| [ outfit ]


At the pace of a snail then—and the speed of a blink now—Gracie’s fifth year had come and gone.

Like most of her peers, the Slytherin was going home for the summer, although in her case home was cool, breezy Muggle Exeter in equally Muggle Devon. For her, home was where a batty loon for a mum and a taciturn bear for a granddad were. It was there where she could sod off on her own without having to care about appearances, or Housemates with agendas, or sotty, pesky things like reputations, or. . . urges to swoop in on ickle lower years just to see them scream, but never mind that other things of ridiculously small consequence.

Most importantly, in a most wondrously short time, Gracie wouldn’t have to see hide nor hair of a bloody uniform again. Not for another two months, at least. Instead, she would be free to traipse about in whatever she wanted to wear. . .

It was with all of that in mind that she had proceeded getting a compartment just for herself. First year after second year after third year after fourth. . . they’d all been turned away with a single word or look. Save for a few exceptions, not even her fellow fifth years, or even upperclassmen were allowed in. Quite firmly and distinctly unapologetically, Gracie made it clear to them just whose compartment it was, for the time being, now; if her summer was going to go well, it damn would start off on the right foot, or someone would be sorry.

Then, once she had, she’d begun to make herself comfortable. Nudging her bag off the seat with her foot, the girl stretched her legs, reveling in the feeling of space before she’d drawn them back up. With her cloak all bundled up like a pillow and her headphones firmly settled on top of her head, Gracie took out a book—Flesh-eating Trees of the World—and began to read.

Stalking around like a wounded tiger, Huxley peeked in the windows of compartments before spying Gracie through one of the windows. He practically slammed open the door to the compartment and pre-empted her rejection of his presence by putting his hands over his ears and saying (too loudly) "LA LA LA, I DON'T CARE, I NEED TO CHILL OUT A MINUTE."

He threw himself onto the side of the compartment opposite her and huffed, working his hands through his already-tousled hair. More than anything, he wished Aurora hadn't stopped him hitting Vulpes. He wanted desperately to grab the other boy by the back of the head and put his face through a brick wall.

Pulling at his hair still, he looked up. "Well, love, how has your day been so far?"

*EDITED

In her surprise, the headphones slipped off, slipping to her shoulders. By the time the compartment door had ceased to rattle, she’d sat up, letting the book fall onto her chest. Amidst all the noise she shot Huck an outraged glare. “‘Ere, now—” went that unheeded protest. She was trying to have a little bit of quiet around here! The nerve of some people- Really, was that too much to ask?

But even as the thoughts raced angrily across her mind, she gave up, finishing off the protest with a sigh instead. Oh, why did she bother? Still? One would think she’d be used to his dramatics by now. The devil knew she’d hung around him long enough—years, even.  Borderline masochistic, it was. . .

Oh, what the hell.

Resigned, Gracie stuffed the book under that makeshift pillow. “Eh, you know,” she replied, shrugging. “The usual—quietly.” And at this, she gave him a sharp look, to remind him that he had just interrupted. “Now, care to tell me why you look wrung out?”

He looked around and realized what she must've been doing. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I just needed to duck in somewhere for a minute. I promise I won't bug you for too long."

Pointing to the spreading bruise on his neck, he scowled. "I just got beat up by a girl. And that ugly twat Vulpes Connor talked some serious shite for a little guy who had to have a girl protect his neck."

Still scowling, he pulled his t-shirt up all the way in the back to try and look over his shoulder at the bruise he could feel spreading across his shoulder blade. "Can you see anything there? Is it gross?"

Rolling her eyes, Gracie pushed off from her seat and moved to take one next to him. “You would get beaten up by a girl,” she drawled, slipping out of her jacket. She let it drop beside him. Smirking faintly, “I can’t imagine why it’d taken this long, actually.”

It was almost tragic, really, how little it surprised her.

And the dumb git wouldn’t—stay—still. “Huck, stop,” she said sharply, impatiently clamping a hand onto the uninjured one. The other darted forward to pinch his ear. “I can’t tell if you keep mov—whoa.”

A sullen patch of yellow, purple, and every color between glared up at her from Huck’s shoulder. Brows rising, Gracie slowly let go of his lobe. “Well, damn, Ward,” she murmured—appreciatively, almost—as she took in the damage. It wasn’t bad, per se, but it wasn't good, either. Musingly, she tucked a strand of hair behind an ear and touched the bruise gently. “Well well well. . .”

Someone wasn’t going to win any beauty awards for a while.

He smiled in his rather dumb and boyish way and tried to reach back to poke the bruise, but his arm was so stiff from it being pinned behind his back that he could barely lift it past his shoulder. "Ooh," he groaned, easing it back to his side. "I'm just better at ducking than they are at swinging, usually, I think."  In truth, he was surprised, too; he was definitely the sort of guy who didn't have the capacity to keep his mouth shut. Making friends with the more feared Slytherin denizens had been purely a stroke of luck on his part. Otherwise, he figured he'd have been hexed in the face a few times a week since the beginning of his first year.

Feeling her hand on his bruise, he winced slightly. It was more tender than he had expected it to be, despite her gentleness. "Well, what?" he asked, his eyes still squeezed shut. "It's gross, isn't it?"

He was suddenly very glad that she had not hit his face, although a well-placed black eye was always hot.

"I'm lucky she didn't rip my arms out their sockets, I guess," he said ruefully. "I tried to hit her butt-ugly chimp of a boyfriend."

Dark brows snapped into a V. Tried to- “Huck, you moron,” Gracie sighed, releasing him. “Of course she would,” whoever ‘she’ was. “Granted, it’s usually the other way around-” and more of a ‘hit on’ than actual hitting, “-but still. Idiot.”

All things considered, Gracie thought she was being quite generous for not giving that bruise the poke it deserved. Because, really—two against one? Gryffindors did that, not Slytherins. And that was because they knew better.

Really, it served him right for being so rash—so stupid—in the first place.

Tsking quietly, she went over to her carry-on and brought it over. “Vulpes, you said?” she asked, rummaging through it. God, since when had it gotten so much crap in it? She could have sworn she'd cleaned out most of it the other day. . . “I’ve met him. He seemed harmless enough. A bit weird, but harmless. What even happened in the first place?”

Huck folded his arms- well, as best as he could with a wrecked shoulder- like a petulant child and grimaced. "Oh, shut up," he huffed. "If you'd have heard it I bet you'd have done the same thing. ...Well, you probably wouldn't have lost to a girl, that was a uniquely 'me' experience. But still."

More than anything, he was glad that he had friends that would put up with his stupidity. He wasn't a complete idiot... he was good with words and was pretty good at manipulating people, generally, but he had the mentality of a ten year old boy still and was fairly sure he would never grow out of it. "Yeah, well, y'know... he hides it really well. But after today I'm prepared to say he's the biggest Slytherin stereotype after Kitty that I've ever met."

It was an effort to remember the exact sequence of events- it had happened so fast!

In his head, of course, he had been entirely the innocent victim. The truth was murkier. Of course he'd been the instigator- was there a fight he'd been in that he hadn't started?

"Well, let's see. I wandered into their compartment, I made a joke about how his mum had sex with me, and then he went on to say that the women in my family, and I quote, 'can't keep their legs together,' and how he's surprised my sisters ain't knocked up."

He fumed again. He had calmed down before, but reliving it raised his hackles again. "It was a total... you know... rich kid bollocks. ...Think they're so much better than everybody else because they've got a little money."

He was mostly just ranting bitterly at that point.

Liv languished in the doorway of the compartment; having silently slid it open midstory. Behind her there was some tittering as a gaggle of first years passed but she kept her large brown eyes focused on Huxley and Gracie. "Be caught with your shirt up again Hux? Really? I don't know why we ever let you out of your cage". There was a very select handful of people Liviana enjoyed just teasing, who were allowed to see the part of her personality that shined so brightly with her family. She prided herself on a sense of humor; it was just most people didn't deserve to get to see it. Both Gracie and Huxley were exempt from that judgment; maybe because they'd seen so many of the other sides to her already - though it was hard to say what really motivated anything Liv did.

Slipping fully inside, she pushed her dark hair over one shoulder and leaned down to air kiss either of Gracie's cheeks, "Really Love, think of your reputation. He not only gets his arse kicked by a girl; however tacky and brutish she might be - and now you're being seen alone with him in a train compartment. You're lucky I get so unfathomably bored listening to Maeve talk about her summer plans. Really an archaeological dig? Can you actually imagine her sleeping in a tent in the wilds of whatever it they're going without a mirror or tub for however many miles? It's going to be a disaster," she sounded amused as she sat across from the pair and daintily crossed her ankles. She kind of wanted a cigarette but... well.. they were on the train.

She settled on fishing out a peppermint and popping it past her lips, face pensive for a moment as she considered what Vulpes had said to Huxley, "Your Mum jokes are in extremely poor taste Darling; but somehow making fun of your sisters seems even worse.  Poor Veronica is only fourteen," there was a sort of scowl etched into her features then. She was never open about it; but Liv had her own soft spot for the younger years. It rather bothered her that a nobody like Vulpes Connor would open his mouth about one of her girls (even if she didn't openly dote on them as "her  girls"). Looking between the two she tilted her head to one side as though she were contemplating what kind of punishment needed to be doled out, "It shows a distinct lack of house loyalty and class... someone really should have a talk with him, alone"...cue ominous music; Livi was forming a plan.

Throughout the narrative Gracie listened, all airs and appearances distracted as she went through her things but still very much paying attention. When Huck reached certain key points, the girl bit her tongue—hard.

Because to a certain degree, she sympathized with him, she really did. The ‘rich kid bollocks’ he spoke of was still common in Hogwarts, and was not at all confined to Slytherin; she’d seen it among the other Houses, too. Contrary to the general opinion of Hufflepuffs, even they had their poofters, ponces, and gits. They were simply better at making it less obvious.

But his bitterness, though. . . it was starting to get to her. His sore spot wasn’t news to her, but she got enough of that at home—supplied by her own mother no less—and Marcelline was a master at it. For hours the woman could (and would) go on, muttering under her breath, and would draw out the tension further with mulish silences and quiet, bitter comments. Listening to her was draining enough and Gracie would be damned if she had to tolerate it too long from her friend, too.

Which made Liv’s entrance a relief.

Not so quietly Gracie snickered at the other girl’s greeting. Still grinning, she stood up—straightening to receive the air kiss—and reclaimed her spot next to Huck with a small, palm-sized container in hand. Count on Liv to joke about Ward’s, ahem, ‘allergy’ to clothes and spin it away to something else entirely. “Who’s to say he’ll be receptive to one?” she asked, unscrewing the lid. Inside was a smooth beige paste smelling faintly of coffee and mint. It was cold to the touch. “I mean, it’s hard to kick someone off a ladder when they’re already down,” she murmured musingly as she began smearing a bit on the bruise. “Although, when I spoke to him, he seemed rather twitchy, frankly.”

To Huck, she said, “This won’t help with the bruising much,” smearing on a little more around the edges, “but it’ll help with the soreness for a while and hide it while it does. I’ve been using since last year, so I know it helps.”

A tiny, smug smile graced her lips. “I use it to hide the hickeys.”

Huck was only slightly embarrassed to be caught with his shirt up. Trying to be smooth and subtle, he angled himself so his bruise would show more to Livi. Gracie could have been being nice or humoring him- his back could have looked like a disgusting lump of hamburger- but a deep and spreading bruise was always sexy in his opinion.

Despite enjoying the attention, he didn't want to act as though he were whining about the situation. He sat up, wincing and groaning, and breathed deeply for a few minutes to relax his aches. Livi's jokes and jabs braced his slightly shaken spirit, and he managed a smile despite his adrenaline still making him crazy.

Gracie's hand was positively icy with the balm, and he hissed sharply through his teeth and arched his back, his muscles contracting involuntarily. It burned at first, but the creep of relief spread through his sore spots like a gentle creek.

He merely grinned at her comments about his horrible reputation and his cage. There was something he found terribly hot about the Slytherin girls keeping him caged up. ...Though he was sure that hadn't been her intention.

"I don't mean to insinuate I don't have faith in you, Liv, darling," he began, his face still slightly contorted. "But let me just say... I looked in his face and saw ice."

Liv, without a thought other than pure instinct moved her hand to her neck as she tried not to think of Lucas. He hadn't given her a hickey had he? The whole incident was such a blur that it was a gut reaction to slap her fingers over her neck for a moment. Then she had to cover, pretend she was rubbing a kink from the muscle. These little dalliances were going to be a problem. She would not allow herself to get attached or involved with that judgmental prick. It was all just for shits and giggles. She was going home, she would spend a chunk of time in Paris, she would watch her brother practice, and she would wear pretty dresses to all the gala events she was sure she'd be drug to. There were at least two in the fairly immediate future. Some people thought of the ocean to stay calm; Liviana thought of dressing up in ball gowns and wearing diamonds.

The smile that overtook her face was not a completely malicious one, it was hard to figure out just what her the little Cheshire Cat grin meant really; "Oh Huxley. Never ever underestimate a girl with the last name Wiedman when she also happens to be a Whitman," there was just a little bit of a giggle to her voice as she leaned forward and tapped the end of his nose, dark hair framing her delicate features and large doe eyes. "Whether I scare the ever living shit out of him by being an utterly vicious bitch or I turn the charm up to twelve Vulpes Connor will be apologizing in the very near future". Her voice dripped with honey, but that didn't necessarily mean the conversation would go well for Vulpes. While Liv prided herself on being on the lesser end of the "Slytherin Bitch" scale when it came to house loyalty and defending one another she could just as easily rip someone's throat out as charm them. She didn't think it would really come down to that with Vulpes.

His hatred for Huck aside, the kid was too soft to really be o.k. with calling someone a whore. It wasn't any keen insight from spending time with him that told her this; it was just his desperate (constant) need for approval. It was something that had become more and more apparent as the year had drug on. She could clearly remember how shaken he was in Herbology; how desperate he was not to be laughed at. If Liv were truly vicious she'd set the rest of the Monarchy on him and let them devour whatever sense of self-worth he had. She wasn't going to do that though, at least not yet. "You just let me take care of everything - and be prepared to apologize for saying you shagged his Mum," her dulcet tones became every so slightly sharper as she gave him a pointed look, cool fingers trailing along his jaw before she settled back in her seat with a smirk.

At the note of menace in Liv’s voice, Gracie’s mouth curved into a smile. While it was nice to be privy to the other girl’s lighter side—her sense of humor and everything else other than the Queen Bee—it was just as much fun seeing her as otherwise. The usual.

. . .What? Long-lasting bridges of friendship weren’t made of sugar. Besides, nice people were boring, anyway.

“Don’t run on Connor too hard, Liv,” she drawled, wiping the residue off her fingers on Huck’s back—and then when that didn’t work, his shirt. If he gave her even a look of protest, she’d simply answer it with a beam. “I’d hate to see what would happen to his girlfriend if she tried to come after you.” Someone who could do that to Huck was someone to watch out for, to be sure, but she knew well enough that if the girl tried something similar to Liv, she’d have to deal with a pissed Wiedman—or Gracie herself, either before Liv got to her or after.

Easing back, she leaned against the seat. “So, Huck,” she poked at his bruise lazily, “Does Miss Wonderful have a name or what?”

Despite his still-kicking desire to curbstomp Vulpes's face, he felt slightly worried for the boy, however briefly. Naturally she wouldn't hurt the kid- not physically, anyway, probably- but women, especially Slytherin women, had a natural propensity for breaking souls. They knew how to use their wiles very well, and Huck had seen the scope of their powers. They could inflate a guy's ego beyond control one second and the very next moment crush his self-esteem into a broken jumble that could never be reassembled.

Kinda like Humpty Dumpty.

He was fairly sure Liv wouldn't go that far, but if Connor mouthed off to her the way he did to Huxley, well, there wouldn't be anyone quick enough to subvert the damage she would do.

"I'm not gonna apologize," he replied, trying to look over his shoulder at Gracie's hand. "I did shag his mum. He's just feeling awkward because she's asked me to marry her."

So many lady hands on him. He smiled and felt a slight twinge of a blush spread over the bridge of his nose- gee, that doesn't usually happen- and tried to twiddle with his thumbs to distract himself. "Thanks, Liv," he grinned. "I think if I talked to him today I'd have to hex his manhood into a figure-eight knot."

Oh, God, he groaned inwardly. Dorky camping joke. Really smooth.

As Gracie's movements turned to little pokes, it felt somewhat less nice, but it still made him giggle a little. The balm had helped a great deal, and though it still felt terribly tender it no longer roared with pain when tapped. "That freakshow Gryffindor, Aurora, um..." he paused awkwardly. He had forgotten her last name, or at least how to pronounce it. "Brainsdaughter," he finished quickly, using the nickname he'd heard around. "Or whatever. You know who I mean."

"D'you know where you go for lying Huck? We all figured out a long time ago you're going to die a virgin," her voice was teasing as she reached out a booted toe and poked him in the shin, wiggling her eyebrows. Actually, she didn't believe that at all; but someone had to try to keep him all little humble. All in all Huxley Ward was a mouthy pissant but he was a lovable mouthy pissant. There was a certain level of trust afforded him because he'd watched her work through her art. It wasn't an easy thing to let people see that side of her, for most of her life it had been how she bonded with her father (and it pleased her mother because it was another "skill" to be touted about to land a husband).

"Brainsplatter is abut as intimidating as a rabid flobberworm," she scoffed a little and shook her head at Gracie's warning. Liv was good with a wand and having grown up around the Pitch it was well established she was mostly immune to violence. The keeping her temper in check thing, it was something she prided herself on. She  wouldn't be cruel to Vulpes for no reason, she didn't intend to be cruel at all - but if Aurora tried to insert herself into a situation that she didn't belong in Liv also wasn't scared of her. She'd lived five years under the psychological torment of people like Kitty Li... it dawned on her then that the pintsized Asian had her uses.

Twisting a lock of dark hair around one finger she let her eyes settle back on Huxley for a moment, "I realize that you're very upset Lovey, but it's about house unity. Connors is, at best, meant to be pitied. He has what, three friends? And here you are all alone in a compartment with two of the prettiest girls in Slytherin. Really, your life could only get better if Jordy waltzed through that door and gave you a lap dance," she was back to teasing again - but also making a point. Huck had been wrong; Vulpes was just more wrong. She really wanted a damn cigarette now, which meant another mint was popped past her lips, "You don't have to like him but you could at the very least not be a complete and total wanker, for five minutes".