Uniform

It was the end of another day, and Alfie sloped out of History of Magic with the somewhat terrifying Professor Austerlitz. Hiking up his backpack as the Hufflepuff made his way into the corridor, Alfie's shoulders were slumped forward, head buried in a bundle of parchments. It wasn't as if the young Vaillancourt was the most academic in his classes, but his grades were impressive, and hard-earned. The abundance of spare time that seemed to consume his life was filled with studying, revision and essay-writing: if there was nothing else to do, the boy may as well be productive. And as such, the sight of Alfie quietly trudging through the corridors of Hogwarts going over fresh lesson notes wasn't uncommon.

As the mass of fifth years poured into the corridors, Alfie remained almost invisible. Ignoring the background noise of conversations that didn't include him was a skill he'd honed over the years; when there was nobody to really talk to, chit-chat became a mere noise that one could shut-out. A gaggle of gossiping girls meandered past, one clipping Alfie's elbow nonchalantly. He didn't even look up. There was no apology, no interaction between the two, and that was commonplace. Alfie Vaillancourt wasn't the kind of student others treated with respect: he didn't need acknowledgement, or greeting, or even a look in the eye. He'd come to accept this fate in his fifth year of Hogwarts, and being a disliked, unknown entity was a part of everyday life. It bothered Alfie, it bothered him a great deal - but coping with it was doable; he'd come to believe that he deserved this treatment, purely by having a father named Angus Macduff. He nearly shuddered at the hazy memory of his dad's screaming image on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Despite a lifetime to be spent in Azkaban, his murderous acts remained unforgiven, and Alfie was forever tarnished with his father's mistakes.

Turning a page of parchment, and biting his bottom lip in concentration, Alfie tapped the corner with a quill. Remembering all of Professor Austerlitz's dates and timings were pretty difficult to remember and digest mere minutes after class. His focus wasn't helped either by the sudden barge into a nearby wall, Alfie crumpling to the floor and letting out a gasp of surprise. Parchments flew down the corridor, and that recognisable howl of group laughter fell on the Hufflepuff's ears. He didn't even dare look up as he reached over to a few nearby papers on all fours, clenching his teeth at the dull throb in his left side.

"And Vaillancourt takes another beating!" shrieked a Slytherin brute, his battalion of like-minded boys and girls joining in the jeering and name-calling as they trotted down the corridor. Alfie glanced up, twisting his mouth and trying to contain a reaction. All he could was sigh as he scooped up differing sheets of lecture notes, a flush of crimson seeping into his cheeks. No matter how many times it happened, and no matter how many people laughed, he always suffered the same, painful embarrassment of humiliation.

Getting to his knees, Alfie tried to organise his notes, some torn, some crumpled and some completely missing. Whether they'd been snatched or fallen into a nearby crack in the wall, he'd never know. Flicking his eyes down to his watch, he gave a quiet groan of despair. It was smashed. The face had a rather sorry looking crack from the twelve down to the seven, and one of the hands was clean off.

"Aw, man..." he simply whispered, presuming he was alone in the corridor. Just another day in the life of Alfie Vaillancourt.

Uniform.

It was the day of the Quidditch game. Students were getting rowdy as the game drew near and the teams were obviously tense around each other. On multiple occasions, Beatrix witnessed a stare down between a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin. Heck, even she stared down a few Slytherins. She had yet to openly admit she was rooting for Hufflepuff, since she was fairly sure Vincent would be highly disappointed in her. However, she couldn't help but get a little fluffed up when a Slytherin fan opened their mouths. In fact, she was getting fluffed up by just being around Slytherins. The girl had a bad temper, after all. No matter how lovely she tried to be around people. It was that Dark blood that pumped in her veins that made her so crazy, especially during Quidditch games. It was her Chancelier blood that made her cocky when challenging the opposing team.

As she left History (which was utterly boring as always) a crowd of excited students wafted down the hallway. The prefect absentmindedly trotted along slowly, stuffing a book into her charmed bag (it was much too small to be able to hold all her books and papers) and humming a quiet tune in a continuous loop. A few students shoved past her, one of which was quickly jabbed in the spine by her pointed heel. They apologized and got out of her way. Oh the joys of being a girl. The crowd suddenly started laughing, much to Beatrix's disgust, and filed out of the corridor quickly.

"And Vaillancourt takes another beating!"

Beatrix's brows knitted together. Bullying? While she was in the hall? She bounced forward, lips parting in anger... But she stopped herself immediately. She wanted to chase them down so badly. Hex every single one of them, send them to detention, maybe even punch one of them in the crotch. But her blue eyes landed on the victim. The sad lump of Hufflepuff known as Alfie Vaillancourt. He was quiet, so Beatrix had never really spoken to him... But most of Bea's friends were sad lumps, anyhow. She befriended the quiet and the humble. Though she dated the more posh, more open boys, she couldn't help but feel the need to brighten up a shy boy's day.

And Alfie... Well... Beatrix felt utter empathy for Alfie. While she wasn't physically abused by other students, she knew fully well of his backstory. Beatrix remembered when her own father's face was plastered around for being a killer. And it still was, for he was an escapee, after all. But Beatrix wasn't embarrassed of her father. She loved him, no matter what. Even if that meant people sometimes looked at her differently. But she was a Dark. Most people expected that craziness. If they weren't concerned about her father, they were concerned about her following in his footsteps. Beatrix would never. She was crazy, but not enough to kill a man.

Alfie seemed nice... He wasn't like his father, was he? Even if he was. What did Beatrix care? She had been around killers and crooks all her life.

She picked up a lone sheet of paper that had fluttered to her feet. It had a footprint smacked across it. Beatrix wondered what someone could possibly be walking through in the school to mark the paper. It was perplexing. But she focused her attention back onto the Hufflepuff, who had openly voiced his distress. She wanted to scoop him up and put him in her pocket so he wouldn't have to deal with the assholes in the hall.

Beatrix bounced forward once again, making a b-line right toward Alfie. Her heels clicked loud and echoed against the empty corridor. The only sound in the whole hallway. She paused right above the Hufflepuff before kneeling down and placing the paper into the pile he had started. Thrown into a wall, papers scattered, and watch broken. What a sad sight. It made Beatrix frown and a small hum escaped her lips, "Rotten luck," she told him, "I'm sure they won't be so smug when you guys make them dance the hempen jig at the game today, yeah?" Her bubbly smile beamed up at him. She figured he'd be uncomfortable if she pitied him. She'd leave the pitying to herself.

Her tiny hands reached out for his wrist, to see the damage done to his watch, "I can fix that, if you want. I think I can fix it at least. What can't magic fix?" a small giggle and her eyes shot back up to him. Hopefully she wasn't pressing him too badly.

Alfie was ready to leave the corridor, anything to forget another notch in the string of embarrassment that was his life. Things could be easily sorted if he just admitted to Juliette about the constant bullying - but Alfie was just too ashamed. His family were supposed to be strong, successful, promising individuals. And where did that leave him? An unpopular, insecure social wreck? This wasn't what the Vaillancourt clan were about, and admitting his own shortcomings would only serve as further embarrassment. No, it was better to take a few hits to the chin and last it out until seventh year, spare any more humiliation. Family were the only people Alfie really had left, and he didn't want to sacrifice losing them also.

Just as he got his belongings in check, a slender looking hand passed on another mislaid parchment. Looking up, he was immediately taken aback by the gesture of support. It was a strange concept. Alfie smiled, his cheeks remaining bright red and immediately cast his eyes down to the floor to avoid any pupil-to-pupil contact. He never could stare somebody else in the face. "Uh, yeah, thanks," he murmured, patting the footprinted paper and clumsily getting to his feet. "Fingers crossed, eh? Go Hufflepuff." Alfie almost cringed at his final comment: go Hufflepuff? Since when had he been a cheerleader for crying out loud?

Noticing his watch, Alfie shrugged, glancing at the wall over Beatrix's shoulder. "Honestly, it's f-fine, it's nothing," he explained, his voice quiet and bumbly. "It's been broken a few times, I doubt, y'know, that a charm will fix it properly, again." Alfie rolled his eyes, trying to grin through it but the awkward glint of scarlet cheeks was still apparent. It'd been the first time he'd spoken to the pink-haired prefect, and everything about her radiated self-confidence and warmth, from the kooky style to the reputation that preceded her. It was obvious that Beatrix Dark wasn't like all the other 'pureblood princesses', she had a little more about herself than to needlessly belittle others.

"I mean, I've had to reparo it so many times," Alfie explained, trying not to seem rude and rebuff her gesture. These exchanges were few and far between, and although he had an innate inability to embrace these moments with open arms, he could still try and be polite at the least. "I'll manage to fix it, somehow, I guess."

Because he had been completely asleep during History, Vulpes was the last person to leave the class. With a stretch and a loud yawn, he crossed the threshold. He was about to put his music on and head down to the game when he heard a fairly loud thud, followed closely by "And Vaillancourt takes another beating!". Jeers and laughter came right behind, and Vulpes turned his head, suddenly alert to the noise.

He didn't like what he saw. A group of Slytherins had thrown a Hufflepuff against the wall, as if the house needed any more excuses for people to dislike it. Vulpes sighed and began heading for the boy, whom he soon recognized as Vaillancourt. He frowned, go figure he would still be bullied after all this time. A slight trace of regret played across Vulpes's face. Perhaps if he had played the victim better, Vaillancourt may not be a constant target.

With a smile, he noticed that Beatrix had gotten there first. That was good, she was a very nice girl. He slowed his pace listening to their conversation. It felt rather odd, he realized, to be walking, not skipping, hopping, or waltzing down the hall.

Vulpes came up to them just as Vaillancourt explained that he often had to repair his watch. He glanced down at it and noticed it was, indeed, broken. There was a large crack, and one of the hands seemed to be missing. Vulpes sighed heavily, only realizing after the fact that he was in the company of others, and that they could hear him.

He looked up at the both of them and smiled. He wanted to make a comment about the watch, or say something about how not all Slytherins were terrible, but everything he thought of sounded feeble in his mind.

"You all right?" he asked instead. "Not hurt or anything?"