(Warning for mature language!)


Fauna turned the unopened envelope over in her hands, glaring at the 'K. Bagnold' scrawled across the right-hand corner. It was mocking her. She'd been fussing with the damn envelope for hours, had barely eaten dinner, and then come back to the common room to stare at it some more.

Bagnold wasn't even here and he was making her miserable.

Finally, she stood, ripped open the envelope with one finger (which conveniently tore up his name on the return address), and skimmed the letter. It was only a few paragraphs. But the first line, the 'I regret to inform you' told her all she needed to know.

Seconds ticked by.

"Aw, fuck."

Looking outraged, she crumpled the letter into a ball and threw it into the fire. Or tried to. Her very angry, very exaggerated throw caused the paper ball to bounce off of the mantel and onto the floor.

"Shite!" Fauna kicked it. Kicked it again. There it went! Into the fiery pits of hell, where it belonged!

"Damn it to fecking hell!" She paced around the room, stomping on the carpet hard enough that her feet started to resent it. Her hands clenched into fists, and her face turned red, wanting to scream and cry and rage some more at the poor, inanimate objects around her.

That Bagnold! He'd done this to spite her! It was all because of the stupid, stupid question about kissing! He'd proved it by underlining it! Bastard!

And noon! Fecking noon! Who the hell checked into the Ministry at noon just to get locked in some cell at sunset! Nobody! He'd done it just to piss her off and make her miss class!

Fauna let out a stifled growl-scream, and kicked at the leg of the couch, swearing when she stubbed her toe. At that moment, as she hopped up and down, cussing all the way, the door of the Hufflepuff common room swung open.

There were a couple places Figaro could go with this Sophie thing that had just gone down.[1] He could allow himself to be vulnerable and really think about what he'd done and how it affected others, and admit how much it hurt for Sophie to put him off.  Maybe cry some.  He could pretend it didn't happen, that it didn't bother him, and that he had been tired of the whole thing anyway, and finish his Defense essay for tomorrow.  However, Figaro went for option C: tantrum.

He built up a good deal of momentum, both phsyically and mentally, coming down the stairs to the cellar, and so he opened the commonroom portal with such force that it slammed against the wall and bouncing shut.   The usually happy teenager's face was a dark scowl and he looked every bit like his father (lacking a beard). 

"Tell me about it!" he snapped at Fauna who was teetering on one leg swearing up a string of curses not oft heard from her friendly mouth.  He stalked past her and threw himself into one of the big chairs, getting a little tatty from all the abuse it took as the favorite in the commonroom. 

"This whole school can go to hell," he snarled.  "Everyone in it's bloody off their bloody nut and I'm supposed to be some Seer and just know.  Just knoooow?  Some people are such babies - it's a sad fucking life to take things that serious!" 

1.	They just broke up.

Fauna jumped at the sound of the slammed door, glancing over with an embarrassed, guilty expression that didn't last long when she saw who had just arrived. Fig seemed right pissed off too, and Fauna didn't worry much about doing something embarrassing in front of him - he was just Figaro, her younger friend that she thought of like an annoying but endearing little brother.

Her initial surprise at his ranting didn't last long, either. In fact, she barely listened to him. The 'seer' bit sailed over her head. It was like her foul mood recognized his foul mood as kindred spirits, and together they were an unstoppable force of teenage angst. I'm angry, you're angry, we're an angry-angry-angry party! Who can be more angry-loud-sulky! Me! I can!

"I know!" She agreed vehemently, still wearing down the already worn carpet with her pacing. "I hate him! I hate him so much! He's had it out for me ever since the damn Mixer! He just needs to grow the feck up!"

Fauna flounced into the chair opposite Fig and gave him a glower of camaraderie, one that offered him the floor for his own stomping fit. His turn!

Wow! Fauna was swearing and shouting.  She was marginally scary, at that.  Figaro, impressed, had a look as she cursed some guy she must have had a run-in with when she'd planned that party at the Ministry for werewolves.

"Yeah! Screw Devlin!" he shouted, assuming that's who she must be ranting about.  He knew they'd broken up lately, and that he was in trouble with the Aurors, and that he hadn't always been a .... nice person.  Thinkinghe had all the answers, Figaro barreled on, taking up the Rant Banner.

"And screw Sophie! She's all like, 'Bur bur! You're a bad friend! That song is mean!'"  His face was a caricature of indignation, a scowl of someone who knew he was in the right.  He just couldn't fathom what anything had to do with anything! How did the stupid werewolf rumor have anything to do with being a good friend.  It was supposed to be hilarious.

"I'm just taking the piss! I was like, 'Fauna doesn't give shit!' because you don't, do you? Of course you don't because you're not insane!"

Wait, Devlin? What? Fauna tried to keep up with Figaro's ranting process, realizing that he thought she was complaining about Devlin by the time he started complaining about Sophie. That song. That dumb werewolf song. Fauna winced.

She shifted in her seat, and most of the anger she'd been feeling towards Bagnold slipped away, leaving her jittery and anxious. Fauna ran a hand through her hair and debated telling Figaro his song bothered her. Whenever it started up in the common room, or the Great Hall, or the corridors, she'd walk away and curse the lyrics in her head. Figaro meant it in good fun, she knew that. He just didn't seem to realize that not everyone sang it in jest, and hearing it ten times in one day got old, fast.

Fauna, uncomfortable with responding to his question, took the easy way out for the time being.

"Uh... you and Sophie had a fight?" Fauna asked with more confusion than sympathy in her voice. Figaro and Sophie often had tiffs. But she'd never seen Fig so peeved before.

Figaro erupted out of his seat in abject angst, arched his back and gripped his hair with a groan. "Aaaaaugh yes," he lamented.  "She-broke-it-off-with-me-she's-so-bloody-crazy!" His words came out all in a rush as he gestured at Fauna with flailing arms.

"Nygh!" he emoted for emphasis, with another angular motion of his hands.

"I don't get it," he said in such a tight, sudden whisper that it was barely audible, but his mouth showed his words clearly.

"No one actually thinks that you're a werewolf.  Only third years and they believe anything you tell them.  The whole thing's just so obviously nutters, but Sophie had to make a Wizengamot case of out it and break up with me over it.  Tell me that's not the daftest thing you've ever heard, Faun.  Tell me.  I'm begging you."

Fauna blinked at Figaro's emphatic movements, wondering if that's what she'd looked like a minute ago, pacing and kicking at furniture. When his words sank in, however, any amusement she felt was overthrown by surprise and sympathy. They'd broken up! Sophie had broken up with him! Fauna hadn't expected the relationship to last long, but still, ending things always sucked.

"Oh," she said lamely, grimacing again.

"Oh, hell," she responded a second later, after he'd explained why Sophie had broken up with him. Over the song? The dumb song? Damn!

Fauna gave him a guilty look. "Well..." she stalled, glancing at the fire. "It's, well... the song. I'm sorry she broke up with you over it. Really," she bit her lip, privately wondering if there was more to it than that. She hoped so!

"It kinda bothered me. Sometimes. It was funny at first, I mean, and it's clever, you know? But then when Peeves started singing it and the whole school took it up, and I heard it all the time, well... it started not being so funny."

Wait.  What?

Figaro's mouth hung open, and one eyebrow was cocked.  When did he lose track of this conversation? He looked at Fauna as if she'd betrayed him somehow.  Like a sister or auntie, Fauna Blake was obliged to think everything Figaro did was praise worthy and hang it up on the icebox.  Figaro didn't now this of course, and neither did Fauna.  But the Way Things Ought To Be was off kilter and Figaro didn't know quite how this was supposed to go.

"Okay...." he tried, not sounding at all remorseful, not yet.  "You coulda told me.  You know I didn't mean it to be mean - you and Ollie are my best mates.  I really,"  he made a guiltless shrug, "really don't know why everyone is freaking out!"

He was still standing very tensely, in a short of frozen, awkward stance.

"Well, sorry," Fauna sniped defensively, crossing her arms and giving him a look. She knew she should have told him. That involved talking things out constructively and being assertive and all those things she wasn't very good at.

"I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, you know?" She rambled on, expression both irritated and sheepish.

"But stupid Kurby Bagnold! He just sent me a letter, saying that I failed the questioning and I need to go into the Ministry on the next full moon. That's in a few days! I have to stay over night!" She burst out, face flushed. Fauna glanced down. She hadn't meant to tell Figaro about it so quickly. At the moment though, she couldn't seem to focus on his behavior or his breakup with Sophie.

Figaro gave up and collapsed into a chair, sulky face intact, hiding what was probably more honestly a guilty face.  He wasn't really interested in acknowledging that Sophie might have been right about something.  Figaro was having a hard time making that leap between intent and effect - he hadn't meant to be a prat, but he had.

"Sorry...," he mumbled back.

But she was on about something, still just as agitated as when he'd walked in.  "What? What's a Bagnold? Isn't he that wanker who came for the SAWS thing? What questioning? What are you talking about?"

Figaro wasn't making the connection.  What would a Bagnold want with Fauna Blake on a full moon?  And what did Fauna mean 'failed the questioning'?

Fauna stared at Fig. What's a Bagnold? She had many answers for that, none of them complimentary.

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "Bagnold is that... ministry worker. In the WCU. Yeah, he was here for the SAWS thing."

Fauna gave Figaro a sheepish, but annoyed look. "He's also the one who questioned me on Thursday. You know those letters to the Ministry some students sent in? Apparently they... took them seriously. And Bagnold was sent in, and he had all these dumb questions... like what kind of food I eat. How I react to stress. And if I go around kissing werewolves," she finished dryly.

"So, you know, I failed the test," she grumbled. "And now, they have to watch me during the next full moon and make sure I'm not going to go a-hunting."

Fauna made a face and swiped the air with her hand to illustrate her point.

"What?!"  Figaro's face was twisted in confused disgust.

"The Ministry of Magic thinks you're a werewolf? The hell!  That's mad! You can't get it from kissing, obviously!  Wouldn't the WCU know that? For feck's sake, Fauna!  What idiot owled the Ministry on you? My song was very clearly a joke - no one actually believed the rumor.  I didn't even start the rumor - I thought you started it!"  He was rambling a million words a minute.

"What rotter thought it was smart to owl the Ministry, I ask again!  As if you'd be keeping it a secret, or something? That's illegal, don't they know?"  Wow. Figaro was apparently learning something in SAWS.

"You know what this is?  This is about SAWS!  Someone's trying to shut you up.  It's a conspiracy.  I knew it.  You think Headmistress Snark?  Think she would...?" 

But Fauna cut him off and he snapped his mouth shut.

"Fig!" Fauna interrupted, perching on the edge of her seat, waving at him to calm down.

"It's not Snark!" She let out a short, rueful chuckle. Snark had better things to do than discredit a student organisation. She had the Triwizard tournament, the Grosvenor murder, and important Headmistress-y things.

It was actually touching, seeing Fig get so worked up about it and -- oh look! He was using what he'd learned in SAWS! Fauna felt a little glow of pride. But she hadn't even thought about the idea that someone would want to shut her up. A chill went through her. Fauna shook it off. She was just a student. They were just a student group. They weren't making big waves, yet.

"Baxter and Sasha sent in those letters," she told him quietly, aware that he and Sasha were close. It wasn't a secret, however. Baxter and Sasha had started it, and Fauna felt that they should own up to that, at the very least.

"They're the only ones who have it 'out for me'," she rolled her eyes moodily. "Them and Bagnold."

The insanity just kept on coming! Sasha Schlagenweit had tattled on Fauna?  Figaro was again, genuiniely aghast.  Now Baxter Fox he could understand.  Baxter was a stupid, impressionable third year (so easy to trick), and rumor had it his dad was a hard-ass werewolf hating Auror.  But Sasha?  Honestly!

"What is Sasha bored or something?" Figaro exclaimed, allowing his confusion to take the form of anger.  "Has he finally decided to play at humor and just failed miserably!  This bats and belfries, Faun." 

His last sentence was said like a disappointed father, folding his hands in his lap and shaking his head.  He felt kind of bad having realized he hadn't exactly made an effort to keep in touch with Sasha since he'd been made to leave school.  Figaro wasn't very good at owling, but as soon as Sasha's name came up Figaro realized Sasha probably didn't consider three months out of school a holiday.  But what the hell had possessed him to write a letter to the WCU about Fauna - what evidence did he think he had for something like that.

"Bats and belfries.  What are you going to do, then?  Are you going to go?"

Olivia had always gone home, not to London.  Figaro was picturing a cage.

Fauna shrugged and glanced down when Fig vehemently criticized Sasha's decision to owl the Ministry. Part of her felt smug that Figaro seemed just as peeved about it, even though he didn't know Sasha's reasoning. Fauna still wasn't sure she understood it. He'd compared her to Ava! That alone had made her very uncomfortable, and she still felt betrayed, frustrated, and hurt by the rumors.

When he wondered what she'd do, Fauna raised her eyebrows in surprise. He must think this whole mess was up for debate. Though she was tempted to run to Professor O Morain and ask him for help, she knew the WCU's process, and knew that Hogwarts couldn't help her with this one.

"I have to. I don't have a choice," she curled up in her chair and rested her chin in her hand, giving him a patient look.

"If I just don't show, they'd treat me like a rogue werewolf," Fauna explained grimly. "I'd probably get arrested, pulled from school for a while. Or for the rest of the year. So it's either... I can suck it up and deal with it for one night, or I can mess up my future."

Fauna paused, feeling conflicted. This didn't feel like the right time to stage some kind of rebellion or make a stand. Which was mighty convenient for her. She wanted to graduate and she wanted to get a career in the Ministry.

"You know?"