Margo could not believe she allowed herself to be talked into doing this – into going out in this outfit.  Her lovely cousin, whom she had gotten to know more and more over the past month or so had sent it to her for a holiday present, to which Margo was shocked, but she supposed she shouldn’t have been.  He had basically been horrified at her choices in fashion – for some reason he took extra offense to her dragon leather pants, not that she could ever really know why.  They were so comfortable and really, they didn’t look that bad.

But, he had some sort of personal vendetta against them and Margo was going to satiate his need to “fix” her by wearing the outfit he had sent, which, she had to admit was not that bad.  She didn’t exactly love the fact that it had so few colors in it, but everything fit reasonably well and was fairly comfortable, she could only guess how much each of the pieces cost.  She didn’t really want to think about it, considering she hadn’t even gotten him a gift yet, partially why she was over an hour early for her meeting with her cousin.

She wanted to get him something nice, though she assumed her taste differed vastly from his.  She just wanted to do well by him when he tried so hard for her.  So, though she was not entirely comfortable with the whole outfit, at least the trench coat was cool – as were the boots – and they were warm enough to get her where she needed to be. 

She was somewhat at a loss for what to do for him though, and where to go.  Hogsmeade was not exactly a place she went that much, particularly since November and her little stunt that she was still recovering from to some degree.  She knew things got crazy sometimes and wasn’t ashamed of that part of it, really, but it was embarrassing and remembering the fact that she had totally macked it with practically a stranger, gone back to his place, and almost did Merlin knew what… she shook her head, it would be best to avoid reliving any part of the evening, particularly the ending. 

It made for a very tense walk through the village, wishing she had told Fergie Diagon instead, but he had mentioned Hogsmeade and in the middle of everything, she completely forgot why she was avoiding the place to begin with, which ended badly for her, really.  It just had to be a very careful day, and exiting the quill shop, she was careful to look around the street before totally exiting.  Honeyduke’s was her next stop. 

She remembered her cousin’s purchases and decided that was as good of a place as any to start, at least for the beginning of his present.  It would be hard to get him something he would really love that was material, so food stuffs were good, and maybe she would go back to quills.  A student could always use quills right?  She didn’t really know… shopping was hard for her, so she turned up the collar of her trench a little higher and shifted anxiously. 

Her leg was bothering her because of the cold weather and she leaned down to rub the side of her thigh right near the connecting piece.  She felt stiff and limped just slightly with her walk, not that she let it defeat her, it just slowed her down a pace or two, especially with the slight hint of iciness on the street.  That hint of iciness really did it though, and as she took another step, the heel of her boot slipped out from under her, and the already precariously balanced Margo Amherst took a tumble, landing unceremoniously in a snow bank.  The slush flew up and Margo thudded into the cold slush.

“Oh, dragon shite!” she scowled, having practically yelled it in the most inconspicuous fashion she could have.  So much for not attracting attention. 

Shopping to say the least was not Cillian's forte but unfortunately he was facing the daunting task of having to buy a new outfit. For reason's currently unknown to him Cillian had been invited to a Christmas feast at Graham Bombay's house of all people. While he didn't really know the Herbology Professor all that well he figured he might as well RSVP, he had nothing else to do tonight anyway. Unfortunately though that meant that he'd need to find something to wear and since he had already worn the only nice clothes he owned to the Hogwarts Staff Party, a party which Bombay had attended, Cillian felt he was in need of a few new additions to his wardrobe. Afterall how tacky would it be for him to show up in the same outfit he had worn only a week or so prior? It would make him look poorer than he actually was or perhaps even sloppy.

Cillian had no reservations about walking down High Street even with the Winter Festival in full swing. This was his home and it had been for the past eight years. Although he wasn't exactly friendly with his neighbours there wasn't really anything that would make him antsy about walking down the street. With his hands in his pockets Cillian whistled lightly along with the music of the festival as he neared Honeydukes.

He was actually thankful for the chance to get out of the house. With mid terms over and kiddies home for the holidays Cillian was able to go home to his very empty apartment where he couldn't help but be reminded of it's latest guest. Since his run in with an old school crush Cillian hadn't had anyone else over. He was pining over her to be honest and every time his thoughts were left unchecked he chided himself for being so stupid. Why hadn't he run after her? How could he just let her walk out on him like that? If it hadn't been for his sudden job at the wizarding school he probably would have driven himself mad trying to find her.

As he past the famous sweets shop a rather well dressed woman slipped on a patch of ice and fell into the neighbouring snow bank. Despite being a seer, Cillian had not seen that one coming and while he had quickened his pace (practically running) to catch up with her he had not made it in time to prevent the embarrassing fall. He was however able to offer a friendly hand in getting out of the snow bank.

"Nasty bit o' luck there lass, need some 'elp?" Cillian extended his hand to the woman below him only recognizing her after he had spoken. His cheeks suddenly flushed red and his heart skipped a beat. He cursed the fates for giving him such a horrible opportunity but tried to make the best of it anyway, "Ah shite Margo, please jus listen. I feel absolutely 'orrible bout wha 'appened thah night. I shouldn'ave. I jus 'ad no idear, if I had known, I never woulda, ye gotta believe me."

Margo’s hair was all about her face, flying everywhere, along with her limbs, and she had trouble seeing.  Her hands were cold from landing in the snow and she knew she looked absolutely ridiculous.  Well, that’s what happened when you gave nice things to someone who continually proved she could not take care of them.  Her clothes were drenched through just from a few moments of sitting in the snow and she struggled to remember the drying charm as she felt around for her wand.  Patting her sides and her pockets, she knew she had it.  Frowning softly, she wondered if it was in her back pocket, and then wondered if it had snapped, she hadn’t heard anything – nor felt anything stab her… hopefully she was right.

Of course, as soon as she realized that she had been sitting in the snow for more than a few seconds, she heard a voice that made her heart stop in her chest.  Oh Merlin’s dirty trousers. she thought with dread, she could not avoid the one person she had tried to avoid!  How was this even possible?  Margo Amherst had always been able to avoid most people – hell, she hadn’t seen most of her family in almost ten years, she couldn’t stay away from the one awkward encounter she had in the past two months?  What on Earth was this?!

Looking to the hand in front of her, she knew she needed it to get up, and this was a particularly awkward.  But, what was she going to do?  She couldn’t sit and freeze the whole day because the ice would prevent her from getting the proper footing she needed to get up.  So, she reluctantly took the hand that was dealt to her, and helped to pull herself up from the snow bank and into another type of horrendous situation in which she would feel completely out of her element. 

She wasn’t even given a moment to even find her wand and dry herself of before Cillian started talking rapid fire and asking her to listen.  She could feel her stomach turning and she anxiously rubbed the back of her neck, unsure of how to handle the situation.  Who had allowed life to become this awkward?  Oh, that’s right. She had.  Frowning at her dumb luck and occasional bad decision making, Margo furrowed her eyebrows.  She had been the one who probably needed to apologize, not that she intended to, but really?  Rubbing her face, she didn’t really know what to do here. 

It was best to just… she sighed.  “Don’t,” she cautioned him, holding up her hand, one on her hip as well.  This would have been easier if they were on the same level… instead, she had to look down.  “I mean, don’t apologize,” she clarified, not wanting him to think her that much more rude.  She was a fairly awful person at times, she didn’t need to add the insult to injury. 

“It’s… uh… it’s not your fault,” she started off with, deciding it was a safe course of action, awkwardly smiling a bit, trying to lighten the mood, “y’know… things happen when you’re pissed…” always a lady, always, “and it’s not a big deal… so… we can uh… just move on… yeh?” 

Once he was sure she was steady on her feet he started to rummage around for his wand hoping to be the proper gentleman and dry her off. There was no sense in letting her freeze. It was already obvious just how wet she had gotten from falling into the snow. He checked every pocket he could think of but nothing was turning up the familiar feel of his smooth shafted Fir wand. He suddenly wondered if he had managed to leave it back at his apartment. He had made sure he brought his gold pouch and had bundled up for the weather but was it really possible he had left his most useful accessory at home.

As he rummaged around his person Margo was fumbling with an explanation. Once she was done Cillian looked up to her, one hand in his inside breast pocket the other in his back pants pocket. He hide the hurt expression he had gained as best he could. Was she asking him to forget her walking out on him or forget the fact that they had been together that night at all? While she may have done it because she was pissed drunk Cillian had done it because of that lingering attraction he had had for her in school, one that seemed to have only grown stronger over the years without him noticing.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and gave her a nod, withdrawing his hands from his pockets, "Aye if tha's wha' ye want lass." He suddenly remembered that Margo often had a hard time deciphering his Irish accent but refrained from trying to speak proper for her. He wasn't trying to be rude to her but she obviously didn't want him to be trying to get on her good side either.

"Ye look good Margo." He said softly. It was true that she was looking good even if she was a little wet but the outfit just didn't seem like her style. There was something about the dragon hide pants he had peeled off of her that seemed more like her style. He shook his head to get the image out, there was no sense in reliving their night together if she wanted him to forget it ever happened, "Here fer thee Festival?"

Looking down at Cillian, Margo saw his face fall.  She had not intended to… oh… had she?  This was complicated!  She didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, but there was really nothing she could do about it, really.  She wasn’t the smartest woman in the world about what she said or what she did, but she did know that she hadn’t really meant to upset Cillian or lead him on.  She was just… not… it wasn’t going…

Her face lit up a bright sort of pink, flustered and unsure of what to do, Margo ran her hand through her hair, hoping to Merlin that someone would come and interrupt the most awkward moment Margo had experienced in the past month.  It was not as though she was not used to being awkward, that was her way of life, but she wasn’t used to disappointing anyone like this.  She didn’t even know that was possible.  Sure, she thought she was that wonderful and would have been upset if she blew herself off, but she wasn’t under the impression that anyone but her would care so much about what she was doing – or who, for that matter. 

If she had a drink at this point, it might have been easier to look down at the sad, puppy-looking man and tell him that he could tuck his tail between his legs and forget about it, but she wasn’t sure even that would work.  Clearly, last time she had been endowed with liquid courage, it had not turned out in such a way that would have rectified this situation.  It would have just made it worse, it did make it worse.    Oh bullocks, this was absolute shite. 

Clearing her throat, she rubbed the back of her neck.  This would have been about fifty times better if she wasn’t sopping wet on top of everything. Then there was a comment about her clothing, about the way she looked, and oddly enough, it did not make Margo feel that good.  She didn’t primp and fluff like she might have when she was in a better mood, instead, she just felt embarrassed, like she should crawl under the three broomsticks and hide for like a month.  That would be a suitable amount of time for some people to forget her existence. 

“Oh, thanks…” she trailed off quietly, “My cousin picked it… the outfit, I mean,” she tugged at the soggy coat, hearing a faint thud, and looking down, it appeared her wand had decided to fall out at that moment, rather than before when she really actually wanted it.  Bending awkwardly, trying not to fall again and having trouble with her stiff knees, Margo grasped at the handle and tapped the wand to her behind, praying for a moment that it would not blow her perfect bum off…

Sinking her teeth into another question, Margo latched onto the festival thing.  “Oh! Yeh,” she smiled at the neutral topic, “Fergie is meeting me… we’re going to do… something, I think,” she laughed softly and looked around, “I’m just here a tad early for… presents… haven’t gotten him anything yet…” she glanced about, hoping that out of the crowd her fashion-forward cousin might appear, “Not very good at that stuff, y’know.  What about you…?”

Despite being socially absent and withdrawn most of the time Cillian was good at body language. Spending most of his time watching others had granted him the ability to read body language almost fluently and it was easy for him to tell that Margo was feeling uncomfortable. Was it possible that he had misunderstood her and now she was upset that he had resolved to put all of it behind him. No, that was unlikely even if it was a nice thought. He figured he had just not been as candid as he thought with his own feelings on the subject.

As she trailed off Cillian decided to buck up. Even if he couldn't have her and would be better off forgetting how close he had gotten at least she could still tolerate his presence. He'd take anything he could get. With a slightly mischievous glint to his hazel eyes Cillian smirked, "Ye look great but I like thee dragon hide betta." He gave her a wink before equally latching onto the subject of the festival. It was good neutral territory and it would keep them from anymore more awkward moments, hopefully.

"Actually I'm lookin fer a new outfit, got this dinna tahnigh tha I don' really have anythin ta wear fer." He glanced at the store behind Margo realizing that it was Honeydukes. The mention of Fergie rattled something in Cillian's brain like a puck falling down a plinko board. As it hit all the little pegs along the way more things came to mind and once it settled into that fifty thousand dollar slot Cillian had it, "Fergie? Ye mean Ferguson Amherst? He's yer cuzin?" Cillian had never thought about it before giving how common the surname Amherst could be. He couldn't believe he had just spent the last month teaching Margo's cousin without realizing it, "He's a brilliant stu'ent tha' one, really dedicated an' stands out amoungst thee otha Slytherins." Cillian suddenly realized that his last encounter with Margo had been before he had accepted Snark's offer to take up the post.

"Oh yeah fergot ta mention. I'm thee new Divinations Professor at Hogwarts." He nodded his head to the other side of the city where the giant castle loomed over the horizon.

Oh, Margo was a sucker for being told nice things.  It was kind of ridiculous, knowing that she could be reeled in so easily, and hearing someone say that she looked better in the dragon hide made her lips tug tighter back, unable to resist grinning as widely as she could.  It was hard to deny that was one of her weakest spots, having pride that created an easily bent and manipulated woman.  Pretty words could get a man far in Margo Amherst’s book, but she had to remind herself that she was not going to play that game today.  That was not the point.  Instead, she did her usual curl of her hair around her finger and excited shrug of her shoulders. 

“I know, Ferguson insists, however that I am tacky and needed a change.  It’s nice, but… I prefer the leather too,” she laughed softly and winked back at him – the shameless flirt would never get beat out of her, regardless of the things that happened to her – or what she did.  And here, though she did not necessarily wish to give him false hope – she didn’t want to close all doors either.  Opportunistic to a fault, it was her one slytherin like trait that she shared with most of her extended family members.   

Looking over him, Margo nodded.  She could see what he needed.  Well, that was not very much for her to critique, really – most people thought she was a walking disaster, tacky on a palette, really.  She had no problem giving off that impression, she loved herself and wanted to show up, but she also figured it was nice to change it up once and a while – give something new and exciting to look at.  She supposed that must have been what he was looking for too.  Waving her hand, she shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t know, I usually just go with what I have unless someone gives me something,” she looked down at herself, “clearly.  So, I’m not the best judge…”

Of course, if he wanted a sort of punked out look, she could most assuredly offer her services.  Trying to imagine him in a pair of rustic looking pants and rolled up sleeves was almost funny though – which was definitely far more her type than the somewhat well-dressed, shorter man.  It would be bizarre though, and she shook her head, trying to get rid of the thought – too weird.  Way too weird, actually, and pulling a smile until he mentioned her cousin by full name.  How did he know her cousin?  She never mentioned what side of the family Ferguson was on, and she raised her eyebrows at him.  That was so weird. 

And then he dropped the bomb.  Brilliant student – other Slytherins… what was going on?  Her eyes shot open – Divination professor?!  She had remembered Fergie writing about Divination being his favorite class, but he wasn’t sure about the professor’s skeptical methods – but here he was… Oh, oh this was awkward!  Smiling despite herself, Margo nodded, a clear sign of the awkwardness, and cleared her throat. 

“Oh, well! Congratulations, Cillian!” she started off, that was sincere enough, “I guess that coma really paid off, eh?” and her foot flew up and kicked her in the teeth. Lovely. 

Cillian couldn't help but swoon a little when she winked at him. It was horrible really.Even after she had told him to pretty much forget it, he couldn't help but still feel crazy for her and the gentle flirting she was doing wasn't exactly helping. Part of him wanted to just say good day and be on his way eager to not fall into her trap again while the more dominant half wanted to stick around and hope that somehow against all odds he managed to get into her good graces again and this time he wouldn't freeze up over her leg. He'd give it just as much attention as the rest of her body, if she let him.

Glad that he didn't have to dwell on those not so appropriate thoughts much longer Cillian blushed as she congratulated him but almost an instant later he winced. Even as an adult it was hard to escape his reputation as 'Coma Boy'. He supposed it was something that would stick with him for the rest of his life. Then again it really was hard to forget that sort of stupidity. What kind of wizard in their right mind would drink a potion they knew hadn't been brewed properly? At least in Cillian's defense he hadn't been in his right mind.

He covered the slight blow quickly and swiftly as he did any time someone mentioned his unfortunately accident, "Yeh I suppose it did. Helps bein a Seer an all, yeh? Bin offered thee job bout three times already. Always turned it down. Finally gave in. Betta than anythin I was doin' round here thats' fer sure.Ta be honest I was sick a girls tryin ta git in me pants jus fer a glimpse inta their futures."

He went a slight shade of pink as soon as he said it and looked away on the pretense of checking out a shop window. He wasn't entirely sure why he had said it and supposed a part of him wanted to make her jealous. He wanted to let her know that he had plenty of romantic prospects other than her and that her running out on him hadn't been the end all be all to his love life and it wasn't at all an exaggeration. It was odd, the things people did just for that tiny glimmer of hope in getting to know what the future held for them. It was pathetic really. Cillian would have preferred not to know.

"So uh, what were ye plannin on gettin 'em? Fergie I mean."

Margo had social graces that… were not… perfect.  She could not help but make things slightly more awkward and then not notice what she had done most of the time.  This was one such time, and grinning easily, she did not notice the wince or any inclination that he was upset about what she had said.  It was a fact to her – something that happened and something that couldn’t really be forgotten, so whatever.  Laughing softly, Margo nodded and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to warm up a bit.  She cocked out her hip a bit to be more comfortable, finding it hard when her lower half was achy. 

It was really a taste of what her mother described normally – those typical pains that happened after one got older and experienced more of life.  She was under the impression it was quite unfair that her hips ached when it got cold out at twenty-size, but considering the fact that most of her hips were covered in scarred flesh, it made some amount of sense.  But really – not fair.  Twenty-six and sore hips, she shook her head.  “Well, always a right time for things, I suppose.  It’s how we get most opportunities, yeh?” 

She thought of her own experience – and how she was now at the ministry, which was a kind of alright deal, not the greatest thing in the world, but definitely growing on her, especially with some bizarre co-workers and fun people around.  Margo raised her eyebrows though when he suggested that there were girls all over him because they just wanted to see what life held for them – wasn’t there an easier way than all of that?  It made her slightly uncomfortable to think there were women stupid enough that would do that just because they wanted a peek at something that was bound to change.

But, to each his or her own, she figured, and if Cillian was going to talk about it, maybe he was proud of it or something.  Odd thing to want to showcase, but who was she to judge?  She wasn’t exactly a model of great decision making, but she also didn’t make desperate decisions.  She’d never be ridiculous enough to do something like that – at least not if she was completely sober and in her right mind – maybe they had head injuries?  She didn’t voice any of this out loud, though she desperately wished to point that out.

He must have used that third eye of his to realize that she was not interested in that aspect of conversation, unless she was going to be judging ex-classmates of hers that had lowered themselves to seer groupies, but that probably wasn’t very flattering to Cillian, who was a nice guy, but she couldn’t really imagine him inviting that sort of attention to himself.  But, whatever the case – his life, right? 

She shrugged at his question and mulled her mouth a little, “Not sure yet.  I think maybe just some treats and a few galleons that he can get what he wants with.  Maybe not as meaningful, but I’m bad at this stuff… he really enjoys Divination.  Anything you can think of? A glass ball maybe?  Tea leaves?  I don’t remember much…” she rubbed the back of his neck, confused as to what she was supposed to do.  “I’m at a loss…”

Cillian thought about Margo's cousin as best he could. Fergie was a great student and probably the best dressed and groomed fifteen year old Cillian had ever met. He had even thought so before becoming the kid's Professor. Fergie had been one of those students that frequented the Inner Eye during Hogsmeade weekends. It was strange for Cillian to think back to those days with the fact that Fergie was Margo's cousin in mind. He wondered if he had seen Margo and Fergie together back then, he'd be having the same reaction to her as he was now. Perhaps it was good their first reunion had been over drinks afterall even if it did end in a way Cillian wasn't fond of.

Cillian scratched the back of his neck before looking up at Margo. He noticed her rubbing her arms and this time didn't hesitate in pulling his wand out, being able to find it easily now that he wasn't flustered. He performed a quick warming charm to dry off most of the posh and expensive looking clothing she was wearing before going back to what he was going to say to her, "Well if yer lookin' ta git Fergie sumthin like tha', we could always head ova to thee Inner Eye. I still technically work there, could always get ye a good discount if yer interested. Though I've always thought o' Fergie as bein' one o' those boys that would prefer a nice pair o' shoes over a crystal ball or set o' tarot cards."

He glanced down High street towards where his shop and subsequently his apartment was. Thankfully many of the clothing shops were down that way as well, "Why don' we jus head down tha' way an' see if anythin' catches yer eye?"

Margo felt a sudden, unexplained bout of warmness, and confusedly looked around, finally glancing down to see Cillian had his wand out.  He must have performed a spell, and she smiled briefly, “Thanks!” chirping as she no longer had to hug herself to keep warm, and then fail miserably. For now  though, until she fell in the slush again – which invariably would happen again this winter, as it happened almost all winters, she was warm and dry – only her boots – with their water repellent charm – getting wet in the snow. 

She was glad for such a thing and wondered if one could cast one over his or her body.  Though that would probably make it difficult to shower… and having a… spotty record like hers with a wand, she wouldn’t want to try it.  She’d probably end up blowing a finger off or something, so it was safe to just allow herself to be wet and gross.  Thankfully, someone else had taken care of it this time! 

He would, apparently, also be taking care of the gift thing – because it appeared he had better ideas than she did.  But, when he mentioned shoes, Margo wrinkled her nose.  “I don’t think I could shop for clothes for him,” she admitted, “he’s picky – and I’d pick something wrong.”  She knew that for sure, he didn’t appreciate anything she wore or liked, so that wasn’t going to happen.  Galleons would be the more sensible option, that way he could buy what he liked with it and feel like she had contributed to it.  Or she could go to the Inner Eye or something… Mulling her mouth a bit, she considered the option.

He did like that stuff, and Margo could get him something useful over another accessory… Going with Cillian would get her a discount, which would be nice, she reasoned – it also meant spending more time with him, which could be totally awkward, but at the same time, it wouldn’t be so bad… he was a nice person, a little on the puppy side, but nice person.  Nodding cautiously, she decided to take him up on the offer.  What was the worst that could happen, really? 

“Sounds like a plan,” Margo grinned and started walking, stiffly getting into a rhythm as they covered some distance.  She had always been awkward, but this was a brand new kind.  Snow and unsure footing did not go well together.  “I’ve never had a harder time shopping for anyone,” she admitted, “go figure I would reconnect with the one cousin who actually has good taste.”  She recalled quite a few who she could probably throw something shiny at and not only would they be satisfied, but distracted for a good half hour.  “What boy would prefer shoes, really?” she rubbed the bridge of her nose before looking over and down at Cillian to her side.

“He’s such a weird kid,” she said out loud, musing a bit.  “I was never like that – I don’t think any of my family was, but,” she shrugged, “I guess it’s his quirk.  Is he that bad at school?” she looked over with a smirk, hoping to get some dirt on her cousin to tease him with later. 

Cillian chuckled, a genuine deep throated sound. Cillian was well aware of the fact that his deep voice often threw people off. Judging by his size most people expected him to have a high pitched even squeaky voice, it was surprising to hear such a deep voice coming out of such a small person but Cillian found it to be an asset. He found it was easier to hold people's attention with his calm deep voice, "Yeah he does seem like thee picky type."

As they continued to walk closer to the Inner Eye and various other shops Cillian compulsively shoved his hands in his pockets. They had been itching and twitching. He wanted to hold her hand so badly but knew that everything about that would be a bad idea and so he resorted to playing with his pocket lint and a few spare knuts to keep himself from doing anything stupid.

Cillian glanced up at Margo wondering how to broach the subject in a civil and respectable manner, "He's uh, Fergie, he's . . ." Unfortunately no better words were coming to mind and feeling as if he should finish his sentence Cillian added in the first word he could think of, "He's queer issint he?" He searched her features to see whether he was right and whether or not she already knew. There were enough rumors going around the school about it and while Cillian found that rumors weren't always true they often had some silver lining of truth within them. Given the way that Ferguson acted he doubted these particular rumors were false, "not that it's a bad thin' or anythin' just explains thee shoes, yeah?"

Cillian brought his hazel eyes back to the street ahead of them. He normally did well in social situations even if he didn't always participate in them but there was something about Margo that got him all flustered and stumbling. He couldn't think straight around her and so the words that came out kept being the wrong ones. She probably thought he was such a prat by now. It was only a matter of time before she got fed up with his awkwardness and ditched him.

Cillian shrugged, "Don' know really. It's hard ta say whether someone's good at Divination or not. His marks aren't bad in thee class an' he really seems ta enjoy it. I don't really talk ta any o' thee otha teachers so I don't really know how he's doin' in his otha classes."

“He’s what?” Margo asked as she continued to look forward – she expected to hear a lot of things, a sissy, weird, pretentious, snarky, brutally honest – some she would be more proud of than others, but he was Fergie.  Over their correspondence, Margo got the chance to know her cousin much better and she really liked him and his ridiculous ways.  Even if he thought her fashion was atrocious and might be somewhat embarrassed to be seen in public with her when she dressed herself, at least he was honest about it!  She didn’t know many people who would admit to such a thing. 

She wasn’t expecting what he came out with though. Stopping dead in her tracks, Margo turned to look at him directly.  She couldn’t believe it!  He was actually asking that question.  Now, of course, it had crossed Margo’s mind the first time they talked and a little bit after, but Margo was beyond caring when it came to the family members she loved.  Her siblings, her good cousins, close friends – she didn’t want anyone to question them for anything beyond what they were, and it made it hard for her to process what she wanted to say – it was like her mind was a broom flying against a hurricane – staying in one place.
 
“What does it even matter?” she finally blurted out, unsure of what she was going to say beyond that.  It seemed like the only thing that mattered in her mind – it didn’t matter what he was! And how was she expected to know?  It wasn’t like it came up in conversation, ‘Oh yea, I like boys as much as you do!’ That wasn’t how she talked to her cousin.  It was just… she couldn’t even… Running her hand through her dark hair, she could almost feel it frizzing out to match how flustered and thrown she felt.  “I mean, he’s the same person regardless – and to be perfectly honest, I have no idea.” 

“It doesn’t change who he is or how smart or cool he is,” alright, cool was going a bit too far, but at this point, Margo was just saying what she was thinking out loud – it made her upset that it came up.  “So what if he likes shoes and cardigans?  He can be whoever he wants to be, as far as I’m concerned.  It would show his stupid parents something, that’s for sure.”  She huffed and puffed gently, feeling the cold air fill her lungs and the biting wind nipping at her already reddened cheeks.  When she got upset, she could almost feel her eyes darkening and she crossed her arms over her chest, feeling somewhat righteous for her cousin and wishing he had been here himself to stand up for himself. 

And that coming from a professor?  She almost wanted to bring that up! He shouldn’t have even thought to mention it.  But, whatever.  Frowning softly, Margo just… she felt like anything else he said about her cousin wasn’t going to enter her brain.  She wanted to hit him.  She wouldn’t though – he was smaller than her, so that was inherently unfair, and she was a woman, so he couldn’t hit back.  “I’d prefer that didn’t come up again,” she said in a hard voice, "I don't appreciate it."

As soon as Margo took her righteous and angry stance Cillian took on a defensive one. He took a few steps back and held his hands up as if to ward off her hurt and upset words. He honestly hadn't meant anything by it he just couldn't think of a gentler way to approach the subject. He hadn't meant for her to get upset over it, he wasn't trying to offend her and he certainly wasn't trying to insult Fergie. Ferguson was an amazing young man and Cillian admired him for being able to be his own man no matter what anyone else said. He hadn't been able to think of a better word to use, now he was wishing he hadn't said anything at all.

“What does it even matter?”

"I doesn't, I was jus-"

“I mean, he’s the same person regardless."

"He is, I-"

“It doesn’t change who he is or how smart or cool he is,”

"Of course it doesn't, Fergie's-"

“So what if he likes shoes and cardigans?  He can be whoever he wants to be, as far as I’m concerned."

"By all means, it's jus-"

“I’d prefer that didn’t come up again, I don't appreciate it."

This time Cillian didn't say anything. Instead he just turned away from her continuing down the street, his small features turning cold. He didn't care whether she was still following alongside him or not. He hadn't meant anything by it and the fact that she wouldn't even let him explain or say anything really had him hurt this time around. He hadn't said it in a mean or degrading tone, he had just been curious and hoped that she could comfirm things for him. It had all just been the natural progression of their conversation as far as Cillian was concerned. She had asked what type of boy preferred shoes and he had answered. Was it his fault that she didn't like his answer, or that she had over reacted to a simple curious inquiry?

As they neared the Inner Eye a sudden unexpected and definitely unwelcome thought came to mind, Well she definitely won't sleep wit me now, Cillian shook the thought as soon and as quickly as it had arrived and gave her an apologetic look. He opened the glass door to the shop he had worked in for the past eight years, "Ye still wanna come inside?" He paused for a moment before adding, unable to keep the hurt tone from his voice, "I understan if ye don'."

 Fergie was completely oblivious to the fact that he was about to enter into yet another awkward situation. He seemed to be a magnet for those lately and had he known what he was walking into, the young man probably would have turned around and headed in the complete opposite direction. But he was blissfully ignorant.

 All he knew was that he was supposed to meet his cousin Margo, and although he was a little bit early he'd spotted her walking down the street in the direction of The Inner Eye, and decided to approach. He loved that shop, and he needed to pick something up for Sophie anyway - she shared his appreciation for Divination.

 "Margo!" He called out, trotting (But not running. Fergie didn't run, except when it was away from someone. Or to a shoe sale.) forward to catch up to her. "You're wearing the outfit!" He exclaimed with a pleased grin, looking her over once he caught up and gave her a hug. "I have excellent taste," Ferguson decided with a self-satisfied nod. He had taken that leather obsessed ugly duckling and turned her into a chic little swan. Awww, it was a Christmas miracle!

 And then, belatedly, he recognized his cousin's companion. "Professor Cuthbert! What a pleasant surprise!"