Hey y'all! Thank you so much for reading. I really enjoyed writing this. The Neville/Lenore relationship is really heating up, and so is the Dean/Margaux tryst in the next chapter. I already have quite a few future chapters written, so I will publish more very soon! If you have an comments, please leave a review! I'll give you a shoutout on the next chapter I post. Thanks so much! :)
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"I'm so excited for this party tonight!" Katie Bell announced as she clutched her notebook to her chest.
"We need a little kickback after all this nonsense with Umbridge," Angelina said. "I'm about to kill her myself. If only I could figure out a way for Jack Sloper to hit her with a bludger while she's sitting in the stands. But that stupid bloke can't even aim a bludger away from the team."
Lenore laughed. "I saw him play a at the last game against Hufflepuff. Him and Andrew were the brunt of about a thousand jokes in the Slytherin common room."
"I'd laugh with them," Angelina said as she sipped her to-go cup of honey tea. "I swear to Merlin, they don't listen to me."
"They don't," Katie said. "I watch them goof around while you're speaking."
Angelina groaned. "Slap them for me next time."
"You've only got one more game. And it's against Ravenclaw. They are terrible this season. Ginny is doing so great from what I hear!" Lenore fawned.
"Oh my god," Angelina agreed, "I know! She's got her heart in it, unlike Sloper and Kirke."
The girls parted ways at a staircase after dinner. "I'll see you tonight!" Lenore waved to her best friends.
"Bye, Len!" the Gryffindor girls said in unison.
Lenore hurried up to the Slytherin Common room. She did not know why she was in any rush. Dinner had only recently ended and the party was not set to start for at least another two hours. Lenore decided to sit in the Common Room for about an hour and finish her homework. She easily completed her work, but got stuck on Herbology. All the plants looked the same to her. "How the ruddy hell am I supposed to know the difference between 'rubbery leaves' and 'glossy leaves'," she thought to herself. She closed her textbook and decided to get ready for the party.
After a long shower, she sat on her bed and let her hair air dry as she read Blair's copy of Witch Weekly. When her hair was only a little damp, she used her usual spell to make her long, golden brown hair dry and straight. She clipped back her bangs and decided that would be good enough.
She opened her makeup drawer and searched around for her foundation. It was nowhere to be found. The only logical explanation was that Pansy took it. They were the only girls in the room with similar skin tones and Pansy had taken it before.
"Hey, Pansy," Lenore asked. "Have you seen my foundation?"
"No," Pansy said. "Why? Are you accusing me of something?"
"No," Lenore said. "Has anyone seen my foundation?"
All the girls shook their heads.
"Are you sure you haven't seen it, Pansy?" she asked.
"No. Stop accusing me. I saw Blair with it."
"Blair?" Lenore's eyes grew in disbelief.
"Oh wait!" Blair said, hopping off her bed. She rummaged around her bag and pulled out Lenore's bottle of foundation. "Is this is? I borrowed it to use as a highlighter."
"Shit, Blair," Lenore said, taking it from her outstretched hand, "did you want to highlight yourself to be seen from outer space?"
"Nah!" Blair said. "You're the perfect shade to use right under the arch of my eyebrows. I honestly thought it was called highlighter, I'm sorry. I only used a tiny bit. Thanks."
"No problem," Lenore said. She dabbed at the open container and patted some onto her face.
"Ahem," Pansy coughed.
Lenore turned to her. "Pansy, I am sorry."
"Thank you," the pale girl remarked indignantly.
Lenore carried on applying her makeup. She hated wearing it, but she loved putting it on. Her face felt like an artist's canvas. Of course, she was nowhere near as good at makeup as Circe. Circe's face always looked flawless. Her eyeliner sharply winged, her lips lined in a matte red, even her eyelashes never looked clumpy. Lenore wished she could do her makeup like Circe's. But for tonight, her eyeliner was penciled on decently, her lips filled in with a dusty rose color, and her eyelashes miraculously not clumpy or spidery. She felt good about her abilities.
"Where are you going that you're putting on this much makeup?" Odette asked.
Lenore glanced at Pansy. She would no doubt invite herself to this party. Lenore considered lying, but she knew Pansy would find out somehow and be mad at her for not inviting her.
"A party in the Gryffindor tower," she said plainly.
"A party?" Pansy perked up.
Lenore nodded. She was right, Pansy wanted to attend.
"You're not supposed to be out past curfew," Pansy stated. "I could report you to the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad."
"Pansy," Lenore sighed, "do you want to come to the party?"
Pansy grinned. "I would love to, thanks for the invite."
Lenore swirled a bit of blush onto her cheeks. "If anybody asks, I didn't invite you."
"Trust me," Pansy said, "I don't exactly like being associated with you either."
Lenore laughed. "Just don't make a big deal about this Inquisitorial Squad thing."
"But I am a big deal," Pansy said as she exited the room to wash her face.
Lenore put on loose black crop top and let it hang over a pair of high-waisted black pants. She added some nude sandals and a long chained necklace.
"Are you going to a party or a funeral?" Blair asked.
"Every party she goes to is a funeral," Odette said, "because the sight of her gives boys heart attacks."
The girls laughed. "That is the dumbest thing you've have ever said," Lenore giggled. "But thank you."
When Lenore Henry walked into the Gryffindor common room, Neville felt his chest beat rapidly. He didn't know why he did not expect her to attend the pre-O.W.L's party, considering her best friends were Gryffindors, but the sight of her still surprised him. She was gorgeous and happy, as usual.
"Hey, Margaux," she waved.
Margaux was clad in a sleeveless peach colored blouse and an orange skirt. It went well with her warm skin tone.
"You look goth," she told her sister. "Like a goth business professional."
Lenore shook her head. "These pants are the same material as leggings. They aren't that fancy. You look cute, by the way."
"Thank you," Margaux grinned. "And you do pull off this goth look very well."
"Mom said I have to work this summer, because she's not buying my clothes anymore."
"Call her bluff," Margaux said. "Walk around in the nude and she'll be forced to buy you clothes."
"Yeah right," Lenore mused. "You know what she would say? 'I don't give a rat's ass if you show your tits to the world, I'm not buying you anything over five pounds.'"
"Spot on," Margaux said, sipping her drink. "I'll be enjoying my last year of free clothing by shopping like crazy."
At that moment, Lenore spotted Katie and Angelina. "Got to go, bye Margaux!"
Lenore made her way over to her friends. Angelina was also clad in all black, so Lenore felt more comfortable in her outfit selection.
"Are you drinking tonight?" Katie asked Lenore.
"A little bit, I think," Lenore said. "I'm not really in the mood to get drunk."
"Good!" Angelina said as she swigged down the bottom of her drink. "You get to be the designated sane one tonight!"
Lenore smiled. "I'm honored."
"Stop me from snogging anybody," Katie said.
"I will," Lenore promised.
"Help me find somebody to snog," Angelina said.
Lenore scanned the room. "You don't want to snog George?"
Angelina poured herself another cup of firewhisky from an open bottle near the group. "I might, but he's not my main target."
"How about Cormac McLaggen?" Lenore suggested. "He's fit."
"Yuck," Angelina said. "I need somebody vulnerable, somebody where I can be in charge."
"Kenneth Towler?" proposed Lenore.
Angelina's impish grin grew wide. "Perfect. Let me get a few more sips in and it's hello to Ken."
Lenore laughed. Poor Kenneth was cute, with his tanned Greek skin and dark curly locks, but terribly shy. As a roommate of Fred and George's, he often found himself at the brunt of their experiments.
"If you're not careful, you're going to make George jealous," Katie giggled.
"Oh, pshhhhh," Angelina exhaled. "George can handle himself. Look, he's talking to Mary Moretti right now. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a nervous boy to snog."
Angelina left Lenore and Katie alone. They watched as Angelina made her way towards Kenneth. The Gryffindor's eyes nearly popped out of his head as Angelina tried her best flirting moves on him. Within no time, they were making out on a study table.
Katie giggled. "Maybe I should get someone to make out with. You're only young once."
"Who would you want?" Lenore scanned the common room. "Anthony? Jack? Seamus?"
Before Katie could reply, she felt a tap on her shoulder.
"Hi, Katie," smiled the Ravenclaw Terry Boot.
Lenore raised her eyebrows and gave Katie a gleeful look.
"Hi, Terry," Katie replied sweetly. "How are you?"
"I'm great," he said. "I-I was actually wondering if you would want to dance?"
Katie looked at Lenore.
"Go ahead!" Lenore said brightly.
Katie and Terry made their way to the dance floor. Lenore was now completely alone. She considered going over to her sister and Luna, but reconsidered when she saw their friend Derek Davies from Ravenclaw speaking to them. Lenore did not want to interrupt, so she scanned the room for more faces. She spotted Neville talking to a very drunk Oliver Rivers. Her eyes grew wide. What were they doing together?
Oliver had asked Lenore out about two months ago and when she turned him down he called her a "last resort," so needless to say she was angry with him. Oliver was a good-looking guy, with his perfect teeth, baby blue eyes, thick dark hair, and fit body, but he was a complete prat. He was a disrespectful know-it-all who never knew when to shut up and he treated everyone as his inferior. He thought he was so smart, but the truth is, nearly every Ravenclaw was smarter than him.
Neville looked highly uncomfortable. He was no doubt the victim of one of Oliver's famous speeches, where he lectured on and on about subjects nobody cared about, from the water sewage system of ancient Mesopotamia or how the current geopolitical climate affects Greenland's city councils. Oliver threw out facts, but no analysis. He was not smart, he just knew facts. Lenore decided to rescue Neville and say hello.
Neville sat up straighter when he saw Lenore coming toward him. He wished Oliver would go away. He did not want to be talking to him in the first place. The Ravenclaw sat down, uninvited, next to him and drunkenly talked his ear off.
"Hi, Neville," Lenore said. He gave a soft "hi" in return. Before she could greet Oliver, he spoke.
"Hello, Norie," Oliver cooed. He took her hand and kissed it, but she slid away from him quickly.
"Rivers," she nodded towards him. "How are you?"
"I'm drunk," he slurred.
Lenore looked at Neville, who pressed his lips in, then back to Oliver's bright blue eyes smiling at her. For a split second, she felt herself attracted to him, but she pushed that aside. "That's not what I meant, but sure. What are you drinking?"
"A little bit o' everything," he showed her his goblet. She examined its contents. It appeared that he mixed everything he could find, as a dark brown liquid swirled around his cup.
"That looks awful," she said.
"It doesn't have to taste good, it only has to get me drunk."
Lenore laughed. "You're an idiot."
Oliver finished off his drink with a huge gulp and a shudder. He leaned in close to Lenore's ear and whispered, in a low, seductive tone, "You wanna get out of here?"
Her mouth dropped open. She shot a gander towards Neville. He obviously had not heard, but he watched the pair. For the briefest moment, Lenore considered going somewhere with Oliver. Everyone else seemed to be snogging a guy tonight. Pansy had been nagging her to get a guy and she almost wanted to— even if it was Oliver. Then, Lenore realized how stupid that was. She would not be peer pressured, especially by Pansy Parkinson. Lenore was better than that. And she was definitely better than Oliver Rivers.
Before she could say no, she felt Oliver's soft lips kiss the skin by her ear. She drew a sharp breath, but didn't have time to react before he quickly moved to her lips. She gasped as he just barely brushed his lips across the corner of her bottom lip. Oliver Rivers had just kissed her. She backed away immediately and Oliver slipped off the table on which he sat, landing with a thud on his intoxicated feet.
"Go away," she said calmly.
Oliver threw up his hands. "Okay, whatever. Miss your chance again!"
"Fine by me!" Lenore called after him.
She turned to Neville and crossed her arms. Her entire body was shaking. Oliver Rivers had just kissed her. Kind of. He didn't touch her top lip at all, but something about it was just unsettling. She hadn't said no, but she definitely didn't tell him yes. That was her second kiss. Right in the middle of the common room with a prat who called her a last resort. She took this vague feeling of disgust off her mind and turned to Neville.
"So, how are you tonight?"
A confused look spread across his face. "What just happened?"
He obviously had not seen. Their faces were at a strange angle, Neville must not have seen her. Lenore closed her eyes and took a breath. "He asked if I wanted to go make out with him." She opened her eyelids to witness Neville's shocked face. "And then he kissed right here," she pointed to her jaw.
Neville could feel his stomach grow heavy. "O-oh."
"Yeah…" she said, climbing on the table next to him. "And... he kissed my lips, kind of."
Neville's eyes widened. "He kissed your lips?"
She nodded. "Yeah... just barely. Just my bottom lip. The corner, right here."
"Merlin, Len," he said urgently, "are you... is that... did you... want him to?"
She shook her head. "No. But whatever. He's gross. It was barely a kiss. I obviously didn't kiss him back."
"I-f you want me to knock out Rivers, I will," Neville said. "I'm serious. What the hell?"
Lenore smiled. "Thanks, but it's okay. He's just an arse. I think he was trying to flirt. But enough about him. Tell me about you! How are you?"
"I'm good," Neville said. His shoulders relaxed just the tiniest bit. "Len, really. If... if he tries something again and you don't like it, tell me. Or just punch him yourself. That's not okay."
She nodded and sighed. "I know. It just freaked me out for a second. I panicked. It happened so fast, I wasn't expecting it. And I'm just the teensiest bit tipsy, so my reflexes aren't as fast. But I told him off there at the end. It's fine."
Neville bit his cheek. "Okay. As long as you're okay."
"I'm fine."
Neville watched her for a moment. "Because, really. Y-you don't deserve to be treated like that."
"I know," she smiled softly. "Nobody does. Thank you for reminding me."
Neville returned her gentle smile and her grin widened.
"Anyway," she said, "are you liking this party?"
He shrugged. "Ummm, honestly it's kind of boring."
"It really is," Lenore agreed. "Have you been drinking?"
"No," Neville said.
"That's probably why," she teased. "I only had two drinks, but it still blows."
She pointed to Angelina dancing wildly in the middle of the floor with Slytherin quidditch captain Graham Montague. They appeared to be in competition. Angelina fell to the ground and popped back up. The crowd went wild.
"I think you need at least seven drinks to make it fun," she said.
"Anything can be fun with seven drinks, Norie," he quoted Oliver.
Lenore cringed. "Please don't. I much prefer what you call me."
Neville almost instantly grew red. "Len?"
"Yeah," she smiled. "Loads better. I've never seen you drink. Do you?"
"No," Neville said. "I've never really been into that kind of thing."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not a fun drunk, like Seamus. I'm exactly the same as I am now. So, what's the point?"
Lenore nodded. "I feel the same. I feel kind of awkward when I'm drunk. Like, I know drinking is supposed to remove your inhibitions, but I'm still hyperaware of everything."
Neville agreed. "Well… are you ready for O.W.L.s on Monday?"
"No, not at all."
"Me neither."
"Oh hey!" Lenore said. "You said you would help me with Herbology?"
"Y-yeah."
"I have a few questions," Lenore said. She searched her brain. "Like why can only fire stop a Devil's Snare?"
"Devil's Snare dies with light or heat," Neville answered.
"Okay, but then why can't sunlit hurt it? Why does it have to be fire specifically?"
He thought for a moment. "I have no idea. I can check my textbook for you."
"Oh, no," Lenore said, lifting up her arms in protest. "I don't want to take you away from this party."
Neville hesitated for a moment, seemingly working up all his nerve to open his mouth and ask, "I-if you want, we can go up to my dorm and study instead?"
If any other guy said that, Lenore would be suspicious. But she trusted Neville. And honestly, even studying sounded more fun than this eventless party. She had never studied while tipsy before. That could be interesting.
"Alright," she smiled. "I'll follow you."
Neville got off the table and started up the stairs to the boy's dormitory. Lenore walked right behind him.
"Lenore!" Pansy called when she was just a few stairs up.
Pansy ran over to the bottom of the staircase. Lenore descended, so Neville could not hear whatever foolishness Pansy would say to her.
"What are you doing?" Pansy hissed. "Are you going upstairs with Neville?"
"It's not what you think," Lenore said, as her cheeks burned pink. "We're studying."
Pansy gave her a look.
"No, really. He's helping me with Herbology."
"He's helping himself to you," Pansy said.
"Goodbye, Pansy," Lenore twirled around and began climbing the stairs again.
Pansy grabbed her arm. "Len, think about this. What are people going to think if you fuck Longbottom?"
"Pansy!" Lenore cried. "We're not going to do anything!"
Pansy let go of her. "Fine. I can't stop you. Just know people will be talking about this."
Lenore ran up the stairs, past Neville, to prove a point to Pansy.
Neville met her at the top of the stairs, avoiding her eyes.
"Did you hear all that?" she asked apprehensively.
Neville gave a small nod. He spoke so rapidly that Lenore had trouble keeping up. "W-we can go back downstairs if you want, I'm sorry, I didn't want to em-embarrass you or- or anything like that, really, I'm s-sorry, w-we don't have to—"
"Neville," Lenore cut his nervous rant short, "don't worry about it. Pansy is full of it. She's being dramatic."
"A-are you sure?" he asked. He sounded ready to have a panic attack. "I-I don't want anyone t-to think—"
"Yes," Lenore said firmly. "Take me to your room."
Neville unlocked the door to his dormitory and Lenore looked around. "Which side is yours?" she asked.
He pointed to a bed on the far end of the room. Lenore walked over and took a seat on the stone ground. She peered around her surroundings.
"This is a nice room," she said anxiously. "Much nicer than the Slytherin dorms. Not as ornate, but it's definitely brighter and airier in here. There's not much you can do in my room, besides sleep. It's so dark."
Lenore forced her mouth closed with her hand. When she got nervous, she talked without end. Neville silently reached into the trunk in front of his bed and pulled out a huge guide to Herbology.
"This is awkward," Lenore confided. "I'm so sorry. I don't know where Pansy gets these ideas. Just because she wants to sleep with every male she encounters doesn't mean other girls do."
Neville still would not make eye contact with her. "I-it's okay. Let's l-look up Devil's Snare."
He sat across from her on the floor and flipped through his book.
"This isn't a textbook, is it?" Lenore asked.
"N-no," he said. "I-it's mine."
"You like Herbology that much?"
He nodded, as he ran his fingers across pages.
"That's nice!" Lenore said. "I wish I liked something that much."
"W-what classes do you like?"
Lenore noticed he how much he was stuttering. She wanted to make him feel comfortable again, but she did not know how. "I like Divination," she said. "It's kind of a dumb class, but it's interesting. And I like Muggle Studies. Potions is kind of cool, too. It's my best class, by far. I kind of like the rest of the classes equally. I want to be a reporter for the Daily Prophet, so I feel like I should have an interest in nearly everything."
"You'd be a good reporter" he said.
"Thanks," she beamed.
He finally found the page detailing Devil's Snare. He scanned it for a few seconds, then said "It d-doesn't react to sunlight because it's not powerful enough to kill it, o-only make it a little weaker."
Lenore furrowed her eyebrows. "Oh. Well, I could have guessed that. Does the Chinese Chomping Cabbage eat things other than fruits and vegetables? Like can it eat insects or mammals?
Neville flicked through another set of pages. "No," he answered. "It… It's not strong enough to break the skin of humans or animals. It can gnaw insects, if they are dead."
They went through a few more plants Lenore had memorized, but Neville continued to avoid her gaze.
"Neville," Lenore finally said softly, "I wish you would look me in the eyes."
Slowly, Neville brought his head up and stared at her.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I'm sorry, again. This has to be awkward for you. I know you're not like that. I know Pansy knows you're not like that. I wouldn't have come up here if I didn't trust you. Thank you for helping me studying. Really, I appreciate it."
"Y-you're welcome," Neville said, much brighter than before.
She smiled at him. "Can I see this book?"
He handed it to her. She turned page after page, peeking through the full-color illustrations and occasionally reading some words. "Which plant is your favorite?"
He pointed up to the cactus sitting on his dresser. "That one."
Lenore stood up and examined the plant. "What does it do?"
"It's a Mimbulus Mimbletonia," Neville said. "When you touch it wrong, stinksap bursts from the boils on it's thick skin, like a defense-mechanism. Stinksap is used to treat sick animals. It heals internal wounds."
"That's interesting," she smiled. His stuttering had disappeared. "What happens if you touch it right?"
Neville held out his finger and poked the plant in a certain spot. It began to croon a strange tune.
"That's so weird," Lenore said.
Neville removed his hand from the spot he had jabbed, but he felt the back of his palm accidentally glide across the pimples on a nearby branch of the plant. Instantly, the cactus squirted a large amount of lime green goo. It coated Neville and Lenore in a slimy, sticky mess of stinksap. And stink, it did. Their surroundings smelled of putrid manure. Lenore did not scream. Or gasp. All she could do was stand completely still and try not to inhale too deeply. Neville, on the other hand, freaked out.
"Oh, Merlin, Lenore!" he exclaimed. "I'm so sorry! Oh god…"
He did not know what to do. Last time this had happened, Hermione Granger cleaned it up with a simple spell, but he did not know which incantation she had used. He drew his wand, but remained voiceless. He ran his hands through his hair and tried to recall the proper words.
"Here," Lenore said lightly. "Tergeo."
She waved her wand over each of their bodies and slowly the liquid began to vanish. The smell still faintly remained, until Lenore recited another scouring spell, this time over the entire room.
Neville's face once again appeared worried. "I-I'm s-so sorry," he repeated. "Really, Merlin, that was bad. S-sorry."
"Neville," she said, "don't worry about it. It's clean now."
"S-still," he said, "t-that never happens."
"It went off a bit premature, wouldn't you say?" she said in an attempt to diffuse the situation.
Neville did not find her penis joke as funny as she did. He turned bright red and bit his lip. Lenore, meanwhile, was having a good time laughing at her own musings.
"Sorry," she teased. "But after everything that happened, I thought it was fitting."
"Don't tell Pansy that joke," Neville finally smiled. "She won't think it's funny."
"I think she would appreciate it," Lenore laughed.
"As if she needs any more ammunition against me," he chuckled.
There was no way in hell that Lenore would say Pansy had already made jokes about premature ejaculation when discussing Neville, so she simply smiled.
In a glass box on the other side of the dresser, Neville's toad ribbited. Lenore got closer and put her face near the glass. "Hi, little toad," she said as if talking to a baby. "How old is he now? You've had him forever, right?"
"He's nearly ten years old."
"How long do toads normally live?"
She looked up to see Neville's face grow worried. "I'm sorry!" she said. "I don't know what I was thinking!"
"Oh," he said, "don't worry about it. To be honest, I-I'm not very attached to him anymore."
"He's cute though," she offered. "His little face is adorable."
"Do you have a pet?" Neville asked.
"I have three dogs at home, but an owl here. She's a barn owl named Vicky."
"Vicky?" he asked.
"Yeah," she grinned. "I named her after this chain-smoking woman I met at my aunt's wedding. She had the deepest voice and she was just the coolest lady ever. Or so nine year old me thought. She had brown hair about the color of my owl, so I figured it went together."
Lenore sat back down on the ground.
"You don't have to sit on the dirty ground," Neville offered. "You can sit on Seamus's bed behind you."
Lenore dragged herself off the floor and sat cross legged on Seamus's comforter. She peered back up at Neville and a strange thought spun its way across her brain.
"He is kind of cute."
Her mouth dropped open. Internally, she screamed. She could not fancy Neville. She did not fancy Neville. Did she? She tried to think, but her brain was not working. "No," she thought, "I can think a boy is cute without fancying him."
Lenore examined his face. He carefully placed his Herbology book on top of his trunk. He looked at her and they made eye contact. She quickly tore her eyes away from him.
"He is cute," she mentally yelled. "I think Neville Longbottom is cute."
She searched her mind and heart. "But I don't fancy him," she honestly told herself. "Does he think I'm cute? The way he got so nervous when Pansy suggested we were going to—" But she was cut off.
The door to the dorm burst open. Seamus and one of Margaux's roommates, who Lenore could not name, snogged wildly. They flopped down on the bed next to Lenore. She screamed and jumped up.
Seamus, finally aware of their presence, shouted "HEYYYYY!" from his place underneath the girl.
Lenore started to make a break for the door, but Seamus called "You don't have to go! We can leave!"
"No," Neville said, "we'll be leaving."
"Hope I wasn't interrupting anything," Seamus winked.
Neville slammed the door shut on his roommate and his "date".
Lenore stood with her mouth wide open. "I didn't know Seamus did all that!"
"He doesn't," Neville said. "He snogs girls, nothing more."
Lenore was silent for a few moments, before she burst out laughing. "Merlin, this night just keeps getting weirder."
Neville chuckled. "Do you want to go back down to the party?"
"Sure," Lenore said.
They got to the end of the hallway and Neville stopped. "Y-you can go down before me so it doesn't look like we're coming out of here together."
"Don't be silly," she said. She pulled him by his sleeve down the stairs and to the party.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Margaux! Margaux!" Verona called out.
Margaux saw her friend motioning her from the top of the staircase. She excused herself from Derek and Luna and trudged over to her roommate.
"Yes?" Margaux said.
Verona appeared hysterical. No words could leave her mouth. She took Margaux's arm and forced her to run up the stairs.
"Ouch! Verona! What's wrong?"
Verona threw open the door to one of the boy's rooms. She shoved Margaux into the room first and pointed at Seamus. He laid on his bed, completely still, with his eyes closed.
"Is he sleeping?" Margaux asked, confused as to what Verona meant by all this.
Immediately after Margaux spoke, Seamus began coughing like he was choking. Margaux grabbed Seamus's chest and coerced him to sit up straight. As he did, he vomitted a large amount of clear liquid onto the floor.
"Seamus?" Margaux panicked. "Are you okay?"
He did not respond. His eyes rolled open and closed.
Margaux's stomach grew heavy. "Verona," she instructed, "go get Dean and Neville."
Margaux continued to hold Seamus up straight. Verona did not move.
"GO!" Margaux shouted.
The girl was spurred into action. She flew down the stairs and scanned the room for either boy. She spotted Dean first.
"THOMAS!" she called.
Dean turned away from Anthony Goldstein and saw Verona running towards him. She took his arm and asked frantically "Where's Longbottom?"
"What?" Dean asked.
Verona could tell he was tipsy. She spotted Neville in the corner, talking to Margaux's sister. She grabbed Neville with her other hand.
"What's going on?" Lenore said.
"Help!" Verona cried. "Seamus needs your help."
Margaux patted Seamus on the back as the door flew open. "Thank god," she thought. The scent of vomit overwhelmed their noses. Margaux looked ready to cry. Dean sped to her side, stepping over Seamus's throw up.
"I don't know what to do!" she exclaimed. "I've tried everything I know! I've sat him up, made sure he's breathing, let him vomit. What do I do now?"
"Seamus," Dean said, taking his friend's hands, "how are ya, mate?"
Seamus let out some indistinguishable groans. Margaux was relieved he could talk. But she could still feel him shaking.
"I think he has alcohol poisoning," she said to Dean.
Suddenly, his body started vibrating rapidly. Margaux screamed.
"WHAT DO I DO?" she looked frantically around. "LENORE! HELP ME!"
Lenore broke away from her place near the closed door and hurried over to Seamus. "Put him on the ground, on his back," she instructed.
Dean helped Margaux lower him gently onto the ground.
"Put his arm above his head," Lenore said. "Now roll him onto his side, with his face elevated on his other arm, so he can throw up without choking. Let him rest a minute, then we'll make him vomit some more."
Seamus continued to shake, but he seemed more comfortable.
Lenore turned to Neville. "Is there anything in here he can throw up into?"
Neville mentally searched the room. "The cage," he said. "The toad's cage."
"Nothing else?" Lenore said. "No vases or bowls or anything?"
Neville shook his head. Margaux seized the glass box off Neville's dresser.
She jumped on Seamus's bed as a shortcut. "Take him out," she told Neville. He held his toad as Margaux jumped back to Seamus. Lenore performed a scouring spell to clean up Seamus's previous bile from the floor.
"Sit him up now," Lenore commanded. "Clean his stomach out."
Margaux sat him vertical once more and directed his face into the glass cage.
"Eructo," she directed her wand near Seamus's mouth. His stomach began to spill its contents. It smelled horrible. Lenore had to take a step back. Dean stroked Seamus's back as Margaux held his head. Verona still cried. Lenore wanted to comfort her, but she was no good at emotions, especially dealing with other people's emotions. Neville watched helpless as his best friend emptied all his alcohol from his innards.
"Does anybody know how much he drank?" Margaux asked.
"I wasn't with him," Dean said.
"Me neither," Neville replied.
"He was already drunk when he was with me," Verona said. "But then I think he had… at least four drinks just in the last forty-five minutes. I'm pretty drunk myself, and he drank more than me."
She pointed to a cup on Seamus's nightstand. "He drank four of those."
Lenore picked up the goblet and sniffed it. She gagged. "Mallory Lux drinks this stuff. All the Slytherin guys do, because it's green and it makes them look 'tough', or whatever. It's like sixty percent alcohol."
"Merlin H. Wizard," Dean said. "How the hell can he handle that?"
"Obviously, he can't," Lenore said. "Do you lot not watch each other when you drink?"
Neville and Dean looked at each other and shook their heads.
Lenore turned to her sister's roommate, "Do you watch your friends to make sure they don't drink too much?"
The girl nodded.
"Margaux? Do you?"
"Of course!" Margaux said. "So things like this don't happen. And it's a lot more dangerous for a girl."
"Thank you," said Lenore. "You two need to watch him."
"Lenore," Dean argued. "We couldn't have stopped him."
Lenore started to open her mouth, but Margaux cut her off. "They really couldn't have," Margaux said. "I've seen Seamus drink. He's normally very safe, but he does drink a lot. He's got it down to a science. I don't know what happened tonight."
Lenore stayed quiet. Seamus finished throwing up. "Now what?" Margaux asked.
"Lay him on his bed," her sister replied, "in the same position on his side as before."
Dean and Margaux lifted him onto the bed again. Dean wiped his mate's face off with his pillowcase, then put the pillow on the floor so Seamus could not use it.
"You all can go back to the party," Dean said. "I'll watch him."
"Are you sure, mate?" Neville asked. "I can stay with you."
"No," Dean said, "go have fun. I'll let you know immediately if anything changes."
Neville gave a short nod and returned this toad to the newly scoured glass box. Lenore followed him out of the room.
"Tell me if anything happens," Verona said to Dean as she exited. "I probably won't be much help, but I would feel guilty if I wasn't there."
Margaux started to leave, but she stopped. "I'm going to watch him, too."
"You don't have to do that," Dean protested. "Your friends are downstairs."
"My friends are also right here," Margaux gestured to the two boys on the bed.
"Friend," Dean's mind shouted. "She called me her friend. Oh my god, she hated me just a few months ago."
Margaux sat down on a bed across from Seamus. Dean sat next to her.
"You know this is Neville's bed?" Dean pointed.
Margaux waved her hand. "He won't care. And even if he did, he wouldn't say anything."
Dean shrugged. "You're right. He's too timid to argue."
"That's probably why him and Lenore get along so well," she grinned. "She complains and he just agrees."
Dean nodded. "Probably. He hangs on to her every word."
Dean slammed his lips shut. "Oh, fuck," he thought. "Did I just reveal something I shouldn't have?"
Margaux did not seem to catch it, however. She took Seamus's half-drunk goblet of absinthe off a dresser and gulped it down. Dean sat with wide eyes.
"Are you drunk?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said. "Not like super drunk, but... drunk. Are you drunk?"
"Kind of," Dean admitted. "Barely."
There was a bit of awkward silence, until Margaux spoke up. "I'm going downstairs to get some water. Do you want some?"
Dean put up his hands. "Oh, ummm, sure if you don't mind."
Margaux smiled and hurried downstairs to find herself a drink. She swigged down a glass of water, then added some more to her cup and returned upstairs with a cup for Dean.
"I hope Seamus is doing okay," Margaux said as she sat back down and handed Dean a goblet. "Does he look okay?"
The boy laid on his bed, asleep. He snored every so often, but with an empty stomach he would not be throwing up any more.
"He's going to have a killer hangover tomorrow, but he'll be alright."
"Good," Margaux said. "We can let him sleep it off."
"He'll be out for a while, maybe even all night."
Margaux looked around the room. She examined the fine furnishings, the red comforters, the gold trim on everything. "This room is exactly like mine. It's eerie. If this were my room, my bed would be… right there," she pointed.
"That's my bed, actually," Dean said.
"Eerie," Margaux repeated. "So, where are Harry and Ron?"
"No clue," Dean said. He checked his watch. The hands read nearly 11:30 p.m. "They are normally in bed by now. They must be down in the common room, or wandering somewhere in the castle. Sometimes they sneak out at night."
"Does everybody sneak out?" Margaux asked. "I've never been out past curfew."
"Bullshit," Dean laughed. "I've seen you out past curfew."
"When?" Margaux demanded.
"Just a couple months ago. At that Seven Minutes in Heaven game."
Margaux crossed her arms and thought a moment. "Alright, fine. But I've never been caught."
"I didn't say you'd been caught," Dean said, "I said you go out past curfew."
"Whatever," Margaux smiled. "I wish I was a bad kid."
"What?" Dean asked.
Margaux felt warm inside. Her giddiness levels seemed to be skyrocketing. "I wish I could do the things I hear about— snogging, getting drunk, earning detentions. I don't do any of that."
"I'm sure you do plenty," Dean said.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Margaux laughed.
"I, er," Dean hesitated, "I don't know. I didn't think. I just figured you had all the fun you could get."
"I wish," Margaux said. "No, it's kind of hard for me to do those things."
"Why? What do you mean?" Dean asked.
"I've got anxiety," Margaux shrugged. "But anyways, did you see Terry—"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean interrupted. "What do you mean you have anxiety?"
"Yeah," Margaux said. This alcohold was making her reveal too much about herself. She was a chatty drunk. Her voice grew louder and her head would not stay in one position. "Can't you tell? I've got to work up the nerve to do anything. I don't like to talk to people I don't know, I freak out over tests or presentations, I worry about everything. It's mild anxiety, but it's there."
Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "I didn't know any of that."
"That's good, I guess," Margaux slurred. "I try to hide it. I don't have to take medication for it anymore. I've gotten pretty good at hyping myself up to do things. One time I cried because I forgot a bag full of groceries at the store."
She examined Dean's worried face and laughed. "We've all got problems, some of us can just disguise them better than others."
"You're good at hiding it," Dean replied, "because I've never noticed. You always seem perfect…ly fine."
He had to catch himself from stopping at "perfect". Margaux down the last of her water, but did not seem to take in Dean's words.
She smiled. "You are awfully collected for being drunk. I know I don't have any sense."
"I've always been alert when I'm drunk," Dean shrugged. "It just doesn't affect me. Plus, I'm so tall, I'd have to drink about what Seamus drank tonight to even feel drunk."
"What's the craziest thing you've done while drunk?"
"One night when I was pretty hammered, Seamus and I went down to the Black Lake to race each other. We started running like crazy. But we forgot to set a finish line, so we just kept running. I tripped on a tree root and grabbed on to Seamus, but he couldn't stay upright. I fell on the ground and and busted my lip, while Seamus rolled down a hill into the Black Lake. Well, the water was only a meter deep, but Seamus was convinced he was drowning, so I had to wade into the water and rescue him. Then, he dragged me underwater and Anthony Goldstein, the timekeeper, had to come in and drag us both out."
Margaux laughed so hard that she hid her face in her hands.
"Okay, missy," Dean smiled, "what's the craziest thing you've done while drunk?"
"My story also takes place at the Black Lake," Margaux said. "It was just a few weeks ago, in broad daylight. I was down at the lake with Helaine, Verona, and Kadence, my roommates. Colin Creevey and Derek Davies were also there. Somebody decided to invite that absolute prat Connor McCormick."
"Don't know him," Dean said.
"He's a Hufflepuff. That's all you gotta know. So, we're out by the lake drinking firewhisky and talking. Connor keeps saying the craziest, dumbest lies and trying to be funny. He's getting on everyone's nerves. We're out there for about an hour and we're pretty drunk by now. Fucking Connor takes out a ukulele and starts playing it, like we were going to singing along with him. He does that for a while and we tell him to stop multiple times, but he's too drunk to care. Finally, I snatched that damn ukulele out of his hands and smashed it on the ground."
Margaux was in a fit of giggles at this point. Dean laughed at her inability to finish the story. "You broke his ukulele?" he gawked.
"Into about a hundred pieces," Margaux yelled. "He ran off in near tears. But I didn't have to hear him strum a fucking Radiohead song."
"That's so mean!" Dean laughed.
"Dean, honey," Margaux said, putting her hand on his arm. "If you met this little shit, you would understand."
"I'm sure," he said.
Margaux did not remove her hand from him. Rather, she steadied herself on him as she laid down on the bed behind him. She closed her eyes.
"Sometimes," she said after a moment, "I'm worried nobody likes me."
This comment took Dean by surprise. "What?"
"I do," Margaux said, "I worry I do these mean things and nobody likes me."
"Is this part of the anxiety?" Dean asked cautiously.
"Yeah..."
"Margaux," Dean said, "I know for a fact people like you. You might do some… impulsive things, but they are always justified."
"Thanks," she smiled up at him. "I think so."
Margaux jumped up and drew the curtains around Neville's bed, so that she and Dean were in their own little compartment. She drunkenly giggled as she laid back down. "It's like we have out own fort."
Dean smiled. "Boy, she is a strange drunk," he thought.
Margaux stared up at his face.
"Why don't you have a girlfriend?" she asked out loud, instead of in her mind.
Dean was a bit taken aback. "What? Why are you asking me that?"
"Because, you're cute enough, and you give off this impression of being a ladies man," Margaux snickered.
"'Cute,'" Dean's brain screamed. "She said I'm cute."
He could not stop his mind from spiraling into thought. What if she liked him? What if they started dating? What if they kissed? Would they kiss soon? Dean had to reply before it got weird. He forced himself to say "I don't know."
"That's a good enough answer," Margaux smiled. "I don't know why I'm single either. I just like it that way."
Dean nodded. "I guess I do, too."
"Lay down," Margaux smiled. She patted the space next to her.
"No," Dean said, "that's okay. I'll sit."
"Dean," she said. "You'll be more comfortable."
He did not want to make things weird. Margaux was obviously drunk and he did not even want to give the impression he would ever take advantage of that.
"I'll go check on Seamus," Dean said.
He climbed out of bed and looked over Seamus. The Irish lad laid in the same position and breathed normally. When he was sure Seamus was okay, Dean yawned. It was getting late and he did not realize how tired he was. He returned hesitantly to Margaux.
"Dean," she said, eyes closed. She patted the bed next to her.
"Alright, fine," Dean gave in.
He laid down next to her. Both their heads were at the foot of the bed. He made sure to leave plenty of space between their bodies. Again, he yawned.
"I'm tired," Margaux whispered.
"Me too," Dean said weakly.
"I shouldn't be tired," she said slowly, "it's barely midnight. But then again, I always fall asleep before 10:30 most days. I'm not a night owl. I like waking up early, like seven in the morning."
"Mmhmm," Dean said. He laid on his back with his eyes closed.
Margaux sat in silence for a few minutes. Her eyes flickered open and closed. Her ears detected snoring next to her. Dean was fast asleep and lightly snoring. She gave a quiet laugh, but quickly found herself drifting off as well.
About twenty minutes later, Neville entered the room to find his bed curtains pulled shut.
"That's weird," he thought.
Harry and Ron had also drawn their curtains by this time. Neville peeled his curtains back to reveal Dean and Margaux asleep together in his bed. Quickly he shut the curtains.
"Oh Merlin," he thought. "What the bloody hell are they doing? They couldn't have done anything. No, they must have honestly fallen asleep while watching Seamus. In my bed, though? Why?"
Neville looked around the room. He felt a bit disoriented from his night with Lenore. They had talked for over two hours. About what, he could not even tell you. It was a lovely time, though. For whatever reason, Lenore really seemed to enjoy talking to him. He could tell she more comfortable around him than even just a month ago.
Neville spotted Dean's empty bed. "I guess I'll be sleeping there."
He laid down fully clothed, closed the curtains so Harry and Ron would not notice he and Dean has switched spots, and fell asleep.