Outfit | Visual Aid

It was a lovely May lunchtime, and Kitty took her seat in between Maeve and Demitria, instinctively crossing one leg over the other. It was a regular occurrence for the Slytherin Aristocracy to convene at dinner, yet this meeting was rather significant indeed. Maeve was merely days from graduation, and the new heiress was about to be crowned. Behind the well-practised smile that Kitty donned, she was sizing up the opponents - all would be suitable queens. The question did remain however: would they be a better queen than Kitty? Of course not. Nobody else would rule Hogwarts with a tighter grip; they key was to conquer through sheer terror, only then would your leadership go unquestioned.

"Everybody is looking rather fabulous today," Kitty noted, grinning at the circle of beautiful, well-dressed girls. She wasn't being false. They all did look fabulous, all day, everyday - it was a prerequisite to swing in the circle. If there was anything Kitty genuinely complimented, it was upon style and fashion. The good thing about clothing was that anybody could dress well: you could be the biggest connoisseur of bitchery of the highest order and still look splendid (Kitty would know). Liviana, like all good Weidmans, was honey-kissed and perfectly turned out, Strelnikov had that Russian charm with to-die-for cheekbones whilst Jordyn looked like an English rose, well turned-out with a prefect badge to match. In short, they were the crème de la crème: thoroughbred witches with bright futures and expensive handbags. What more could one ask for?

After taking a sip of chilled pumpkin juice, Kitty sighed, placing both manicured hands palms down on the table, gazing to each noble. "Any news? Any gossip, any updates?" she asked, her voice full of craving and temptation; schooling scandal was one of the few things that kept her going these days. Everybody at the table knew Kitty was behind the Waker Nolan smear campaign, but it was an unspoken acknowledgement that nobody admitted to this. They may not have all truly liked each other, yet nobody seemed to land another in hot water. It just wasn't worth the trouble. "I heard Edmund Klint's been trying to win Emily Carter back, unsurprisingly," she finally uttered, shrugging at the trivial, pointless nature of her input. It was hardly noteworthy, but a story was better than no story, right? "Such a shame, why he chooses to pursue that loudmouth tomboy, I'll never know." There was a slight snarl with her comment - girls like Carter made Kitty shudder.

She was tempted to raise the issue of Maeve's abdication, but felt it inappropriate - it was obvious that she was going to be her first choice, so there was no need in rushing the news. Grinning smugly, Kitty wanted to savour the moment when the others would learn they weren't to be queen, when they learnt exactly who would be in charge during their final and most important year at Hogwarts.

It wasn’t that Jordyn necessarily tried harder on days where she knew she would be actively meeting with the charmed circle, but well… she kind of did.  Not that she was not dressed to the nines every day, to be sure, but sometimes it counted more than others, and Jordyn was sure to dress perfectly this day.  It was uniform…esque, she just embellished a little – and with good reason.

Looking official was one thing she had to do – after all, she was sporting her prefect badge a little more loudly recently, considering her desire to become Head Girl.  She knew in their seventh year, the final of their legacy at Hogwarts, that was what she coveted most.  That, and of course, total control of all things in the Slytherin common room and beyond, but she would take things one step at a time.  After all, wasn’t that why they were all eating together?  It might not have been exactly the reason anyone said, but it was an unspoken understanding that they would all be learning the hierarchy here. 

Jordyn expected nothing but her name to rise to the top.  She was a role model, after all, and was quietly cunning, avoiding any linkage to all things nefarious in Slytherin.  Of course, she had plenty of skilled competitors amongst the ranks, but Jordyn wasn’t too worried about them.  Kitty made things personal, which would end up making a lot more enemies than what it was worth, and the others, well, Jordyn saw them as minor threats.  She was the one with the badge though, and that, she felt, said something. 

Who better to follow and not be blamed for anything than the girl with the prefect badge?  She opereated within the system and ultimately, it paid off.  After all, you only had to follow the rules until you were the one making them, then your own wish is your command.  Smiling at Kitty’s polite, but generic compliment, Jordyn nodded in agreement, unable to say anything before the updates of social circles were brought in. 

She didn’t much care for the idle relationship gossip, at least when it was unrelated to any Hogwarts boy she was interested in (at this point, slim pickings – or just too proud to say differently), but she could comment, regardless. “I think it’s a challenge,” Jordyn pointed out, “you know, trying to see something pretty in all of that.  I would find it challenging, at the least.”  She sipped her pumpkin juice, careful to not spill on her white shirt. 

“Besides, it can’t be anywhere near as interesting as what happened in the Great Hall. Such a pity really, Professor Vaillancort, until that point, was a fantastic model to follow, now, I’m afraid I would try to be a little more discreet about such a thing…”  just, you know, adding in a distinct benefit of being in charge…

Liviana, like the others, dressed and pressed carefully  - but no more than on a regular day. Livi liked to feel pretty. She understood inherently that today would decide who their "leader" the next year would be - but the thing about being a leader was just how easy it would be to usurp any one of them should the need arise. Kitty was vicious; but when you ruled with fear you grew to be hated. Thus far the youngest Wiedman viewed her like the many headed Hydra - but everyone had their weaknesses. Under all of the hissing and claws, Liviana believed Kitty to be an absolutely miserable human being and eventually that would catch up with her. It was safe to say that Liv no more feared Kitty than she feared her own shadow - but she also knew that it was a complete waste of energy to try and take her down for the trivial follies. The only way to kill the beast was to sever all the heads (or in this case social connections). It would be hard to take someone like Kitty down; but not impossible.

Jordyn, well Jordyn had a firmer stake on the claim by virtue of being a Prefect. She also was not psychotic and though she lusted after power she would never get her hands dirty so having leverage over her would be difficult without breaking some sacred covenant held between the girls. People just did not realize what hard work it could be to be friends with people you didn't particularly trust. For all her family history; the famous brother, the well read father, her mother's galas and lessons in how to be the prettiest girl in the room... the title of Queen mattered very little to Liviana. The exact reasoning related back to knowing what she knew about what would be the down fall of Kitty. Liviana might not have been feared but she wasn't hated either - being Queen Bee left you open for attack - and also was a complete time suck which would take her away from dueling club and her plan to score better on her O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.s than Dazmond had - which would prove difficult since her sister was basically a genius.

At the mention of Emmy Lou, Liviana tilted her head to one side, lips pursed, "Is he really? I thought she'd switched teams the way she and Flickwick make eyes at one another," her voice was the essence of blase as she carefully nibbled on a cucumber. There was no real proof that the two seventh years had locked lips but there was plenty of tension between them. Like Jordyn, Liv found the trials and tribulations of their peers to be rather insignificant. Professors, now there was another story all together - that fascinated her. She had a rather soft spot for Landis, of course, because he was her sister's best mate and absolutely gorgeous. He was also brilliant, really brilliant - but what did it for her were those eyes. Professor Vaillancort was equally as gorgeous and they were perfect for one another as far as Liviana was concerned, "I'll say this for her, no one can create a signature scent to match. Dolly sent me a bottle for Christmas," and there was the subtle name drop.

There were perks to being the youngest Wiedman; sure the name came with some weight - but it came with some very important connections. It also afforded her the luxury of having the splendid Dolly St. James for a Godmother. It was important to remember she was a Whitman and they had equal status and connection; but in being raised by Aliec and Dianora she did sometimes get caught up in the dark beauty and wicked sense of humor rather than the stuffish persona afforded most in the Whitman clan. Really, the one true perk of being half Whitman was always having Maeve as a sort of ally. She didn't think it would push her to the top of the ranking list; but it kept her from scraping bottom. "Oh! I almost forgot," clasping her hands together for a moment she looked at each of the girls in turn, "I know graduation isn't here just yet; but I found this fabulous little gift for Maeve; I thought she might need a bit of a pick me up before N.E.W.T.'s".

She paused pulling a small box from her bag and gently removing the lid; a pair of rather pricey black diamond earrings twinkling and winking at each of the girls in turn, "What do you think? I know it's a little much but this is Maeve we're talking about," she genuinely meant that too. Of course secretly she couldn't take all the credit; they might have technically been something her biological father sent her from some far off place to ease his own guilt over never being around. She never wore them out of spite (somehow she felt it would please him too much if she were t give into their stunning beauty), so what better way to get rid of them than handing them off to their departing leader? They weren't even really used diamonds because Liviana had never bothered to show them off to anyone. They had stayed stowed away in the bottom of her trunk under several other boxes of things Durin Wiedman had tried to buy her off with.

Maeve could not wait until she was done with Hogwart's. It was time to make that transition to the next phase in life, no matter how scary it might be. Of course, it was all made a little less scary given the security blanket she had in an unlimited amount of Whitman resources at her disposal. Even if she failed all four of the NEWTS she was taking, there would always be a place for Maeve somewhere, even if it was only as her grandmother's assistant or the housewife of some distinguished and rich pureblood of society. True, it would disappoint her father and certain other family members who had higher expectations of her, but it was an option and a perfectly acceptable one. Not everyone had such a promising worst case scenario.

But Maeve knew that she wasn't destined to fail all of her exams and really the only one she truly cared to pass with flying colors was History of Magic. Austerlitz would accept nothing short of perfection and Maeve was determined to give that to her and thus secure a pleasant start to the summer expedition with the older witch. Alas, no matter how much fun being Queen Bee was, it was time to put such petty pursuits such as tormenting the lesser beings of the student body behind her.

It was time to pass the torch to someone else. And the only question was who was best suited for such a role.  It still amazed her that the dynamic qualities needed to take charge had seemingly skipped the current sixth year Slytherin girls. All of them spineless twits! Even the girls in Maeve's year had at least made things interesting, even though most of them had conceded the Queen Bee role to Maeve without a fight early on. Only Vienna Pascal had lasted until the later years. The two had continued to battle it out in the beginning of the current school year and Maeve was not truly victorious until Vienna all but disappeared into the shadows.

There were so many more candidates among this group of of fifth years and their diversity of character had made it so entertaining for Maeve to watch. For without the sport of a true rival in her own year, Maeve had turned to watching the fifth years quietly jockey for positioning. Maeve almost wished she had the ability to flash forward time two years  to see who was left standing.

That thought spawned a mischevious grin on her lovely lips as Maeve approached the dinner table and slipped into her seat between Kitty and Demetria. Maeve nodded to them both and then also offered Jordyn and her cousin, Liviana, her smile of approval and affection (as much as Maeve could express that sort of emotion).

“I agree with Kitty: you all look positively lovely.” Maeve put forth brightly. The only question would be if they would all remain such lovely friends after the year was through.

As soon as Kitty opened the floor about current news or gossip, Maeve's brow shot up to hear that the reputation of the perfect Miss Head Girl had been sullied. She didn't much care for George Carter, but  given a family member had been publicly humiliated by a cheating partner, she did have a smidgen of sympathy for the poor bloke. Then Maeve's mood soured at the mention of anyone from Gryffindor house. “Speaking of hideous tomboys, has anyone seen Grace Eddy's attempts at being...well....graceful? Quite sad, really. Professor Levartian's charm school punishment is hardly successful.” There was a pause. “And the hype over the Edmund Klint-Emily Carter pairing makes no sense to me. It's dreadfully boring. So puh-lease, ladies. Someone tell me something about a more interesting couple....like, anyone in Witch Weekly....”

---

OOC: SJ, I didn't reference the gift because your post read as if Maeve wasn't there yet and Livi was talking to the others about the gift. Hope this is the right interpretation.

outfit

Neely balanced (bounced) on one foot, her palm pressed into the doorframe of a broom closet, fingers crooked around it to keep herself from falling. The floor was dirty, and a song of ew ew ew’s could be heard to anyone who might have bothered to perk up. As it were, Neely was little, her whines were high-pitched but not particularly carrying, and the door was nearly closed, allowing the girl enough daylight to see what she was doing. Neely Woolfolk did not require light or even the gift of sight to pull on a pear of shoes.

She wiggled her toes as they slid into place, cushioned by the chunky wedge heel. Switching feet, she delighted in feeling taller already-- even if the other half of her was now playing the game, flailing about while she plucked the second ruffly, satin kitten heel off her foot and traded it for a sky-high runway prototype heavy as a boulder. She wouldn’t have been kicked out of class for the shoes-- they were close-toed!-- but she knew better than to wear them where some lowly mortal might scuff them, send an ill-pointed charm in their direction, or spill some nasty half-brewed potion all over their sweet, supple make.

Still, today was no ordinary day, and while she might have evaded the extra inches in class, Neely knew that she couldn’t turn up to lunch looking anything less than killer: killer legs, expertly pleated skirt, soles to stomp first years out of the way like the parting waves of some mythological to sea. Her platformed Mary Janes would not fail her in any of these projections-- not that Neely Woolfolk wasn’t 100% real. She totally was. Reconstructive Charms were for mums.

Shoes in place, the fifth year leaned out of the door, looking this way and that. The corridor seemed lightly trafficked, so Neely slipped free, leaned into the door to close it-- as if she’d never been there!-- and adjusted her hair. She’d already looked in her hand mirror a half dozen times, and if she’d wanted to be more obvious, she might have stopped in the lavatory after class.

Neely was sauntering through today as if she’d been born in five-inch heels with perfectly teased hair. She smiled a sweet, poisonous smile at familiar faces, friends and enemies alike, and offered wiggles of her fingers to those who deserved them. She knew people were watching as she glided by in her runway cloak with bejeweled fingers.

When she reached her destination, the most desirable real estate at the Slytherin table (known for its perfect balance of sunlight and access to the High Table at this particular hour, she offered more intimate greetings to the cluster of girls. Air kisses, murmured, musical hellos and mini, one-armed hugs, depending on the face. She nodded and smiled and spoke their names. When she reached Jordyn, she slipped onto the bench at her right, and pressed a pretty little kiss to her best friend’s cheek. She might have squeezed her hand or leg under the table in lieu of giggling, but she knew today was not the day to look a lowly fifteen. Not a single fraternizing gesture went unnoticed, though doubtless most of the girls knew where each stood.

Neely listened to each girl in turn, offered a vicious smile here, a cool smirk there, and a sincere grin where it was required. At the mention of George, she sat a little straighter, and quickly scanned the hall for the boy. Her eyes zeroed in on the heart of Gryffindor’s benches before she looked back to the group of girls. Neely wondered if George was looking for a younger, fresher, unsullied girlfriend. It was be an edge up to date a boy who was nearly graduated. But even if his bad boy reputation was appealing, she wasn’t sure how whether failing a year would weigh in her favor. Perhaps she’d keep her attention turned to Mr. Morgan where older men were concerned. He was available, too, and Neely was sure he would let her into the Restricted Section to look for haunted fashion magazine archives if she asked prettily.

Neely plucked a ladyfinger from a plate in the middle of the table directly in front of her, and offered to indulge Maeve. “Witch Weekly has soooo many rumors about Dom-- Dolly St. James.” Neely caught Liviana’s eye mid-pronouncement and changed course; trading the quidditch player for the author, she did not realize they were linked to each other (again) of late, but still felt one the woman was safer territory than telling her roommate how lush her brother-cousin was. If anyone called Demetrius lush, Neely would lose her ladyfingers. “The last issue swears she’s dating a really, really well-dressed mystery man, but insiders put her with a teacher, or two teachers-- No names.” She looked apologetically to Maeve. If anyone could make a teacher exciting, it was Dolly St. James. Naturally, leading on two at once was just thrilling. Maybe she would teach them to choose more interesting textbooks. “And eye-witnesses swear she’s with a beater...” The article had been vague, as gossip articles were in the habit of being. The girls could discuss it, and if Livana wanted to talk, she would talk. If not... “I think she’s writing her new book and publishing it soon, and then we’ll find out who she’s really with.” Neely had been one among many a teenage girls perpetually deciphering the characters in the novels; her eyes returned to Liviana, whom she sure had some sort of inside scoop, given her family’s connection to the woman.

"Ugh, of course she's same-sex orientated," Kitty replied, a faint hint of disgust in her voice. "I think those warning bells have been ringing for quite, some, time." All that sport and mud and brashness - Lou Carter was the complete opposite of the Slytherin Monarchy. Good witches should be prim, well-dressed and elegant: and what were the likes of Gryffindor doing? Handing it out on a plate to anyone who would take it (and apparently with Emily Louise Carter, that wasn't limited to boys). Taking another sip of pumpkin juice, she absent-mindedly hummed a recent hit she'd heard on the radio.

All the talk of Professor Valliancourt and Mr Morgan was interesting enough, but her mind wandered onto greater matters. The request for a social update was merely commonplace - the group often began their whimsical conversations in that fashion. Slander. Lies. New boyfriends. Old girlfriends. There was nothing like a good old gossip, but this wasn't just a regular meeting. It was that day: the abdication. Fortunately for the younger girls, the current Sixth Years were far too pathetic to manage the crown, which meant one received it a year early. Kitty almost groaned in pleasure at the thought - not one, but two years of unquestioned, unwavering rule.

Liviana began to speak, and Kitty's attention fell on the High Table once more with the mention of Dolly St. James. If anything, she was the Korean's biggest rival for the crown; famous Quidditch player for a brother, regularly in-contact with a celebrity author and related to Maeve herself. She held much power. But, Kitty had her perks. There were no famous relations, not in England anyway and therefore obscure and unknown to her fellow aristocrats - but Kitty had that certain bite, that certain ruthlessness that none of the girls other than Maeve possessed. She was willing to strike down anyone that got in the way through any method possible: public humiliation, rumour-spreading, stealing beaus, anything was fair game. Proving you had no qualms about ruling the school in a tight grip of wicked bitchery would earn the crown. Liviana was sharp, that was true, but the girl was a few arrows short of a crossbow; she couldn't compete with Kitty's brutality.

"Oh, how lovely," she murmured, wearing that big false smile as Liviana procured a gift she'd brought. Ugh, how tacky. She couldn't be any more desperate if she tried. Weidman may as well have bent Maeve over the table, kissed her on each cheek of  the bottom and professed an undying love for the current Queen. Kitty knew that her ploy was completely transparent: still, it was better to keep up appearances, and she merely gave Liviana a nod of approval. "They're so chic."

Before she could pay her rival any more hollow compliments, Maeve arrived. Kitty couldn't help but flash a subtle smile at Demitria as the Queen of Slytherin took her seat in between them both. "I agree with Kitty: you all look positively lovely." The Korean immediately nodded in agreement, raising an elegant shoulder. "Divine. Everybody looks simply divine." Unusually, this wasn't empty praise, but it didn't need to be said. Kitty just simply liked agreeing with Maeve, especially in moments of such importance.

Neely took her place also; a lovely girl, and a friend, but Queen Bee? Really? She was far too scatter-brained, and tried exceptionally hard to maintain an air of regality and poise. Still, her penchant for gossip was most admirable, and Kitty preferred her stories over most of the other girls'. "I wonder who the lucky man really is," she mused, resting her chin on her hand. Flicking her narrowed eyes over to Liviana, Kitty's voice was innocent enough. "Does she keep a lot of male company, Liviana? There seems to be so many rumours about so many different men." It was light-hearted, and nobody could accuse the Slytherin of being catty - yet it was an intentional comment. Connections to the world of the rich and famous were weapons Kitty did not possess, so it couldn't hurt to highlight flaws of Liviana's closest.

Jordyn quite liked Liviana.  She had connections, but she was not the sort that wanted to abuse them, when she rightly could have.  Jordyn saw many of the same traits she valued in the girl, and she was far less likely to stab you in the back – or the front.  She wouldn’t put completely transparent cruelty past Kitty, but Liviana – she was a different breed, more modern, in a sense.  Jordyn could relate to that, at least in part.

Kitty was definitely more old fashioned, and traditionally Slytherin.  Jordyn couldn’t make claims on the house like some of the other girls could.  She wasn’t a pureblood, and now she certainly didn’t have any money – though no one, as of yet, knew that.  She was very good at keeping that secret, but Jordyn had other things – a cool mind, collected personality, and a sneakiness that wasn’t malicious – but smart.  Looking at the earrings, Jordyn was impressed.  “They’re lovely,” she commented, staring at them with some degree of envy, but it was Maeve, and she had very discerning tastes.  “And very tasteful,” she added, a compliment to her selection.

She was lucky that she put it away though, because Maeve was not long after, and she wouldn’t want to ruin her own surprise.  The seventh year was an impressive woman, and definitely had good prospects as an adult.  Jordyn just hoped she had the foresight to see who was a real leader here.  Not that Jordyn couldn’t find her ways around it.  She was very much integrated with the younger years, particularly those looking to fall into positions like her, being prefects and good students, and her legacy was longer. She also extended a farther reach by nature of being a prefect.  She hoped that advantage saw her through. 

It was just a good thing that Neely was sitting next to her.  She couldn’t have imagined being next to anyone else at this critical juncture – and was thankful she had a loyal friend in this group.  It was not hard to imagine that you couldn’t turn around without expecting someone to be talking about you, but Jordyn trusted Neely above all, and smiled at her the most genuinely she had at anyone, returning her air kiss and squeezing her hand. 

Of course, the quiet greetings weren’t held for that long – they dug right into the meat of gossip, and Jordyn was far more interested in celebrities than her classmates.  Honestly, Hogwarts could be the smallest place on Earth, everyone already knew each other’s business – but the magazines enlightened them to the outside world!  She listened with rapt attention about Dolly St. James’ love life, glancing at Liviana every once and a while, to see her reaction.  Everyone had some idea what was going on with Dominik and Dolly, but no one really knew. 

“As much as I admire what Dolly has done with her career,” Jordyn commented, “I don’t know if I would want to acquire that sort of reputation – regardless of whether it is true or not,” she glanced around the table, not wanting to offend.  “It’s very forward and progressive of her, most assuredly,” she didn’t want to imply there was something that wrong with it, but it was definitely not her cup of tea.  “But, it would most likely kill my family,” she laughed gingerly, all too true.  Her father would die from that, if he didn’t die from something else – and her mother would disown her. 

“They’d be quite happy if I brought home a professor or professional quidditch player though,” she laughed.  “Speaking of quidditch!” she practically couldn’t breathe, thinking of the latest news she got straight from the hippogriff’s mouth, “I was talking to Callum about OWLs– and apparently, he isn’t going to be coming back to school in the fall!  Apparently he’s been scouted and going pro over the summer.  It’s a pity though, losing a captain like that, but I’m happy for him.  He’s very good.”  It was good to actually be friendly with him now, especially with such a good piece of information to dangle in front of the others.  Plus, now she knew a professional quidditch player – it was perfect.

outfit

Demitria took one last look in the mirror before walking out her room. She had never been so glad of her free period before lunch. She had to look impeccable. Usually, the Russian knew that her petite frame looked good. Merlin, compared to more than half the girls in the school, a Mimi that had rolled out of bed 5 minutes before breakfast would look perfect. Not like that would ever happen. But today was different. She wasn’t going to be with the vast majority of the school. She was going to be with the elite.

And that called for a last minute check up.

Seeing a sparkle in her hand, she remembered she hadn’t put on Xavier’s necklace yet. It was an almost constant presence in her wardrobe, but she hadn’t worn it that morning. She paused slightly and clasped it with one hand, the other holding her books for after lunch. She pursed her lips slightly. The green of the emerald clashed slightly with her blue skirt. She snorted in a highly unlady-like manor, making sure no one was in hearing range first. She was Demitria Strelnikov. She could pull off just about anything.

She reached where the other girls were waiting for Maeve. Strellie took her customary seat by Kitty and she was quickly joined Neely on her other side. The elite of Hogwarts sat by each other and were seen with each other from time to time, but to have all of the beautiful aristocrats at their very finest was definitely a rarity. It was a wonder the school didn’t explode into glitter and balls of light… although that would more likely be caused by Quinn MacAvoy.

Giving Neely a quick double kiss she sat back and listened to all the gossip, piling everything she heard into her meticulously cared for mental file cabinets. She put in a word or two, but mostly she listened and watched.

Her mind shifted to why they were there that day. Maeve was passing on the crown. Part of Demitria wanted that title. She wanted to be the queen of the school for two whole years. She wasn’t vicious like Kitty, influential like Liviana, a prefect like Jordyn, or a fashion icon like Neely… but she had something that none of the others had. The secrets of the school.
 
To most people, the Monarchy was a group of girls that bitched about others. That was all fine and dandy, but Demitria didn’t take any information lightly. To Strellie it was so much more. Through the other girls and through the friends of the other girls, she kept tabs on almost every student in the school. The ones that mattered at least. And it was all tucked away in her brain to be used when she pleased.   

But whether she was crowned or not, it hardly mattered. She would still be elite. She would still be the spy master of the realm of Hogwarts. As long as no one knew. They could never know…

Maeve joined them after a few minutes, slipping inbetween Kitty and herself. Kitty sent Mimi a smirk before Maeve completely sat down. It was an important gesture. Strellie gave the Slytherin Empress a smile and said "Maeve, konfetka, you look just as lovely yourself." It was an honest comment. There was a reason Meave was the top of the food chain.

When Jordyn mentioned Callum, her ears perked up. Quidditch captain, huh? All hope may not be lost. She smirked, her perfect rose lips turning up. “He was a hardass, but it worked for us. He’ll do well in a professional league.” She chuckled, her bell-like laugh and Russian accent melding together. “And I’m sure classes will be much quieter. Although we haven’t had an outright brawl in months.” Her train of thought continued along the lines of professional quidditch players… She’d have to ask Leon about it later. A small smile appeared on her face as it always did when she thought of the Head Boy.     

Liviana could feel the way Kitty seethed behind her falsely smiling features and found it quite hysterical. She had so many buttons to push that she wasn't even aware of. Liviana posessed genuine things that Li could never dream of; the first and foremost being class. There was a difference, at least in Liviana's mind, between the semi-posh image Kitty played with and genuine good breeding. Put a low rent slag in a 200 galleon outfit it didn't change their being a low rent slag; they just happened to look a little better. That was Kitty Li; her stunt with Waker sealed it. There was a difference between pride in heritage and being a bully. Liviana had plenty of heritage to be proud of; plenty of blessings in her life to be proud of; if people respected her it was because they genuinely found something in her to respect. Kitty would never have that; and there for never really have power - because someone, somewhere, along the line would get sick of being bullied. Not even the Hydra had survived everything; Kitty would meet her Hercules - and Liviana would laugh at the entirety of her fall.

Jordyn, of course, was lovely and complimentary. The earrings really were a parting gift because Liviana geuinely did love her cousin. She suspected very few people other than Maeve knew how little she coveted the title - though she had talked to Jordyn to some degree about what a much better leader the prefect would make. Dimbleby was very much like Liviana (and in such ways it might be hard to believe they were friends) - it seemed impossible that two such strong personalities could mesh beautifully; but they did because they saw Slythin in the same way. They felt the years of bullying and tromping over people were tired and outdated. You could have your own sense of power, actually be powerful and still be "of the people" (if a little above because you had a badge). Jordyn was one of the few peers that Liviana truly respected, even if Maeve didn't heed her advice against crowning Kitty, Liv was sure between the two of them (with Neely's help) it would not be hard to undermine most of what Kitty wanted to do.

Snapping the box closed as she spotted Maeve coming their way finally, she tucked it back into her bag and gave her cousin a beaming smile. She knew that Whitman enjoyed being the puppet master; pulling the strings and watching as the fifth years danced for her amusement. So long as she didn't expect Livi to dance right along with them the fifth year had no problem sitting back and watching her dangle her leaving over Kitty's head like a piece of raw meat. She was not completely sure of Maeve's take on the entire smear campaign little Kitty had put together for one Waker Nolan; but Liviana found the whole thing to be distasteful and ridiculous. It only served to highlight Kitty's inability to get her claws in and keep the boy she wanted. Waker was about as tempting as a rag doll; so if she'd sniped the boy Kitty wanted... well that was more a reflection of Kitty than Waker. Liviana hoped Maeve realized that (Liviana hated stating the obvious). Sipping from her juice she shifted eyes to Neely as she pipped up with the latest celebrity (family) gossip.

"Oh the things I have to tell you! Of course she was with Dom! They've only been friends since they were toddlers," her voice was teasing as she nudged Neely to indicate she was only teasing. "Of course recent developments include her being gifted a key to his flat and the spells for the locks; which even I don't have," so maybe it was bad to be spilling the juiciest bits of her conversation with Dom from Hogsmeade... she was genuinely excited that Dom and Dolly were finally making some kind of path for the future. Idolizing her brother like she did, she wanted him to be happy and the only person she had ever seen that made him truly resoundingly happy was Dolly. There was pictorial proof littering the walls of the Wiedman cottage; snapshots of Dom, Dolly, and Daz laughing or dancing. It was the kind of life Liviana daydreamed about. That day in Hogs he'd seemed so much more is old self; the self that would scoop her up for no reason and spin her until she was so dizzy when he finally set her down she fell over and giggled for fifteen minutes.

Her brown eyes  never lost a bit of their sparkle but gained a sharp edge at Kitty's comment, lips pressed together  to suppress a malicious smile as she sweetly said, "Oh I don't know Kitty; I've always found her to be rather skilled at keeping her men". If Kitty thought implying Dolly St. James slept around and that was something Livi should be ashamed of she was more backwards and cheap than formerly suspected. She did glance at Jordyn, but her features softened as she smiled at the other girl, "Progressive is the exact right word, Jordy! I asked her once how on earth she lived with all the rumors; she just laughed and said women who run slander campaigns do it out of jealousy," she shot a look to Kitty just then before continuing, "and if they want to use her as the poster girl of sexual liberation she had no qualms about it because she'd rather be a wild hell cat than trapped in a loveless arranged marriage the way most of the women who hate her are," her tone was breezy as she inspected her nails. Kitty was going to be one of those miserable bints someday and Livi couldn't wait.

"Besides, you can't even really count anything written prior to this last year; while Skeeter all that time claiming Dolls was shagging half the international team was she actually engaged to this absoltely lush intellectual named Elliot. He is who Rhys is based on in the books," she finally looked up at the girls with a smirk, "She told me so herself". Well, she hadn't really; but Liviana had gone snooping in her office one visit and had found a discarded piece of parchment in which Dolly had forgotten to switch the names. This was also how she knew for certain her theory of Devlin being Dominik was most certainly right. She just didn't want to ruin that surprise for everyone - especially after Devlin had been such an ass in the last novel. Of course she let the flow of conversation lead itself to Callum and kept her doe eyes on Jordyn. After the year he had had it didn't fully surprise Liviana that Callum would want out as soon as possible. He was good enough to make it pro too; almost as vicious in the Pitch as Dom, of course her brother was also a cautionary tale.

Keeping her tone light as she followed the thread of conversation of another boy of interest, "I'm sure that announcement will make Towler's day. He's been dying for a spot on the team since we were first years," she rolled her eyes a little at the thought. If Kitty knew she were remotely interested then she'd try to sink her claws in as deep as they'd go. Livi wasn't even sure she was really interested - she just wanted the option to be without Kitty trying to snake under her. Of course she didn't think Drake liked that sort of girl in the first place; the completely fake and dull kind. Clearing her throat she threw a glance to Jordyn then turned to face Maeve again, "Speaking of dreadful tests that promise to zap the life out of us all; I have a little surprise for you," so it wasn't her best segway; she had just been gifted with a chance to throw a little spotlight on Jordyn; even if she was the one doing the gifting. "I have a little something for you; but I must admit it should really be from Jordy and I because really she planted the whole idea in my head".

"We were talking about how you deserved something really amazing as a sort of commencement gift and that Hogsmeade had so little to offer," she paused while reaching back into her bag to extract the silver box and handed it to her cousin, voice soft and genuine, "Then I remembered over Easter I'd seen these in London on a shopping trip with Mum and owled her straight away," she looked at the blonde gleefully as she continued, "So really; it was Jordy's idea, I just beat her to the punch a little". So, maybe that conversation had taken place, maybe it hadn't - no one but Jordyn and Livi would know. Kitty would just be entirely pissed off she hadn't thought of it first; and any leg up Liviana could offer Jordyn, she would. Besides all of that she really hoped Maeve loved the earrings; they were beautiful and with all the hobnobbing the girl would need to glitter and shine as much as possible. Besides, who didn't love diamonds? People who owned fakes like Kitty Li; you could always tell; real jewels (like real girls) just glittered differently.

Outfit

Evie wasn’t quite sure why she accepted the invite with the other girls.  She had felt bad about not spending much time with them.  But getting ALL the Slytherin girls together could be catastrophic.  Or just catty.  She loved them all individually.  They’d all somewhat become her sisters the past few years.  But as time went on, Evie had (especially more recently) grown away from them. She was probably a bit closer to Neely and Jordyn than the others.  But as Maeve was leaving this year, Evie decided she should go as a farewell to her as well.

She sat there, quietly as the other girls all chatted.  Observing was something she most enjoyed recently.  It was obvious that with Maeve leaving, someone was going to have to take her spot.  Evie knew she wasn’t going to be that one.  But the other girls all knew it was going to be them.  Of course, they couldn’t all be.  It actually amused her how competitive they were.  Gifts and comments, hoping to get Maeve’s approval.  Evie didn’t even bother.  She had made a dress for Sophie’s birthday, but Sophie had been a better friend than Maeve ever had.  It would have been proper etiquette to at least get some kind of going away gift for Maeve, but Evie had lost interest. She’d be herself, and dress as she had (still quite fashion forward), and not let anything Maeve said get to her.  At least, she would try.  Who knows what happens when actually in the heat of the moment.

Evelyn nodded along, added small comments here and there, and paid attention.  The best thing of being part of this group of girls was all the information that ran through them.  Between them all, they knew everything that was going on in Hogwarts.  They’d talk bad about some girls, which Evie didn’t always like because she’s lately become somewhat more acquainted with them (though these girls probably didn’t know).  She wouldn’t show disapproval at all, because with this group it was all about the poker face. 

“Callum will do quite well professionally.  And his sparkling personality will really get him places.” Evie didn’t mean this too sarcastically.  He was good at flattery and would probably use that to his advantage. “Speaking of sparkling, you do have such lovely taste, Livi.  Maeve, you’re quite lucky to be receiving those. Absolutely stunning.  They’ll look beautiful on you.”

Why she’d spend that much on such a gift for Maeve was beyond Evie.  She could tell they were real and obviously quite pricey.  It wasn’t like she couldn’t afford them, but considering the real reason might have been something besides the friendship, she didn’t see the point.  It was all about impressing each other and trying to be better than the others.  Evie felt a little bad for thinking such things, but she felt it was all probably true.  The majority of the girls in Slytherin all operated the same way.  Who was richer, prettier, more well dressed and such.  It was all that seemed to matter.  Evie even felt bad that she’d probably been that shallow.  Sometimes she felt like pointing all this out to them, that being this shallow wasn’t worth it in the real world.  But she’d always tried to stay composed and refrain from doing such.  But if this all continued, she might just lose her cool soon.

Outfit.

Alfie had been in an utter state of confusion ever since he received the letter. He'd never been given such a document in his entire life; a love letter? For him? It all seemed bizarre, and he immediately shrugged it off as a joke. Some cruel prank made by some vicious girl (or boy) that would lead the poor Hufflepuff to think somebody actually cared for him. He'd paced around in his dorm room, clutching the envelope, moments from throwing it in the bin. No point even falling for it - he was hardly going to be crowned 'most eligible bachelor' in the year book.

But something stopped him. What if it was true? That somebody did really like him? There'd been plenty of girls he'd admired from afar, but an actual conversation had never been initiated. The objects of Alfie's quiet affections had always struggled to understand the loner; why was he so incredibly nervous all the time? Others tarred him with the same brush as the majority - an outsider, the spawn of traitors. The Vaillancourt name was respected and hallowed, but when mixed with the MacDuff gene: well, that resulted in a far less desirable product. This letter, however, symbolised a break from all the social stigma and injustices Alfie had suffered. Many there was a ray of hope, that somebody did want to get to know him.

Destroying the letter became more and more difficult, and Alfie stashed it under his bed in an old Madame Malkin's shoebox. Postcards, photos of his maternal family, trinkets and small gifts acquired over the years: it belonged with those. A few nights had passed, and although he tried to push the romantic correspondence to the back of his mind, the boy often retrieved it at a midnight hour as curious eyes fell over the wanting words. It was a comfort to think of somebody who could see Alfie in that way. Putting a name to such a face was impossible, though.

He didn't even have any close girl friends. A few smiled at him occasionally - namely your Beatrix Dark's and Sophie Flickwick's of the world. Alfie usually attempted to return the gesture, but cheeks flushed scarlet, eyes flicked to the floor and the smile turned into an upwards curve of the mouth, more embarrassed than endearing. Even then, he figured such rare moments of kindness were out of pity rather than want for companionship. The Hufflepuff knew that he wasn't a river of riveting conversation. He didn't have many stories to tell, nor many friends to practice the art of conversation with. Who, and why, would somebody write such a letter? The usual bullies were keen to humiliate him in public; such a minor tactic would be pretty pointless. No, he had a feeling this was genuine. He couldn't quite place his finger on it, but there was something heartfelt and pure behind the careless writing and the infrequent grammatical errors. Whoever touched quill to parchment did so in a hurried rush of airing emotion - frantic and panicked and hopelessly romantic.

Wittling away the hours in sleepless ponderings, a sea of female faces flooded his mind. Crushes came and went, but a certain affection had been silently nurtured. And she was the one girl who came to mind. Alfie couldn't be sure, but he almost wanted it to be her. She was beautiful, and elegant, and loveable in a stubborn, fiery way. Far superior to Alfie on the Hogwarts hierarchy (who wasn't?) and a distinct polar opposite. Slytherin. Blonde. A princess amongst ice-cold sirens. Perfectly imperfect.

Neely Woolfolk.

Ever since his pairing with the girl in Divination, Alfie had grown fond; she was bossy, self-assured but different to all of those other girls. There was a seemingly innocent quality, that she cared for her own friends and interests without letting Kitty Li, and Liviana Weidman, and Maeve Whitman force her into another direction. On the outside, just like them, but on the inside - a free spirit. Alfie, in all of his teenage foolery, couldn't be sure that Neely fit this mould he had created, but his mind had elaborately placed her on a pedestal of heavenly building. Whether this persona truly existed, Alfie didn't care. She was lovely, to him.

And so, the cogs of mistaken identity began to turn, and the boy began to believe that maybe, just maybe, it was Neely who'd sent him the letter. Of course, he wasn't the usual choice for a girl of her stature, but opposites did attract; that'd explain the hurried nature of the letter, and she clearly wasn't a Hufflepuff since it was left outside the common room. She'd explained how it would never work - but Alfie persevered regardless. It could have been his once chance to prove everybody wrong, that he did deserve a girl, and some respect. By showing Neely his true self, maybe others would latch onto the fact that he wasn't really a bad guy, that he wasn't out to harm or upset anyone.

Alfie kept the letter at all times since reaching such a conclusion. It was like a hidden trophy in his front pocket, promising that acceptance was around the corner, and that life could and would change. He'd tell Neely at the first chance he got. Yes, she'd understand that Alfie did like her, that he saw past her friendship circle and steely reputation.

Unfortunately for the timid Hufflepuff, that first chance came on a summer's lunchtime when Neely was surrounded by said companions. Hands tucked in pockets and shoulders sloped forward, Alfie trotted down the courtyard steps. As usual, it was to be another lunchtime spent in the library revising for OWLs and finishing homework - it was quiet, and a solid retreat from anybody willing to make his day that little bit worse. Glancing up and spotting Neely however, was reason for a detour.

He was petrified. Shaking fingers clenched into a fist, and Alfie halted to a stop. Was he really going to march up there and ask her out? He'd never done anything like this before in his entire life. Alfie simply wanted to muster all the debonair charm of Edmund Klint, the boyish nature of George Carter and the enigmatic beauty of Erin Harper - but that was merely a pipedream. Taking a few steps towards the table, Alfie could already feel his face burning red, and his pocketed right hand brushed against the worn and creased corner of the envelope. As the faces of the Slytherin elite came into clear view, he could've vomited with fear right there and then. The knitted brows. The unnervingly preened curls. It was all far too intimidating, but luckily, stomach bile was kept at bay. As soon as it became clear to the group that Alfie was headed their way, he merely gazed at the floor, keen to ignore a threatening scowl from Kitty Li. He was in their territory now, and he'd travelled thousands of miles past the safety zone. He'd committed to this. If he wanted his life in Hogwarts to change then he'd have to make a real effort, and nobody else would make these alterations in his absence. Neely must've wrote the letter; maybe she used all her insults and aggression towards Alfie in Divination as a cover for her own attraction? He'd heard that girls liked to do such things. Neely would admit to authoring the letter - she was in front of all her friends, and they'd obviously know about it since friends shared things. He would tell her. He would tell them all. Operation Reinvent Alfred Vaillancourt started there and then.

It was a doomed plan from its very inception.

Standing at the edge of the table, Alfie managed to look up. Both hands tightly grasped the straps of his rucksack. Trembling knees were luckily hidden by baggy school trousers. He gulped. Hard. "U-uhm, hey, Neely," he spoke quietly, as if only she could hear him when in reality, all the girls were aware of his mumblings. "I was just w-wondering if you'd written me a letter?" Alfie rummaged around in his pocket, about to produce the incriminating evidence but refrained. Maybe she didn't want it on display for everyone to see. She seemed like the private kind of girl, hence the anonymity of it all. Focusing his attention solely on Neely, Alfie could feel the other aristocrats' eyes bore into his body. "I was j-just thinking that m-maybe you'd like to hang, sometime? Outside of, lesson?" Every word that stumbled from Alfie's lips sounded like a meek, nervous question: but at least he was saying it all, right? She knew he wasn't the most confident guy in the world. "I, I kind-of think you're okay too." Pause. Idiot. Okay? Just okay? "Well, m-more than okay, I think you're r-really nice. So if you'd like to g-go to Hogsmeade sometime, I mean, it'd be cool, like, I'd be up for that."

Hands in pockets, Alfie's eyes hit hers. He smiled, awkwardly, but genuinely, awaiting an answer and trying to bury the embarrassment he'd caused himself. If only he knew the half of it.

Maeve knew that many people underestimated her level of intelligence because of the position she occupied in society – both at Hogwarts and outside of it. She enjoyed surprising those who saw her in that way and she liked being able to surprise them later and eventually gain an upper hand.

For the most part, Maeve had managed to reign supreme over the Hogwarts crowd. While her classmates still might consider her a ditzy airhead they rarely said as much to her face. Likewise, her supremacy was rarely challenged, probably because most knew that to be on Maeve's good side was far better than being on her bad one. She always managed to get her revenge.

As far as how she was when she was around the Slytherin Queen Bees, especially lately, she tended to sit back and observe their interactions with one another. Maeve knew the time had been swiftly coming about where a new leader had to be chosen. They may not have realized she was sizing them all up for their strengths and weaknesses. Trying to figure out who was best suited for the job. They all had qualities that made them ideal and yet they also had traits that would surely lead to their demise.

Even now, as Maeve took her seat among those already there and proceeded to watch as the fashionably late joined them, she was checking her observations away on the mental checklist she had going for each candidate. She was perfectly content to let the girls chatter away about frivolous topics and nip at each other with veiled insults while she watched on. Oh how delicious it would be when she dangled the title in the middle for all of them to fight over! The claws would come out and one could only guess who would be left standing at the end of the cat fight!

When Jordyn mentioned Maeve's boyfriend and his decision not to return to school the following year, Maeve's attention was deterred momentarily from the purpose of the meeting to address it. “Yes, apparently Callum knows where his talents lie,” Maeve said with a cheeky grin.

Maeve let the comment hang in the air as her cousin presented her with a gift. Maeve's brows lifted as she glanced from Livi, to Jordyn and then her blue orbs shifted down to the contents of the gift itself. Maeve carefully inspected the earrings before flashing Liviana a beaming smile. “Thank you, dear cousin. They are beautiful. I shall wear them to the end of the year Feast.”  She turned the same smile to Jordyn and nodded in acknowledgment.

Maeve had very little time to observe the reaction from the other Slytherin girls because they were rudely interrupted by the socially awkward Hufflepuff, Alfie Vaillaincourt. Maeve watched on, horrified for Neely, as the boy proceeded to stammer out a request for a date.

“Oh dear,” Maeve murmured woefully. Her eyes settled on the younger blonde and she waited expectantly for either an explanation or a response that turned the boy down flat.

(Oh, golly, this was so terrible for me to write. I'm sorry in advance.)

---

Neely tore her eyes from silver hair ribbons and graceful table manners, little girls' painted lips and pink sheen pearls. Her own smile faltered, caught itself, waned, and faded as her brain processed the words coming out of Alfie Vaillancourt's mouth. Awkward Alfie, with his lanky boy fingers rummaging through deep boy pockets, looking for Merlin knew what to eviscerate Neely's confidence in front of all of her friends. Suddenly she felt very much a fifteen year old girl.

A deep blush came to Neely's cheeks and she tried to hide it with the artfully applied cosmetic blush that made her skin soft as a peach. She would blame the enchanted mirror of the weather overhead; her skin was of the most sensitive sort, old blood, old money, not meant for things like humiliation or the labor of figuring out boys. For, for all of Neely's expert opinions where dates, and crushes, and romantic rumors were concerned, she was still very much a girl, and her only real boyfriends could be counted on the two fingers of Figaro Sellaphix's hand gestures. One had his own boyfriend now.

Neely was much better at speculating on other people's love lives, and projecting fairytales on far away Prince Charmings- the ones in September issues and tabloid rags. And for half a heartbeat, she'd thought he meant to ask her some unimportant detail about their Divintion project- and had been fully prepared to tell him off, to bossily inform him that they could talk later.

That would have been much easier.

"Alfie," she rustled, meaning to hiss the name, to sound outraged. Instead she sounded a little bit pathetic, and a lot wary. Still, he had shook her, and it was obvious in her voice. Neely’s feathers were ruffled. His name was all she could get out at first. Her hands were in her lap, wringing together. Her eyes shot to the group of girls-turned-sharks (for that was what Neely was imagining), her mouth opened, and she looked back to Alfie, considerably more determined. Her babyish, koala features took on a harshness, and her brows made up for whatever boldness the rest of her face failed to convey. Fear of social isolation reversed Neely’s inability to speak.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she announced, her voice growing louder. Her eyes flicked to Jordyn, more briefly this time. She really didn’t have any idea, but right now what was more pressing was to make everyone else believe it. Neely wanted to be the sort of girl who received letters, not the sort of girl who wrote them to boys who knew nothing about girls. She was sure her friends would think her pathetic if they thought she'd been writing immature love notes to a bullied Hufflepuff all year.

Poor Alfie, Neely had no idea. She didn’t meant him any harm-- when they were alone, he was easy enough to get along with... at least when he wasn’t forgetting her name. Alfie was a good sort of homework partner because he didn’t try to out-do her or flake on the work, and Neely could be the boss without trying. He let her intimidate him, and she enjoyed it. She nitpicked and let him trip over his words when she didn’t need to-- but it was part of the fun, part of their little game, or the one Neely was playing, anyway. (She even enjoyed laughing with him, and watching his reactions when she told him what the crystal ball said, and she thought about him sometimes when she pondered what to write in her diary, but these were not things to bring up at a table full of elite comrades.) Sure, he was frustrating, a social anomaly, someone who just didn’t ‘get it’ when it came to climbing the Hogwarts hierarchy. But he was also cute in an awkward way, and completely... harmless. Gullible, or at least not disagreeing. And ever so easy to squash.

“Why would I write you a letter?” She went on. She blinked twice, as if confused. But now the cues were falling nicely into place, and it was almost easy. She tilted her head, a look of practiced confusion dawning. She sounded accusatory. The next words were specially tailored for Maeve. “Did you think just because we were assigned to some project together, that means I want to go to Hogsmeade with you? It's almost summer, Alfie. We shop in Paris.”

The ‘we’ was obvious: the we was Neely, and Neely’s friends, this group of girls in perfectly tailored blouses and towering shoes. The we was not Alfie Vaillancourt.

Neely might have said if he'd asked her some other way; as it were, this was the most humiliating situation Alfie could possibly have framed. Why? Why did it have to be like this? Why Neely? Why not someone else's luck?

Her friends might think she was plagued with admirers, which she supposed was alright.

Neely had dreamed of being asked on dates to Hogsmeade; it was exactly what happened to the older girls (the cool, pretty ones, anyway). But this is not how it happened in her dreams. The boy never stumbled over his words or told her she was ‘okay.’ He told her she was beautiful, or perfect, or both. When the boy in Neely’s dreams approached her in front of her friends, he had flowers and a broom over her shoulder, and everyone was jealous. His face always changed, and sometimes she couldn't even see it, but it made no matter. It always happened that way. That was how it would happen to Jordyn or Maeve, she was sure; neither of them would ever be called okay by a boy. Alfie had chosen the worst possible time, and there was nothing else Neely could do but deny and scoff.

She looked away from him now, stared straight between the two girls across from her. She sat taller, her face going perfectly blank in its determined elegance. She was feeling a little guilty, and her heart was dizzy in her chest, on the verge of fainting, surely. Neely owned a lot of things, but a fainting couch for her heart was not one of them. It was best to repel him, maybe corner him later.
 
“We’re busy,” she added, without looking at him. The blush was coming back.

Alfie almost winced as he saw Neely's reaction. She was embarrassed - no: humiliated. Clenching his fists in deep, lint-riddled pockets, he wanted to disappear. "S-sorry..." he murmured, a distinct crack appearing in his throat. Nothing had hurt Alfie more: none of the bullying, the social rejection, the name-calling surpassed this. That look in the Slytherin siren's eye was more dangerous than a direct hit of Avada Kedavra, and Alfie couldn't stop his chest heaving up and down. Tears were to be held back; they had to be held back.

"I think I got the wrong idea, then." His voice was minute, barely audible amongst the sniggers and whispers of Neely's blood-curdling consortium. Public shame had landed on Alfie's shoulders ever since he stepped foot in Hogwarts, but for Neely, this was a whole new experience. He'd pay for this whole case of mistaken identity. Alfie caught a glance of Kitty Li, keeled over, barely containing her cackle of hysterics - Neely was right. Why would she ever waste time on pathetic little Vaillancourt? Flicking his eyes to the sky, the Hufflepuff pressed his lips together tightly, eyes blinking with stiff rapidity. Don't cry, Alfie.

Neely turned away from him, focusing her attention on more important and pressing peers.

"We're busy." A 'we're' that did not, and would never involve Alfie; even if she had written the letter, Neely would never stoop so low. Son of a serial killer, and spawn of a coward: he was destined for infamy and ridicule. Nothing, not even a schoolboy crush would quell this sort of reputation. "Oh... o-okay." It was all Alfie could muster.

Taking a deep breath, the Hufflepuff turned on his heel, shoulders sloped and head bowed lower than usual. He'd destroy the letter when he got back to his dorm. He'd try and destroy the idea that Neely Woolfolk had ever liked him.