It was funny. When Fergie had imagined his first kiss, he'd always assumed that he wouldn't be able to wait to tell Neely about it. He'd always pictured himself rushing off first thing to grab her and Jordyn so the three of them could discuss and analyze every minute detail of the occasion. The way things had turned out, however, he'd ended up spending the past week and a half making every effort to avoid being alone or even in the same room as her, just in case he felt compelled to blurt it out.

 But he couldn't avoid her - or the inevitable confession - forever. Particularly not now that Callum was somehow aware of the whole thing. The other Slytherin had cornered Fergie a few days prior, and the encounter had not been pleasant. It was one thing to be privately rejected and humiliated, and another to have it rubbed in his face while being hexed and beaten. He didn't even know how Callum had found out - he hadn't told anyone except Jordyn, and he knew she wouldn't spread it around. But now that Callum knew, he was sure the whole school would be talking about it soon enough.

 Which meant that he couldn't put off telling Neely any longer. He had to tell her before someone else got to her first. This whole thing was disastrous enough, it didn't need any help from outside. He just needed to get this over with, accept the consequences of his actions, and bury himself in the library for the rest of the year, concentrating on OWLs instead of hopeless, un-reciprocated crushes and broken friendships.

 So as soon as History of Magic ended, signifying the end of classes for the day (well, until Astronomy), Fergie sighed and squared his shoulders before setting off down the hall, attempting to catch up with the petite blonde. "Neely?" he began, chewing his lip as he fell into step beside her. "I...I need to talk to you. Now. It's..." he glanced around and lowered his voice, leaning towards her slightly. "It's important."

outfit

Reading over a graded paper, and suspiciously scrutinizing the remarks that the professor had inked to Neely’s last effort (an essay on those endless Troll Rebellions), the girl didn’t notice Fergie until he approached. She tilted her head to the side, slowing the silent click of her heels against the corridor floor, and smiled at her forever-polished companion.

“Oh, golly, Fergie! I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages,” she lamented, finally coming to a full stop. She waved the paper airily, indicating with a roll of her eyes its burden on her soul and social life. “I meant to wait for you after class so we could catch up on gossip, but we got these papers back...” She trailed off apologetically, and clearly distracted.

When her friend’s words dawned on her, Neely poised her lips in an o-shape of curiosity. “What? Of course... Are you alright? You haven’t got Dragon Pox, have you?” Her grip on her bag tightened a bit. She loved Fergie very much, but perhaps he’d been M.I.A. lately so as to avoid contaminating the people who mattered to him. “No one’s died?” Her mind began to reel over the possibilities like an old, flickering Muggle film projector.

She reached out to clutch his forearm. “Tell me! What is it? Has Fauna Blake lost her v-card to Devlin Matthews?!” She could hardly keep her whisper in sync with his.

 "It's been a while since we really talked, hasn't it?" Fergie paused in his tracks as she came to a stop, trying to match her smile with one of his own. The end result was hardly convincing, but it was the best he could do at the moment. He was too anxious. Nervously, he wet his lips and latched on to the subject of the returned papers, glad for the distraction.

 "What did you get?" he inquired, a little over eager. Fergie enjoyed the challenges his coursework presented, to a certain degree, but he didn't get excited about it. At the end of the day it was still work, and he wasn't one of those nose-to-the-grindstone Ravenclaw types. Like Sasha. His stomach flip-flopped uncomfortably, and he rushed to press the subject forward. "I got an E, but just barely. I'm not sure who's more stingy, when it comes to passing out marks- Professort Austerlitz or Professor Lumpkin. I'd hoped we'd be getting someone a bit less stern when Lumpkin left, but I guess not."

 He blinked at the mention of Dragon Pox. He certainly felt a bit ill at the moment, but not that ill. Just a dread related stomach ache. "No, no! Nothing like that. Besides, Dragon Pox is really rare and...noticable. You turn green." He was fairly certain everyone would have noticed if that had happened. "No one's died, either. And...ew." That was all he had to say on the subject of Fauna Blake doing ANYTHING with anyone. What a mental picture! He shuddered and shook his head, trying to focus on the real issue, despite the fact that a big part of him was shouting 'don't'. "It's about..." Fergie paused, frowning, and looked around.

 "Here," he told her, stepping towards a nearby alcove and nodding for her to follow. It would at least offer them some privacy. Not much, but enough, he thought, that everyone and their Aunt would be prevented from over hearing this conversation. Stepping inside, he took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, the fact that he didn't bother to flatten it back down after wards indicating just how nervous he was. "It's about Sasha, actually. Something happened, before he left..." Fergie trailed off, biting his lip, his nerve faltering a bit as he got closer and closer to the revelation that would, he knew, change everything. Or at least everything between him and Neely. Godric, why did he have to be so stupid?

Neely nodded, wondering why on earth they hadn’t been chattering away all through winter exam preparation. Merlin knew she needed the moral support! And Fergie probably did, too, though he was a rather clever wizard and could probably easily fend for himself. Her eyes crinkled with gratitude-- it wasn’t often, these days, in the dreary, drafty castle that one caught a glimpse of a bright and fashionable face. The Fergies of the world were few and far between. As were the Neelys. One of a kind, they had to stick together.

The small Slytherin’s gaze shifted down to her paper, turning decidedly pensive, at least on the surface. “An E, too!” She announced proudly. “Twins!” Winking, she bit her lip and wondered if she had Sasha to thank for her newfound dedication. Not that she had been dismal before she’d started hanging around him, for she did have a reputation to keep, but her grades had certainly improved. Or at least the comments attached to them. Her History grade had definitely gone up, however.

“I think Austerlitz is alright,” she confessed. “But I loved Lumpkin’s style. Can you say fierce? If I’m ever an old lady--” As if! “I want to look like that.” The new one was regal, however, and certainly formidable.

Neely slowed her babbling as Fergie went down the list, putting an end to each and every theory. He was right. Fauna Blake and intimate encounters could elicit nothing but an ew. Neely bit her tongue, stopping herself from wondering aloud whether the Hufflepuff would wear a hat during her first time. Probably.

She tilted her head, concern suddenly beating in her chest. He wasn’t ill. Well, that was good, wasn’t it? And Fauna was going to make them lose their lunch. Also good, since Neely’s mum had again owled her a care package of all her favorites, and she was still enjoying the leftovers.

She flounced after him, looking over her shoulder for eavesdroppers before disappearing into the alcove with her bestie. “Sasha?” She hissed in concern. Her brows furrowed in confusion, but suddenly morphed into a poise of enlightenment. Her mouth opened. “Do you know why he was suspended? Did you see it? Was he framed?” She reached out to grab Fergie’s wrist, clutching it with her own small fingers. A friendship bracelet was twined around her wrist, hidden by her school blazer. “Fergie! You have to tell the Headmistress! I know she’s a little touchy, but we’re Slytherins... she’ll understand... but you have to tell her Sasha didn’t do anything!”

 He was really going to miss this - palling around with Neely, critiquing the wardrobe choices of their fellow students, swapping gossip. Being friends. And, he didn't think there would be any harm in putting off telling her, just for a minute, so he could enjoy being in her good graces for the short time he had left.

 "Don't be ridiculous," he consequently grinned at her, pushing all the unpleasant thoughts that had been crowding in his head all afternoon to the side for the moment. "You'll never look old - we're going to find the fountain of youth and stay young and beautiful forever." He wished. Wrinkles were not a thing he was looking forward to. "But if you did, I bet you would look even better than Lumpkin."

 But, of course, having already broached the subject and brought Sasha's name into it, it couldn't be avoided for long.

 “Do you know why he was suspended? Did you see it? Was he framed?”

 "What? No, that isn't it, I..." Ferguson blinked down at the hand that currently gripped his wrist as Neely latched onto the subject of Sasha's suspension. Oh, he wished that was it - things would be so much simpler. Sasha could come back from his...vacation, wherever he was. And Neely would be so grateful that maybe, just maybe, she'd forgive Fergie for that errant kiss and things could go back to how they were. Except, of course, for the necessary awkwardness that would come with all three of them being aware that he had a huge, unrequited crush on the Ravenclaw. Fergie felt that he could live with a little awkwardness, though. At least no one would hate him.

 But, that wasn't the way things had turned out, and now he had to face the consequences of his actions. He knew that. He didn't like it, but he knew it. The sixteen year old made a quick attempt to pull his hand away - Neely was much smaller than him, but she could be very determined. Unchecked, he was certain she was quite capable of dragging him to Snark's office. And, call him crazy, but he really didn't want to have this conversation there. Panicked, Fergie skipped the preamble and blurted out - "I kissed him!"

With the promise of looking as good as Lumpkin in her old years, Neely was momentarily soothed. Fergie had a way with words, that much was certain. Neely had always been able to go to him with last minute questions about school papers, outfit planning, letters... any of those sorts of teenage things that required a wise word of advice.

And, in turn, she welcomed his confidence in her. She might have spread rumors like wildfire, but Neely Woolfolk could keep secrets when they were important ones. Jordyn, Fergie, and Evie could count on her to remain hushed. Well, mostly. She’d never said anything on purpose.

But there was a strange silence, a sort of crevice between them, despite the fact that Fergie was close enough to whisper and make it sound like a shout. Despite the fact that Neely was latched on, waiting with held breath for word of Sasha’s spooky disappearance. He’d been there in the healer’s hut... he must have remembered something. But Neely suddenly found herself swallowing harm, going clammy, almost not wanting to hear whatever it was.

Clammy? Ew, Neely, get a grip!

She tried to smile encouragingly, and was on the verge of poking the answer out of him, lest the sudden encompassing awkwardness swallow them hole. This was Fergie, after all! BFF and fellow supporter of Universal Fierce Footwear.

"I kissed him!"

Neely’s smile twitched, but didn’t disappear. The words lingered on her ears before they made it to her brain, danced across her lips in a shiver, a tiny falter that had to have been a mistake. Silly castle, always stifling or freezing. Didn’t they know how delicate good skin was?

“What?” She laughed, breathy and disbelieving. As if it were preposterous. As if... more accurately... it were simply incomprehensible. She dropped his wrist and shifted, hands on hips. This time her smile dissolved a little more readily. “I mean, why would you kiss Sasha?” She asked, her tone sobering. “You’re my best friend. You wouldn’t... He’s my...” Her face fell, finally, and she felt the back of her neck prickle. It was beginning to sink in.

“Is that why you were there when Jacoba showed up?” She asked in a loud whisper. Her brows knitted together in painful understanding. “He’s been gone all this time and you’ve known all this time that you had a snog with my boyfriend and you couldn’t bother to tell me?” She began to grow louder, her face becoming less confused, less betrayed, more angry. Her cheeks flushed in humiliation.

Pointing an accusatory finger, she nearly had to bite her tongue to stop from screaming. She knew everything about everyone in the castle. But she hadn’t known her best friend was trying to steal her boyfriend. That had to have taken some crafty planning on Fergie’s part. Neely was nearly plum-colored. Tears were stinging her eyelids, but she held them back for the moment.

“That’s why he’s gone, isn’t it?! You seduced him into some sort of... thing... behind my back, and you got caught... after curfew!” Her mind raced ahead of her, jumping to wild conclusions. “So I wouldn’t know about it!” Sasha’s letter had been so disjointed... so calm. Had been hiding something? Or trying to protect her? Had Fergie come onto him, or was it mutual?

Raising both fists, she finally did scream. She pulled at her hair and then brought them down, pressing them into Fergie’s chest-- not violently, but not softly, either. “Why did it have to be him? Why? You knew we were together! You know how much I like him! He likes me,” she shouted. What about friends not going after friends’ boyfriends?! This was a nightmare. Her eyes were becoming bleary, but she didn’t care. It was like nothing around them even existed.

Turning her attention to her sleeve, Neely managed to pull off her bracelet and toss it on the ground at his feet in a weak attempt to spite him. Friends. Yeah, right. “If anything happens to him, it’s all your fault!” She sobbed.

 Fergie didn't say anything, at first. What could he have said, really? What words existed that could be strung together into something that made this any less of a betrayal? He had no excuse for what he'd done. Not really. Not one that would count to the girl standing in front of him.

 Except...well, he hadn't meant to hurt Neely. In the five seconds between coming up with the idea and going through with it, she just hadn't come into the equasion. But, maybe, that was the most terrible thing about it - he'd kissed his best friend's boyfriend without even considering how it might effect her. He wondered what sort of person that made him. Not a good one, surely.

  The crescendoing whisper snapped him back to the present. His gaze drifted up from the stone floor and rested on Neely's face for a moment before jumping to the tapestry hanging in the alcove, trying to escape the expression he found there. "I... I was afraid to tell you," he admitted, quietly. He was having trouble getting past the fear now, even after he'd gotten the really hard part out of the way. All he wanted to do was run, or throw up, or something. Not stand there trying to explain. Not listening to the hurt and anger in his best friend's (ex-best friend's now, he supposed) voice. "I was going to - I just... I was afraid."

That’s why he’s gone, isn’t it?!

 Ferguson quickly turned his head back towards the irate Slytherin, startled by this accusation. "What?! N-no!" he quickly stammered out, eyes widening as Neely's imagination embellished on this hypothetical situation. "That's not - that isn't - I didn't get him suspended! And... and I didn't seduce him." He hardly thought putting salve on the Ravenclaw's face counted as seduction. "I just... I kissed him once. He had no idea it was going to happen." Despite his best efforts, Fergie couldn't keep the edge of disappointment out of his voice as he added, "He didn't even kiss me back."

 It had been the most pathetic first kiss he'd ever heard of.

 He winced as she shrieked, and stumbled back a step, not so much from the force of her small fists hitting his chest as from the surprise of it. He'd known that telling her was not going to be pleasant, but, as the panicked and overwhelmed expression on his face clearly evinced, he hadn't quite been prepared for this. She was crying.

  Never again. No more romantic entanglements, and especially no more one sided crushes on boys who would never like him back, even if they weren't dating someone else. Of course Sasha liked Neely. Why wouldn't he? She was pretty and popular and charming and a girl. He couldn't compete, and he'd been an idiot to try, even once.

 "I'm sorry!" He met her shouts with a helpless cry. Like an apology was going to do any good at this point. But, he couldn't help trying anyway. "I'm so sorry - I tried not to like him, but I... You of all people must know how difficult that is. I didn't plan - I wasn't trying..." Except that he had been.

 The friendship bracelet hit the floor with a barely audible clink, but it echoed in Fergie's mind like an angry bell. His shoulders slumped. That bracelet represented years of friendship, ruined in a single, impetuous moment. "Neely, please..."

Afraid to tell her? Well, it figured! Neely wasn’t the next Merlin of magical discovery, but she had a brain. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you did it!” Not that she was going to let him go so easily: the seeds had planted and the roots were twisting into the earth, weaving a story in Neely’s mind in which this was all terribly preconceived, where Fergie was some sort of... very un-Fergie-ish villain.

The only bit she did believe-- or wanted to believe-- was that Sasha had been caught off guard. He was a victim in this. He had to have been. It wasn’t his fault so many people were after him. He was becoming highly popular in his own right, and apparently even Neely’s closest friends wanted to take him for a test ride.

Well, she was putting her five inch heel down.

Face now blotchy, like a koala turned rosy hued leopard, she pawed at the tears. This acknowledgement made her stomach churn with humiliation. Usually she loved the theatrics of a good cry-- she delighted in it. But usually, she could control it. And when she couldn’t, she still felt victimized enough to be unabashed in her howling. But this was different. She was embarrassed for them both, for their friendship, for Sasha. Worried about her other friendships. Worried that very first boyfriend (on the very second try), would be chucked from school, or, worse, decide to leave her in lieu of the awkwardness of this entire affair. His last letter had been reassuring, but then it had also arrived before things had taken a dark turn.

“Difficult!” She choked, wanting both to laugh and to cry harder. “Of course it’s difficult! I’ve liked him for ages, and you knew it. You should know that friends don’t kiss friends’ boyfriends-- or crushes! Even when you like them. Even when you like them a lot.” It was just how it was, one of the hard, fast rules of the Adult World, which was not altogether kind. “You would never do it to Jordyn, would you?” She shouted acidly. She knew she wouldn’t dare, even if Jordyn had up and dated Arius himself. Or if Evie or Fergie had done the same. They were her friends. They shared slumber parties and Burn Books and select diary entries! It was blasphemy. “We’d been working up to this for months! He helped me bury my cat!” Well, sort of... “And we even had an epic row, and shared a tent, and I went to his house and his polo match and met his sisters! We’re finally dating, and everything’s finally perfect-- I... I...” She was frazzled, tongue-tied, cornered. “I have my first proper boyfriend, and y- you just had to stop thinking for two seconds? How do you do that? Did you fall on his lips?!” They had to have talked first. Sasha had to have told Fergie he had a girlfriend, and that he didn't feel the same way. Right?

The worst part was that Neely had always imagined sharing these stories, first kisses and first boyfriends. She’d been dying for the details of Fergie’s love life-- she felt important when he, Jordyn, and Evie shared these things, and equally so when she could share her own tidbits. And it was no secret, really, that Fergie liked boys. It was a common interest, another thing they chatter about, along with shoes and the state of the Dark sisters’ hair. She just hadn’t known which boys until now... hadn't expected both of their first kisses to be with... well, the same boy.

She still didn’t buy it, this moment of rashness. He could have told, her, couldn’t he? That he liked Sasha? Neely could have helped redirect his attention to another shy Ravenclaw. They could have double-dated and planned each other’s fantasy weddings during History of Magic!

“It’s not my fault that you didn’t think you could tell me, or that you couldn’t go find someone else who was single to kiss. I’m sorry, Fergie, but it’s just not!” Neely knew she could keep first years in line, but she didn’t find herself the least bit intimidating-- not through the eyes of her friends. At all of five feet, and with a face akin to koalas, frilly dolls, and baby fat, she was hardly Callum’s female twin. “I could have helped you if you really wanted a boyfriend! You didn’t have to take mine!” Even if hers was brilliant and cute and awkwardly preppy and good at quidditch. How could he expect her to understand? She was baffled.

Leaving the bracelet on the ground, she turned and began to march away, worried that if she didn’t leave now, her march might be less resolute, more woozy.  She didn’t want to hear more details, or about how Fergie kissing Sasha had nothing to do with Sasha’s sudden absence from school, when they all knew perfectly well he wasn’t simply ‘suspended,’ but something worse.

 On a normal day, Fergie didn't have much trouble handling a crying female. But he'd rarely, if ever, had to deal with one who was crying over something that he had done, especially something so treacherous. What was he supposed to do? Hug her? Somehow Ferguson didn't think Neely would be too receptive of that. Tell her it was going to be okay? How could he tell her that when he wasn't so sure of that himself? Things between Sasha and Neely, as long as Neely believed him that it had been completely one sided, would be okay. But between Neely and himself...between him and Sasha...

  If only he'd thought to carry tissues with him. Offering them to her might not have soothed the weeping blond, but it would have at least been doing something. Something other than standing there, watching her let out the grief that he had caused. It hurt to see her hurting. It hurt even more to know that it was one hundred percent his fault.

 He hated breaking things.

 "I'm sorry," Fergie offered in a pathetic whisper, hanging his head and feeling absolutely miserable and shameful. What good did apologizing accomplish, even if he meant it? The damage had already been done.

 A fact that became more and more apparent as the yelling began. Ferguson bit his lip and just stood there, contrite, as Neely went on. No, he probably wouldn't have done it to Jordyn... But then, he'd never thought he'd end up kissing Neely's boyfriend, either, and had ended up doing so anyway. Was that the kind of person he was turning out to be? Someone who kissed other people's boyfriends? Because that wasn't a path he wanted to go down. It clearly only lead to very bad dead ends.
 
 He didn't want to hear the list of occurrences that had lead up to Neely and Sasha dating again, especially since this time it was for real. It made his cheeks heat up and his stomach churn as a sharp pang of envy seared through his chest. It was...ridiculous, and irrational.  He was even jealous of their fight. Because it was a...a lovers' spat, not a mere squabble between friends. And it had been over whether or not they'd already been dating, not about how wrong the very idea of liking him was. Because Neely was a girl. Neely got to like whoever she wanted and not worry about that kind of thing. She got to hold Sasha's hand whenever she wanted, see his house, meet his family, share his tent, and Fergie was certain that when Neely kissed Sasha, Sasha kissed her back.

 The Slytherin closed his eyes, trying to fend off the burning sensation there (he wasn't sure if it was tears - something he definitely wanted to avoid - or if they were literally turning green from envy), and took a deep breath. It didn't help push the horrible feeling away, much, but it did clear his head a little and give him room to think.

 "I...no, of course I didn't... of course I didn't fall." That was, perhaps, the only thing that would have made the kiss even more awkward than it already had been. He wanted to explain - there was so much more to say - but his brain was formulating words and phrases at a far slower rate than the vengeful, doll-like creature in front of him was spitting them out.

 “It’s not my fault that you didn’t think you could tell me, or that you couldn’t go find someone else who was single to kiss. I’m sorry, Fergie, but it’s just not!” The girl continued her tirade, “I could have helped you if you really wanted a boyfriend! You didn’t have to take mine!”

 Oh, Godric fecking Gryffindor. As the petite blond began marching off, Fergie hurried out into the corridor after her. Was it smart to be continuing this conversation out in the middle of the public hallway where anyone who cared to could listen in? Probably not, but Fergie was beyond rational thinking at this point. This wasn't easy on him either - all the pent up hurt and frustration he'd been carrying around for the past month began to bubble out.  And anyway, it wasn't as though Neely had been quiet in the alcove. Anyone who Callum hadn't told already would probably be acquainted with the details by the time supper rolled around that evening.

 "I didn't WANT a boyfriend!"  He shouted after her. Merlin. Did he honestly look that desperate, that he'd just go out with whoever his friend, out of charity, set him up with? Looking around at the students still left in the corridors, he trotted forward and lowered his voice, stooping to whisper/hiss in her ear. "I wanted Sasha. And I know that makes me a terrible person and an even worse friend, and I'm sorry, I really am. But don't worry. You can strike me off the list of competition." Fergie straightened, a bitter edge creeping into his tone, voice shaking slightly. This was the part that hurt the most, even if the Ravenclaw had sort of apologized for it, in his letter. This was the part that really, really stung. "Sasha made it clear what he thinks of people like me. I'm abnormal. I'm out of the running."

 The sixteen year old came to a stop, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes. This time he knew he was going to cry. But he wasn't going to do it in front of Neely, let alone the entire student population (or whatever portion of it that stood lurking in the corridors). Hitching his bagup on his shoulder, Fergie turned and began striding, blindly, in the opposite direction Neely had been headed. He had no idea where he was going, he just knew he needed to get out of that hallway before he went absolutely mad.