"Oh Godric, finally," Fergie pushed open the door of the empty classroom and ducked inside, dropping his school bag unceremoniously on the floor. "I thought classes were never going to end." He wasn't exactly a big fan of Thursdays. Both of his least favorite classes within a few hours of each other? No thank you.

But they were over, and he didn't have to think about them anymore. So he didn't. Instead, he decided to focus his attention on the Ravenclaw who had followed him in. Fergie grinned up at the other boy and reached out to tug him closer. "So it looks like we've got the place to ourselves," he pointed out, settling his hands on Sasha's waist. Fergie tilted his head to the side and adopted a deceptively innocent expression before asking, "Any ideas on what we should do now?"

---

"Yeah, finally," Sasha agreed, though with considerably less emphatically as he followed the Slytherin into the classroom.  He actually didn't mind Tuesdays and Thursdays that much.  They had four classes in contrast to the six on Wednesdays and Fridays (not to mention seven on Mondays), he actually had a real, honest to goodness study break before lunch and the afternoon was usually spent outside.  DADA was, really, the only cause for trepidation on those days. 

His own bag was set carefully down in the seat of one of the empty desks and his attention turned to retrieving the materials for the classes that had been deemed most pressing for study.  He hadn't noticed what Fergie was up to; that was, at least, until a pair of hands tugged him away from the bag.    He glanced, bashfully, down at the hands on his waist, the color wasting no time in rising in his face. Alone, the innocent look on the Slytherin's face might have succeeded in fooling the Ravenclaw.  Paired with the blatantly placed hands, it was hard for even him to miss the context clues.  "I ... I take it reviewing our Transfiguration homework for tomorrow would be a wrong answer?"

---

"I knew you were in Ravenclaw for a reason," Fergie affirmed with a nod. "Unless you'd really rather study than take advantage of the fact that we're alone?" One impeccably groomed eyebrow lifted, but Ferguson didn't leave Sasha much time to think that over on his own. Instead, he leaned up and pressed a quick little kiss to Sasha's lips. "Personally, as enthralling as the idea sounds, I think this is more fun than Transfiguration homework. But that could just be me."

---

"I ... well ... "  It really hadn't been a question; therefore, Sasha really didn't need to come up with some long-winded explanation involving logical Ravenclaws and the general lack of ability to correlate their academic success with their social success.  Besides, again, it wasn't really a question.  Before Sasha could answer the next actual real question, Fergie leaned in for a kiss that proved, all in all, far too short.  Sasha's own lips chased after Fergie's briefly as the Slytherin pulled away.  A slight, sheepish grin played across his features as he looked down at the other boy.  Admitting he, indeed, preferred the prospects of Fergie's suggestion more than studying seemed scandalous and inappropriate - excitingly so. 

"I ... well-" he repeated, though for entirely new reasons.  "This ... perhaps studying could, you know, wait.  At least a bit."  His heart fluttered nervously and anxiously as he leaned hesitantly forward. 

---

And... score. Not that he'd really expected Sasha to say no, of course. But that didn't make it any less exciting, or stop his grin from widening when the other boy leaned closer. "We've been working all day, after all," Fergie pointed out, brushing his lips against Sasha's a second time. "We deserve a break. You know what they say about all work and no play."

---

"That's true."  For once, thoughts about the work that Sasha had left to do that evening didn't even cross his mind.  As Fergie's lips found his, again, there really wasn't much more that crossed his mind.  He leaned in for a third kiss moments after, finally leaning back with an awkward, strangled laugh.  "I ... that's-" he blushed, glancing down and shrugging.  "It's nice."

---

This time, it was Fergie's turn to lean into the kiss after Sasha had pulled away slightly. And, apparently, to embarrass himself by answering Sasha's laugh with a giddy giggle, like he was a twelve year old girl or something. "It is nice," he agreed absently. It was true enough, though. Kissing Sasha was always nice. It made his heart speed up and sent these butterflies tumbling around inside his stomach and sometimes made him breathless. It was still hard to believe, sometimes, that Sasha wanted to kiss him. But he did. It made Fergie feel incredibly special. And want to do more of that.

"You're cute when you blush." The Slytherin took his hands off of Sasha's waist, but only so he could tug gently at the collar of Sasha's shirt and pull him closer again. "I like you a lot," he added, for no reason in particular. He was kind of letting his brain take a back seat at the moment and letting his lips do whatever they wanted. Which, apparently, was to catch Sasha's bottom lip between his own and press a little closer to him. You know, just to lend emphasis to his point.

---

It wasn't fair.  Fergie's giggle confirmed the Slytherin shared Sasha's nervous excitement.  Despite that similarity, he was still seemed capable of finding comprehensible words and phrases.  Fergie might not be saying anything mind boggling profound but he was managing to say something intelligible.  It was more than Sasha even hoped to achieve. 

Which, was probably alright.  Talking was, likely, not the first priority.  "I ... well, that's, you know, good."  It was good Fergie liked this whole blushing thing; it wasn't likely to go away anytime soon.  Indeed, even now the blush was only deepening as he was drawn closer.  His heart fluttered excitedly against his chest as his breath hitched in his throat.  "I-" His voice faltered slightly, not only due to the distraction of Fergie's lips against his own.  His arms snaked around the Slytherin, his hands clumsily pressing the other boy against him. 

Say something intelligible, say something intelligible, the voice in the back of his head started chanting.  He had no idea what one was supposed to say in these scenarios - repeating what Fergie had offered seemed so ... unoriginal.  His mind quickly shuffled through movies and tv shows, anything that might reference proper conversational tactics in these situations and offered the first thing that came to mind without even thinking it through.  "I think you''re swell."  He winced.

---

Fergie hummed happily against Sasha's lips as the other boy wrapped his arms around him. Honestly, he should have kissed Sasha back in September, after they'd first met, if it would have meant them starting all this that much sooner. Thinking of all the time they could have spent doing this, but missed, would have made him sad if he hadn't been too busy twining his arms around Sasha's neck and idly playing with the short hair at the nape of the Ravenclaw's neck.

"Swell?" He let out another breathless giggle. And, seriously, he was going to have to get that under control. He couldn't just go around giggling every time Sasha kissed him! It was a little bit mortifying. But that would have to wait till after he was done trailing featherlight kisses from the corner of Sasha's mouth to his ear so he could whisper, "The 1920's called, love. They want their compliment back." Not that he minded. He could be swell. As long as he got to keep kissing Sasha? He could totally be swell.

---

For a few moments, (or, perhaps, a few hours - there came a point during which it was impossible to gauge the passage of time) reality seemed to fade from Sasha's consciousness.  His head grew light and airy - he doubted he'd manage to get through any of his transfiguration homework even if he tried.  There was just a simple awareness of the feeling of Fergie standing next to him, the boy's lips against his own and the brush of fingertips against the back of his neck. 

A slightly strangled sound - something akin to both a whimper and a laugh - escaped the Ravenclaw as the Slytherin pulled back slightly.  Sasha stared down at him, wide-eyed, breathing heavily.  He shivered and chuckled nervously as the other boy whispered in his ear.  "I'm, well ... sorry," he replied quietly before wincing, again, and shaking his head.  Was he really, truly apologizing to the 20s for stealing their compliment?  Really, his mind needed to start coordinating better with his mouth.  In relation to speaking.  "I didn't- I don't really know what to, you know, say.  It's all- love?"  The whispered comment had just replayed in his head and the form of address managed to stand out more than the message itself.  And, after all, it could be just that - a casual form of address.

---

Fergie involuntarily jerked back a few inches as panic hit him like one of those big muggle trucks. His eyes widened and he could feel the heat surging into his cheeks - Fergie was sure his face was redder, in that moment, than he'd ever seen even Sasha's. All he could do for a good three seconds (although it felt much, much longer) was stare up at the Ravenclaw with a deer in the headlights expression on his face.

"I..." he croaked, voice not quite working properly. Great. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I didn't mean t- I just..." Yeah. He had nothing. Because he couldn't be like 'oh, it's just, you know, a nickname' because it wasn't. And he couldn't tell Sasha he loved him because he wasn't a crazy person. They had only been dating for what, a month? And Sasha was still working on getting comfortable with this whole dating a boy thing. Fergie didn't want to freak him out.

But it was true, and maybe it wouldn't be so bad to just blurt it out and oh, thank Godric, that was the door. Fergie quickly disentangled himself and jumped back, running a shaky hand through his hair and sinking down into one of the empty seats, trying to regulate his breathing and regain at least some of his composure before he looked up at the intruder. But not at Sasha. Because if he looked at Sasha and the Ravenclaw seemed freaked out or, or repulsed, or something? (Pretty much any reaction, at this point, would be enough.) Fergie was tolerably certain he might throw up. "Um. Hi. We were - studying."

---

Sasha froze.  Or, at least, externally he froze.  Internally, his stomach seemed to plummet as if he'd just stepped on an elevator going down where the speed was set far too high.  Despite having said only a handful of disconnected, jumbled words, he'd still managed to say the wrong thing.  Really, if he knew how to reach out and re-swallow that one, stray question, he would. 

"I'm sorry," he quickly offered since retracting the question wasn't an option.  He had no idea how to fix this other than apologize.  "I didn't ... I was just, you know,... curious.  It's not-"  Except, it was kind of a big deal.  Unless, of course, making it not one would fix things.  "I- oh."  He didn't mean to what?  His gaze dropped to the floor as a deep sigh tugged down on his shoulders. 

He was still standing, his gaze fixed uncertainly on his book bag when the door swung open.  It took him slightly longer to recover from the previous predicament - his gaze shifted back towards Fergie whose attention was now focused firmly on the door.  But, when he finally turned towards the newcomers, years of habitual lying kicked in and, in a curious change of roles, he displayed considerably more composure when he picked up where Fergie's lie left off.  "We're looking over those Transfigurations exercises for tomorrow's class.  I heard rumors there might be a quiz." 


((taken from IM))

Unlike her usual mood, Bellatrix was currently dodging people in the hallway instead of blasting them, swearing loudly, or shoving them off into walls out of her way. Weeks upon weeks of moping and "stress from O.W.L. exams" had made the darker Dark twin shrink to her original size; she no longer had her intimidating, formidable aura about her. It was harder for her to squeeze through all these people, almost as much as it had been in her 3rd and 4th years. Of course, she had grown at least 2 inches since then, but it had mostly been her personality that seemed big. Now, she was crammed back down near the floor due to her saggy mood and she was much worse for wear.

She needed to be alone where no one could see her. Her teachers were starting to comment on her lack of enthusiasm when it came to wand-work. Even Transfiguration, her best subject, had been suffering. The good news was that her homework was always turned in on time (the parchment work, anyway) and all of her essays were getting good grades! 'If only you could put forth that effort into raising your wand,' one of her teachers had commented while he looked over her essay, 'you need to balance it out, you know. First, you were all wand and no quill, now you're all quill and no wand! Is something wrong?' She had, luckily, avoided the question when one of her classmates caused an accident that the professor had to attend to right away. Before he could get back to her, the bell had rang and she dismissed herself evasively.

If the professors were starting to notice, she'd have to do something about it! She'd have to find a way to get her aggression, her moxy, her groove back. How? How? Mentally, she snarled at herself, simultaneously dodging a yelping second year that had almost collided with her. Lots of her own classmates would be heading to the library. She didn't particularly care to try wandwork in front of her head of house anyway, so she tried to think of a place to hide while practicing. Her eyes spotted the door to an empty classroom and immediately, her problem was solved! After all, these activities weren't going to be pleasant even if she was alone. The last thing that Bellatrix needed were prying eyes and loose tongues.

Speaking of loose tongues, when she opened the door, her blue eyes landed almost immediately on a pair of boys sitting way too close together for her tastes. Ignoring them momentarily, Bella shut the door behind her and walked closer to the first desk where she dropped her slightly tattered bag and started muttering to herself about "too convenient" and "won't work, anyway". When she looked up again, Bellatrix realized she not only recognized one of them, but both of them! Fergie? With Schalgenwhatever?! The teenager quickly caught on that she was almost gaping at both of them, placed her hands on her hips, and raised her head. Several times, she opened her mouth, thought better of whatever she was going to say, closed it, and repeated. Finally, she gave up, shook her head, and started searching her bag for her wand.

After finally feeling it underneath the mass amount of books she carried within the messenger bag, she tugged it out (with difficulty as the books continued to try and topple over it), and stared at the object as if she had just received it. Her shoulders drooped as she admired the wand. Already, her memories were flashing back at her. There had been an awful lot of damage she had inflicted with this wand and it was almost as if the wand was backfiring the pain into her soul. She had suffered a massive downfall from her tyrannic throne (two of the causes for that in the very room now), been lifted into the air by love, and slammed back down again by unjustified rejection. Valentine's Day was two days away and she had no date, again, this year...

Suddenly furious that tears were welling up in her eyes, she whirled on her heel to glare at the pair of boys that were trying to study. She wanted to shout at them that all of her current mess was their fault, but the memory of their faces lit up with the resolute glare of defense and care for a friend held her back. With equal stiffness, Bellatrix removed her Slytherin robes, keeping her wand in hand, and marched over to them. She wasn't sure what she was going to say and had not figured it out by the time she came to stand in front of Sasha.

After she had tried to jinx him (and failed, thanks to Fergie and several others defending him), he had disappeared. Everyone had said it was her fault and Bellatrix had thought so. Now he was back. The truth was that after he had left, Bellatrix had a hard time looking at herself in the mirror. Not because she wasn't pretty like Kitty Li or Maeve, but because the guilt of thinking she'd driven someone completely out of Hogwarts was unbearable. It was a long time of her just staring at the Ravenclaw Prefect before she finally cracked her knuckles in nervous habit and decided to actually say something!

"Er, Prefect?" At least  she didn't have her horrible tone of bossiness or rudeness. "I'm...umm.." There was a very long pause. "Sorry."

With a furtive glance at Fergie, she looked around for something to quickly change the subject. They were doing Transfiguration homework, she noticed. She could help with the essay and considered offering to do so yet the excitement died away at once. 'No,' she told herself sharply, '['i]you came in here to try wandwork![/i]' There was a twitch on the corner of her mouth that was supposed to be an attempt at a smile before she turned on her heel and made her way across the room to sit back at the desk where her bag was. When she sat down, she pulled out a button. Their Transfiguration had thus far become far more advanced than transforming a button into something else, but it was basics. Until she got her old wand-happy self back, she wasn't going to attempt anything advanced.

Regardless of how hard she tried to concentrate on transforming the button into a bug, her mind wandered along the lines of Valentine's Day and Xavier Tawse... He would probably be asking Lady Branwell to the ball. She sneered in disgust at the thought, glaring at the pencil as if it was the button's suggestion. There was a flare of anger that erupted within her unexpectedly and she tried to seize her chance by waving her wand. Unfortunately, as swiftly as it came, the rage left her only a split-second before the tip of her wand pointed at the button. The best that happened was that the button sprouted antenna. She gave an odd sniff in an attempt to stop the flow of tears from bursting forth and once again tried hard to imagine the bug in her mind. That bug turned into Kit Branwell, the aggression rushed to her, and the process of it leaving before she could flick her wand repeated: the button did nothing except turn a pale shade of green. Again and again, she tried to think of how angry she was (or rather, wanted) to be at Xavier, but the hopelessness kept growing. There was no way that she would be able to cure this...whatever this was, but if she didn't get a grip soon and get out of this depression, her life as a witch would come to an end.

Freya was nearly in tears, too.  There wasn't anywhere in the castle she could go to be alone.  No, those nooks were all filled with girls giggling over the boys they'd been asked by to the dance.  Even the library was overly full, though not with giggling, thank Merlin.  Instead, it was filled with nervous students trying vainly to achieve something academically when they'd slacked the rest of the year.

Which was precisely what Freya was doing at the moment.

Her marks had been so abysmal her mother informed her that, unless she improved, she'd be sent away to school.  Though Freya didn't really have many friends, Hogwarts was her home.  She couldn't abide being sent away.  So she'd buckled under and worked hard, sweated and toiled to strike her grades up to average.  Gran was so thrilled with her success, she'd even promised her a special gown for her very first Ball.  She hadn't the heart to tell Gran that her experiments in femininity had failed as abysmally as her grades.  No boy would ask her to the dance, and likely they'd be afraid she'd beat them up, if she tried to ask them.

In fact, Freya was such a failure, she wondered if maybe there was something in her Transfiguration book like an Inner Sex-Change that might aid her cause.  At the very least, she wanted to experiment with the spell that turned eyebrows different colors, and see if she could apply it in a less garish tone.  At least then she wouldn't look like the Abominable Snowman!

So she listened at doors to classrooms for the unmistakable sounds of giggling until she found a quiet one.  It so happened the occupants were between "I'm sorries" and the silence stretched on for several moments--long enough to deceive her.  She didn't even check, first, she was so distracted by her own misery.  So she was fully five paces into the room before she realized the unnatural silence was filled with two Slytherins, a familiar Ravenclaw boy and furious blushing.

"Great," she said sullenly.  Freya wasn't the sort to say, 'I'm sorry,' of course, even when she was.  "The Dating Game.  Are you two preparing to duel over the honor of escorting the Slythie or is anyone welcome?"  Because of course, she'd never met Fergie so had no idea he wasn't avidly searching for a date to the Valentine's Day Ball just like every other loon-faced, mush-brained, testosterone-drowned teenaged boy in the castle.

Just curious. That was the sort of thing you said when you asked something like 'where did you get those shoes?' or 'does your hair always stick up like that?' Not, 'oh hey, by the way, are you in love with me?' That wasn't the sort of thing you could just be idly curious about, he didn't think. It was something you either wanted to hear, or didn't. And he would have felt a lot better if he'd been able to figure out which one Sasha wanted and what that sigh had meant, exactly.

He didn't have much time to dwell on that at the moment, however, as the intruder proved to be someone he recognized. Bellatrix Dark was belligerent, with this annoying habit of hexing people who pissed her off (which was as easy, apparently, as accidentally sending a bean in her direction). It had seemed, lately, that Miss Dark was too busy catching up on her homework to worry about terrorizing the masses. Unfortunately the way she placed her bag in an empty chair and drew her wand made it plain she had every intention of sticking around to terrorize them.

You know, because they hadn't had enough issues with bullies since the new year.

"Look, if you want us to leave we will," he told her, getting to his feet again and standing next to Sasha. The Ravenclaw was the one she was reported to be holding a grudge against, and Fergie wanted to make it clear he had no intention of just letting Bella exact her revenge. Not that he could do much, since his wand was tucked into his own bag, several feet away. But whatever, he'd improvise, and plant himself between them if he had to. He would prefer that his attempt at talking them out of this worked, though. "You don't have to, you know, do anything to us. We'll just go."

But the girl didn't even seem to be listening. She was just standing there, staring at her wand like she'd forgotten what it was for or something. Fergie glanced at Sasha, eyebrows raised. What was that all about? But then, ah... yes, that was more like the Bella he knew. She soon whirled around to glare at them, and stomp her way over, and stand in front of Sasha, and... stare some more. It was kind of unnerving. Fergie eventually opened his mouth to speak, but apparently Bellatrix's mind had finally kicked back into gear, because she spoke.

"Er, Prefect? I'm...umm.. Sorry."

Wait, what?! "Is this some kind of joke?" He involuntarily blurted out. But really, it was a valid question. Bellatrix Dark didn't apologize to her victims. In fact, Fergie didn't think he'd heard of the girl ever apologizing to anyone, except maybe her equally crazy sister. If this was an attempt to lull them into a false sense of security, it wasn't going to work.

The door opened again (Fergie had apparently chosen the wrong empty classroom for a private moment), this time admitting a tall, pale girl that Fergie recognized as one of the fifth year Gryffindors. She didn't seem to be in a very good mood. And... hang on. She thought he and Sasha were fighting over Bella? Was that what people thought, that if he had liked girls she was the kind he'd have gone after?

He was hoping his shocked and slightly disgusted expression was convincing enough to stand on its own two feet, but just in case the point wasn't clear he said, "I'm not dueling anyone for that particular 'honor', no. If Sasha wants her, he's welcome to her." Fergie glanced up in Sasha's direction with a slight smirk. It was kind of funny to think of anyone picturing the Ravenclaw as his romantic rival, instead of the guy Fergie had been pursuing for the past several months. This Gryffindor girl must be really behind on the rumor mill.

He'd tossed the lie out there and, without hesitation, had turned his attention to tugging his transfiguration text out of his bag to back it up.  At first, it hadn't been important who the intruder was - the immediate goal had been the same: act casual and make it clear whatever they were doing there was legitimate.  It didn't really matter who the newcomer was, he just needed to make sure what he was doing was, in no way shape or form, compromising.  It wasn't until he'd set his text on his desk and he'd heard Fergie's offer to leave that he looked up. 

Slowly, as foreboding dread knotted up his insides, he shook his head slowly in a silent request - or, perhaps, plea.  Had he done something to offend the Slytherin?  Had she ... had she been friends with Ava and had heard rumors that Sasha had been involved?  Or, was it just a matter of Bellatrix being bored?  Whatever the reason, these encounters rarely boded well for him.  "Just, please - leave-" He glanced at Fergie as the other boy stepped up protectively next to him. "-us alone.  I don't-" 

Whatever hope he'd had of getting out of this unscathed started to fade when Bella turned angrily towards them, her wand between her fingers.  For a fraction of a second, Sasha considered grabbing his own wand but realized that was liable to just get him in more trouble.  So far, his few attempts to defend himself - or Fergie - had ended in disaster: the butchering of that man, that curse that he'd cast on Knight, getting crucioed by Ava when he'd tried to stop her.  Really - things had been easier (and, in many ways better) when he used to just let whatever was going to happen happen.  He sighed in frustration and took a deep breath and closed his eyes, bracing himself for whatever was about to be flung at him. 

"Er, Prefect?  I'm...umm..  Sorry."

Sasha remained frozen, his eyes still closed - the only change being his eyebrows that knitted together in confusion.  The seconds continued to tick past until he heard Fergie speak up.  He opened on eye and then the other before looking between the two Slytherins.  "I ... You're ... what?"  Bellatrix had just apologized to him?  And, now she was sitting down?  At a desk?  To do homework?  Without asking them to leave or ... hexing him?  He looked, again, at Fergie shrugging his shoulders in complete bafflement. 

"I ... um ... what are you doing?"  He, of course, could be currently venturing hazardously back into the realm of hex-potential but knowing he was about to get hexed was better than this ... this ... feeling of being toyed with.  He wasn't a mouse she could just play with.  Sasha watched Bella as she pulled out a button and seemed to start practicing ... and crying.  He stared, blankly at the girl until the room was, once again, invaded ... by another crying girl.  Sasha glanced at Fergie before turning towards Freya.  "I ... um ..." he repeated, again. 

Were they ... what? 

"Are we ... Bella?"  Sasha glanced towards the Slytherin girl before looking at Fergie and then back at Freya.  Dueling over escorting the Slythie?  Where would they be escorting her?  It wasn't like the girl needed to be escorted by them back to the dorms or anything.  But then, he remembered.  The Valentine's Day Ball.  Freya thought Fergie and Sasha were fighting over who would take Bella to the Ball?  In all fairness, Sasha really hadn't given the Ball much thought.  He hadn't really been in the most festive of moods lately - certainly not enough to go with just anyone to the Ball.  Not to mention, it admittedly felt strange to thing about going to it with anyone but Fergie - even if no one else knew about that development.  With all the complications, he'd just assumed it'd be easier not to go than figure out how to solve the problem of whether it made more sense to go alone or with someone as a cover date. 

Which was all well and good until now, when the whole predicament was staring him in the face.  With both Fergie and other girls (one of whom he'd 'practiced flirting with') here as an audience.  This, of course, cold be the prefect opportunity to create a cover story except for one small detail.  This was Bellatrix they were talking about. 

"I ... well,...yes, I don't think dueling will be necessary.  I don't think she's his type."  Of course, Sasha didn't blame Freya for her assumption about Fergie - he, likely, would have wondered the same thing himself not three months ago.  He really wasn't putting much thought into what he was saying or what the implications might be.

The shocked look on their faces had been nothing to Bella as was shown when she flounced off. However, she hadn't actually expected them to speak. Why hadn't she anticipated that? She looked up from her desk and peered at the two of them blankly. What about her apology hadn't been clear?

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"I ... um ... what are you doing?" Sasha looked as suspicious as her house-mate. "I ... um ..."

"No, it's not a joke," she said irritatedly. "I said I was sorry for jinxing you and I meant it. I admit that I was being... Well, I never expected you to leave the school, did I? I didn't mean to actually hurt you the way Ava was injured!"

She snapped her mouth shut. Ava hadn't been a friend of Bella's, but it was awful to think of just the same that someone in her house was killed. It could have been her, it could have been her sister, it could have been anyone in any house. The worst part was that it had been done on Hogwarts grounds and Sasha was among all the rumors. Her blue eyes glanced nervously at the two. It wasn't because she was anxious about being in the room with him (he honestly didn't seem capable of killing another person to Bella), but worried about he would feel when Ava was brought up. When the door opened again, Bellatrix was grateful for the interruption.

At the accusation of Fergie and Prefect arguing over her, the maniacal 5th year opened her mouth to laugh. That was until her housemate made his sarcastic remark. This time, her brows knitted together in fury, but it was Sasha that had stumped her best of all.

"I ... well,...yes, I don't think dueling will be necessary.  I don't think she's his type."

It took her brain a couple of recounts of the comment to grasp it. What? She wasn't Fergie's type? Did that imply that she was his type? Ridiculous! She now had a date to the Valentine's Ball and hadn't been properly asked. Without thought, Bellatrix jumped to her feet, knocking over her chair in the process.

"I'm not going with either of them and I wouldn't if they asked me! You've got free choice."

The girl was rather manly-looking, but only because of the way she presented herself. Freya was a 5th year as well, but Bella didn't pay much attention to anyone outside her family and a couple of extra people like Tawse.

"Why are you so worried about the ball, anyway? A tough gal like you should be hexin' the ones that say 'no' when you ask them."

"I'm not dueling anyone for that particular 'honor', no. If Sasha wants her, he's welcome to her."  Freya frowned.

"I ... well,...yes, I don't think dueling will be necessary.  I don't think she's his type."   Which meant she was Sasha’s type, apparently, and it seemed the Slytherin thought so too. 

Freya’s frown deepened into a scowl.   “I was being facetious.  It was kind of a rhetorical question.”  What was it with people?  It wasn’t as if Valentine’s Day was even a real holiday.  Yet they went all wonky the moment a dance was announced.

She didn’t have long to ponder the teenaged libido, however, as the Slytherin replied hotly, "Why are you so worried about the ball, anyway? A tough gal like you should be hexin' the ones that say 'no' when you ask them."

“I-- What’s that supposed to mean?” Freya snapped.  She didn’t notice that her wand snapped to attention at the same time.  “I can get a date anytime I like,” she lied.  “I haven’t been told no.”  Which was true enough because she hadn’t gotten up the nerve to ask anyone.  Not that she planned to.  The only boy she’d considered was now dating someone else.  Not that he would have been interested in her but she would never know because she’d never spoken to him.

It didn’t occur to her that others would see her as manly.  Despite the fact that she was still barely nubile—a late bloomer, Gran called her—she was scrawnier than any boy had any right to be and her face, despite the scowl, was petite and almost elfin.  Even her hands were slender and dainty, a fact she took pains to hide by balling them into fists frequently, along with her scowl.  Even now, the hand that didn’t hold her wand pointed unconsciously at the Slytherin girl was balled tightly in a fist as if she felt like hitting someone.

And of course the Slytherin was right.  Had she actually asked a boy and been turned down (as invariably she would be), she would certainly have made him pay.  A stinging hex or maybe her signature On The Fly hex (where no matter how many times a boy is reminded to draw up his zipper, it unzips again at the most inopportune moment—like when he’s talking with a pretty girl he really does like).  Or perhaps the Sticky Foot hex, which attracts toilet paper like a magnet…

Honestly, if she paid as much attention to her classes as she did to plotting revenge, Freya wouldn’t have been studying so hard to catch up lately.  She didn’t exactly go around practicing those hexes, but she put a great deal of thought and effort into creating them.

Ferguson was well aware that Bellatrix Dark was kind of a crazy person. After sharing a common room with the girl for four and a half years, he couldn't help but be aware. She was moody and unpredictable, tended to hex first and ask questions later, and he just... he didn't trust her. And a random apology didn't mean that was going to change.

Especially not when she had the gall to go and mention Ava. It had been less than two weeks since the seventh year's death. It was still too recent, too fresh, to be brought up like that. Particularly to Sasha. Bellatrix seemed to realize that almost as soon as she'd spoken, but that didn't stop Fergie from feeling a surge of reproachful irritation towards the girl. "Seriously?" He demanded, eyes narrowing into a glare. "Have you no tact?" Not that it was all that surprising, considering the source, but still. There were some lines you simply did not cross. Fergie crossed his arms over his chest and glanced at Sasha, checking his reaction, and found himself glad for the distraction Freya offered.

Except for the part where Sasha made it seem like he was interested in Bellatrix. Ferguson wasn't certain if that had been intentional, or merely a byproduct of Sasha's uncanny knack for taking an awkward situation and making it even more awkward. Fergie quirked an eyebrow at the other boy, questioningly. He knew Sasha was concerned about what other people would think, but did he really want to hide it so badly that he would feign interest in someone else? Especially Bellatrix? The girl had apologized, sure, but that didn't negate the insults and hexes she'd hurled at Sasha - at everybody - over the past four and a half years.

But he didn't have much time to ponder this before Bellatrix was dramatically jumping to her feet (overturning her chair as she did so, which only added extra flair) and declaring that she wouldn't have either of them if they did ask. Which suited Fergie just fine. If there was one thing he wished to avoid, it was attracting the affections of crazy persons. He preferred gangly, awkward Ravenclaws, thanks.

"I doubt I'm going to the dance, anyway," Fergie announced, shrugging slightly. He had no desire to go with anyone who wasn't Sasha, and he wasn't sure convincing Sasha that taking their relationship public (at least at school) wouldn't be a bad thing was within his powers of persuasion. Particularly when his window of opportunity was only a few days. "So I don't think I'll be needing a date ...to that." Because Valentine's Day was still Valentine's Day, and whatever he ended up doing instead of the dance he wanted to do with his boyfriend.

Things just kept getting more and more tense, didn't they? First it had been Bellatrix's mood swings, and now the other girl, Freya, was up in arms. Fergie really didn't feel like getting caught in the middle of a cat fight, so he quickly stepped in to do his best to soothe the Gryffindor's feelings. "Of course you can! With those legs? You won't have any trouble. And you," he turned to Bella, because he somehow didn't think complimenting one girl and not the other was a good idea, "you're so... unique. I'm sure you've got a suitor or two lined up as well."

He smiled brightly, looking from one girl to the other, hoping it didn't seem too stiff to be sincere. Dealing with irritable, unpredictable females was not something he'd really bargained for, when he'd dragged Sasha in here. All he'd wanted was a quiet afternoon with his boyfriend. Apparently that was too much too ask. But hopefully now they could avoid complete disaster - changing the subject might help, he thought.

"So how about those Transfiguration exercises?"

Bella.  Bellatrix Dark.  Was apologizing for hexing him.  And, it was no joke.  His face still scrunched, slightly, with disbelief, Sasha continued to stare at the girl until she spoke of Ava. 

Visibly, Sasha faltered and he quickly looked down at the desk in front of him and hid his face behind a hand.  Bundled in that apology was not only the mention of Ava but the events that proceeded his suspension.  Bella had threatened to hex him and then had, for whatever reason, decided not to.  For all the good it had done him - someone else had roughed him up the next day, anyway.  Then, Fergie.   Looking back, all of that ... it seemed so long ago and so much like someone else's life, now.  Or, like some extended nightmare that he'd been trying desperately to wake from. 

And now, Bellatrix was telling him she'd never intended to hurt him the way Ava had been injured.  Like it had been some, strange, inexplicable injury.  Like when someone woke up with a large bruise on their leg and, for the life of them, couldn't remember how they'd gotten it.  But, that hadn't been what it was.  She hadn't been injured and it hadn't been entirely without explanation.  "She wasn't injured," Sasha finally said, quietly.  "She was in trouble and I let them kill her," he elaborated as he looked towards Freya, as grateful as any of them for the distraction. 

If there had been any implications of Bellatrix being Sasha's type imbedded in his response it had been completely lost on the Ravenclaw.  So, when Bellatrix elaborated and insisted he wasn't going with either of them, Sasha quickly turned to her and shook his head just to make sure there was no misunderstanding.  "No!  Of course not!  That's not what I was saying.  I wasn't ... no..." 

But, the girls both seemed to be firmly distracted by the other.  Which, to be honest, he was probably alright with.  Thanks to Bellatrix, he wasn't exactly in the mood to be discussing dances and who was or wasn't going to be asking whom to them.  The last time he'd dealt with one of these dances, he had promised Eirene he'd go with their crew and had ended up almost going with Ava.  And, instead, they'd kissed.  And, now - well ... thinking about going with anyone but Fergie felt strange and wrong but he knew attending the dance with the other boy was highly improbable. 

Pep talking and reassuring girls about their appearances wasn't his thing under the best of circumstances.  He was more than happy to leave that to Ferguson.  Which seemed to be a skill the Slytherin was quite proficient at.  And, Sasha was more than pleased with the idea of launching into Transfiguration homework.  It was infinitely better than discussing Freya's legs.  And, Bella's uniqueness.  Whatever that meant.  "Yes.  We've got OWLs coming up, after all." 

Fergie and Sasha were both ferociously disgruntled by her mention of Ava. Bellatrix inward cursed herself. One problem solved and another made by her own hand. It was like stitching a dress with a needle followed right by a pair of scissors to undo everything! Freya's remarks proved very opportune indeed and she, like the boys, seized it to escape the current conversation about apologies, Ava, and Bella's lack of tact.

"I-- What’s that supposed to mean? I can get a date anytime I like. I haven’t been told no."

"Then why are you worrying about whether I'm being asked by these two or not?"

Fergie seemed to be bent on interrupting the argument because he quickly proposed compliments towards both girls. Well, Freya's was a compliment. Bellatrix stared at her housemate long and hard. Was he complimenting her or insulting her? She couldn't decide. Unique.. That wasn't the word for it and she knew it. Everyone in the room knew it! Easy, Bella, don't go crazy on him. Hexing at random was so much easier than talking to people.

"Amherst, you know bloody well that no one would ask me out if they had a choice between me and a Hag." She turned more nastily to Freya than she meant to. "I haven't got one, either, so we've both drawn the bad lots."

Stupid Xavier Tawse and his stupid letter and that ridiculous break-up! Ridiculed by a boy because she went soft. It was what she deserved. Or was it? Was it really what Bellatrix deserved that after two and a half years of being the most brutal girl in the world, she was dumped by a boy she thought cared? She had finally found something that made her happy, a person that made her laugh, and her hexing days had seemed to be fading away... Then January had to come and ruin it all! Those days were gone and all that was left were tear-filled nights and lonely days.

"So how about those Transfiguration exercises?"

The blue eyes lifted from the floor to Fergie. Sasha agreed with his suggestion. Bella wasn't entirely sure she wanted to go along with it, but it was better than wallowing in pity and crying in public which she was sure she'd end up doing. Fergie would never let her live it down. Wand still in hand, she moved around her desk and pointed it at the Gryffindor girl. Bellatrix had indeed come in here to try and practice magic because it was starting to diminish.

"I can try and change your hair color if you'd like?"

That would be an easy spell for Bella to practice. She had no intention of harming Freya or anyone else. Studying with spontaneous people was certainly a mad idea, but if it worked and her magic came back, all would be well. No, not all, but at least she'd have the ability to try and hex anyone who came near her again and her grades in class could pick back up.

Sasha said something about Ava.  Something about letting them kill her...

But Freya was completely distracted from digesting that news by Fergie's comment.  "I... my... what?"  She glanced down at her twigs as if they'd suddenly grown eyes in her kneecaps, dumbfounded.  He must be joking.  "You really think--"

She glanced back up to realize she was staring down the barrel of Dark's wand and she was striding toward her.  She raised her own wand, backing away, but rather than hexing her she offered to change her haircolor.  "I--"

She blushed, which wasn't hard to do when you're white as a ghost naturally.  Was she psychic or did someone talk?  "Is there something wrong with the color of my hair?" she snapped then Fergie's comment--the one that sent Bellatrix toward Freya with her wand raised--registered.  Transfiguration exercises.  Of course.  She lowered her wand.  "Oh, uh, yes.  Transfigurations."  She did need help in the class and Sasha was a Ravenclaw.  He could probably do it in his sleep.  "I-- Maybe we should start with something... inanimate.  I'd rather not be the guinea pig."

Of course, if Sasha (whom she knew was smart) had offered she would have accepted because more than anything, Freya felt her image could use some work.  Her haircolor was the least of her problems... but she wasn't about to let Dark--a girl with a reputation for being even more temper-y than Freya and quicker with her wand--dabble.  She might end up a toad--or worse, a shimmery-pink princess...