Outfit

It had been an interesting few months for Kitty. Very interesting indeed.

The Korean imp had battled her way back onto the throne; that whole business with Devlin and Fauna was a thing of the past. She no longer tormented her former Hufflepuff enemy, but avoided her like the plague. For Kitty, Miss Blake was a reminder of failure, and a reminder of how human Kitty actually was underneath the bows, the lipstick and the high heels. And nobody deserved to see her more humane side. Not father, not mother, especially not Violet and definitely not Fauna Blake.

The cogs of malice and deceit had begun turning once more, yet Kitty was suffering from a scandal drought. What the hell had happened in Hogwarts recently? Nothing. Apart from her run-in with that trollop at Spellpunk, there had been no real flesh for Kitty to get her fangs into. Her stalemate with Erin was still in place. The girls still followed her endlessly. It was boring, so boring in fact that Kitty had begun to even concentrate on schoolwork.

But that had changed. And changed rather swiftly indeed. Walking down the steps of the courtyard, Kitty waited, glued to the spot with both hands delicately placed in her coat pockets. The scene played over and over in her mind. She'd been waiting for this chance, just as the dust of the scenario had landed with minimum ease and secrecy, Kitty would shatter everything. Waker Nolan could fall, and if Kitty allowed it, fall harder than ever before.

She'd seen it in Hogsmeade, late January. Kitty had taken a trip into the village with the girls, keen to stock up at Honeyduke's: it was a girly night, and confectionery was a necessary element of such gatherings. Kitty had taken a quick detour, about to buy an umbrella for her mother's birthday. She wasn't the sweetest daughter in the world, but Kitty tried to keep in her parents good books at the least. Passing the Three Broomsticks, Kitty turned the corner, peering like a hyena through the windows of the flat above. Strellie's cousin, Vasily, was working there apparently and he was an absolute god. Word had got around about this new cousin, his thuggish past and equally thuggish looks, and most girls at Hogwarts were smitten, Kitty included.

Rather than steal a glance of Vasily Volkov, however, the most unexpected of faces came into view. Waker Nolan. Kitty instinctively crossed the road, the click of her high heels tapping rapidly on the cobbles. Turning the next corner, she pressed her back to the wall, arching her neck forward to spy on the situation across the road, relatively out of sight indeed. The small doorway opened, and out trotted Waker. The girl made Kitty's skin crawl. Ridiculously intelligent, ridiculously beautiful and as far as Kitty knew, a generally nice girl. Just who was the Ravenclaw trying to fool? Kitty felt her top lip curl in envy - Nolan was glowing, as per usual.

She lingered around for a few seconds, and Strellie's cousin came into view. Tall, brooding, and with a perpetually angry expression. He seemed far less dressed than Waker, wearing only a vest and unbuckled slacks. Immediately, Kitty began to ponder. How did these two even know each other? And why was Waker hanging about with such a thug? And why... did he look somewhat dishevelled?

Within a few seconds, Kitty's jaw practically hit the cold New Year streets of Hogsmeade. This. Was. Gold.

Vasily muzzled at Waker's neck carnally, a rough hand sloping around her waist. For a fleeting moment, Waker accepted this gesture before pushing him away, disappearing into the crowds of Hogsmeade High Street around the corner as quickly as she'd rejected his advances. Vasily waited for a moment, watching Waker leave, a smirk on his face. And then he'd seen her.

Kitty froze and her shocked mouth began to stammer. Their eyes met, and Kitty turned on her heel, quickly running in the opposite direction. His gaze had been piercing, but decidedly uninterested. He had nothing to hide, clearly. But Waker? She had everything to hide. Her boyfriend, her career at Hogwarts, her friends. And Kitty quickly came to her own conclusions, waiting for the perfect time to pounce. This could be oh so beneficial for Kitty, in every single way. A fast-track into the office of Head Girl. Grandfather would love his youngest granddaughter more than ever.

Standing on the steps, Kitty's eyes searched the surge of pupils that walked through. It was end of second lesson, and Kitty had researched Waker's timetable weeks ago. There was no way the Ravenclaw would miss a class - even if she was a cheating piece of dirt. One of the last to leave, Kitty saw her immediately and raised a gloved hand, waving manically like a mother waiting for a child at a train station of World War II.
"Yoohoo, Waker!" she laughed, her voice sickeningly sweet. "There's something I'd like to talk to you about!"

And boy, was it something.

outfit

It had been a cold, slow journey toward spring, and it wasn't over yet. Waker felt like a rusty train cart, too young to be so old, but too old to be worth fixing. A train cart, yes: chugging alone up a mountain that never seemed to grow any smaller. Steeper yet, it had taken her round many a dodgy bend this week alone. Between her perpetual need to avoid Trent Travis, his mouth, and his epically lacking hygiene, her desire to throw herself headlong into books so that people mightn't ask about George, and her half dozen new projects with the Prefecture, she was exhausted and only had herself to blame.

If she'd been born a lion, maybe all of this would be fixed by now. Maybe she'd have it out with George, prod him into screaming at her and take it like a real-- er, lioness. No tears or tearing hands or piles of long-legged academia melting pathetically in the crossfire.

As it were, Waker was very much the Ravenclaw, and what she couldn't solve with logic or wit, she solved with fleeing the crime scene. Avoiding George was easier than avoiding Trent: George spent his days outside, even in the winter. Quidditch practice and secrets under the lake and ditched classes made it easy for him to keep to himself, and Waker knew she was not likely to meet him in the library. Though a few times, late at night, she'd rather wished she might see him there, even if it was only to look, never to touch or speak or be noticed. She even found herself staring at windows in some of her classes, squinting down at the lake, wondering if she might find him sprawled on a rock in harsh Scottish winter-- a sort of magic that made him disappear from his usual seat in Charms before she'd even arrived to the classroom.

It was Herbology she'd come from now, on her way to lunch, and she'd been one of the last students to leave the war trenches of the greenhouse that had masqueraded as a NEWT lesson. She found quills easier to manage than people. Funny, that. It had been the same only a year ago, and now she seemed to be going in circles, even as she went up and up and up the mountain.

The Great Hall sent out invisible, inviting hands-- laughter, and delightful scents, and the warmth of hearths-- but Waker dreaded stepping in each day. Once there, it was never hard to pretend to be the girl she was supposed to be, but a great mount of anxiety always seemed to precede the simple task of stepping through the doors. She really was a headcase, wasn't she?

Today, however, she'd decided to carry handfuls of fruit and nuts from breakfast, and still had plenty from the morning. She ventured to speak to an elf about a thermos of soup-- always an awkward feat, given her muggle background-- and lingered outside in the courtyard where she might read or catch her breath. It seemed to be melting at last, and Waker didn't mind the nip of cold that lingered. She made a beeline for an empty bench, where she might actually get some work done instead of smiling at professors and assuring disgruntled Prefects that rounds with arch nemeses weren't so very bad as they seemed.

The voice caught her like rocks on the tracks, all sickly sweet and seemingly wanting for nothing. She paused, turned a cheek to look over her shoulder, and spied a tiny, well-dressed Slytherin whom she knew to be the Li girl. Waker had made it a habit to learn most of the fifth year Slytherins' names, not because she wished to befriend most of them, but because they were pesky little things, always fleeing the wake of trouble without a spot of red on their hands. She wondered how they did it. This one, however, seemed friendly enough-- for the moment.

"Yes?" She asked, finally, letting her guard down enough to sound courteous. She couldn't very well spurn the girl. Still, she didn't exactly trust the younger ones. Waker, an only child, was wary around people whose ages were less than legal. She couldn't ever remember being... well, a normal kid. "Is this about the spring fundraiser? Because I've already told people we'll be sending out newsletters after the next Prefect meeting." That ought to stave her off. For now. Waker wasn't looking forward to making rounds in the village on behalf of the school-- Vasily had been the easiest one to avoid of the lot, but his name still made her knees buckle. She could only imagine what his face might do when she asked for donations for a silly little schoolgirl's strife. Laugh. Smoke. Ask after her boyfriend. Invite her in for spiked tea and magic her blouse away...  She regained her senses quickly. "There's nothing to worry about, it's all going according to plan."

Kitty bit her bottom lip with glee. A crack of satisfaction that resounded quietly in the bottom of her stomach. She didn't have a clue, not a bloody clue, and Kitty couldn't help but secretly gloat. It was so much fun sailing the calm seas of quiet malice, made the final voyage that little bit more devastating. Immediately, her arm interlinked with Waker's, her hand snaking back into her own pocket; it was a pre-meditated move, on in which anchored the torturer to the victim. In the name of courtesy, there was no the Ravenclaw would make any obvious move to break away. Kitty had judged Waker as the type to follow manners down to the tee - pretty, preened and polite. This hideous monster made Kitty's toes curl.

"No, no it's not about the fundraiser, silly," Kitty giggled, patting a jet black lo coquettishly. "It's about a new scheme I was thinking about proposing to Professor Snark, and I think you'll be extremely interested." Her voice was the typical English accent: well-spoken with occasional high-pitched squawk on certain syllables, but there something undeniably altered. Nobody could be this sugar, spice and all things nice, and Kitty's own actions within Hogwarts had rendered her a bully, but even so, some people still bought this whole identity. Parents, teachers, elder pupils: some of them actually believed that this was the real Kitty Li.

Leading Waker by the arm rather forcefully, the two began to walk further into the courtyard, near the isolated bench that Kitty had her eye on.
"You see, I've been thinking about a student transferral program. I mean, it must be extremely different in places like France, and America, and Israel, and as young withces and wizards, it's important to see what our brothers and sisters across the world are doing." She spoke with feigned conviction, placing a hand on Waker's arm to reel her in some more. "I mean, surely we need a global awareness other than Professor Austerlit'z rants about Eastern Europe, wouldn't you agree?" Kitty raised her eyebrows at Waker, as if inviting her to answer the question, but the Slytherin continued to talk. The whole exchange was extremely one-sided, and Kitty aimed to keep it that way.

"With that in mind, I believe that a few students should be going over to any other schools that agree, and that here at Hogwarts we should form a welcome team, you know, a sort of committee to welcome in all of these foreign witches and wizards." Kitty delicately stooped down to take a seat on the bench, her posture upright and prim as one leg crossed over the other. "Since you're such the extra-curricular champion, you were my first port of call. Don't get me wrong, I've organised many events in the past, but they're usually for friends, family and business associates. A lot more structured and complex than your little Hogwarts soirées." Even whilst plotting, Kitty couldn't help but have that little dig to assert who was in control her. "I'd need some advice on how to sort the whole thing out, and I know you're ever so helpful, Waker. You're more than qualified for the job."

Kitty gave another smile, squinting her eyes and reaching down for her handbag. Rummaging around for a few seconds, she pulled out a leather-bound notebook and bright pink quill. The Slytherin opened it and began writing down a few notes, tapping a foot in thought. The whole acting thing was so much fun.
"You can be in charge of so many things, Nolan," she gasped, her tone bordering on the sarcastic rather than the sincere. "You have the rapport with the faculty, the backing of the prefecture, the impeccable record, and the most fabulous set of friends and boyfriend."

She looked up once more, the wide-eyed smiling girl slowly transforming into something more deceitful. Red lips twisted into a smirking pout of smugness, eyes narrowing like a python wrapping itself around a defenceless animal. It was time to deploy one of the most destructive weapons Kitty had ever created. She was Dr. Strangelove, and she had more than learned to love the bomb.
"Who better to make all of those foreigners feel at home, feel comfortable, feel liked," she said, her voice becoming lower, quieter but all the more dangerous. "From what I hear, you're an expert at Anglo-Ukrainian diplomacy. I'm sure all of those Durmstrang boys would just love an Essex girl that hands it to them on a plate. They've all been sent a glowing reference from a highly prolific source." Kitty smiled more openly, glad that she'd finally got to this moment that had been meticulously planned for weeks. "Now what was his name?"

Putting a finger to her lips in faux thought, Kitty let out a sigh, glancing up at the high towers surrounding the courtyard. Her hand closed, and her eyes fell once more upon Waker's.
"I remember," she practically whispered, and raised an eyebrow. "It was Vasily Volkov."

Sloping back into her seat, Kitty shook her head slowly, exhaling with satisfaction. "Don't even deny it. I know everything."

Waker was taken aback. She was sure her little murmur of polite-but-distant Prefectdom would hold off the girl for a day or two, but then she remembered the colors on the fifth year's school crest: the fatal and silver green that were ambition and ruthlessness. She bit back a frown, her cheeks sucking in absurdly in the broadness of her own babyish face. She looked mellow and melancholy, but she kept her shoulders her rounded in practiced posture, and her eyes keen. It wouldn't do to simply walk away. She had a role, she needed to live up to it. Nevermind what was going on in her personal life...

Or perhaps that was exactly what mattered.

The light went out in Waker's eyes. Her tense, swelled lips dropped comically and her brows knit in hostile mistrust. She could feel rosebuds blooming in her cheeks where the shape of her father's face had once been. The entire scheme-- multi-layered and well-paced as it was-- leaked from her ears, to be replaced by panic and fury in that part of her brain that was so very gifted with retaining details. Durmstrang boys... Anglo-Ukranian diplomacy...

"What are you--" But no, the girl cut her off. "How?" The syllable sounded more like a howl, a wolf trapped with no escape. Waker crossed her arms as a chill raced up her spine, and she tried to sooth them, rubbing up in down where once Vasily had held her tight against his taut, scarred chest. How did she know? "This is some sort of sick joke," she said finally. "My boyfriend--" Her ex. "My friends--" Were angry with her. "Whatever goes on in my life is none of your business, and I have no control over the Headmistress's involvement the mainland schools. As lovely as your idea is," she added coldly, backing away with one cautious step. "Do I look like a ambassador from the Department of International Cooperation?"

No. She looked like an Essex girl, as Kitty had been so quick to remind her. Waker could feel the renewed sting of her own blush. It was as much humiliation as it was anger. Any discipline she had over her face was fast dying.

Kitty almost cracked up as she saw Waker literally fall from grace right in front of her. It was just the comeback she needed to re-establish the House of Li, and who better to publicly execute than the Mother Superior of Perfection herself.
"How?" she repeated Waker's question, raising an eyebrow. "It seems one is a little too careless when displaying sordid affections, Nolan. If you're going to rub up against that thug then I suggest you do it indoors, and not in the side street next to the Three Broomsticks." Kitty tutted annoyingly, eyes large with devilish glee. "You just never know who could be watching. Silly girl."

Noticing the Ravenclaw step back, as if attempting to escape the evil witch's clutches, Kitty widened her eyes, mocking the retreat.
"There's a lot more to this than idle tittle-tattle," Kitty sneered, shaking her head. "One wrong move, Nolan, and everybody in this school will know exactly what you're like." Her stress on certain words was simply blood-curdling. "The Headmistress may not care whether the Head Girl is an absolute slag, but other people certainly will. And once more, she'll care that you've been sneaking around outside of school hours to see some ruffian down in Hogsmeade. You can kiss goodbye to that scholastic career, and goodbye to any form of dignity you're attempting to keep grasp on whilst you remain at Hogwarts." Every phrase Kitty uttered was like a command, like a threat - and there was no hollowness about them. The Slytherin kept to her word. Always. And not only were her threats full of potential, they were crammed to the brim with danger.

"It always surprises me, y'know, girls like you," Kitty began, pondering out loud as she patted the seat next to her. "Why do the girls who have it all, throw it all away? I mean, you have a beautiful, albeit somewhat simple boyfriend on the Gryffindor team, a menagerie of likeable friends, an impeccable record within school and the nice angelic face to back it all up. Then, you throw it all away for a few quick rounds with a broken English barman whose got quite the criminal record. Maybe you're not quite the bastion of perfection everybody makes out." Her voice was becoming increasingly sickening; unlike most panthers of the playground, Kitty had brains. She knew what she was talking about, she did her research, she was articulate, she was charming, she was deceitful. The girl was everything a schoolgirl shouldn't be.

"Thing about me is, well, everybody knows I'm a bitch. I have no pretences. But you?" she snorted, looking Waker up and down like a piece of dirt. "You're just as bad as us, and you haven't even realised it yet. And nor has the student body of Hogwarts. And we can keep it that way. Despite my apparent disposition, we can keep your little act of malice between us."

Kitty gave a final nod, before smiling that wicked smile, that smile she'd been dying to use for months.

"On one condition."

This one was wickeder than most. Wickeder than even Waker, in her shiny, no-nonsense Head Girl badge had given the gaggle of Fifth Year Slytherin girls credit for being. She seemed to delight in recounting her leisurely how's to the tall, now bandy-ish deer-in-the-headlights Ravenclaw, whose trembling locked knees threatened to give way faster than the wand she clutched like a fifth limb.

Waker remembered to watch her temper, as she had so many times. It was of very little comfort.

"He's not a thug--" She began, betraying herself too soon. "And I didn't." She readjusted herself, straightening her spine, flicking hair over her shoulder. It had been Vasily who had been keen on public displays of affection, but Waker bit her tongue from saying so. She was just as guilty. More guilty. She was the one with all sorts of strings for getting tangled in knots. Vasily was a free soul, or so Waker liked to think.

"No one would believe anything you said," Waker assured the girl. It was not one of her finer moments, threatening a bratty fifteen-year-old. "You're a gossip just like the rest of them, aren't you? And George is not simple. He's the farthest thing from that you'll ever hope to meet from where you're standing." The older girl's voice had become icy. George was warm where Waker wasn't, and friendly to more people than he should have been. He was bold, though, and he spoke his mind so candidly it was blush-worthy. George was... too good for her. Waker knew her eyes were threatening to blur, and not with anger.

Even though Waker had been so sure, just seconds ago, that no one would believe such rotten truths, Kitty lived up to her title as one of the resident... dementors... of Slytheirn. She seemed to like being known as cruel, to wear it like a badge. Well, that was one badge too many for Miss Kitty Li. Waker's palm tightened so stiffly around her wand that it turned white; her heart beat cut through her skin like the keenest of knives. She was about to make both of their lives unpleasant. Why not? Hers was already painful. "I'm not bartering with you, you sick little wretch." She didn't know where it had come from, but there it was... "Hurt George Carter, and I'll hex your hair off in your sleep." Waker Nolan, the lioness of Ravenclaw Tower.