A/N: Okay next chapter;) thank you for all the kind reviews, special thanks julianabr for her analysis and theRabbit for the constant support:) I know you're all super curious about what happened to Lizzie but it will be quite some time (not until Christmas in this story) before the truth comes out, but if you pay close attention, you'll catch the hints throughout the chapters:) I'm here for all your questions, so to all you confused readers: The last chapters happened FIVE YEARS before this story when Lizzie is eighteen, it's not a flashback but more retelling of the events when Lizzie first came to London (remeber the "stranded" in chapter 4?)

Okay, one more to go without Darcy, but I promise the next two ones are full of him (and her;) But oh, you're going to meet a certain someone...

Soundtrack: Music Box - Regina Spektor

Disclaimer: Still not mine, I travel in trains for Fudge's sake, not carriages!

Chapter 6 Septimus Sevenson

"Ah, look out!", Lizzie Bennet cried out five years later, after all the sunburns were healed, her hair reached her ribcage again and Jane didn't suffer a nervous breakdown every time she called, while sliding down the long corridor on the top floor of the social sciences building, which lead towards the laboratories, closely followed by Charlotte, while wearing a pair of oversized, blue-green, self-made socks.

"Get away there!", she shouted at a group of students, who were caught in an intense discussion, while studying their respective notes. The group flew apart when Lizzie's shrill cry of warning reached them, only to nearly loose all their papers when a whirlwind of brown locks and blue fabric ripped through them, followed by an agitatedly talking girl with a flushed face, who murmured a heap of apologies.

"Sorry!", Lizzie also exclaimed, turning around halfway before making another attempt to slide down the rest of the hallway and to flee from Charlotte, who carried both their jackets and bags (including the camera) while muttering curses under her breath.

Lizzie had no sympathy for Charlotte's tirade. Sure, she was the one carrying their stuff and sure, she too wouldn't find it amusing to play servant or be abused as some kind of drudge, but as a matter of fact, Lizzie never forced Charlotte to do so. She could've just let it drop, when Lizzie pressed the garments in her hands to do sock slides down the hallway – luggage had a way of always getting back to you, like a twisted sort of Karma.

But no, Charlotte had decided to be in a particularly bad mood today (something Lizzie could understand, conversations with her Mum had the same effect on her if she did not moderate them) and who was she to tell Charlotte, what to do?

Okay, the sock-sliding had been a try.

But evidently one gone wrong, because Charlotte vehemently refused to even take of her shoes (an insistence on propriety, Charlotte attributed to her strict catholic upbringing – please, in which paragraph does the bible forbid you to bare your feet?). The attempt to cover the upper part of your body, Lizzie could have understood, heck she even would have feigned understanding if Charlotte had problems with bare legs or knees, but besides the fact that Charlotte was the first one every summer to stalk around in the skimpiest bikini known to mankind, feet covered in socks were no taboo, right?

Speaking of feet, hers were at the moment occupied with performing the longest sock-slide in the history of sock-slides and despite Charlotte's protests, Lizzie was fairly sure that she would make it around that corner if not -

Completely occupied with holding her body as streamlined as possible in order to make it around that corner, which connected the developmental psychology laboratories with those of the neuropsychology department, Lizzie was not aware of the fact that there seemed to be someone else in her way until she bumped headfirst into what seemed to be brick wall.

"Urgh!", it sounded, a mix of the sound of collision and the groan, that escaped both lips and Lizzie would've landed most inelegantly on her posterior if the brick wall had not suddenly discovered a pair of arms and held her upright.

Both of them swayed a bit, out of an instinct Lizzie had woven her hands around the guy's arms and she laughed when she regained her balance.

He returned the smile, supplementing it with a slightly askew smirk, which revealed perfect, pearly white teeth and she had to admit that he was handsome with a head of tousled, short hair of a reddish-brown shade, which an avid Twilight-reader probably would have described as bronze-coloured.

"Hey", he said, without letting her go and his blue eyes lit up.

"Hey back", she replied, letting go of him, but his hands remained where they were. She raised an eyebrow. "I think you can release me now."

He laughed again and she noticed that he was really, really handsome, a bit like Robert Pattinson but healthier and his hair was a bit more reddish. "Sure?", he asked. "I don't want to risk any further injuries. You might faint, you know?"

"No, believe me, that's not going to happen", she replied and lifted one sock-clad foot. "See? I'm stable."

He let go of her. "Then I'll have to trust you, I think." Again the smirk and the perfect row of 32 flawless teeth and she caught herself looking for fangs for a moment.

"I told you to believe me", she replied. "Trust is a completely different thing." Slash one I'm not harbouring any time soon, she thought and tugged at one of her socks.

"And here I thought, faith was the thing you practise at the church two blocks away from here." He acted surprised. "I must be mistaken then."

She laughed. "Seems to be a common occurrence."

"Hey!", he opened his mouth to protest. "You nearly knocked me out not two seconds ago and you already read me like a book!" He grinned. "That went fast!"

"Oh don't be so smug about that!", she retorted. "It just means that you're pretty transparent."
"Was that supposed to hurt me?" He leaned in a bit and she smelled cigarettes.

"Definitely", she wanted to answer, but right then Charlotte closed the gap between them and with a thud she dropped the pile of jackets, bags and scarves to the floor right in front of Lizzie.

"¡Basta ya!", she hissed and crossed her arms defiantly in front of her chest. "I told you sock sliding in an university building is a dumb idea, but does anybody listen to me? Mierda, No! "Take this, Char", is all she says before rushing down the hallway!" She directed the last statement at the completely overwhelmed vampire-guy, he raised an eyebrow, but, Lizzie observed, also retreated several steps back, when Charlotte with hair like black lightnings turned towards him.

"And what came out of it? You could've broken your ass, careless as you are!", she cried out, an angry red rising in her cheeks.

"Charlotte, I wouldn't have-", Lizzie begun, but vampire-guy interrupted her.

"It's possible to break one's ass?", he asked, curious and amused at the same time.

"One's tail bone, to be precise", Lizzie answered with a glance sidewards, because she was still caught in a staring contest with Charlotte. "It's an ugly business, takes long and is quite painful."

"Aha", he managed to say and looked from one girl to the other. "Interesting."

"That's nothing in comparison to the fact that you could have broken both your wrists just as easily", Charlotte continued with a scowl. "And I know damn well that you still have to type your complete Kant-essay. Believe me, I wouldn't have done that."

"You wouldn't have saved me from Professor Asshole's wrath?", Lizzie asked, acting as though this information hurt her deeply.

"Who's Professor Asshole?", vampire-guy asked, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Type 2", Lizzie replied, still focused on Charlotte who seemed to be fuming with ire.

"Are you warm?", Lizzie asked curiously and obviously without thinking and Charlotte opened her mouth to reply, but vampire-guy was faster.

"Are you talking about a person or diabetes?", he chimed in, but none of the girls reacted.

"You're asking me if I'm warm?", Charlotte exploded right at that moment and her hair seemed to straighten up like the fur of a dog. "Of course I'm warm, Lizzie! I just carried your damn jacket, bag and shoes four storeys up and three hallways down and you ask if I feel warm?! I'll tell you something, Madame-"

"You name is Lizzie?" Again another comment from vampire-guy, he leaned a bit towards Lizzie so that she again caught the scent of cigarettes.

"Do you think it funny?!", Charlotte cried out and stared down at Lizzie with a height difference of at least five centimetres.

"No", the girl said automatically and looked at Charlotte with big eyes full of mischief.

"No?", both, Charlotte and the vampire, repeated and looked at each other in astonishment when they realized they'd spoken in unison.

Lizzie caught the symmetry of their expressions and started laughing, which caused both to blink in confusion.

"I wouldn't dare make fun of you", she assured Charlotte, having gained control over her laughing fit before she turned towards vampire-guy. "And no, my name is not Lizzie." She curtseyed. "Allow me? Septimus Sevenson, the seventh son of a seventh son, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir." She straightened and grinned before retreating a few steps to take a run-up.

"Oh, and Charlotte?", she said, while getting her socks in place. The so addressed girl raised her chin. "It wasn't just my stuff you carried." She grinned mischievously. "The red bag contains the camera."

"Which camera?", Charlotte exclaimed, mouth agape, while Lizzie took her run-up and slid down the rest of the hallway with arms stretched out widely like some kind of bird.

"Yours of course!", she replied before crying out: "On to new adventures!" , while Charlotte lunged for the pile of garments in search for the red bag and vampire-guy looked after the mane of brown curls with a slightly askew smile.

It was somewhat self-explaining that after this episode, Lizzie would be the first one to reach the room Anne had been assigned to for her study and she stopped the power of her movements by grabbing for the door knob, which resulted in a rather undignified, albeit dramatic entrance, when she tumbled in to the laboratory.

Anne looked up and Lizzie was again surprised how little the ambergirl had changed over the last five years.

Her hair was still short and spiky, standing around her head and making her look like a pixie. She still wore piercings in her ears, even though they'd changed over the years, instead of the pink and black dots, she wore a variation of blue and green ones and a skull and a ladybird in the other ear.

Also her way of dressing was still the same. She wore her usual skinny jeans, which left her ankles bare, a pair of yellow socks with a floral pattern and black delicate leather shoes to a blue-white striped T-Shirt and a small cotton waistcoat.

"Ah", she said, when she caught sight of Lizzie and her golden eyes lit up. "Hello Lizzie, seems like you didn't get lost this time." She winked good-naturedly, it was an old joke between them, used in everyday conversations to refer to one of their first encounters, which in company caused a good deal of curious glances, when Anne asked her in front of everyone if she'd found anyone recently and Lizzie, with a roll of her eyes, answered in the negative and then proceeded to ask after crows holding keys.

"This building", Lizzie stretched out her arms, "is a labyrinth, but not big enough to get lost in it. Sooner or later you reach a staircase, that's a law of nature."

Anne raised an eyebrow. "And do these laws of nature also explain why you're not wearing shoes?"

Surprised Lizzie looked down to her feet in the blue-green socks and cocked her head. "Oh I totally forgot about that", she then said with a shrug. "They're so thick that you don't even feel it, when you're not wearing shoes."

"I know." Anne grinned. "I've knitted them."

"Of course you did." With a sigh Lizzie dropped into one of the leather chairs and watched Anne, sorting through the wires for the EEG.

"Do you know which film comes to my mind when seeing this?", Lizzie asked suddenly, knees pressed against her chest, her hands clutched into the thick wool of her socks.

"Matrix?", Anne asked without looking up while disentangling another knot.

"How do you know that?", Lizzie asked irritated and let go of one foot, which now dangled loosely in the air.

"Lizzie everything remembers you of Matrix", Anne declared with a sigh and smiled.

"That's not true!", Lizzie cried out and her curls fell in her face. She blew them away angrily. "Not everything remembers me of Matrix!"

Anne raised an eyebrow. "When we went out to that ice cream parlour last summer with the pink interior design and the jukebox, playing only music of the 60s, you were also completely determined that we were either a part of Grease or living in the Matrix."

"But that was true!", Lizzie countered and raised her chin defiantly.

"It was an ice cream parlour, Lizzie! Grease, okay, there was definitely some 60s flair, but Matrix? That's a totally different concept! At least concerning colours..."

"It was pink, Anne. Pink. Pretty near the colour you call hot pink!" She shook her head.

"Do you've got a problem with the colour pink?", Anne asked amused and tugged some errant strands of hair behind her ear.

Lizzie grinned and her green eyes lit up. "No, don't think so."

"So then, what was so horrible about the interior design if you don't have a problem with the colour? Weren't you the one, who dragged us there?"

"It's scary", Lizzie burst out and sat up. "All that pink and silver furniture, than the jukebox and the bubble gum machine... It was scary, way too perfect and artificial... I mean. did you take a good hard look? I'm sure there was not even a grain of dust on those tables!"

Anne laughed. "So if following hygiene prescriptions is your definition of scary..."

"It fulfils the Matrix-criteria", Lizzie replied, her brow furrowed.

"Lizzie, everything fulfils the Matrix-criteria. That's the point of the film. " Anne shook her head softly and walked away, light-footed and with her hands outstretched. That was so typical of Anne, Lizzie thought, she made walking look like flying.

"Don't you dare call Matrix a film", she threatened, but her eyes sparkled. "It's more than that."

"Yeah, I know", Anne replied in a melodious voice. "It's a philosophy, a new perspective, everything mankind ever waited for." She threw Lizzie a glare. "You abused a whole evening to explain that to me."

"It was important", Lizzie declared and held up both hands with a grin. "You've never seen Matrix before."

"You were drunk, Lizzie and just wouldn't get off my couch. There was nothing left to do despite listening to you rambling after you refused to go to bed."

"Admit that those were the three most interesting hours of your life!", Lizzie demanded while arranging her feet on the chair.

Anne turned around, hands on her hips. "Yeah, I have to admit that those were the three most interesting hours of my life... listening to you trying to get out the word "illusion"." She shook her head, her amber eyes sparkling. "I never thought a sole person could disfigure a word so much."

"Hey, don't destroy my illusion!"

"It's your own fault, Lizzie", Anne called out from behind the silk screen, which separated her computer from the camera. It was normally a part of Anne's apartment and coloured in a pale green with embroidered roses on one side and delicate blue flowers on the other.

"Do you want to tell me that Matrix did not enrich your life?"

Anne's head appeared from behind the screen. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Anne!", Lizzie cried out and wanted to add something, when suddenly with a loud bang the door sprung open and an angrily fuming Charlotte stepped in.

"Lizzie Bennet!", she nearly screamed and the volume with which she yelled these two words, made Lizzie shrink back in her seat.

"Charlotte Lucas!", she managed to get out and turned around in her seat to face her friend. "Still too warm?"

"Lizzie Bennet, don't you dare make fun of me!", Charlotte bellowed, before stumbling over one of the bags, she'd dropped to the floor beforehand.

"Charlotte Lucas, stop repeating yourself", Lizzie threw back, her cheek leaned against the back of the leather chair, a grin playing on her lips.

"You!", Charlotte spat and, with an angrily flushed face, she pointed at Lizzie, who ripped open her eyes in astonishment.

"Me?", she asked innocently and folded her hands under her chin. "What have I done now?"

"You abandoned me!", Charlotte cried out, hands still in the air.

"I abandoned you." Lizzie nodded, her chin scratching against the leather. "What else?"

"You left your stuff there!" Charlotte's eyes grew even bigger behind her glasses and scurried from Lizzie to the silk screen, where Anne could be heard typing on her keyboard.

"I left my stuff there." Again Lizzie nodded, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Sounds quite horrible. What else?"

"You have... You.. You're kidding me!", Charlotte finally cried out slightly breathless and kicked the bags away, that blocked her path. "Anne, she's kidding me!"

"I know", was Anne's only answer from behind the silk screen and Lizzie could do naught but laugh at the sight of Charlotte's grim expression.

"Did you find your camera?", she teased and wriggled a bit on the chair until only her eyes and a head of dark brown hair were visible over the back of the chair. And her hands to both sides of her eyes, decorated with green nail varnish, some shades darker than her eyes.

"You...", Charlotte spluttered helplessly and her hand, pointing at Lizzie, trembled.

"Something else I have done?", Lizzie suggested, an eyebrow raised.

"Why didn't you tell me, you brought my camera?", Charlotte finally managed to say.

"My my, where would be the fun in that?", Lizzie asked curiously and accomplished an expression of honest interest.

"The fun?!" She got closer to the pair of green eyes over the back of the chair and Lizzie, sensing the threatening danger turned around laughingly and with a kick against the floor she rolled away and behind the silk screen, where the chair bumped against the windowsill and stopped.

"Lizzie, you abandoned me and left me there with this guy, you nearly knocked out before and who so clearly has the hots for you that he didn't even wait a second after you were gone before asking me, if your name really was Septimus." Charlotte had her hands on her hips but her voice was back to normal.

"Urgh, Stalker", Lizzie said and grimaced.

"Why Stalker?", Charlotte asked, brow furrowed, while getting out of her jacket. "I think it's sweet. He's definitely interested in you."

"Don't you think I would've given him my real name if I was interested?", Lizzie replied and gazed out of the window. It was a beautiful day outside, sunny, a tiny piece of blue sky and some birds were visible, like black dots breaking through the blue.

"That's the problem with you, Lizzie. You're never interested." Charlotte's black eyes pierced right into Lizzies face, who was now trying hard not to look her friend in the eye.

"Yes", Anne chimed in. "If I didn't know for sure that you have a thing for guys, I would have introduced you to some of my friends ages ago."

"Anne...", Lizzie complained with a grimace and threw her a look, which transported the words Why-do-you-attack-me-from-behind-now? so clearly that Anne could do naught but grin. She looked like a pixie when she did that.

"Really, Lizzie. The guy was hot and he listened to every word you said. So what's you freaking problem?"

"He looks like Edward Cullen", Lizzie replied defiantly and suppressed the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

"And that's a problem to you?", Charlotte asked. "If I met someone, who looks like Robert Pattinson and asks for my name, I wouldn't be moping around here and staring out of the window."

"Thanks, Char. For that piece of information."

Charlotte sighed. "I just don't get it! Ever since we moved in together, you never had a longterm relationship." She cocked her head. "If I think about it, you never had a relationship, which surpassed one night, at all." She gazed at Lizzie expectantly, but the girl just sighed and avoided her eyes.

"Lizzie?", Anne asked softly and while Lizzie was probably able to refuse Charlotte's blazing eyes, it was nearly impossible not to look at the ambergirl, if Anne wanted her to.

"He looked like a vampire", Lizzie finally muttered and crossed her arms defensively over her chest.

"So what?", Charlotte cried out, while beginning to clean up the mess, she'd made at the entrance. "He was hot, vampire or not and you owe it to every desperate Twilight-reader to even fucking try!"

"I'm not one for relationships, Charlotte!", Lizzie exclaimed and set up straight, her toes barely touching the floor, her expression strained.

"Of course you are, Lizzie Bennet! You're the relationship-type par excellence, you just don't want to admit it!" Her voice was despite its volume a bit dulled, because she was currently occupied with saving her camera from the pile of bags on the floor.

"And how would you know that?", Lizzie asked tersely and leapt to her feet, arms still crossed over her chest. "Because you've watched me go through so many relationships?"

She sensed Anne standing behind her and she saw Charlotte's gaze jumping from her to Anne and how it suddenly darkened.

"I know you, Lizzie", she simply said. "And your way of letting guys only get close to you for some one-night-stands, just doesn't fit in with the way you live the rest of your life. You never do things just halfway and never just a bit. You throw yourself into it with every fibre of your being and damn the consequences! You're one for relationships, Lizzie, even if you don't want to admit it."

"I'm happy with the way I live my life, Charlotte, it works for me! So shut the hell up and don't tell me what to do!"

"That's exactly what it does, Lizzie!", Charlotte exploded for the third or fourth time that day. "It works but nothing more! You've got every freaking thing under control but how long will that last? Don't you want more? A lifelong relationship, a house, children, a decent husband?" Every word was accompanied with a movement of her hands and her hair flew wildly through the air.

"I'm 23, Charlotte, just like you! Didn't you just tell your Mum that you wouldn't marry your neighbour's son? And don't you handle one-night-stands the same way I do? So where's the analysis of your relationship ability?"

"It's not about me not wanting a relationship!", Charlotte cried out, while Anne nervously shifted from one foot to the other, words on her lips, she wasn't sure about. "I do one-night-stands, because it's the only thing guys are interested in when it comes to me. No relationship, just a peck on the cheek and a "I'll be going, babe" the next morning. But you've got everything, everything! The guys are all waiting for you, fuck, they nearly trip over their feet to have a chance with you and you're refusing everyone or run away the morning after, 'cause you don't even got the balls to fucking try!"

"Then go and marry that idiot from spain, if that's what you want!", Lizzie cried out angrily, a bitter taste on her tongue.

"I don't want to go back to Spain!", Charlotte yelled back completely unnerved and tore at her hair, which needed everything but more volume.

"Then don't go!", Lizzie shouted just as loud as Charlotte and both girls stared at each other, hands in fists, faces like angry grimaces.

They were both silent, staring contest, nobody wanted to give in but then the sound of clapping hands and Anne's cheerful laugh cut through the thick atmosphere.

"So there you have it. Do you feel better now?" Expectantly she looked from one girl to the other. Both of them broke eye contact and Charlotte tried a little smile in Anne's direction, who looked at them with hands clasped in front of her chest and a huge grin on her face.

Lizzies face was a mask when she turned around and grabbed her bag.

"Can I type my essay on your laptop, Annie?", she asked the ambergirl and pulled out her script from within the depths of her bag.

Anne nodded and pointed at the small table in front of the window, where her laptop waited. "But just typing, okay? No illegal downloads and no attempts at hacking my E-Mail provider, got it?"

Lizzie nodded, the ghost of a smile on her lips. "Got it."

Anne looked a bit dumbstruck when Lizzie didn't try to defend her honour in her typical protesting way and she swayed a bit, then turned around on her heel to get a better look at Lizzie.

"No opposition?", she asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Do you want some?", Lizzie retorted, her gaze drifting to Charlotte, who was currently occupied with the contents of her bag.

Anne smiled softly. "Always."

Then she clapped her hands, a soft noise, that got Charlotte's attention.

"Do you want to go first?", Anne asked and held up the cap with the electrodes. Charlotte nodded and looked over to Lizzie, who seemed to be completely occupied with starting Anne's old laptop.

"Okay."

Calling the atmosphere in the room strained, while Anne secured the cap on Charlotte's head, sprayed gel into her hair and connected electrodes, would be a gross understatement.

Anne tried to lighten the mood with her way of bouncing up and down between them, her delicate arms moving like a pair of wings through the air, but her effort was for naught, Charlotte kept silent and Lizzie was completely caught up in typing down the ten page essay, she'd been doing in between classes the whole week and alternately cursing Anne's laptop and Darcy.

When Anne was finished with Charlotte (finally every electrode's light had turned green and she'd gone through some trials successfully) Lizzie at last looked up, right in time to see Charlotte leaving the room with gel clotted hair and a bottle of shampoo.

Anne, who'd been washing her hands in the washbasin near the door, caught Lizzies glance and furrowed her brow.

"What's up?", she asked and her golden eyes glowed a bit supernaturally, when the sunlight hit them.
"Do you think she's right?" Lizzie eyes were doubtful and she chewed on the pen, she used to add some notes to her essay.

"Are you talking about Charlotte?" A tentative nod. "Do you think she's right?"

Lizzie groaned exasperated. "Annie, don't do that therapist crap!"

The ambergirl shrugged and smiled. "I've got my master in psychology now, this way of questioning is only natural, I suppose."

"Last time I looked, you still needed extra education after your studies to become a therapist, doctor Freud." Lizzie rolled her eyes and placed her head on her arms, which were sprawled over the table and laptop.

"Now you're wrong, Lizzie. I'm still working on my doctor's degree, I don't have it already." She raised both eyebrows in an amused manner. "That's why you're here, right?" She held up another cap. Lizzie sighed and slowly came back onto her feet.

"Yes", she grumbled. "Let's not forget that I'm the one doing the hard work for your degree."

"Let's call it a compensation for the Matrix-evening", Anne smirked cheerily, while directing Lizzie towards the chair, Charlotte had used to sit on mere moments ago. Lizzie started protesting, unarticulated noises about why it was inexcusable to insult Matrix, but they quickly changed, when Anne secured the cap under Lizzies chin and she started to hiss in pain, because the clip had caught some of her hair.

"Don't be such a wimp", Anne scolded her and if Lizzie hadn't been such a paragon of restraint, she probably would have kicked her shins.

But unfortunately she wasn't five any longer and Anne wasn't Jack Goulding, the boy she'd paid back for destroying her sandcastle at the Meryton playground. Twice, to the utter horror of her mother.

Finally everything was as it should be and Anne began spraying the warm gel into her hair for better conductivity.

Lizzie with her eyes closed, tried to block out the light scratching of the needle against her scalp, Anne was one of the few people in the world, she could allow to touch her hair in a sober state without jerking back instantly.

"You know I can't do that, right Annie?", she finally asked softly, her eyes still closed.

"I know that you think you can't", Anne replied. "If that makes sense."

"Oh, it makes sense", Lizzie mused. "It's just not helping."

"Do you really want help then, Lizzie?" Anne's voice was soft and questioning near her ear and Lizzie didn't dare to open her eyes, because Anne was always able to see right through her, when she made eye contact.

"I don't want to feel broken", she simply said. She sensed Anne's nod next to her ear and the ambergirl's hands on her shoulders.

"Then try", Anne said. "Meet up with the vampire or someone else. See, if a relationship develops. Open up."

Lizzie grimaced at the sound of the last words and she was freaking close to sticking out her tongue.

"Charlotte is...", Anne sighed, dropping the syringe into the washbasin. "Charlotte has to figure out for herself what she wants in life without being influenced by her mother's wishes and desires and it's not fair of her to put the blame on you."

"I know", Lizzie said quietly. "But that's Charlotte and she doesn't mean it."

Anne didn't say anything in reply, Lizzie just felt the warm pressure of her hand on her shoulder, a moment before Charlotte burst into the room with dripping wet hair, vastly improved mood and a loud story about the guy, who'd been watching her washing her hair (she'd been using the bigger washbasins in one of the bathrooms down the hallway, because they also sported warm water and so the guy probably hadn't gotten much more than a nice view on her ass).

Charlotte took photos of Lizzie after calming down and she grinned at her flatmate as if the argument from before never happened. Lizzie smiled back, posed with a peace-sign and stuck out her tongue even though Charlotte believed she would look like an angel with a docile smile and the appropriate posture.

"I'd look more like a mad scientist", Lizzie replied. She didn't like being called an angel. She was none.

A short while later, when she exited the bathroom with dripping wet hair (Charlotte hadn't left much hot water in the boiler and so forced Lizzie to wash her hair with ice water, very agreeable if you've got hair reaching your elbows) and tiptoed down the hallway, Lizzie was more than surprised to find the muscular figure and the tousled reddish brown hair of vampire-guy in front of the notice board with advertisements for test persons.

"Haven't found anything yet?", she asked softly, while trying to dry her hair with another floral towel. The so addressed vampire nearly jumped back in surprise but smiled again his 32-perfect-teeth-smile, when he recognized her.

"No, but you seem to have found something, Septimus." He bowed slightly and she just had to laugh.

"Do you know the fairy-tale?", she asked him, the blue of his eyes threatened to overwhelm her a bit.

"There's a fairy-tale to the name?", he asked curiously and leaned casually against the board, crumpling a bunch of flyers hanging there in the process.

"Yeah", she said smiling. "I don't remember the whole story. Something about a boy, who is the seventh son of a seventh son and because of that he masters every adventure on his way." She shrugged. "I liked the story, he got the princess in the end."

"I can only imagine, Septimus." He was grinning again.

"Stop calling me that, vampire", she complained and gave him a light swat against the shoulder.

"Vampire?", he asked and leaned in a bit. She felt a drop of water trickling down her jawline. "Where did you get that from?"

Oh, how she'd like to wipe that smug grin from his face! But on the other side, she was the one who started that damn vampire thing.

"What should I say? You just bear an uncanny resemblance to Robert Pattinson." She smirked.

"You should rather say that Robert Pattinson bears an uncanny resemblance to me", he replied good-naturedly. "I'm the original, everyone else is just a fake."

"You tell yourself that before sleeping every night, right?", she retorted with a slight lift of her chin.

He snorted. "I have to do something to get my self-confidence back together after the last Twilight-film, don't you think?"

She cocked her head slightly. "Something tells me, that we don't need to worry for your self-confidence." She risked a grin and noticed suddenly that she still wasn't wearing shoes.

"You caught me." Again the 32-perfect-teeth smile flashed up and she felt a prickling somewhere in her stomach. Lizzie returned the smile for a moment before all that staring and smiling grated on her nerves and proved to be utter ridiculous.

"So what are you doing here? Are you studying psychology?" She pointed at the notice board.

"Oh no!", he said a bit defensively and shied away from the pin board as if it had just bitten him. "I was just looking for a way to make some extra cash. I'm studying social pedagogy in the other building."

She nodded. "You should take a look at the board in the medicine buildings, the pay is better and I promise you, you won't get any strange superpowers."

"Not?" He seemed disappointed. "That's a pity, I'd like to be superman!"

"Spiderman would be a tad more likely, wouldn't it?", she asked with a laugh. "Or batman, but then you'd have to be millionaire."

He laughed but the look in his eyes got darker for a moment. "I suppose", he simply said but then his smile flashed up again and he made a step towards Lizzie.

"So you're a med student, Septimus?"

She nodded. "Yeah, fourth year now." A grin. "That's why I'm so sure about the non-existent superpowers."

"No spiders in the laboratories?"

"No spiders in the laboratories." They gazed at each other and started laughing.

"So what are you doing here in the psychology department?" He leaned in closer and again she smelled cigarettes.

"I'm helping a friend." She pointed towards the door of the laboratory. "And I probably should get back now. You know, before they start worrying about me and all that stuff..."

"All that stuff..." He smiled and she curtseyed in favour of a goodbye, but when she wanted to turn around, he grabbed her arm and forced her to stay.

"Ah Septimus..." He smiled and she had the strange feeling that all her organs started to prickle. Conveniently at the same time. "Would you deign to tell me your name?"

She smiled. "Don't you know it already?"

He shook his head. "If you want me to call you Septimus all the time..."

"Do you have a problem with the name?", she asked teasingly but gave in, when he just smiled at her.

"Lizzie Bennet", she said and put forth her hand.

"George Wickham", vampire-guy replied and shook it. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

A/N: So did you enjoy meeting Wickham? ;) He'll be fun, I think... Anyway I'm tired and I have to pack my bag, because I'm going home for the weekend, yeah, another 5 hours in a train, after I just spent eight hours there, travelling through Germany... yikes. So I'm going now, it's ten in the evening here... and I have to get up at six, or five, I'm not sure...

To your information: Septimus Sevenson is a fairy-tale I remeber from my childhood (I know I'm not that old, certain people STILL see me as a child), I don't know if it's known outside of Germany but basically it's about what Lizzie said, a boy and adventures, a princess in the end, him being the seventh son of a seventh son helps him miracally all the time (I mean he can talk to animals, isn't that cool?)

Please read and review as always;) Next time: Darcy. Lots. of. it.