6:00 PM || Dinner

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Livi had Quidditch on the brain for two reasons; the first of course being the trouncing Hufflepuff was going to get the very next day from a bevy of Slytherins beasts. It promised to be a hysterical battle on the Pitch because the poor Badgers had to scrape together a really sorry looking team. She'd heard they were actually etting Sellaphix have a broom. It was going to be a massacre. The other reason, however, was because the latest edition of Quidditch Quarterly had landed almost squarely on her dinner plate. In this particular edition they were talking about the whose who of contraction negotiations. It was pretty bloody pathetic that she had to read a magazine to find out if her very own brother was going to reup with Falcons.

It was mostly frustrating because Livi wanted to be the one to scoop it - before stupid Thursby for the Prophet or anyone at Q.Q. She wanted the inside track; but she wasn't getting it. Dazmond didn't even seem to know what their brother was planing. He had said something about getting older and wanting to start a family; but really that seemed to personal a thing to write about as his sister. Also she did not want to think about him trying to marry anyone but Dolly St. James and that seems very unlikely since she had just read in Witch Weekly that the divine Dolly was cozying up to someone at Hogwarts and had been spending "all her free time" in Hogsmeade. This was a fact that boggled Liviana's mind because, really, who spent time in Hogsmeade as if it were some place important to be?

Pushing her mashed potatoes around her plate as she flipped through the pages, lines of deep concentration creased her brow. From what she could see no one knew what Dominik was planning. It was all a lot of speculation. As much fun as it would be to have Dom retire and get to spend some time with him again; realistically he was better for her reputation if he kept playing. If he were a normal person who went on to write books or something after playing Quiddy for ten years then that would be alright - but young as she was Liviana knew her brother well enough to know that he'd fester and rot in his awful little apartment if he didn't have practice and the boys dragging him out into the world. Really, it was quite sad when she thought about it in those terms. He basically needed a Governess (and she couldn't help but think Dolly would make a splendid one at that).

Dracon had known who Liviana Weidman was even before he knew she was Liviana Weidman, as strange as it may have sounded. He had known of the surname since he was a six year old boy and it was quite literally covering his bedroom back in Wales. Although one of many quidditch players that graced the cramped living quarters of his bedroom, Weidman’s beater talents were extraordinary and what Falmouth decoration that was seen in his bedroom was attributed to Weidman. He was a Tornados fan through and through but he had a difficult time resisting the appeal of Weidman’s signature back-swing or expert placement of strikes. When he started his first year and Liviana had passed by his train compartment, Dracon had been glued to the window as she swept past. Her dark hair bouncing and warm olive skin concealed by her expensive clothing, littered with emeralds and elegantly placed sparkles. While he watched her enter into another compartment which was fill to the brim with giggling and bouncing eleven year old girls, Dracon sunk back into his seat and had taken a look at his own clothing. He was less impressive. His clothes were mainly hand-me-downs from his older distant cousin, Ian. The only communication they shared was a birthday card and armful of used, dirty clothing that Ian no longer fit into every year on his birthday. Sometimes stained or badly mistreated with holes big enough to squeeze a second head through, Dracon had always been embarrassed by their arrival. It was a yearly reminder of his place in pureblood society – always coming in second. Dracon looked at his worn out shoes and faded shirt which he covered up with a relatively nice light jacket, despite it being a very hot August, to hide the ink stain on the back. It was the first time he had ever seen Liviana but not the last.

Liviana had been by far the prettiest girl in his year, arguably the entire school. She stood out with her dark features and lavish tastes in clothing. Even the way she walked was separate from the others. Her chin always positioned a little higher than who ever stood next to her, her movements a little more elegant and regal than whoever passed her by. Liviana had been in a class of young girls all of her own. Dracon had adopted that prideful swagger as he grew older, able to easily mimic the other purebloods he had classes and shared dormitories with. It had been easier than expected. By the end of his second year, he had blended into the elite. He looked the part; no one ever questioned where he lived or what line he descended from. They just assumed he was like them, and to Dracon, he was. For years a reason to talk to Liviana had escaped him. She was always just out of ear’s reach it seemed, as though the Fates had some other plan. Dracon still followed Weidman’s career. It hadn’t been until the whirlwind of rumors began to swirl in the quidditch community that Weidman may be out of the Falcons for good that Dracon had his opportunity handed to him. He, sincerely, wanted to know if Liviana had any idea of what was in store for the quidditch world. There may have been an unrelated, more personal reasoning that he found himself looking down the Slytherin dinner table at her, but if there was it hadn’t occurred to him. It was still early for dinner and the Great Hall was still relatively empty, however there would only be a short time before students began to filter in. Dracon coolly picked up his dinner plate and crossed the small gap between them before taking the seat beside her. She turned her head and looked at him, and Dracon smiled.

“Hello Liviana,” he said simply with his Welsh accent distorted his words slightly.

She was definitely pretty.

When she was reading, without intent, Livi's pretty features often shifted themselves into a scowl that was not really a scowl. Her forehead would scrunch and her lips form a sort of pout; Dianora was forever reminding her to relax her face when she read. Tonight was no different as she waited for her trailing gaggle of friends to arrive. There was homework to do and food to eat, not to mention gossip to spread. The closer the end of the year came the more antsy every single one of them was to find out just who would be taking over as Queen Bee. If Livi were a betting woman she'd stake her claim on Jordyn - simply because Jordyn was the lesser of two evils. If someone handed Kitty Li a scepter she'd start beating first years with it.

It was possible to both read Q.Q. and mull over the fate of social hierarchy because she had a girl brain that was capable of processing multiple bits of information at once and cataloging it. Of course the whole thing was thrown off with the addition of a familiar Welsh accent ticked her left ear, "One moment please," she spoke without looking up, her tone sweet (as she desperately tried to relax her face so she would not be scowling when she looked up. She knew it was Dracon because after five years of living with and sharing classes his voice was easy to pick out. It helped that he was also gorgeous and a fantastic duelist and knew how to handle a broom fairly well.  He was kind of the whole package.

Of course unlike Dracon she did not so vividly remember the first time she had seen him. It was probably at the Slytherin table after sorting; probably; being an eleven year old girl she had not taken much notice of boys her own age but found herself rather enthralled with the Slytherin royalty several years ahead of her. Always aim up; that was the Wiedman motto - at least after Dazmond had decided to marry the Briggs Bum and Dominik seemed to be hell bent on ill fated romances. Sometimes she felt like she was the only hope Dianora and Aliec had for a "normal" child. All of that aside she did know that over the last year she had become increasingly aware of Drake in the sense that he was a boy; a very attractive boy that garnered lots of attention from the female population.

When she finally looked up at him her features were smooth and sweet, lips turned up just a bit with her brown eyes wide and almost innocent looking, "Sorry; you caught me just as I was in the middle of the most ludicrous article Quidditch Quarterly has ever printed in the entirety of their publishing history," there was a note of incredulous laughter as she flipped the hefty magazine closed. She turned then to look at him fully; he really was attractive - maybe one of the best looking boys in their year. The problem with Dracon was the problem she had with most really attractive boys; they knew they were attractive and thought very highly of themselves. It was such a chore sometimes interacting with them because they thought a sly smile and wink would get them someone. No one, it seemed, had taught the vast majority of boys that a girl liked to be wooed, not ogled. He wasn't exactly ogling her now, of course, but who knew what he was thinking - he'd never really spoken to her before.

Whatever smooth entrance Dracon had made into Liviana’s company had been abruptly smashed. Without moving her eyes from the roaming position, eating up the article on page twenty-two of Quidditch Quarterly (a subscription that Dracon had received since he was seven years old), Liviana hushed him. Dracon, a bit surprised, waited patiently until she finished the paragraph. Whether or not he waited out of shock or out of respect for her silence was unclear. Liviana finished and turned her attention squarely to him. Her eyes were large and deep brown, making him wonder if perhaps her patronus was a doe. They flashed and blinked slowly, fluttering and heavy black eyelashes as she looked sweetly at him. What drove him mad was that she wasn’t looking at him that way on purpose, but that was how she looked all of the time. All of the time except in the rare instance when she failed to properly put together the difficult brews in Potions class her forehead wrinkled and her face turned from olive toned to beet red. Sometimes, her little nostrils flared as she huffed and puffed about unfair treatment and illogical workings of magic, because Liviana was always right. She was a good student and applied herself fully, something Dracon watched closely with mild amusement. He enjoyed competing against her in his own private fashion and did so often. It always brought a small smirk to his face when she finished her potion after him, or ended up with a puddle of pink goo instead of honey yellow. He didn’t desire to see her fail or the look of anger on her pretty face, but he couldn’t help feel his ego inflate when he saw that expression on her features. Dracon could understand her frustration. There wasn’t much he had trouble with, enjoying the complex inner workings of magic and puzzles, but when he did it was never a pretty sight. It wasn’t a side of him many had ever seen and he wished to keep it that way. Imperfection meant failure, and failure was something he did not cope with. Not well, not unwell – he did not cope. Period. "Sorry; you caught me just as I was in the middle of the most ludicrous article Quidditch Quarterly has ever printed in the entirety of their publishing history," she simply said, her chocolate brown eyes flickered at him as there was a hint of warm laughter in her voice.

With a quick gesture, Liviana flipped the magazine closed.

Dracon’s smile had nearly vanished when she stopped their conversation, but it crept back at the corners of his mouth when she spoke again. He nodded and waved his hand as if to dismiss her words, “no apology needed. We all get a little absorbed sometimes, I know I do. Especially when it comes to Quidditch Quarterly.” Dracon looked at her, and then completely forgot why he sat beside her. His adolescent mind was wrapped up in the thoughts of how sweet she smelled sitting so close to him, how smooth her skin looked as she stretched her arm across the table for her glass of pumpkin juice, how her eyes were dancing as she looked at him with almost a playful glint. He… Weidman. Dracon blinked and smiled wider, inwardly proud of himself for overcoming the pull of her witchcraft. “Actually, quidditch is one of the reasons I came over here to speak to you,” he started, his smile turning into one asking for forgiveness. She had to already know what was coming. “I’m sure you’ve been hounded enough, but I just couldn’t resist.”

He paused.

“… Is it true? Is Weidman retiring?”

Oh, of course, boys always asked after Dominik; it really shouldn't have surprised her. It was such a  common occurrence that she managed to not even look crestfallen in the least. Liviana would never complain of course because she loved her adoptive brother and sister with the whole of her little heart; but sometimes it was hard being the last Wiedman. Academically it was hard because Daz was brilliant and Livi had been trying to out grow that shadow since her first year. She was naturally gifted with a wand but she wanted to be the whole package. She had to work to be food in Potions and Herbology - and because she worked she was good; it just didn't come to her naturally. Even Dominik in his own right was brilliant; he might not have finished his schooling but he was a hell of a lot more than some dumb beater. Still, Liviana wanted something to call her own.

Apparently that thing would not be Mister Dracon Towler. It was just as well, a boy would distract from her studies and she was dead set on scoring better than Daz had on the O.W.L.'s.  He, like a lot of people, wanted to know if the rumors were true. She could lie of course and tell him that she knew and engage him in several minutes of subterfuge; or she could misdirect and ask if he'd be playing in tomorrows game. Her brown eyes stayed round as she nibbled on a cooked carrot (even though she could not stand cooked carrots) feigning completely disinterest. Well, it wasn't really feigning because the moment he asked a question about her brother she couldn't answer with full certainty she had become disinterested. Finally swallowing she tilted her head to one side and gave a nonchalant hug, "Well, his contract is up for renewal so he could always decide to say sod it all and set to lollygagging about London," her tone was dismissive as if it was the silliest thing she had ever heard - but she didn't confirm or deny.

Pushing her potatoes around her plate glanced back at the hefty magazine before shooting a sly look to her fellow fifth year; "Of course even if he doesn't reup for next season they have him for the summer. I'm so excited to get back to going to games. His teammates are so lush; my father and I never miss a match," she paused then sort of eyeing him for a moment. The wheels were turning; Dracon was a pureblood after all; and her mother was always trying to drive home how she absolutely must choose the right sort of boy to invest her time in. Liviana was much more interested in studying at this point of course; but he would make an impression and perhaps get them off her back for a moment. If Dominik didn't start producing heirs soon then it would fall on Dazmond and no one wanted her having Briggs-Spawn. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear her tone was purposefully passive; "You should come along, maybe. We always have other tickets and the all the girls except for Kitty enjoy the after events more than the actual game".

"Well, his contract is up for renewal so he could always decide to say sod it all and set to lollygagging about London," Liviana said. At the light and dismissive tone she used, almost laughing, Dracon chuckled and stopped. What had at one moment sounded rather foolish and unlike the man that Dracon pictured him to be, had suddenly wormed his way into his logical mind after the first few notes of laughter escaped him. That couldn’t have been a subtle way of telling him that it was actually possible that Weidman had considered leaving? That is was plausible that he would have to find another beater to admire? Dracon thought seriously for a few moments while Liviana, whom he had nearly forgotten about entirely, gently stabbed at her food on her plate. Dracon found himself staring hard at the side of green beans on her plate when she finally turned her eyes to him once more with a mischievous smile on her lips. Looking at her mouth, the corners twisted into a sly smile, Dracon remembered how pretty Liviana was and his mouth went dry. "Of course even if he doesn't reup for next season they have him for the summer. I'm so excited to get back to going to games. His teammates are so lush; my father and I never miss a match," Liviana said to him. It was true what she had said, they would have him for the summer but Dracon couldn’t help seeing the bad in the situation. It made him, surprisingly, angry that he hadn’t foreseen this. While he had never been to a live quidditch match that he wasn’t polishing brooms behind the family tent at, Dracon should have noticed the sloop of his favorite beater’s shoulders, the careless looks he threw his teammates… there must have been some sign that Dracon, an intelligent and acute young man, should have seen.

The summer!

One final summer and his chance to see Weidman play would be gone. When his family attended matches, Dracon was working. He spent his entire time in a dark tent with his back hunched over the broomsticks they had brought from Wales, polishing and fine tuning them for sale. Usually they did modestly, never as well as the larger and more established broom companies of England, but they did well enough that they continued to make the trip every time they were able to. While his parents attended every single one, Dracon only attended summer and winter matches with his parents since the rest of the year he was in school. During the breaks he took, when his father allowed him to run down to the food stalls and have a brief meal, Dracon would pick up something quick (whichever had the shortest line) and hurry to a small viewing place behind the bleachers to stare up at the players racing around on their brooms. While it was short and unsatisfying and always left him wanting more, it was worth it. He would have one final summer to see Weidman actually play, and then he would be gone.

Possibly.

"You should come along, maybe. We always have other tickets and the all the girls except for Kitty enjoy the after events more than the actual game". Dracon watched her tuck a strand behind her ear and her eyes blink slowly and purposefully at him before turning her attention fully away. Could it be she was asking him on a date? Dracon stared, but coolly as if she had asked him what classes he enjoyed taking or what position he felt most comfortable in while playing quidditch. While he told himself he wasn’t surprised, that the arrogant and confident part of himself felt the need to puff out his chest, the boy who never felt accepted by his pureblood peers felt… surprised. She was inviting him to see Weidman play quidditch, which was fantastic in itself. There was no downside to agreeing, other than having to think of an excuse to avoid his parents and their damned tent during the match. He felt slightly guilty event thinking of abandoning them, but they were well-beyond a poor relationship. Lying and deceiving them was inevitable. Dracon nodded and frowned, giving a look of why-not acceptance. He looked casually back to the plate of food he had set down and had completely forgotten about and took a bite of his turkey, trying to ignore that it had long gone cold. “I could come along,” he said, loading a small portion of peas onto his fork. He looked sideways at her and smiled slightly before looking down at his plate and putting the fork into his mouth.

She could almost see the cogs turning in his head. It was rather amusing actually; just sort of leaving him dangling with a snippet of information that may or may not have even been true. She could see now why Maeve did this to everyone. Livi wasn't really one to toy with people - they all seemed like petty games and hindrances in the long run. Still, if he were to go to a match with them and her dad liked him then he'd tell her mum and then maybe she would leave Livi alone about finding a nice Slytherin boy. It wasn't like she called it a date - it was handing off an extra ticket, but her parents didn't need to know that.

She tried not to smirk at his response; he could come along. Pfft. They weren't friends; but Liviana was not an idiot, Dracon was as rabid a fan as any of her housemates. It was this intricate dance one was expected to perform when dealing with either sex. You couldn't actually care; always expected to be dismissive - blase at best. To show genuine emotion, outside of contempt, was considered a weakness. Livi had spent her entire life practicing for these moments. The relaxed line of her shoulders, the tilt of her head, she exuded the essence of a bored socialite. She had to, to give him more than that would feed his already sizable ego.

"Sure, if you're in town or whatever. A tickets a ticket right?" she gave a small shrug, features placid. Sometimes she really couldn't stand herself. It wasn't that she actually wanted him to care or be excited - it was just... the sameness of it all; the choreographed boredom, it got old. No one really cared about anything or anyone; that was how it felt to her. It was like they were all just playing at life, setting traps for one another to fall into. Everyone was suspect, she couldn't even think about liking a boy without considering the implications it would have within her social structure; without worrying about someone like Kitty.

It was all such a chore - and really didn't leave a lot of room for stimulating conversation. What more did she have to say to Dracon? He hadn't left room for a smooth conversation transition. Why did they all spend so much time in their heads? It was as though the only time she could voice anything to anyone was in her letters to her siblings. They were so far removed none of what she said would matter in any real way; they could just weigh in when they saw fit. Pushing her food around her plate she shot him another sidelong look, "Are you in for the last match tomorrow?  I can't believe how slick Callum's got the team looking".  Smooth.