Waker stared at the little rubbish bin that stood to the left of one of several porcelain toilets in the girls' lavatory. Never before had the Ravenclaw been so drawn to a communal piece of property that was probably teeming with the germs of allergy-ridden eleven-year-olds, promiscuous upperclassmen, and everyone in between. Today it seemed a lifesaver, the golden ticket for which Waker had been searching. She had not found solace in her pillows the evening before, nor in her breakfast that morning. She had opted out of lying to the nurse about headaches or begging some sleeping potion off a shady housemate. She was angry, annoyed, and just a little bit sad, and now the garbage pail seemed the perfect way out.

Leaning against the cramped cubicle wall with her lanky legs stretched at a slight angle, Waker ceremoniously tore one, two, three pages from the very middle of an otherwise scrupulously kept journal. The sound might have been fingernails on a chalkboard on any other day, for Waker Nolan was very particular about her things being clean and organized, but today it sounded lovely and refreshing. She let the pages flutter into the bin like feathers. Navy ink on pale lilac parchment stared back up at her. Lifting her wand, Waker whispered "Incendio!" none too discreetly and watched flames erupt from the bottom of the bin. They licked at her handwriting and then devoured it.

A sense of relief and accomplishment washed over Waker. It was convenient, that she could erase thoughts and memories from years ago by simply expelling them from her diary. Or pretend to, at least. It was perhaps also lucky for both she and Devlin that a girl like Waker held little faith in voodoo dolls.

Undoing the lock on the cubicle, Waker drifted into the main part of the washroom. She had no plans to leave anytime soon, and so she allowed the small, contained fire to keep burning. Its faint scent and sharp crackling was as comforting as a warm cup of tea. It also felt a touch rebellious, in a good way. The Ravenclaw was not a habitual rule-breaker, but this seemed an appropriate time if any to (no pun intended) play with fire. She smiled benignly at her own reflection as she approached one of the basins to apply concealer to the puffy circles under her eyes. Sleep deprivation was bad for one's skin. It was one more thing to blame on Devlin Matthews.



waker's outfit

Fauna opened the door of the lavatory with a sigh of relief. She leaned against it for a moment, and then realized it would be best if she moved and avoided any swinging door attacks. Strangely enough, she found most bathrooms to be quite peaceful when they were empty and reasonably clean. Sometimes, it was the only place where she felt she could take a deep breath in this school. She risked noxious fumes doing so, but that was a risk the normally practical Hufflepuff was willing to take.

She walked slowly to one of the stalls and then stopped. Something was burning. Fauna glanced at the girl standing in front of the mirror- Waker? -and then looked back at the smoking trash bin. She was so preoccupied with glancing between the two that she nearly walked face first into the stall door (farthest away from the mini-bonfire, of course). Waker never broke any rules, just like she never seemed to break a fingernail. Fauna used the bathroom, stalled for a few minutes to let the girl dash out if she wanted, and then exited the stall to wash her hands.

Fauna tried to give her friend discreet glances in the mirror. Though Waker was poised and polished like usual, her face looked a bit pale and tired.

She finally turned off the taps and let her hands drip over the sink.

“Waker?”

Fauna wiped her hands on her denim skirt.

“Waker, are you all right?”

The least she could do was ask. They rarely shared secrets, preferring to study in comfortable silence in the library, but Waker was still her friend. Without her tutoring, Fauna never would have passed History of Magic her fourth year, and she never would have tackled any books wider than the size of her big toe.

Waker, so preoccupied with destroying the evidence both on her face and in the crease of her old journal, didn't realize she wasn't alone in the washroom the mirror's reflection showed one of the stalls doors swinging lazily on its hinge, and a familiar face moving toward the sinks. The Ravenclaw stiffened, hastened to replace her concealer in her bag, and shared a tiny nod with Fauna's reflection. "Yes, fine," she lied softly, sounding rather unconvincing for someone who habitually practiced evasion.

Waker's eyes shifted to her own image in an effort to tame her expression. She saw that the makeup, a wizarding creation she'd purchased in Diagon Alley and which she used for special occasions, did not hide everything. Or much at all. She looked miserable and off-colored.

The bigger issue, of course, was the fire still blazing in the rubbish bin. It crackled with uncomfortable loudness and Waker twitched. She realized too late what a foolish idea it had been to believe that people would avoid this loo on weekends. She turned on her own faucet, desperate for something to make her look busy, but turned it off again within seconds. After a deep, silent inhale, she maneuvered so that her side was propped against the edge of the sink and her eyes were trained on the real Fauna rater than her glass reflection.

"No," she began again, surprising herself. She sounded a little flustered, a little stony. She realized it and attempted to change her tone. After all, Fauna was perhaps the least offensive and most unassuming person Waker had ever met at Hogwarts. "But I'm not trying to burn down the school. I have a perfectly legitimate reason for..." She gestured to the stall where her homeless man's furnace had obliterated the contents of the rubbish bin in addition to (and more importantly) a few of those old, incriminating pages.

Waker allowed herself to smile just a little. There was something inexplicable about the Hufflepuff that was very calming. "It's just a little chilly for April," she continued, looking down at the backs of her hands. It wasn't. "And... Devlin Matthews is the most infuriating human being in the universe." Yes, that certainly explained and excused indoor fire hazards. Waker looked back at the mirror, at the face that was not quite as collected as she might have liked. The face that was probably equally infuriating to Mr. Matthews, especially after last night. "How's your homework load this week, Fauna?" She added weakly. She tugged at a limp strand of hair and almost scowled at herself. This was pathetic, letting him get to her.

Fauna stared at Waker in the mirror. The poor girl looked miserable and she had bags under her eyes. Fauna could relate, though Waker appeared much more aware and composed than she did after a sleepless night. There was no change at all in her outfit or her hair. It was the expression on her face that betrayed her.

Fauna made a small movement as if she was about to leave, but decided against it when Waker turned towards her and seemed ready to say something. Sure enough, she admitted that all was not well. Fauna glanced at the rubbish bin, proof of Waker's turmoil. It wasn’t really harming anyone so she just let it burn. This was her second experience recently with fire, she thought randomly. First Kyle and the trees, and now Waker and her tamer outburst at the trash.

Ah. So it was about a boy. Devlin? Fauna shook her head. He seemed to be the source of people's anger these days.

“Uh, my homework… my homework is fine,” she lied, hoisting herself up to sit on the edge of the slippery sink. In truth, she felt completely overwhelmed by final exams, but she wasn’t about to mention this. Waker would go into tutoring mode and Fauna would feel guilty.

“Is this because of the closet thing? When Devlin and Nicola were found in the closet…” she wondered out loud, studying Waker for confirmation. She knew that Devlin and Waker used to be good friends when they were younger, but now they barely exchanged two words to each other. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said anything about it. Waker had feebly tried to change the subject and maybe Fauna was supposed to follow suit. She winced. She hated boy problems. They existed to confuse girls even when the boys in question weren’t around!

Waker suppressed a frown. She'd been silently praying that she could offer to help the Hufflepuff with something scholastic that might distract them both from what the Ravenclaw had just confessed. "I'm glad to hear that." Her own lie was smooth and seamless, and the effort it took meant that Waker didn't catch Fauna's. "If you ever need any help," she added, trailing off. This time she was being sincere.

Avoidant as she was by nature when it came to discussing things like 'boy problems', Waker was not entirely sorry that Fauna had asked. The Hufflepuff's tone wasn't pressing or malicious, but genuine and innocent. Waker found herself half wanting to rant to someone who didn't take the shape of a diary; someone who could listen, breathe, and respond. Most especially listen.

"Devlin," Waker began, taking a deep breath and preparing herself for a much more impassioned speech than she'd normally give. Her second that month, if one counted her little dissertation in History of Magic. But then Fauna's actual question registered. "What?" The Ravenclaw simultanouesly blanched and cringed. "No, no... Nothing about that. I don't think I want to know about that." A bitter, breathy laugh escaped her. She couldn't help her next words, which came out acidly. "But which girl hasn't Devlin been trapped in a closet with in the past couple of years?" Probably not many more than the pair of them.

Waker felt her cheeks redden a little, and she inhaled another long breath. She didn't mean to sound so cross. None of this was Fauna's fault. It was difficult for Waker to let down her guard, but once she got into such a mode, it was thrice as difficult to reverse it. Unlike Devlin, she didn't run with a gang of Slytherins who had probably done much worse things than try to kiss girls who weren't their girlfriends. Devlin could say whatever he pleased to whomever he pleased, and would probably be praised for it. Waker felt slightly mortified.

"He hates me probably more than anyone in the school," she confessed in a loud whisper. "And I don't like him either." She looked hurriedly from the mirror to Fauna, to emphasize this most important tidbit. She leaned against her sink once more, opting not to sit on it like the Hufflepuff sat on hers. Even in a more frenzied state than usual, Waker was painfully aware of things like dampness. "The hilarious part is that it's entirely his fault, but I sometimes feel guilty. I know his mother was... and she... but... who changes like that over night? He became a stranger... a complete prat! I did what I had to do. What else could I have done?" She looked almost pleadingly to the Hufflepuff for all of two seconds, before letting her face go cool again. "We're both better off now," she reasoned, more calmly. "I couldn't be friends with this Devlin. And last night, he... he's just so terrible, sometimes."

Waker clenched her wand more tightly than usual. She looked down to her shoes and then back to the mirror. She was relieved to see that, despite the dark circles and discoloration, she hadn't turned into some awful banshee mid-confession.

Fauna had always admired Waker’s level-headedness about boys. She didn’t giggle like a buffoon, blush and stutter, or constantly seek approval. Fauna, on the other hand, had a different defense in place. Her obliviousness kept her separated from most of the boy drama at school. Now Devlin seemed like a nice enough guy, but even she couldn’t ignore the group of friends he spent time with or his reputation with girls. All evidence showed that he wasn’t exactly long-term boyfriend material.

She couldn't help her next words, which came out acidly. "But which girl hasn't Devlin been trapped in a closet with in the past couple of years?

“Th-that’s a good question,” she replied, feeling guilty for bringing it up.

She gave Waker a few moments to compose herself and then leaned forward when she started whispering. A bewildered look flickered across her face as she wondered who in the world could hate Waker, and why Waker disliked Devlin. Fauna was of the slightly biased opinion that Waker was a very conscientious, thoughtful, and generous friend. She had her faults, like anyone. Maybe she was a bit haughty and prim at times, but those certainly weren’t reasons to hate her. Something else must be going on.

Fauna struggled to follow what Waker said next. The frequent pauses and unfinished sentences made it quite difficult, and made Fauna realize how much other people had to work to understand her most of the time! She flushed, rubbed at her forehead and silently tried to sort it out.

Devlin’s mother had died their fourth year. It had to be what Waker referred to. Remembering it suddenly made her feel very sad for the boy she was supposed to be angry at. Fauna also vaguely remembered that he had changed after his mother’s death, finding new friends in that group of boys and dropping Waker. She had never thought about how it must have affected their friendship before. Clearly, Waker and Devlin weren’t over their sour feelings.

Fauna said nothing, processing it all, until her friend mentioned last night.

She stared at her, concerned, and would have touched her arm if Waker's grip on her wand was less alarming. The numerous questions she had about Waker and Devlin’s past could wait.

“What happened?” Fauna asked, her voice low and soft. “What did he do?”

She highly doubted Waker had started it, whatever it was. Her friend didn’t appear physically hurt or anything, not like they had dueled- the idea of Waker dueling was almost preposterous- so Fauna thought she might be dealing with emotional hurt. Which was often the worst kind.

The pendulum that swung between opening Waker's emotional floodgates and keeping herself composed kept the Ravenclaw so occupied that she did not notice Fauna's seeming confusion. Nor did she catch her own less-than-stellar delivery, or the convenient absence of certain words. The Nolan girl simply couldn't bring herself to say that Devlin's mother had died, because she knew how terrible it would sound that she had left him shortly after. Luckily, she knew that Fauna knew. Most of their year knew. It didn't have to be repeated.

Unnecessarily smoothing the edges of her skirt, Waker revisited the previous night in her mind's eyes. She'd been blocking out bits of it up until the ceremonial burning of ancient writings (read: three-year-old journal scribblings). "We got into an argument about his homework... or someone else's homework. He was writing a third year's essay, I think," she said wearily. "So we insulted each other back and forth, and he accused me of being jealous-- which of course I denied because I'm not jealous of those brainless things who fawn over him like he's the next Merlin-- and then he tried to kiss me."

Waker looked again to her abandoned stall for lack of somewhere more appropriate to stare. She didn't think she could bare to see Fauna's reaction, nor her own reflection. Lifting her wand, she willed the cubicle door to swing further open, and silently performed Aguamenti. The bin hissed in protest as water doused the flames, undoubtedly leaving charred bits of paper and ash swimming.

"He assured me that he still hated me, but said we should kiss anyway.  I think it was to prove that his facial hair is..." God, this was getting more ridiculous by the moment. Waker was turning from ghostly to tomato-y in quite an impressive amount of time. "Is something," she finished lamely, wanting to get past that part. "Anyway, I'm sure you can see what a knicker-dropper that line was," she added with dark sarcasm. "So I slapped him."

She looked back to Fauna, finally. Waker's face was now entirely blank, if also oddly colored. She waited for some kind of reaction: this was one she needed to see. Was she a terrible person? Was her little bit of violence not entirely justified? Didn't Devlin deserve to be the next ghost of Ravenclaw, a decapitated friend for Sir Nicholas? "He has a girlfriend! Inika," She added for good measure.

Fauna noticed the angry red splotches on Waker’s face and wished there was something she could do for her. She was never very good at cracking jokes or ranting about people to cheer up friends. Fauna just listened. She supposed it wasn’t such a bad thing, to avoid interrupting and talking about her own problems, or pretending she knew the solution. This was about her friend. There wasn’t much going on in Fauna's life that she could complain about, anyway.

So she listened with a frown, even opened her mouth a few times, but remained silent until Waker uttered seven little words.

“… and then he tried to kiss me.”

“Oof!” Fauna squeaked in surprise as she lost her seat. Instead of falling off of the sink, she fell in it, so that her denim-covered behind got stuck and the faucet jabbed into her back. She scrambled to escape and even kicked her feet a few times in frustration as Waker focused her attention on dousing the flames. After a moment or two, she wiggled her way back onto the edge of the sink and hopped off it, her face flushed.

Fauna tuned in again with growing concern (and confusion) as the girl mentioned something about his facial hair, then knicker-droppers, and finally the bit at the end when she said she slapped him.

Fauna’s mouth dropped in surprise. She looked at her, trying to imagine Waker ever slapping anyone, and it just didn’t compute. Then her thoughts strayed toward Devlin and she stared off into space at a little crack in the wall, not really seeing it. Her eyebrows knit together and her lips pursed. Even her heart rate went up, and it wasn’t because of nerves. It was because of anger. She was angry at Devlin Matthews.

She caught Waker’s eye and her expression softened. Without a word, she walked over to her and put her arms around her in a hug. It seemed like she needed it.

“Good for you,” she finally told her, referring to the slap. “He does have a girlfriend. What was he thinking? I don’t like her, but still… there’s no reason for… and doing someone else’s homework too,” she pulled back and shook her head as if that last part was the horror of all horrors.

Turning from the soaked garbage pail, Waker thought she caught a glimpse of Fauna squirming out of the sink. She blinked. "Are you...?"

She looked to the mirror for probably the twelfth time in five minutes. Was she losing her mind? She couldn't lose her mind. Not before the test in her Monday morning class. When she refocused on Fauna, the girl was sitting where'd she been originally, perched at the corner of the sink. Waker made a begrudging mental note to have her eyes examined by the school nurse, lest she return home for the summer holidays and have to report to the Doctors Nolan, whose great joy in life was diagnosing children.

For a fleeting moment, Waker couldn't thoroughly read the Hufflepuff's expression, though she was desperately (if discreetly) seeking approval. Had Fauna found Devlin's actions barbaric, or Waker's? Was she angry, upset, or simply confused? Each question rose in a wave, but all were dissolved when Fauna embraced her. Waker congealed like the target of a body binding charm, and then melted and shocked herself by returning the hug. She was taller than Fauna, especially in heels, and bent awkwardly, but it was no bother. It felt nice to have a friend, and human contact that wasn't hostile or clinical.

"Th-thank you," she mumbled, feeling her cheeks go redder yet. She pulled away after several moments of awkward but somehow calming silence, and leaned back against the sink. She felt both dazed and relieved. Less heavy. Perhaps letting her guard down once every decade wasn't such a terrible thing.

"I've no idea how to go about that bit," she divulged slowly. She didn't know Inika very well. If Fauna disliked the girl, Waker had to assume that Inika was not good news-- As if the girl's willingness to rendezvous with 'Devlin Revisited' didn't already prove as much. "I suppose if she's dense enough to date him..." Waker trailed off callously. She didn't fancy getting caught in the middle of anyone's nasty breakup, let alone Devlin's. She'd been there and done that, so to speak. She crossed her arms and offered a somewhat perplexing stare. "Should I tell her? Would you tell her, if you were me?" She could hardly believe she was asking advice, especially about this sort of thing, but there it was.

Waker seemed a bit embarrassed, but relieved too. Fauna stood a few feet in front of her, studying their reflections in the mirror. There was Waker, polished and pretty, her cheeks flushed, and there was Fauna, who… well, she didn’t know exactly who she was supposed to be. She glanced away.

"I suppose if she's dense enough to date him..." Waker trailed off callously.

Fauna smiled smugly at that comment, even though it wasn’t true. Inika wasn’t dense. Fauna, of all people, couldn’t name that as one of her faults. Inika just didn’t seem to care. The dramatics she’d pulled on the grounds with Fauna’s shoe was only one instance, creating issues where there should be none. She shook her head and tried not to think too badly of Inika right at the moment. For all she knew, the girl had a heart somewhere, and would feel upset about Waker’s news.

Fauna returned Waker’s stare with one of equal befuddlement, shrugging her shoulders at her helplessly.

“I… I don’t think… I don’t know,” she admitted.

The idea of Fauna giving dating advice was laughable. She’d been on exactly one date, if she could call it that, and the boy had left before they’d even ordered their food to flirt with someone else- Inika if she remembered correctly. Granted, they’d both been fourteen at the time, but Fauna had said very little to him since.

She scratched her head and tried to sort out her thoughts. “Anyone would want to know. I think. The thing is, would she want to hear it from us? We’re not really… her friends." She might even think it’s some kind of mean joke, Fauna thought.

That’s precisely what Fauna would think, if Inika pulled her aside and told her some cruel truth she didn’t want to hear. She grimaced and bit her lip uncertainly.

“Still. Maybe we should try,” she said, playing with the edges of her frayed skirt. “She is my housemate. We share a dorm. I… could tell her, if you want,” she finished in a half-whisper.

As Fauna began to panic inside, she reminded herself how many times Waker had saved her right before the due date of a paper or a test. Her eyes went wide, and she looked at her friend with a conflicted yet strangely determined expression.

History outlines and promptly-corrected essays were things which Waker executed with confidence; dealing with the unpleasant ghosts of her past were not. She had hoped Fauna might have an immediate solution, given the girl's softer, more whimsical edge. Fauna was, to put it bluntly, seemingly more softhearted than she.

When the Hufflepuff admitted at first that she wasn't quite sure what Waker should do, the Nolan girl knew that this was a problem without a simple black-and-white solution. And it made Waker more uneasy than she was willing to divulge. She waited with a growing sense of awkwardness as her friend, of whom she had never thought to ask advice, contemplated a solution, any solution. Being forced to realize her own flawed way of dealing with these things irked Waker perhaps even more than last night's quarrel had.

"But she would have to confront... or ask Devlin, at the very least," she insisted agitatedly. The anger trapped in her throat was not directed at Fauna, but simply the situation at large. She stared toward the high lavatory window. Unless Inika had zero self-confidence, which Waker was sure wasn't the case, the girl would undoubtedly be willed to speak with Devlin after hearing such an accusation. Even if she did not want to believe it, as Waker knew no sane human would want. Waker herself was an expert at avoiding the unpleasant bits of her own life, but even she would not stay silent on such a subject. "He's a good liar, but..." She shook her head. "I don't know how long he could get away with this sort of thing once she's been tipped off. If he tried it with me, of all people, there's got to be a million more." She felt her spine involuntarily prickle at the thought, and crossed her arms despite the castle's pleasant temperature. What had become of the boy?

Fauna's offer hit Waker like a beam of light: it was both hopeful and a little blinding. Waker was not the sort of girl who easily forked over control, but the Hufflepuff's support was too generous to refuse. She trusted Fauna, too. That made it much easier to accept. "C-- would you?" She raised both brows and stared earnestly at the other girl now. "That... that would be insanely helpful, Fauna." Waker felt part of the invisible heaviness that pressed on her chest lift a little. She also knew she was reddening ever more. Admitting a desire, a need for help, was beyond her usual scope of communication. "But if she gives you trouble, tell her to speak with me," she added quickly. She couldn't let the other girl take a bullet Killing Curse for her. "I... Thank you." Much more than she could express.

The hopeful look on Waker’s face made Fauna’s anxiousness slither away to the bottom of her stomach, where it waited for another moment to rear up and strike. Right now she felt a little flush of pride. It made her smile and stand up straighter. She knew she couldn't help Waker in an academic sense, and though her friend had never asked her for anything, she felt there was this invisible scale on her shoulders weighing her down on one side. The weight eased somewhat. However small, she could do something for her.

Even if it meant facing Inika.

Fauna shrugged her shoulders. “It’s… it’s no problem. I mean, the worst she could do-“ Her smile faltered. Hex her? Or worse, plan revenge? After living together in a dorm for six years Inika knew her weaknesses too well. Fauna shook her head. “…Uh, she could insult my outfit, you know? Which she does anyway. It’s not new for her.”

She smoothed out her jean skirt and gave Waker a lopsided smile. “Well, I’m going to get going. Work on some stuff. Wanna come?”

It was odd, to think about how ten minutes spent in a bathroom together could make their friendship stronger. Fauna hoped they could talk to each other like this again. As she walked towards the door she glanced back at the damp garbage pail- evidence that everyone had different sides to them. Even, or especially, people she’d known for years.