Break the lock if it don't fit

Kiss With a Fist – Florence + the Machine

July, 2006

Looking at the foot thick book sitting in front of her, Kathryn is almost ready to shove it off the table and cry for mercy. What stops her from doing so is the knowledge that she'd have to pick it up after. Instead she crosses her arms and settles into a childish sulk. It's only one in the afternoon but already, the day seems to have lasted forever.

I bet everyone else is out doing something fun, she thinks, And me? I'm sitting here studying. Oh joy, oh rapture. Though she's irritated, she admits that she'd rather this than no sorcery at all. Oh yes, she's grateful for everything Drake Stone has given her. But still, she wouldn't be a self-respecting teenager if she didn't rebel against what could be considered 'school work'. Especially when it's the middle of the summer.

Yet, what stings the most is that she brought it on herself. Just yesterday, she'd made the mistake of trying to get revenge on Drake. While she'd been preoccupied with failing miserably at doing any form of defensive shields, he'd been ruthlessly dissecting what she was wearing. Her comments of him being 'such a girl' and 'maybe you should go on What Not to Wear and make friends with Clinton' hadn't done the job as the usually did. He had just waved them off and moved on to insulting her shoes. It had really been the shoes that had done her in.

"Kath, wha' did you do to those poor things tha' you call 'shoes'?" He eyes them as if they were a particularly nasty form of insect.

Looking up from her work, Kathryn focuses instead on her feet. "They're shoes. I didn't do anything to them. They always look like this. And don't call me Kath." The shoes in question look perfectly fine to her. Black Converses with rainbow metallic embroidery. Her favourite shoes actually.

"Then you mean they're supposed to look like a crazed toddler attacked them?"

"They don't. It's called a design." Shrugging, she turns back to her work. Despite being able to make things 'happen' without a caster, spells are a pain in the ass to learn. If anything, her ability to grasp things and get them under control is worse now than it was when she was twelve. Embarrassing as hell to admit. Her latest attempt at a shield makes an ominous crackling sound before it dissolves. "Dammit."

Drake doesn't stop his contemplation of her feet as he says, "Again." There are a few moments of silence as she continues to work. Finally, a shield, shaky but there, rises.

"Whoo! Score one for Team Kathryn." Doing an impromptu victory dance, she turns to Drake, expecting at least some form of praise.

Instead: "Those shoes look like someone puked cotton candy an' glitter."

"For God's sake." Swearing, Kathryn tugs on bunches of her hair. "Leave my shoes alone or I am going to beat you to death with one of them."

"But really, Kath."

Almost growling, she acts before she really thinks it through. Using a spell for electric current, she directs it at Drake, turning the electricity into static. But it doesn't work the way she wants it to. Really should have expected it. Instead of giving him a nice shock, static hits his hair, turning it into a fluffy pouf.

He gapes at her, mouth opening and closing soundlessly. He looks like Beaker, the unfortunate Muppet. Giggling, partly from guilt and partly from hilarity, Kathryn backs up. "Oops," she says belatedly.

"Incantus. Tha's all your doin' tomorrow. Readin'." With that announcement, he stalks off.

Uncrossing her arms, Kathryn leaves her chair and begins to wander around Drake's apartment. When she'd arrived that morning, he'd given her a flat stare, pointed her to the table then had left. A section on controlling spells and not overusing them had been marked, showing his normal sense of humour. She'd almost expected lines but instead had found, about a quarter of the way through the section, a scrap of paper with the words 'There will be a test' written on it.

There are still about fifteen pages left, but they're all with tiny print and drawings. Her eyes are already burning because she'd been stupid enough to think he'd been joking so she hadn't brought the glasses she wore for reading. Won't make that mistake again.

Sighing, she kicks at the ground, looking over towards the front door. The shoes that had caused the problem sit by it, seemingly innocent. She'd worn them as a point and they hadn't even been sneered at. Disappointing. She wishes that she knew when Drake would be back. That way, she might have a chance of leaving for a bit then coming back. But for all she knows, he could prance in at any moment.

With that thought in mind, Kathryn stomps back to the table and flops into the chair. The Incantus is where she left it, heavy and dusty. She pulls it towards her, tucking her legs beneath her so that she can read the words without holding the book in her lap, like a little kid. Makes it through three paragraphs before she begins to thump her forehead against the page. The Incantus, while factual, is repetitive as hell. Always the same point over and over, just cunningly disguised in different wording; control your spells, is what it always boils down to.

Bored, she marks her page and begins flipping through the book. Skipping over the pages on more advanced spells despite how much she'd like to look, she eventually turns to the index of sorcerers in New York. There's a surprising amount, as sorcerers are supposed to be rare. Her own name is in there, filed under 'Ashwood, Kathryn O.'. The 'O' is new. Hadn't been there a month or so ago when she'd looked herself up in order to gloat over her apprenticeship. It's the first initial of her middle name but she keeps that one to herself mainly. She would worry over how it ended up here, but she's come to accept that the Incantus has a mind of its own.

Under the basic details of how long she's been active, her age and degree (still pitifully low), there's a note to link her to Drake. Surprisingly, Kathryn has never searched for him. "Stupid," she says out loud as she begins to turn to the 'S' section. 'Stone, Drake A.' is under 'Snell, William'.

The normal information is there; born in Nottinghamshire, England, September 7, 1985. Three hundred and seventeenth degree. Again, there's the link to her along with a man named Alan Montgomery. His Master? She wonders, absently tapping her fingers on the page. He's never mentioned him. I've never seen him either… You'd think they'd keep in contact… Maybe he's dead. That gives her pause for a second or so, feeling guilty that she'd found something that Drake might not have wanted her to know. There's more though: at the very bottom, written in smaller script is 'born Drake Matthews'.

What? She looks at the line again and contemplates why he'd have changed his name. She comes up with a list of fairly ridiculous reasons, such as 'hiding from assassins'. Oh yeah, like that's true, she scoffs. Stupid reason, Ashwood. And you'd better get back to work before he comes in and asks what the hell you're doing.

Another twenty minutes pass while she struggles through the miniscule print in the text. Just as she is ready to throw the Incantus out the window and accept the consequences, the front door opens and Drake comes in. When she twists to look at him while rubbing at her stinging eyes, he grins hugely and says, "So how was your day? Learn lots?"

"Shut up," she answers, giving him a dirty look. "I strongly dislike you right now. My head hurts, my eyes aren't focusing anymore, and this thing weighs a ton." He only laughs so she continues, "This isn't funny. Next time, just shoot me instead of making me read size two Old English font."

"Not my fault you forgot your glasses." Settling himself into the chair across from her, Drake peers at the page. "An' you didn' finish? Wha' have you been doin'?"

Kathryn doesn't dignify that with a response, deciding to take the high road. "Did you have a nice day while I suffered?" All right, make that the middle road.

"Had to go an' register you with the New York Merlinians."

Confused, she asks, "You hadn't done it before? I've been your Apprentice for how long?"

"Yeah, well, never really got around to it." He stretches before sending her another sunny smile. "Apparently I didn' bring all the information they wanted either. Since when do you have a middle name?"

"Since I was born. You never asked." That would explain the initial then, she thinks and tells him so.

"So tha's wha' you were doing instead of your work." There's a moment while he tries to look strict. "Olivia."

She only shrugs at the name. "If you think that's going to irritate me, keep trying. I like Olivia a hell of a lot better than Kathryn."

The distraction works. Sitting forward to inspect her, Drake asks, "Really? Kathryn is a perfectly nice name."

"It's my grandmother's name," she explains, "While she was still alive, she was Kate or Katie and I got stuck with Kathy. I hate that name. Barely anyone in my family uses Kathryn. Olivia's neutral so I like it better." Closing the Incantus, she shoves it over at him. "Am I done now? Is the torture over?"

"Yeah, sure." She can tell he's still stuck on the name thing. "So if I called you Olivia, you wouldn' bite my head off about your name anymore?"

"If you want. Why do you care? Is it because you changed yours?" When his eyes widen, Kathryn can tell she's surprised him. She hadn't intended to bring that up.

He's silent for so long, she wonders if she's seriously upset him. When he speaks, she's surprised by how serious he sounds. "Where did you find tha'?" Gesturing at the Incantus, she feels the beginnings of uneasiness. Drake doesn't do serious. "Of course. Bloody book."

"I'm sorry, I was just looking in the index and you were there so I-." In some part of her, she knows she's babbling, something she hates doing, so she's grateful when he cuts her off.

"It's all right, luv. It's in there; you were going to see it eventually." For one on of the first times, he looks stressed. He's usually pretty good at hiding it. "When I got into the whole show thing, Cass," his agent, "Suggested that I got myself a new name 'cause Matthews is fairly standard. So I changed it. I didn't mind changing it but… I guess you could say I felt guilty or somethin'."

"Why? 'Cause you changed it and your family didn't like it?" And I've done it again, she berates herself as she watches a muscle jump in his cheek.

"No… not exactly. It was more tha' I was happy to change it. Maybe I should 'ave been more attached to my name."

Seeing how just how the topic of his old name has affected him, Kathryn decides to not bring up Alan Montgomery. She'll let him tell her when he wants to. For now, she reaches across the table and tugs on a spiky lock of his hair. "Well, I like Drake Stone, even if he does look like a confused hedgehog." She grins when he smacks her hand away from his precious hair. "Nice to see that your hair is back to its normal state."

"No thanks to you."

"But it was so pretty yesterday." Getting out of her chair, she begins to get ready to go home.

Drake remains at the table and, at long last, her shoes receive his disgusted look. "Those things are really horrible."

"Creative," she argues as she ties the laces. "And I like them."

"Creatively ugly, Olivia." He's trying out the name as if he's waiting for her to throw something at him.

For once, she lets him have the last word.

A/N: So this chapter was a bit more of a struggle to write. Hopefully it's turned out all right. Reviews would make me very happy. And because I forgot last time:

Discalimer: I am a highschool student, therefore am too broke to own Sorcerer's Apprentice, Hedley or Florence + the Machine.