An Unraveling

Double lessons part 2

A/N: Hope everyone's holidays went well, here's the newest.

First day he'd squeaked, fallen out of his chair. His voice, his stature, all had lead to the conclusion of Flitwick being a funny little guy. The condescension of his absent remark had earned him a glare, a sneer, and a scathing.

"And when he fell, did you help him up?"

Silence, a squirm, he hadn't, hadn't thought of it. Before those black eyes he winced. Feeling shame for a transgression realized too little too late.

So, once pressured he fell back to route. He fell back upon learning, what he'd learned; familiar words set to sooth the unsuitable. Descriptors, defenses, slipped past his lips without a care, dwarf, short, odd, different, such was the head of Ravenclaw. He hadn't said them in scathing tones, he meant no insult after all. But the light, lilting syllables which were used to make light of the situation summoned a fierce glimmer amongst the black. Each had been marked as a transgression, a failure, and he'd been told under no uncertain terms that each was.

"I find… Muggle descriptors… at best lacking, insulting and inaccurate. I expect better from one of my Serpents than to rely upon such a crutch…"

That, by far, had been the kindest of the lecture, and lecture it had been. Hours long and louder than loud. It had resounded off the round walls to whip into his skull with the force of an echo all the better to inspire a headache. The living cringed, winced, and wished heart and soul he was elsewhere. The dead man, never mind he was bound by paint and walls and edges the living couldn't see, nodded, sure that the lesson had sunk in. Once sure, he'd indicated his Serpent was to move along.

So, Albus Severus had, words fumbling past stiff lips as he poked and prodded at his newest wound. As he spoke of mundane things, he wondered at the pain of a mark that didn't bleed, would never bleed him out, and had no concrete parameters save perception and guilt.

XXX

Gryffindor and Slytherin, Lion, Snake, Lion, Snake, boy, girl, boy, girl. Such were the seats chosen for them. Each had learned their place first lesson, and while most resented it all had complied after the first few detentions that had been passed out. Still, despite sanctions decorum and order there was the usual hustle and bustle children entailed. By the door as Serpents and Lions scrawled initials on the sign in sheet, fighting over the one pen in hisses and snarls. A swish and flick of one wand and a yelp went unnoticed as there was no one to notice.

Save the perpetrator and victim. Lion smirked at Snake, a promise was mouthed, and a grudge set.

Opportunity to vent such things would come as it would. It was set to last seven years (prolonged forced contact encouraged the time frame, that smirk all but set it in stone) a goodly length of time for anything to last.

Even for a century's long and living wizard.

"Come on Scorp." Breaking off the stare off with a nudge, Albus pushed his house mate back and away. They weren't sitting together for obvious reasons, but they could walk together til plot and plan forced them apart. With a grunt Scorpious followed.

"You know," Singsonged the Lion. "All you have to do to get rid of vermin like scorpions is to pour rubbing alcohol on them. They sting themselves to death."

"Shut it, know-it-all."

Red hair, with a perchance to be bushy without some taming of the brush. Freckles surely, with a perchance for misshaped teeth. It was an odd melding, but the familiar (how else could it be?) sparked recognition.

Rossie.

("Weasly,-" he: dead yet not, a man riding upon the back of legend undeserved, and –bitter truth- so much more dared to asked. His once snappish tone dissolved into a horror, his once blank face more than alluded to the fact that the confirmation of his query was unspeakable and disgusting all at once. "-married Granger."

"I suppose... Dad… Dad doesn't talk about them much.")

He mouthed the name, then opened his mouth, scarping for nonexistent courage he stepped forward, pushing Scorp back. A scrape, a snarl, he was abandoned to his own stupidity with a grumbled "'luck".

Albus nearly sighed, really wanted to… Slytherins did a lot of that. Leaving people to their own fates because of perceived stupidity…

("A house virtue, self preservation… Not one of the prettier facets, but a legitimate one. After all did you defend Mr. Malfoy? Intervene as he dug himself in deeper and deeper into my bad graces?"

The scrape of Malfoy's brush as he cleaned answered that better than any words. Still…

"I get it I get it.." A waved hand, rushed words, squeezed out by something like shame.

But it wasn't, not shame. Merely understanding and a dull confusion at the revelation. What others thought of as right wasn't always…

"Let fools be fools." The dead consoled the living.

"Did it save you, sir?" Sneered Malfoy in a hiss under his breathe.

A snarl and stinging hex served as answer enough.)

"You… I… it's been a while…"

And distance, damnable distance confirmed, she lit her gaze upon green and silver stitching, and like Jamie she looked away.

But not before regret. Not before he winced and she cringed.

"Children, children…" The squeaky herald to order called for order, and the board was abandoned. Those few who'd left it unsigned would warrant a detention (perhaps two, for multiple infractions), forgetting to notate what homework had been done and when it had been done was punished similarly.

In his drama between cousin and friend he'd forgotten to sign the bleeding sheet.

A flick and swish and the paper pealed itself off the wall. Even as the older (if shorter) man was struggling to ascend a chair and the attendant books piled upon its top. One sure upon his unsure seating he took the waiting paper in stubby hands.

(thus started descriptors that set the dead to scowling, snarling…. A lecture was born, but that was for other things, for other days, not here, not now)

"Mr. Potter."

They were well beyond first day, after all.

A sigh, regret, understanding.

"I see you forgot something… To sign a specific sheet."

And if it weren't that specific sheet made by the bloody ministry he could have scrawled his paper as being done then and there. Certainly those beady (his descriptor of that caused a grumble, but nothing as violate as a fury) black eyes to narrow in pain. Damn surveillance and time tracking charms.

A sigh, then a quote far too familiar to wry to be verbatim. "Per policy, you understand, the fact that I have to take time to remind you of this before we begin our designated reading upon the mastery of charms for his day is time lost."

And time lost must be paid in full, upfront.

"Therefore I must unfortunately extend your present detention."

After all, to assign a different more merciful detention would have required more paperwork than it was. Merciful as it would have been had he bothered to tackle that paperwork. But Flitwick was a busy man running a head of house and all the pages it required. Back beady and all met green, a nod was offered.

An apology accepted.

"Two more weeks, per protocol, I think…"

Sorta… Actually as an afterthought definitely not. He let his grimace say that for him. Eyes crinkled, smiling gently, the little man shook his head. A mild rebuke considering the newest transgression. But Flitwick said nothing about disrespect, and making the detention last for three weeks, such as policy would have required.

"Now, per yesterday's reading who can tell me the purpose of the Wingardi-"

A hand shot up, bushy and red and freckles… figured. Albus huffed, set one hand under his chin and gloomed like his other namesake might a childhood agone. Some distance away a Serpent hissed, a stinging hex was released, and a yelp offered in answer's place. Know it all glowered at heir, animosity confirmed.

"Unfortunately Ms. Gr- Ms. Weasly "ouch", is not accurate description of the spell, anyone else?"

Never mind not being there, those black eyes positively danced with humor as justice as properly and promptly meted out. Lifting his head a little, almost smiling, the boy considered Flitwick with new eyes. Black met green, both twinkled (one more than the other, surely) and Severus' smile assured that the apology was more than accepted. A wink confirmed that the belatedness was forgiven, and all was well.