... and at night, when I’m asleep,” she bragged. “And when we...” She trailed off, smiled innocently, and shrugged. How many clues would it take?

Dragging him along into the corridor, Neely stopped abruptly, as if she’d hit an invisible. It had taken her a moment to really hear his words. She’d been about to roll her eyes, give some snippy, sassy, and endearing remark that would (most hopefully) cause Sasha to blush or smile in the dark. But then it hit her, and much harder than anyone should expect.

She let go of him and turned to stare at him funnily for a moment. “Who cares what your parents would think?” She demanded, her voice going a little too high in octave, despite the strain of a whisper. She knitted her brows and frowned. “Of course we would go together... you’re my-- we’re--” She couldn’t say it. Neely Woolfolk couldn’t say the words. He had, in another one of those rare Sasha feats, again rendered her speechless.

For the moment.

But the paralysis wore away and she crossed her arms, opening her mouth again. The sudden humiliation and hurt that could only belong to a teenage girl-- however ridiculous a teenage girl she could be at times-- was masked with anger. “Why would you let me ride your horse and kiss you again, if you didn’t want to be my boyfriend?” She accused, just barely stopping herself from choking. This was not how the first boyfriend-girlfriend fight was supposed to happen! She had read dozens of accounts in her magazines, and in the Desdemona novels she kept tucked under her pillows with her diary. He had to know they were dating before any juicy drama occurred! “Why did you defend me in Divination? Why are we here drinking cocoa?!”

She couldn’t have read the signs wrong. She couldn’t have! It was plain to anyone that Sasha had officially transcended to boyfriend status, that no one else was allowed to flirt with him, and that Neely was his, and thus off the Hogwarts market. (Emmett Rideaus and boys of a similar nature would simply have to live her now-intangible and thus doubly-appealing adorableness).

Neely could feel the stinging in her eyes: resentment, mortification, and pain that was not entirely unreasonable in this particular situation, though she had undoubtedly given into babyish moments more than once in her life. She thanked Merlin that it was dark, and no one was wandering the corridors at present. “Of course you’re not ready to date. You’re Sasha.” It was her only weak defense.

Letting her arms unfold, lit wand falling to her side and clutched tightly in her small fist, Neely stared at him. He much taller than she and she regrettably had to look up, but she could see his nice light eyes and neat blond hair and impeccable attire just fine.  The silence was horrible, but she wanted him to feel her gaze. “Since I’m not your girlfriend anymore--” Or never was-- “I guess you won’t care if I walk myself back to my common room. I don’t feel like going anywhere else now.”

Sasha shook his head.  "It's not as fun as it sounds."  He wasn't really sure how fun mass sounded in the first place.  But, however fun, or unfun it did sound, in reality, it was still probably less fun than that.  It was a safe assumption.  Mass was just that thing one accepted as the price for spending Christmas eve and Christmas day in Munich - close enough to the Marienplatz to hear the glockenspiel ring in Christmas. 

Something told Sasha, between her self-indulgent giggles and the all-too-evident enthusiasm in her voice that she was well aware it hadn't been the color of the swim trunks he'd been concerned about.  It was more the relative lack of fabric.  And the particularly form-fitting nature of what fabric it did involve.  Oddly enough, having to miss swimsuit shopping (with anyone) wasn't really a sore point about missing Hogsmeade weekends.  And, perhaps, he should mention, "I already have a swimsuit.  It's blue." 

Had the clues involving her assertion that she could be quiet in the library or when sleeping been presented on their own, they would have still, likely, soared right over Sasha's head.  But, when they were closely followed by Neely stopping and turning towards him in the darkened halls, that strange, terrifying girl-anger that she seemed perfect at simmering behind her eyes, it was much harder to miss. 

Sasha froze, staring wide-eyed and uncertainly at Neely.  "I ... I thought, well, you did?"  Sasha said, slowly, tentatively but, clearly, bewildered.  Okay.  In hindsight, it was clear that wasn't the wisest thing to say - but it had been true, right?  Wasn't it?  Hadn't Neely told his sister they were dating precisely because of what his parents thought?  Whether more explanation would correct his previous fumble, he didn't know.  But, he couldn't keep the words in his head.  "Weren't ... isn't that ... that's why you told - my sister.  That ... we were, you know.  I ..."  His words had felt more sure in the beginning - reinforced by his bewilderment but, by the last "I," he had lost every last drop of confidence in his own words. 

They were dating?  Like honest-goodness, 100%-boyfriend-girlfriend, everyone-and-their-mothers-and-chickens-knew dating?  Since ... since when?  When did they ... how did ... what had he missed?  "How..." he started but, in an unusual spur of wisdom realized it probably wasn't the time to ask how long they'd been dating.  Chances were, he was supposed to know that. 

But, how? 

"Bu - I -"  On the spur of the moment, he didn't have a legitimate answer for her questions.  Why had he let her kiss him again?  And - astronomy.  Well, defending her in astronomy had been the right thing to do.  But ... the kissing. 

The kissing.  The ... the light at the end of Neely's wand was glinting more off of her eyes in the darkened hallways.  She was crying.  He opened his mouth to apologize and, maybe, even offer some explanation.  "But ... I wanted-" he started but, before the words managed to fully form, she spoke again.

“Of course you’re not ready to date. You’re Sasha.”

He flinched.  "I'm sorry - I ... I didn't know," he tried to offer, more quickly, shaking his head.  He was, officially, in way over his head.  He didn't know what to say or do.  Desperately trying to explain, he added.  "I thought ... it was just, you know, for my family.  You'd - you'd said you hadn't ... told anyone ... else.  I ... just assumed..."  What?  He'd assumed what she'd already said.  She was Neely.  He was just Sasha. 

She was going back to the common room.  Was he supposed to stop her?  Would that make things better or just make her angrier? 

His sister. He’d just brought up his sister. As if this whole weren’t humiliating enough, he went and made it worse by bringing up that girl who thought Neely was simply ridiculous. The ever-endearing uncertainty of words, Sasha constantly over-thinking himself, and those nearly-visible ellipses became a sudden source of sourness to Neely, who wanted nothing more than to jinx him.

She was hearing him, and she wasn’t. She didn’t really think it necessary to provide an answer to most of what he was saying. Another tear dropped and she didn’t bother to hide it. For some reason, sharing the real ones, even in the shadowy of cloak of night, was much harder than producing crocodile tears for a sympathetic crowd.

So was this it? Her magazines would have told her to break up with him. But wasn’t she already doing that? Or hadn’t she just done that? But how was it possible, if he didn’t even know they were dating? Witch Weekly had never divulged any tactics for this scenario! She was certainly going to have to write An Angry Letter.

Letters...

Swallowing and straightening her shoulders, with a sort of sassy, self-righteous sniffle, Neely took one step forward. “I said I hadn’t told anyone else your secrets. But I visited your house because I wanted to, not because I had to!” She explained, calmly but not calmly. It was a sort of frantic calmness. A talent of her mother’s. “Goodnight Sasha. Have fun doing your Prefect rounds by yourself.”

Neely rose a palm, in an attempt to exit in style, but she froze as it lingered in the air, hovering near Sasha’s cheek. Balling it into a fist, she dropped it again with a sudden unpleasant gasp. She left his face in the exact state of confusion it had been, and slap-free. Turning on her heel, she extinguished her wand and headed for Slytherin territory in the dark.

If Sasha were one to complain more, he might have taken the opportunity to complain that it wasn't fair.  Life wasn't fair.  He could look down at a chemistry equation and his mind would know exactly how to start shuffling the protons and molecules.  It could translate a sentence from Germany to English to French with relative ease.  But, when he needed it to work - really needed it to do some quick thinking and offer some useful thought processes, it grew dead.  Or petrified.  He wasn't even sure which.

But, his brain was officially useless.  Sasha stared, mutely, at Neely.  He was, in all reality, still trying to catch up to the fact that they were - or had been - boyfriend and girlfriend.  But, the part of him that was coming to that conclusion was also pointing out to himself that he must hold the official record for shortest time between finding oneself dating and breaking up.  It had amounted to, what ... less than five seconds?  But, yet a third voice was reminding him that he shouldn't be surprised.  She'd said it herself.  He was just Sasha.

He'd been focused on her words and the frustratingly significant lack of useful responses from his own mouth.  Sasha had not seen Neely lift her hand until he caught a glimpse of the raised hand out of the corner of his eye.  The sudden and obvious flinch had been unexpected and entirely subconscious.  He remain frozen, his eyes firmly shut until it was clear there was no pending impact.  Finally, slowly, he opened his eyes to find the hallway dark and decidedly Neely-free. 

"That was smooth," a soft voice chided from the darkness to his left - presumably the old, bald-headed wizard that had been, supposedly, snoozing in the gold-framed portrait.  Several more minutes ticked by in silence as Sasha stared, blankly, into the pitch darkness or the dungeon corridor.  Perhaps, part of him was hoping she'd return - part of him feared she'd return only to find he'd left.  But, there was no sign of life in the corridor.  Finally, he turned and felt his way through the darkness towards the staircase.