title reference | outfit

6 P.M.

Small fingers crept over the top of the hay stack, like a spider’s legs... but not as long and spindly and imposing. Latching on, Neely pulled herself up slowly, like a Jack-in-the-Box in slow motion. She watched the tall, blond boy in silence, smirking to herself-- both at her feat of having breached Schlagenweit property again, and being able to watch him when he didn’t know anyone was watching.

Not that she was anything like the creepwad kidnapper who had thieved him from her during his heroic suspension. Ew.

But before she could make her grand entrance-- saunter on in like an enchantress-- Neely felt a tickle, and itch, and a twitch of her nose. A high-pitch sneeze echoed through the stables, and the girl’s eyes widened as she dropped quickly behind the stack, attempting to hide. It was no use. Falling into more hay, and closer to the loose bits, she sneezed a second time.

The winter sun had nearly disappeared behind the horizon, leaving the sky a hazy purple, and Neely had defaulted to Wellies for the purpose of traversing through countryside. (Hiding her black clogs in her bag and holding it close to her chest as she resigned herself to the fate known as Knight. Despite being the daughter of Ollis Woolfolk, she could not simply connect the nearest pub to Sasha's parents' house to the Floo Network every time she wished to pay him an impromptu visit.)

The girl groaned and climbed to her knees, planting her elbows firmly atop the hay stack, and her weak, babyish chin in her palms. She frowned in Sasha’s direction, letting him know she was not amused by the hay’s attempts to ruin her ambiance. She hadn't see him in ages, had been impressed, impatient, and overly imaginative with each of his letters, and this was how she rode in with style?! Mortifying.

The interior of the stable was, for the most part, quiet.  The only sounds were the soft rustlings and gratings of horses digging into their evening meal of grain and hay and the rhythmic whish of a push broom against a concrete floor.  The lights above the stalls had been switched off, leaving the horses mostly in darkness though the hallway was flooded with light from the overhead fluorescents.   

He was alone in the stable, or so he thought.  Gerhard was, thankfully, still at work and would be until much later.  The Family Emergency had forced him to call in both Wednesday and Thursday and he would be there until late catching up - which, as Sasha had been reminded on several occasions that day, was his fault.  His mother and Anna were still inside tidying up after supper and Wilhelm was carting an arm-load of tools over to one of the utility sheds.  Sasha was in no rush to return inside so the floor was getting its third thorough sweeping when he heard the sneeze. 

"Wallie?" he called.  The sneeze had sounded a little impressive for the old barn cat but, who knew, right?  Sasha had just turned back to his sweeping when he heard the second (and very distinctly unfeline) sneeze.

It was, decidedly, not the slender black and white cat that met his gaze but one slightly-miffed looking Neely Woolfolk.  A broad, pleased grin spread across his face and he took a step towards her before a snorting horse brought Sasha's thoughts back to the present. 

"What are you doing here?"  Sasha whispered urgently, glancing over his shoulder towards the barn door before hurrying to slide it shut.  Sasha grabbed a hoofpick off a hook on one of the stall fronts and balanced it over the the door latches before climbing over the haybales and dropping down behind them, next to Neely. 

Leaning his head back against a hay bale, the initial wave of panic slowly ebbed and he turned his head to look at Neely.  He frowned, apologetically and shook his head.  He hadn't meant to snap at her - he'd just panicked.  Once the panic had passed, he was relieved and grateful to see her.  A moment later, he wrapped his arms around Neely and drew her into a firm hug.

"Wallie?"

Whatty?

Neely blinked between sneezes and frowns, just long enough to puzzle. The ever so familiar question, a vague form of what, floated into her head and took root. When Sasha finally turned to look at her, she couldn’t help but twitch with excitement-- and the hints of a new smile. Hay might have been allergy-tickling and frown-inducing, but finally being able to see Sasha in the flesh-- after ages of strange letters, broken friendships, and rumors of kidnappings-- was a relief, and a fantastic one at that.

“Watching you,” she offered, her grin widening as he hurried to secure the door. A repeat encounter with a family member who wasn’t Jacoba was probably not the best position for either of them to be in at the moment. “Do you really clean with brooms you can’t fly?”

Of course, the House Elves at Neely’s place also had brooms, but they were elf-sized, and the girl, while relatively small in human terms, had never ventured to use one.

“What about mops?” She added, now absolutely delighting in having been caught.

She grinned at him through the dim lighting, taking in everything, noting a certain... maturity... that might have been less about physical growth, and more about something else she couldn’t quite pin down, but it was attractive nonetheless. Having been pacified by his latest letter, which as much as confirmed Fergie’s side of the story, she was very excited at the prospect of cornering him in a locked barn.

Well, until she convinced him to accompany her back to the Wizarding World for an evening.

Caught off guard, she quickly fell into sync, lacing her arms Sasha to return the hug. A pleased squeal escaped her, she kissed his cheek quickly, and she pulled back to look at him again. “Oh my golly, it’s really you! You’re alive!”

“I thought I’d come visit since you never got back to the castle... is everything alright?” She looked him up and down, hands still resting softly on the back of the boy’s neck. “I mean, you wrote me, so you’re obviously fine, but... I... your family...” She frowned. “Do they know you were suspended?” Did they know from where he’d been suspended? “Tell me everything that happened! Were you really with criminals? Where'd they take you?!” The rumors had been swirling.

“Watching you.”

For the briefest moment, Sasha's chin dropped in surprise but, almost as quickly as color flooded his cheeks, he found an extremely fascinating piece of hay stuck in his boot and he quickly set to tugging it free.  "I - well.  Cleaning's not really an ... interesting spectator ... sport." 

It was lame.  He knew that even before he finished saying it.  Time to change subject.  Back to cleaning, apparently. 

"Well, that's what brooms are actually for.  You know?  Sweeping?  I don't know if a push broom would make a good- mops?"  Sasha's eyes darted to Neely and he stared a moment before covering his mouth with his hands to smother the laugh.  "You're never going to forget that, are you?"

Speaking of mops, Sasha couldn't help wondering if there was anyone named Hannah at Fransiscan's.  How horribly awkward that would be.  And, he wasn't looking forward to telling Neely about that whole situation.  All in all, he had really turned out to be a lousy first boyfriend - and second boyfriend.  He wasn't sure what would come of this conversation but, somehow, he knew it was inevitable.  He was leaving; he had no idea when he was coming back - or if - and she was extremely popular.  Didn't take a brainy Ravenclaw to figure that one out. 

"Ja, I'm alive," he reassured her, needlessly.  Last he heard, dead people didn't do a lot of hugging.  He held on to her for several extra moments, something fluttering in his insides when she kissed his cheek.  Despite the close greeting, it was proving extremely difficult to share any of her current excitement. 

He wasn't really sure if everything was alright and, chances were, the expression on his face offered that answer.  He sighed, leaning back against a bale of hay as he slowly nodded his head.  He licked his lips before elaborating.  There were only three questions but they seemed to rather big ones and none of them were particularly pleasant to answer.  The middle one, for some strange reason, seemed the easiest to answer.  "Yeah - well, I guess so.  I mean, I didn't know Kronos was a criminal."  The whole abduction and being held behind magical barriers might have been a clue at some point, but those facts had faded over the course of the month.  He shrugged.  "He didn't seem that bad.  I mean, this one guy there was really creepy - I didn't like him.  But, Kronos was actually really nice." 

He shook his head.  He didn't know the answer to the last question, really.  He remembered the name of the town they were near but hadn't really investigated it further.  He'd gathered they were in Scotland and they were near the coast.  The water had been to the West of them.  He probably could figure out if he looked at a map, though.  He just hadn't wanted to.

"They found out about the suspension," he said, quietly.  "They contacted my "school" for details and knew I'd never been there.  When I got home, they were ... you know, ready for answers.  They know everything.  They took my wand." 

Neely giggled, somehow comforted by the hint of awkwardness preceding the boy. He might have changed in ways she couldn’t fathom in the weeks they’d been apart, but his little joke was as conversationally Sasha-esque as comments came. She could almost see the ellipses in the air between them. If Neely even bothered to evaluate such grammatical modules.

She shrugged, gaining confidence over the hay, whose devilish design to devastate her delicate nose would not stop her from reuniting with Sasha, or delighting in tales of unremarkable (and inanimate) sweethearts past. “Nope, never. She’ll be invited to our--” Whoops. The daydreams had caught up with her, in only the manner of a fifteen year old girl with too many diary pages to fill and stars to wish upon during inconveniently scheduled astronomy lessons with sequestered sibling. “Graduation.”

Nice save, Cornelia Heloise.

“I’ve never swept a broom,” she confessed. “Well, once... I borrowed one of the elves’ when I was quite small, and used it to pretend I was a nursemaid stuck in a tower, forced to cater the tea parties for the obese teddy bears who ruled the land. But my prince saved me.” She grinned, wrinkling her nose. “Don’t tell anyone I told you that, it’s totally embarrassing.”

There was something sad to their embrace, but Neely tried to swallow any doubts that bubbled into the ever-evolving cauldron of her mind. It was a temperamental brew, bound to boil over when provoked. She needn’t let it do so, not now, not after she’d finally caught him in the flesh, made sure he was good and healthy, still here, still hers...

Propping herself up so that her face was less at the mercy of the allergy-inducing hay, she waited with held breath for him to give any fraction of detail pertaining to his capture and subsequent release. As far as Neely was concerned, she hadn’t heard a story-- or at least the rumors that comprised the story-- so exciting since Harry Potter stole a dragon from the bank. (Her uncle had had to bring in his own third party crew of goblins to repair the damage to their centuries’ old vault. The stone engravings had never been quite the same since.)

But Sasha’s answers didn’t pour forth as readily as Neely’s questions. She tilted her head, her eyes slightly pinched as if trying to see in the dark. Her hand brushed over his and she tried to understand.

“But! But he kidnapped you! How could you not know he was a criminal? Isn’t that, like, the definition of criminal?” Neely was no Auror, but she’d learned to read.

What Sasha was saying was mad. Madder than Astrid’s old hair mad. “Did he Imperius you?” Her hand withdrew itself from his and swept upward, planting itself over his forehead, like the palm of a concerned mother inspecting for abnormal temperatures. “Maybe he drugged you. There’s this new potion Daddy was talking about at dinner last night-- it’s sort of like Imperius meets Polyjuice... I dunno how to explain it, but it’s way dangerous. I bet he used it on you! The freak!”

Horrified and scandalized, as if Kronos had snuck into her window and personally offended Neely’s taste in bedskirts or goose feather pillows, she shook her head. “Oh, Sasha.”

It wasn’t the worst of the news, however.

Her mouth dropped at the next bit. His family knew? They’d taken his wand? She flinched at the word. Wands were like souls. It was bad enough he’d had to leave his at Hogwarts during the summers, but not he was forced to hand it over to muggles who would do ungodly things to it. Not that Neely had anything against muggles, per say, but these muggles didn’t seem particularly understanding.

“Can’t the Ministry Obliviate them?” She offered, trying to remain calm. She smiled up at him, her lips swishing to the side. “I mean, you’ve lived without your wand before, right? It’ll be ok-- they’ll just... they’ll just sit down with your family, and maybe Headmistress Snark-- no, wait, Bombay might be better. He’s a weirdo, but at least he likes you,” Neely bumbled. “He could have a word with your dad... er, step-dad--”

She sighed, reaching up to hug him tighter. “Everything will be fine! You’ll get your wand back when it’s time for school to start again. You’ve lived without it before, for much longer periods of time, right? I’ll find you a tutor to help you catch up with everything. Astrid totally owes me after what I did to her hair.”

Standing up and dusting off her dress, Neely looked around. They were quite alone. “I lied,” she announced. “I mean, I didn’t lie. But I didn’t just come to watch you sweep.” She grinned, angelically so, and absorbed Sasha’s expression before continuing. “Let’s go to London. I need to do some holiday shopping, and I want you to taste this amazing cocoa at Fortescue’s. There’s also this party for a first year in your house... Eileeny Antelopeius, or something like that. I bet she’d love if some older students came by to say hi. She has a massive crush on you, you know.” She put her hands on her hips, tilted her head to the side, and inclined a brow, attempting to gauge just how much Sasha knew about the elf-in-braids who was after his heart.

"If we go now, we can flag down the Knight Bus on its express round to London!" It was less than ideal, public transportation, but it was all they could do without a Floo connection or adult-approved Portkey. Neely wished she could buy a Time Turner. It would solve all of her problems. Twice the time for shoe-shopping and boyfriend-canoodling? Yes, please.

He should have said it then and there.  Even if it was just to get it over with.  If he didn't think too much about it, it should be easy.  I'm not going to be graduating with you.  Eight simple words.  Eight simple, awkward words

Eight simple words that would blossom into a plethora of questions and more awkward words.

But, he couldn't.  Instead, Sasha forced a sheepish grin on his face as he looked at Neely.  "What?  I don't trust you."  Yes, if he couldn't be truthful, yet, then he could focus on the humor.  "Why wouldn't it surprise me if there was a mop with a sweater sitting in a chair at our graduation?"  Ignoring the tinge of guilt, Sasha glanced up at the barn rafters.

"Who was your prince?"  Perhaps, the question was asked a little too eagerly.  But, then, Neely had Hannah.  It only seemed fair that Sasha had this mysterious prince.  Of course, Neely had been 'quite small' and Sasha had been a third year but that could easily be construed as being irrelevant.  "Did he slay the teddy bears?" 

But, the humor was short-lived as the conversation settled on Sasha's ... excursion.  He looked back up at the rafters, his lips pursed in thought as he tried to wrap his mind around what explanation he was going to give.  Which wasn't an easy task seeing as how he didn't know what that explanation was.  "I wasn't kidnapped," he offered with a speed that was bordering reflexive.  After a deep breath, he added, "Exactly.  It's not like it felt like I was kidnapped."  Not that Sasha knew, therefore, what a kidnapping was supposed to feel like.

"I wasn't locked in some room or anything..."  No.  Just a castle.  "It was ... I was comfortable.  I had this whole wardrobe.  And,... he ... Kronos was nice.  He was just being all ... well, fatherly I think."  Aside from the getting stunned in the back.  Which had been Terry's doing, anyway. 

Color rose in his cheeks as her hand brushed against his forehead - triggered by the touch as well as the assumption that he was ill.  "He wasn't a freak," Sasha corrected, quietly.  "LIke I said, he was always nice to me."

Unfortunately, his attempts to avoid the truth failed quickly.  As Neely launched into a whole new round of ifs, ands and buts, Sasha could feel the dread of the inevitable settling in.  Again, the sooner he told her, the easier it would be.  "I'm not going back," he quickly blurted, letting his head fall back on the hay bale behind him.  "I'm getting - they're sending me to school in Germany.  It's a muggle boarding school.  I leave in a week."  Chances were, the Ministry could obliviate his parents again.  But, then, Sasha would be back to where he started: living in fear of the day they found out.  Again.  For the third time. 

“Puh-lease,” Neely retorted sassily, rolling her eyes and swiping at a stray blonde lock. But of course, she was still on the moon to finally be in Sasha’s presence again, to be alone with him, joking, bringing him out of his awkward shell, preying upon the shy smile on his handsome, fair-featured face. “As if they’d let someone like that into Hogwarts in the first place.”

"Who was your prince?"

“My stuffed unicorn,” she admitted, looking down as casually as possible. And then, catching his eye, she smiled. “His name was Galleon. He took out the fat teddy with his sparkling pink horn and married my doll, Genevieve.”

But Sasha’s own tale was much grimmer, and, unfortunately, realer. Neely’s coy smile faded and she shook her head slowly as he continued to defend his kidnapper. What in the Bloody Baron? “Sasha! A creepy old man kept you out of school and away from everyone who cares about you!” Neely took hold of his shoulders, and, standing on tippy toes, shook them somewhat comically. She knitted her thick, well-groomed brows, a deep contrast to her coin-shaped blue orbs, and tilted her head. Pausing in the shaking, she added, “What kind of wardrobe?”

Nice or not, the man was the definition of freak. Poor Sasha, so sheltered. So naive. So socially oblivious. Neely would have to work doubly hard in tutoring him when they got back in January. It wasn’t only Potions notes and Charms lessons the boy needed to catch up.

But catching up was not on the calendar, it seemed.

"I'm not going back."

Neely dropped her hands and felt a jolt, like electricity. Was the muggle surrounding suffocating her? Was she simply adjusting to the atmosphere? She shook her head as if she had some sort of terrible tic. “No,” she said simply, stupidly.

"I'm getting - they're sending me to school in Germany.  It's a muggle boarding school.  I leave in a week."

Taking one step back, and trading the neck spasm for a proper shake of protest, she echoed her former reaction. “No. They can’t do that! They can’t! I could Obliviate them-- We could just sneak in now and... I’ve got my wand,” she explained, drawing it. “Or come with me. I was going to invite you out anyway. Come with me on the Knight Bus, and you won’t have to come back. You can stay in our guest wing. Daddy won’t mind. I’ll have him owl his barristers... No, I'll owl them myself! They love me, they’ll help you, Sasha!”

It was hard to keep her voice down, and even harder to stop the sudden flourishing of her hands, tiny, unicorn-cored wand and all. She could feel the prickle of magic, quite unlike the imagined sensation of electricity, and ignored the fact that she was losing control, like a small, pre-Hogwarts child might have.

"Hmm," Sasha quietly grunted to himself, non-committally.  A stuffed unicorn.  Of course.  Because, a unicorn could be a prince and defeat teddies and run away with a girls but to be looked at by a boy - now that was terrifying.  Then, with a shake of his head, he shoved that thought process from his mind - there was no point in worrying about such things. 

Of course, the shoulder shake was doing a good job of distracting Sasha. 

"He wasn't-"  Okay.  There were times Kronos could be a little creepy.  But, then, so could Beethoven's Fifth Symphony - and it was still very much worth listening too.  But, that didn't mean one should believe all the rumors that claimed hearing those musical phrases were predictors of bad things to come.  Sasha was, of course, not comparing Kronos to Beethoven beyond the simple fact that each audience member could listen to the same phrase of music and interpret it in his or her own way.  And, Sasha was certain there was a fine and reasonable explanation for why the Ministry so misunderstood Kronos - once Sasha was able to ask the man, he was sure it'd all be cleared up.

And, to say Kronos kept Sasha out of school was a bit unfair.  "Snark suspended me," Sasha reminded Neely.  "I couldn't go back to school because she suspended me.  I was able to write you all."  Eventually.  After Sasha had gotten sufficiently settled in.  He didn't really know why, exactly, he was defending the man.  "You got my letter, didn't you?  All Kronos ever did was offer me someplace to stay.  And help me keep up with my studies and, yes, let me enjoy my time away from school.  I ... I know the things he's done aren't great.  But, he's one of those that cares about me as well." 

She paused and Sasha smirked, slightly.  That, of course, was more like it; it wasn't all doom and gloom.  A fancy wardrobe had been involved - that was something Neely could understand.  "It had been pretty extravagant.  Very fancy.  This one raven feather-trimmed robe had been my favorite."  How quickly Sasha had learned to overlook the creepiness he'd felt when he'd first walked into that wardrobe to find everything in his size.  Again, all strictly irrelevant points given his pending departure from wizarding London. 

Sasha dropped his gaze and closed his eyes, blocking out the look of shock on Neely's face.  He'd expected the disbelief and the theatrics.  He had not expected the dramatic offer for Neely to play gallant hero and whisk him away on the Knight Bus.  Sasha looked up, his eyes wide during a brief moment of pensive consideration.  She was right.  He could run.  He could hide in the Wizarding World and his parents could never find him.  "They'd go to the press and the police," he considered aloud.  That had been the challenge he'd been aware of all along.  Of course, the Ministry would intervene and obliviate them but... "But, maybe when they modify their memories, they could make it so they don't remember they have-" 

What was he saying?  Modify his parents memory so they don't remember him at all?  He paused, blanching at his own callousness.  How ... how could he say that?

He shook his head.  "I can't.  I'm sorry.  They won't simply accept it.  They already destroyed mine," he said, nodding to Neely's drawn wand.  "It'll only be ... well, four years.  Then, maybe I'll come back and find a way to sit my OWLs and NEWTs.  I don't know.  It'll...it'll be alright.  Better than staying here."  Here being at his parent's house.  Whether that distinction would be clear to the Slytherin on edge was less certain.

Neely eyed him carefully and judgmentally, tilting her head like a confused puppy who had misheard its master, and waiting for him to further defend Creepnos Psychosivcus. A mad man. A murderer, probably. Neely bet he ate children for breakfast, like that horrible woman in the muggle “fairytale” story during the Anti-Magic Propaganda Era. The one with the house made deceptively of sugar, an inventory of sweets to put Honeydukes to shame.

But Sasha paused. He knew when to pause. It was an awkward, stifling, last-minute sort of thing. That social quirk to which Neely had become accustomed, and of which she had even become very, very fond. It was his trademark.

“Your letter!” She scoffed, completely ignoring the bit about expulsion. She preferred to think of him as Sasha Schlagenweit, Her Boyfriend, The Rebel. The Kidnap Survivor. The Proud Evader of Authority Figures. Even if it did clash, ever so slightly, with that social discomfort she’d noted only moments prior. “I gave it to your sister,” she said, hands moving to hips like magnets drawn against their will. “It was weird, Sasha. You sounded so...” Normal. Confident. Not hysterical. Lacking in ellipses. “Just weird.” Even Neely, who was not exactly the next literary scholar to make Hogwarts an esteemed place of academia, had deciphered as much. Still, she’d taken some comfort in it, and had even sprayed it with perfume and placed it under her pillow.

But then, Sasha did know how to make her weak in the knees.

“Clothes?” She asked, her voice hesitant, softer around the edges, lowering an octave from the usual, mousy screech that accompanied her rants. “But, golly, Sasha, he should have let you out if he was so nice! Even if he gave you all those clothes and things, what use are they if you can’t show them off in front of people?” It was the most logical argument she could make, and it was a strong one, from where Neely was standing. The whole point of being filthy rich and stylish was to make other people envy you. Popularity For Dummies 101. “What color was the robe?” She couldn’t help adding. It was very pertinent to the conversation.

Flinching, she dropped her hands. She found herself fidgeting in place, reaching hesitant fingers in his direction. Clearly he was still very upset; clearly it was more than just a kidnapping adventure that was on his mind. Neely tried hard to understand, but came up short, being both a child of wizarding luxury, and a girl whose parents would happily let her walk over them before they’d watch their ickle, precious Cornelia to sob about not being allowed out of the house. To go to school. Of all places!

“It doesn’t have to be like that, Sasha,” she said softly, grabbing his hand. “They don’t have to forget they have you-- they just have to let you go. They can’t stop you. You’re a wizard! You stood up to Snark. How bad can your dad be?”

But he seemed to have figured it all out. He wasn’t returning. He was aligning himself with them. He was... he had a plan. A four year plan.

“Only four years?!” She let out in a breathy laugh, her voice again beginning its crescendo. “They don’t let twenty-year-olds take their NEWTs, Sasha! Only losers who take tickets on the Knight Bus or serve you ice-cream sodas at Fortescue’s are allowed to do that. You’re like... a genius! You can’t just... toss it all out and then come back! You worked too hard! I--” Worked too hard to keep you.

Well, not exactly.

To get him, perhaps.

It was suddenly very hard, being fifteen, standing here alone with one’s first boyfriend, and feeling very small indeed. Not the sort of small that made Neely Neely. But a different kind of small; an invisible small. The worst kind.

“You’re ditching me,” she said in disbelief, letting go of his hand. “I won’t let you do that, Sasha Schlaegenweit!”

Sasha's brow bunched in confusion.  Yes.  His letter?  "What about my letter?" he asked, just a touch defensively.  What had been wrong with his letter?  He'd written her ... in fact ... "Once I was allowed to write, you were the first person I'd ..."  He hesitated then shook his head.  That wasn't true, was it.  She'd been the first person he'd written to unprompted.  Kronos had passed on the letter Fergie had sent and he'd been allowed to reply to it.  But, Kronos ... was a fan of Fergie's.  Sasha was smart enough not to point that out, though. 

"Wait - but, why?" he asked, looking baffled.  Perhaps it should have been obvious why his letter would have been passed on to Jacoba but it wasn't.  Not right away, at least.  "Wait - how ... how was it weird?  I don't get it.  I ... I didn't do anything differently.  I mean, I know I'm not the most, well, eloquent but ... I tried." 

"I wore them to London a couple times."  After all, he hadn't really been a prisoner.  Besides, it had been cold and stormy up there - he wouldn't have wanted to go out, anyway.  "We went to see a muggle musical one evening - it was a lot of fun.  Obviously, I couldn't wear anything too wizardy because of that but I had a really nice suit for the occasion."  And, it had been nice.  He wasn't one to go out to 'show off' in public that much but he'd definitely gotten the distinct feeling Kronos had been showing him off some.  And, he hadn't minded that so much.  "It was mostly black - but, if the light hit right, it showed off some deep purple highlights.  Same with my shoes."  He looked down at his own scuffed barn boots, shifting his feet in them as he pictured them back in the elegant confines of the ones he'd worn in Hogsmeade.

They both came from families that were financially well off.  That was about where the similarities in their situations ended.  For however permissive Neely's parents were, Sasha's were the exact opposite.  He wasn't sure how to make Neely understand what that meant - how it wasn't just a matter of insisting or pleading.  Doing so could easily be misperceived - insisting as being defiant and pleading as being whiny and weak. 

Maybe things just worked differently in the wizarding world or maybe just in Neely's world.  He rubbed his face with both hands before pulling his hair back from his face with his fingers.  "They won't just let me go.  I'm there only son - I'm the heir.  At least, that's what everyone thinks and if they just 'let me go', my father will have to explain why he did.  He won't just admit he isn't my father to the rest of the family." It was just that kind of thing - Gerhard would do everything he could to avoid having to admit to the rest of the family his wife had an affair behind his back. 

"You don't understand," Sasha said with a sigh, leaning against the hay bales, now avoiding look at Neely.  "He's ... he was so furious when I got back after the Hogwarts festival.  He destroyed my wand and my clothes and - it was just bad, okay?  He just won't allow it.  He's not going to ever give me permission to go to a wizard's school." 

"So, I'll just have to be a loser then!"  Sasha hissed at Neely before he could catch himself.  But, it was already happening.  Neely's voice was starting that building thing and Sasha knew it was just going to get louder and louder.  He waved his hands in a frantic shush manner at Neely, peering over the top of the hay bales to make sure they were still alone.  "Please," he implored.  "Keep your voice down.  They'll hear you.  I just ... be quiet." 

She did as she was asked.  Her voice got quieter but it also got ... worse. 

“You’re ditching me.  I won’t let you do that, Sasha Schlaegenweit!”


His face fell and he slowly shook his head.  "I'm not ... I'm sorry.  I don't ... I don't know what I can do.  I don't want to be going.  But, I don't have a choice.  Not until I'm an adult, at least." 

Infuriated, Neely ignored his defense of the letters-- which seemed to catch even Sasha off guard as he spun his tale. He’d never been good at lying, and there he was, tripping over the shoelaces in his own mind. Cornelia became more and more flustered, a growing ball of energy and fire.

She also ignored the bit about his sister. If he was dense enough not to understand the urgency with which they’d tried to piece together the clues-- everyone from the professors to the students to his own family-- well, Neely wasn’t going to be the one to shine the light on that logic. He was usually such a smart boy. He’d figure it out on his own. Or he’d have to go to Jacoba and beg for answers. Either way, Neely wasn’t opening her mouth. Its firm frown matched the palms planted on each side of her figure, angry and comically adult-like.

Even the bits about clothes were becoming disillusioned as she waited to hear something worthy of her mousy little ears. Something that told her this was all one big joke... that Sasha had joined ranks with Devlin Matthews or some other prankster, and was now “punking” Neely as the preface to a holiday treat.

After all he’d been through... after all his loved ones had gone through...

“You’re not even his real son!” She hissed, somewhat bitingly. The papers had been speculating. Neely was sure, given the time, they could find his real father. And that he would be a wizard. It would explain Sasha’s brilliance, his Quidditch skill, his aptitude for understanding things that no one else understood. And perhaps, too, it would explain his straight-backed brand of quirkiness. “My parents have a whole army of private investigators, Sasha, we could look into the stories in the Prophet and--” And what? His mother and stepfather still had custody. There was no judge in the entire Wizengamot who would fork over the promising young wizard to Jacoba, Diagon Alley’s resident muggle. It was bad politics.

Or was it brilliant politics...?

“What about your sister, she could...” Neely’s voice went small. She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand? She could feel the angriness welling in her eyes, turning wet, becoming soft and sloppy and sad.

He was yelling now, rising up to her, proving his height. The girl suddenly felt very... short indeed. Small and not quite bright. A little out of place. This was Sasha’s turf, this barn full of itchy, sneeze-inducing hay and horses ready to kick Neely in the shins.

She flinched as he commanded her to be quiet. They had successfully traded roles.

Even his next words, the apology, the return to Sasha-dom, could not undo the damage. It was done. They were done. Neely’s hands fell from her waist, her lips fell toward her weak, wobbling baby chin, and the tears began to role. “Fine. Be a useless prat. Don’t come begging for help when you realize you do have a choice. You can get it somewhere else.”

With that, she turned and ran toward the doors, pausing awkwardly just long enough to throw one open, and slipping out into the night. As she trod through the grass, wand lit, she cried a little harder, wiped her cheeks with her palm, and reached blindly into the night to hale the Knight Bus, whose conductor would surely not see her until she’d stumbled out of the expansive Schlagenweit property.