Hogwarts
1996

Her long hair had been charmed straight, swishing down her back, sweeping the waistband of her charcoal-colored school skirt. She prowled across the courtyard to where the older boys were standing. With not a brother in sight, Charlotte invited herself to sit down in their company, easily occupying a stone bench and stretching back on her palms to have a proper view of their little tangle.

For thirteen, she was quite the vane little girl. Where parts of her were visibly maturing, her pout and gaze were childish as her temper oft happened to be in these days (or always). Charlotte St. James was in that second stage of toddlerhood, a wild child in disguise, every father’s worst nightmare: teenager.

“Hello boys,” she said in a leisurely drawl. A few of them shot her glances before carrying on in their conversations, perhaps lowering their voices or continuing to chuckle at whatever inside jokes were being told. One smiled and winked. Charlotte frowned. Didn’t they see her?! She’d had her skirt hemmed two inches higher. She was wearing lipstick. She’d even flashed the back of her notebook in the direction-- it was covered in magazine cutouts of the best rock bands, all the ones that the older boys loved. Charlotte couldn’t let them know she played records of girly pop bands in the dorm room with her mates, not when she was fishing for their attention.

A chime in the distance sent many birds a flutter, and a few of the boys began to pat each other on the back, murmur farewells, and disperse. One flicked a cigarette and Charlotte’s eyes lit up. “Can I bum one off you?” She asked, batting her dark lashes, and giving his Prefect’s badge just the right amount of attention. He knew what she was thinking, that she wouldn’t hesitate to get him in trouble, and so he fished one out of the carton and even lit it for her.

Sitting back down, she took a drag like she’d seen so many adults do, but she held it in behind a confident, close-mouthed smile, until the boys had turned away and headed for their classes. And then her little cheeks, by now turning a pinkish purple, gave way. Charlotte began to cough loudly.

Felix laughed hard and ran his fingers through his unkempt hair as one of his mates relived the charms lesson they'd sat through that morning. Lyndsey Thackeray, the Gryffindor girl with the really big breasts had flirted non-stop with this lad all through the session, then Felix found out they'd had a really charming 'getting-to-know-you' session in a broom closet. "Smooth." Felix grinned as he clapped his friend on the back.

It was almost time for the first class of the afternoon, though Felix was fortunate enough to have a free period. This was the last week of school before their exams, then he would be graduating and entering the real world...whatever that entailed. The boys began filtering away one-by-one, but Felix decided to stick around outside. It was warm and - since everyone seemed to be dispersing from their little bands of merry friends - would soon be quiet.

He watched suspiciously as Charlotte St.James managed to snag a cigarette off one of the guys that had been hanging around their group. Not a friend, persay; more a clinger-on. Felix and his friends were a popular group of boys in their year, so it was normal that other students would flock to them for the security of climbing the school social ladder - even in the last week of term. But this 'prefect' was a Slytherin fifth year, so it made sense that he would be breaking the rules himself.

Felix narrowed his eyes as he watched after the boy making his way back into the castle. A rather violent cough broke him out of his thoughts, and his head snapped back to Charlotte. "You know, smoking is bad for you." He stated matter-of-factly, taking the liberty of removing the stick from between her fingers, dropping it on the floor and squashing it with the toe of his shoe. He frowned slightly. "Sam wouldn't be happy if she found out you were smoking, would she?" He raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips. Sam St.James, Charlotte's older (and clearly wiser) cousin was a good friend of his, and he knew she wouldn't approve of her young cousin smoking.

Charlotte had barely had time to enjoy her prize before it was snatched away. Her eyes had been on the retreating boys; she’d stared past Felix like a ghost. (Which, given his face, badge, and seventh year status, was quite the feat.)

“Hey!” She protested, standing up with knitted brows. She placed her hands on her hips, nearly catching some of her girlishly-long hair in the process. “What’s it to you if I want a smoke? It’s none of Sam’s business either-- I love her, but I don’t stop her from spending too much time in the library, do I?” She asked sassily, her brows suddenly shooting up, dissolving of anger and becoming almost comically just try to challenge me in nature.

She stared up at him coldly, trying to pretend they were the same height. But finally, her mascaraed lashes fluttered down to the destroyed cigarette under his shoe. “I don’t think Sam would want you picking on me,” she said a bit more softly, in a sort victimized murmur. She looked back up at him and tilted her head, her lips pursing in an almost-smile. “You owe me a cigarette. You’d better find me one before I tell the professors how you stole my... sugar quill... and tossed it in the rubbish.”

He grinend down at her trying to make out like they were the same height. Felix felt the need to mirror her stance, so placed his hands on his own hips, making himself just that fraction of a bit taller than she, once again. At seventeen, Felix was six foot in height and was particularly pleased about it.

"But Sam's parents can't tell her off for studying," he pointed out, "Whereas your dad would be all too happy to ground you for smoking." Felix had heard about Charlotte's parents, and about how protective they were over their little angel. Felix crossed one foot over the other and folded his arms in front of his chest. He raised an eyebrow at her threat. "You know that's blackmail." He stated matter-of-factly. "I don't appreciate being blackmailed."

He was mocking her, and Charlotte was having none of it. When Felix smiled down at her, hands moving to recreate her own stance, she promptly dropped her arms to her sides, her fists balling.

“You know nothing of my dad.” Charlotte’s baby blues narrowed. She dared him to say otherwise. “My dad loves me. I’m his princess. He’d never ground me.” Surely he wouldn’t take Felix’s word over Charlotte’s. He make take Sam’s, sure, but even with the slim chance of serving his daughter dearest with punishment, it wasn’t likely to be enforced. Charlotte had ways of wiggling free time and time again.

Still, she knew Felix was right about one thing: Daddy wouldn’t find cigarettes the most healthful habit for his growing girl.

“I’ll go easy on you because you’re just a Ravenclaw,” Charlotte announced, suddenly bypassing him with a swish of her mane. “But we’re not afraid to use every card we’re dealt down in the dungeons...” She smiled as she floated very slowly toward another set of benches. Her back was to him, but she was hoping it wasn’t the same case for Felix.

Accioing her bag to join her on her stroll, she spoke more loudly, “So come on, Sugar Quill thief, I want my reimbursement.” Rummaging in her bag, Charlotte pulled out a lipstick. She stopped in her tracks, rather close to another bench, and turned to look at Felix again. "Or you could buy me a butterbeer," she offered. Firewhiskey was probably pushing it. "In Hogsmeade." (Who cared if she wasn't allowed into town?) She grinned at him and began to paint a fresh coat on her lips. "Do you think you could introduce me to your friend?" She added casually. "The dreamy one you were just talking to?"