The Long Game

by inwardtransience

Britain has been at peace for nearly a century — protected from the devastation of Grindelwald's war, free of conflict of their own. Charissa Potter, raised surrounded by family and friends more numerous than she can count, never really expected this to change. But hidden forces, it seems, have been playing a long game. ON INDEFINITE HIATUS.

36. Fifth Year — September 1st

Perry stepped out of the floo, with ease born of much practice, and gazed around Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

It wasn't any different than it had other times he'd been here, of course. The same train an eye-searing red, the very front hidden behind a lingering cloud of steam, the platform packed with mages of various ages in various forms of dress, from Hogwarts uniforms to formal robes to more casual dress and even muggle clothes here and there, filled with the ear-splitting cacophony of dozens of people chattering, a panoply of animals releasing a dizzying mix of cries. It was a bit too loud, it gave him a headache every time. But, it wasn't any different than it always was.

But it felt different. He couldn't explain exactly how. It just was. Every other time he'd been here, he'd been seeing Charissa off, the last couple times Linden along with her. This time, he was actually going himself. That was new. And even though it didn't look any different... It felt more... He didn't know. More more. More dramatic, more alive. More powerful, in a way he couldn't even explain to himself.

He didn't know what he was thinking. It didn't matter, anyway, he'd just stop now.

He stepped out of the way, people popping out of the floo behind him in a steady stream. After a few moments all the Potters and Longbottoms and Palmers had arrived, and they started off closer to the train. All the adults were chattering, Linden wedged between Dad and Sirius with a crooked grin on his face that could only spell trouble, Neira and Jasper walking hand in hand and whispering to each other, Charissa and Neville with their heads together, muttering about something. Duelling club stuff, he assumed. He'd ended up walking next to Violet just by default, but that was fine. The younger of his muggleborn cousins was starting this year too, and while they weren't excellent friends by any means he didn't mind her too much. The slightly taller girl was practically quivering with excitement, didn't seem inclined to talk at all, but that suited him just fine.

Halfway across the platform, he cringed away from a sudden assault of high shrieking, he wasn't even sure what from, barely stopping himself from clapping his hands over his ears. Did it really have to be so loud here? He hated it every bloody time. He had been practising a bit of magic, wandlessly as taught long-distance by Charissa and wanded only in the last week, but he wasn't nearly good enough to partially deaden his hearing. Maybe he should—

Before he could move to any of the adults to ask, he noticed Charissa turn to look at him over her shoulder. A light flick of her fingers, and he felt a charm settle around his head, the noise of the platform reduced to something far more tolerable. Shooting her a smile, he mouthed, Thank you. He didn't really expect her to be able to read lips like that, but making himself heard over all this would be a pain. He was sure she could pick up what he meant to say in his thoughts easily enough.

By the way she just nodded, turned back to her conversation with Neville, she probably had.

Then they had made it to the train, and everyone started on the usual long, drawn-out goodbye. He really didn't know why people felt the need to do this. They weren't really going that far away. If any of the adults wanted to come visit them, they could — it wasn't like it was hard to get to Hogwarts. And they'd be back by winter. No, he didn't entirely get it. He put up with it, though, all of Dad's and Sirius's usual jokes, almost painfully tight hugs from a teary-eyed Peter — he always got like this, Perry didn't get it — the occasional snarky comment from Alice breaking the theme. It just seemed silly and overdone to him. Yes, he loved them. Yes, he'd be going away for a while. But it was only a couple months, and he'd be owling most of them quite a lot. He didn't get what the big deal was.

Despite being the only other person around who seemingly had absolutely no interest in the entire ritual, Charissa kept shooting him odd looks. Surprised he wasn't getting more worked up, maybe? But she wasn't either. Why should he? That seemed kind of silly to him, too.

The whole time, when he wasn't too distracted with someone talking at him or grabbing him, he was looking around, searching the platform. But she wasn't here. Not that he'd expected her to be, he'd admit. Not really. He was a little disappointed anyway.

Finally, they all extricated themselves from the clingy adults, stepping into the shelter of the train. Her shoulders sinking visibly with fading tension, Charissa started leading the way down the hall, making for a compartment nearer the front. They'd only been walking a couple moments when Perry was abruptly encircled from behind with a pair of warm arms, grabbed suddenly enough he couldn't hold back a short yelp. 'Silly little boy,' a very familiar voice muttered into his ear. 'Did you think you could get away without seeing me?'

The grin on his face was wide enough his cheeks hurt a little. 'Mum!' He spun around in her arms, then pulled himself into her, the glass-smooth texture of cloth against his face suggesting Mum was wearing her Auror uniform. He could feel her chuckling under her breath, fingers carding soft through his hair. Something cold deep inside melted, some hole he wasn't usually aware of filled, and after only seconds he felt almost impossibly better than he had a second ago.

He really missed her sometimes. He realised it made him sound, he didn't know, but it was hard. She was hardly ever around anymore. He hated it. Sometimes he hated Dad, and he knew that was unfair, it wasn't really his fault, or not his fault alone, but he couldn't help it. He just missed her.

A few greetings went around between Mum and the other kids, Linden snapping off a quick hug himself — which was sort of awkward, trying to get it in around Perry, but he wasn't moving. Then Charissa was saying, 'Why are you in uniform? I thought you were on leave.'

Mum's arm moved against Perry's shoulder a bit with her shrug. 'I still am on leave. I'm not sure I'm ever going active again, actually.' Perry blinked, turned up to find Mum's face a bit above his head. She didn't look like she was lying. Odd, he hadn't known that. 'But, well, once an Auror always an Auror. They'll still be able to call me in for emergencies, and I can come in to help whenever I like. There's always at least one Auror with the Express, just in case. I volunteered.

'But anyway, you lot should go and get yourself a compartment and all. I just thought I'd say hello.'

'You're not sitting with us?'

Mum turned down to raise an eyebrow at him, her lips twitching a bit with a repressed smile. 'No, sweetheart, I don't think I should. Do you really want to be talking with your friends and future classmates with your mother sitting there?'

She did have a point, he guessed. But he still pouted up at her anyway.

Mum laughed, ruffling his hair a bit before giving him a little push toward the others. 'Go on, then. Good luck and have fun.'

When they started off down the hall again, Perry's steps felt noticeably lighter.

Eventually, Charissa stopped at a compartment, hesitating just a moment before sliding the door in. 'Mind if we join you?'

'How many is "we"?' It was a boy's voice, Perry could tell — low, smooth and sweet like good chocolate — but he didn't recognise him.

'Like it bloody well matters, you silly ponce.' That voice, Perry did recognise: Tracey. Which meant Daphne was probably in there too.

'True, but I might have to sit up.'

'Good. Get your ugly face out of my lap.'

'Aawwww...'

Charissa waved them forward into the compartment, more people tromping in after her than Perry really thought should be able to fit. When he finally took his turn stepping inside, he noticed immediately the compartment was larger than the ones he'd peeked in on the way — they must have variable extension charms on them. While everyone got settled in, Charissa reached into her pockets, pulling out two handfuls of miniaturised trunks. With only a few easy waves of her hands, the air so thick with magic it tingled, Charissa unshrunk all the trunks, floating them up and away into the luggage racks.

'Was the display really necessary, Potter?' This was the owner of the smooth voice from before, a finely-dressed, dark-skinned boy Charissa's age Perry didn't recognise.

Charissa shot him a short glare, sinking into a seat next to Perry. 'Oh, go to hell, Zabini.' It wasn't said with any real anger, the words mostly empty, as though saying a thing that just needed to be said.

The older boy was the Director of Education's bastard son, Perry realised, but he didn't know anything else about him. His face in a bright grin, he gave Charissa a slow wink. 'Company's better here.'

Zabini coughed when Tracey drove an elbow into his side. Not at all gently either, by the look of it. 'Ignore this one,' Tracey said, glancing around at the people who apparently didn't know him as well. 'I'm not sure he can open his mouth without flirting.'

'I don't really need to open—' Zabini let out a sudden, harsh breath when Tracey elbowed him again. 'Would you stop that? That one hurt...' He still didn't sound entirely serious, though, his voice pulled into a high, thin whine, face one of exaggerated misery.

So Perry thought Tracey was justified in simply rolling her eyes at him.

Over the next minutes, people shuffled in and out of the compartment. Various people looked in only long enough to say hello to Daphne or Charissa before walking off again. Linden left almost right away, trunk charmed weightless floating behind him. Neville disappeared to track down some of his Hufflepuff friends. Bella turned up eventually, along with Daphne's younger sister Astoria — the latter looked slightly annoyed Bella was settling in with them, shooting Daphne surly glances, but didn't say anything. Jasper and Neira left shortly after that, a comment from Bella about practising their silencing charms following on their heels. An unfamiliar boy trailed in shortly before the train started off, giving Charissa and Zabini both wary glances before sitting next to Astoria; apparently, this was an Énna Selwyn, who Charissa clarified in a whisper into his ear was one of Hesper's first cousins, but Perry had never met him. Well, probably seen him at one function or another, but never spoken to him. A few seconds after the train jerked into motion, Luna poked her head inside, but only long enough to say hello, vanishing almost the instant Charissa said, 'You're allowed to go find Hermione, you know.'

Perry blinked at that, glanced around the compartment. Himself, Charissa, Bella, Tracey, Daphne, Astoria, Zabini, Selwyn... Hermione wasn't here. Not that he was surprised, really. Sometime during the month, he'd noticed he hadn't seen Hermione for a while, asked Charissa if something was going on — turned out, they'd broken up, and Charissa just hadn't thought to tell any of them. Perry would admit to being a bit disappointed about that. He liked Hermione. She was nice, and not in the overly bubbly and annoyingly over-affectionate way a lot of his cousins could get sometimes. He hadn't at all minded having her as a bonus sister, as Linden joked. He'd written her the day he'd found out, saying he was sorry it hadn't worked out, and if it would be okay with her if they still talked some. They'd sent a few letters back and forth since, but it hadn't occurred to him to ask if he'd see her on the train. He'd assumed she'd be sitting with them.

Oh well. He could always track her down and say hi later. According to everyone, she was almost always in the library, shouldn't be hard to find.

He belatedly noticed he and Charissa were the only non-Slytherins in the compartment. Huh.

After they'd been going for a few minutes, everyone all catching up about what they'd done over the summer, Zabini leaned around Tracey to talk to Daphne. Rather closer into Tracey than necessary doing it, an exasperated look crossing Tracey's face. 'When do we have to go up there anyway?'

Daphne's wand appeared in her hand with the flick of a wrist, a quick twist bringing the glowing face of a clock into existence. 'Fifteen minutes.'

'Are you two the Slytherin prefects?' He was sitting close enough to Charissa he could feel her voice ringing in his head. Practically right against her side, really. Which wasn't entirely necessary, true — he'd seen the compartment change sizes multiple times as people entered and exited — but Charissa didn't seem to mind. She'd even moved her arm out of the way up on the back of the bench for him. Some of the other people had given him somewhat odd looks, but he didn't care.

Daphne glanced down at her own chest, shifting the Hogwarts robes a bit so the previously hidden prefect badge was visible. 'I already got Pansy being snitty at me over it. Apparently, she thought it was hers. For some reason.'

Charissa snorted. 'Can't imagine why. Parkinson is a bitch.'

'Are you talking about who I think you're talking about?' Bella asked, voice slightly strained as it had been ever since she'd seemingly decided the benches here were meant to be sat in upside-down. She looked ridiculous, right across from him and Charissa next to Zabini, her feet stretching toward the luggage rack, back on the seat, head hanging over the edge with the tips of her hair nearly touching the floor. The hem of her dress had ended up falling quite high up her hips, and Perry had noticed half the compartment kept glancing that way. 'Black hair, nasally voice, pathetically follows Draco around everywhere telling him how great he is?'

Zabini snickered, his head turning to rest against Bella's bare leg as he looked down toward her face, which he probably couldn't even see at that angle. 'Even Draco finds that annoying, you know. He complains about it when she's not around.'

'Maybe he should tell her to her face. She might actually stop, then.'

'I think,' Charissa said, 'you're underestimating just how annoying Parkinson is.'

With a smirk, Tracey said, 'Or overestimating just how brave Malfoy is. Telling a girl something she doesn't want to hear? No, I think that might be asking too much of him.'

While most everyone laughed over that — Perry would admit to chuckling a bit himself, Draco was one of his least favourite cousins — Zabini tipped his head a bit, smile tilting into a smirk. Once the compartment had quieted a bit, he said, 'Really, Black? Did you pick purple knickers to match your eyes?'

Bella shrugged, which did look a bit odd with her sitting like that, as though to say, Obviously.

A loud, harsh scoff came from Astoria next to Perry. 'Zabini, I am shocked. Scandalised, even! Are you looking up thirteen-year-old girls' skirts?'

Zabini's smirk stretched wider. 'I'm looking down it, technically. And, come on, it's not like I haven't shagged thirteen-year-old girls before.'

'You were thirteen yourself at the time too, of course.'

'Well, yes...'

The banter went on for a few more moments, Perry not sure if he should feel amused or embarrassed — Zabini seemed completely incapable of the latter, and he was shameless enough Perry almost felt someone should. Eventually, sudden enough he jumped, the door to the compartment was thrown open with a clang. One figure shot into the small space barely in head of a second, moving at a full sprint and leaping right at Charissa without slowing. A hard impact of what felt like a knee slammed into Perry's leg, making him yelp and flinch away, Charissa was muttering curses at whoever had jumped on her, and everyone was being noisy and confusing, and Perry had absolutely no idea what was going on.

After some seconds, the room stilled somewhat, and Perry finally recognised the first figure, now sitting perched on a visibly annoyed Charissa's lap. It was Alexis Gaunt, her hair somewhat messy and clothes disheveled, face flushed from exertion. A bright grin on her face, she said, 'I win!'

Standing in the middle of the compartment, looking just as tousled and breathless as Alexis, Hesper stood pouting. 'No fair! Someone ran into me back there! I demand a rematch!'

'There will be no such thing.'

Alex turned in her "seat" to give Charissa a big-eyed look to match Hesper's. 'But it's fun! Do you not like fun all of a sudden?'

'I'm sorry, did you want to sit here or not? I can and will curse you off me, you know.'

'Hmm...' Alexis slid back a little, as far as she could go, then shifted in place a little. Perry was still close enough he heard Charissa's breath catch. 'Nah, I can stay. Sorry, Hesper.'

Hesper made a face of comical despair, slipping back and collapsing into a seat next to Selwyn. There was silence for only a short instant before Tracey said, just under a shout, 'What the bloody hell is that about?'

Her smirk looking very odd upside-down, Bella said, 'You don't read the society pages, do you.'

Astoria snorted, hard enough her shoulder shifted to bump into his. 'Have you been introduced? Bella, this is Tracey Davis, my sister's insufferable twat of a girlfriend.'

'Love you too, Tori dear.'

'Charissa is ours now, you see,' Hesper said.

'Yes, ours.' Alex leaned back against Charissa's chest, her head tipping back to rest on Charissa's left shoulder, completely hiding both faces from Perry. 'There is no escape.'

'Charissa Potter is engaged to Hesper bloody Gaunt?' Zabini let out a long, thick sigh. 'Am I jealous? I think I'm jealous.'

An unambiguous gloating feel about his voice, Hesper said, 'As you should. Hmm, I wonder, what should we do with her, now that we have her at—' The sentence cut off, Hesper and Alex letting out a simultaneous yelp of pain.

'Ow!' Alex whined, voice high and nasal. 'Why did you hex me? I wasn't the one saying—' They both screeched again, Alex loud enough Perry winced. 'Hey!'

'That was a lie.' Charissa's voice was low, hard, obviously trying for serious or stern or something, but a bit ruined by the laugh at the edges. 'Lying is not allowed. Liars must be punished.'

'I'm sorry, is that supposed to make us lie less? Seems counterproductive.'

'I'm with the creepy twins on this one.' A crooked grin crossing her face, a light in her eyes, perhaps the single most suggestive expression Perry had seen on anyone's face ever, Tracey shifted in her seat a bit, tipping her head to rest on Daphne's shoulder. 'But I've been told not to talk about it, see.'

Was... Was Daphne blushing? Huh. Perry hadn't realised Daphne Greengrass was physically capable of something so undignified.

This conversation, Perry could barely follow at all. It was far too quick for one thing, bouncing back and forth nearly faster than he could turn his head, and not all of it really made sense. Inside jokes, maybe, just stuff he was missing? Whatever. But that was fine, he didn't really need to understand what was going on. He was only really half-paying attention anyway.

After some minutes, Charissa hexed Alex again, sending her jumping out of her lap, hands unconsciously springing to her bum. Perry managed not to laugh, suffocating it into only a painfully hard snort. Daphne and Zabini were also getting to their feet, making the floor of the compartment a bit crowded. Charissa rummaged in her trunk for a moment, retrieving her prefect badge, which she clipped to her shirt, turning for the door.

But Daphne, who was sort of standing in the way, didn't move. 'You two realise we're supposed to be in our school robes.'

Charissa just stared at her for a second. Her wand appeared in her hand and, after the shortest hesitation, she brought it down with a circular, dragging swish. Shifting and bubbling and twisting, her shirt and trousers transfigured into Ravenclaw Hogwarts robes. Neat trick.

Then everyone turned to Zabini.

Zabini stared back, still and silent for a long moment.

Then he reached for the hem of his shirt, and whipped it over his head.

After long, noisy moments filled with shouting and giggling and whistling, Zabini was changed into his robes, and the three prefects were filing out of the compartment. Charissa gave Perry a last glance on the way out, but then she was gone. The Gaunts left too, now that Charissa was no longer around to annoy, he guessed. Two seconds had barely passed before Astoria was getting up, moving to the opposite side to plop down again between Bella and Tracey. 'You know,' she said, her voice easy and casual, 'you really shouldn't sit like that.'

Bella's lips spread into a smirk. She moved a bit, obviously trying to lean up so Astoria could see that smirk, but she gave up almost right away. 'Oh, really?'

'Yes. It's distracting.'

'Distracting, huh? What about it is so distracting, exactly?'

'This.' Moving fast as lightning, Astoria's hand snapped over to the side, pinching very high up the inside of Bella's thigh. Bella let out a high yelp, jerking away on instinct. Which of course made her unbalance, tipping off the edge of her seat, only her arms stopping her from falling head-first onto the floor. Bella was left cursing, hand on a hip that had come down especially hard, glaring up at Astoria.

Perry had noticed, as Bella's feet had gone over her head, that her knickers were indeed purple. A far lighter shade than her eyes, though.

'What the hell, Tori?' Bella tottered up to her feet, hand still rubbing at her hip, the movement looking a bit awkward and pained. 'You know I'm getting back at you for that.'

'Back at me how? Gonna be sticking your hand up my skirt or something?'

'Well, maybe I will, who knows?'

Astoria just smirked at her.

Grumbling to herself, Bella flopped down to a seat, this time the empty one next to Perry Astoria had just abandoned. She glanced at him quick. He must be looking too amused or something, because her face instantly collapsed into a scowl. 'Oh, shut up, baby Potter. What are you even doing here? Don't you have firstie friends to hang out with?'

He shrugged. He did...or had, he guessed. He did have friends who would be starting Hogwarts this year with him, but... Well, they're Fawleys. And the ones that weren't Fawleys themselves were friends with the Fawleys. He'd been awkward around them ever since he realised his dad and their aunt were, well. He didn't really want to spend too much time around them if he didn't have to at the moment, it was just uncomfortable. Which was pretty cowardly, he guessed, but he couldn't help it.

The rest of the train ride was mostly uneventful. The Slytherins around him had their own conversations, which Perry generally ignored. He pulled a novel out of his trunk, read for most of the way. Charissa and Daphne and Zabini came back eventually — though, they did come and go a bit, prefect stuff — but that didn't change anything, really. He sat reading most of the time, occasionally saying something to Charissa or Bella, glancing up to watch the people coming by for one reason or another. He gathered a lot of people were coming to say hi to Charissa quick. For some reason, he wasn't sure why. Just acknowledging her existence, he guessed. She was a ridiculously powerful witch for her age, he could understand people feeling the need to do something.

At some point, he managed to completely lose track of time, and before he realised what was happening the sky outside the windows had gone dark, and the train was jerking to a stop. Everyone but himself and Charissa quickly fled into the hall, Perry frantically going for his trunk — everyone else had changed into their school robes at some point, but Perry had somehow missed it. He hurriedly changed, all too aware Charissa was sitting there waiting. He didn't want to hold her up too long...

As soon as he was done, he turned to Charissa to find her staring flatly at him, eyes that unnervingly steady way she had. After a short pause, she said, 'Don't worry about the Sorting. Whatever House you're in, it doesn't matter to me, or Mum, or Linden. Dad might whine for a little bit if it's anything but Gryffindor, but he doesn't really mean it, just playing. Don't worry about it too much, and don't argue with the Hat too much. It might try to send you somewhere you're not too pleased with, but just let it. It probably knows you better than you do. You should be happiest wherever it wants to send you.'

Perry did appreciate she was trying. He knew Charissa wasn't really good at this kind of thing, and it didn't really occur to her to do besides. Honestly, when he was looking for comfort, he went to Mum or Neira. Charissa was good for fixing things, not this. But he was still worried. He'd been trying not to think about it, really, his book had been a good distraction. 'What if I'm in Hufflepuff, though?' Everyone always said he would be. Linden had teased him about it incessantly, in fact.

Charissa shrugged. 'Neville's in Hufflepuff,' she said, simply and calmly, as though that were all he needed to know right there. 'And you know Cedric Diggory, right? He's in the upper duelling team, Head Boy this year. He's a Hufflepuff. There's nothing wrong with Hufflepuff.'

Diggory was also a seeker, supposedly a large part of why Hufflepuff had swept the House Quidditch Cup the last few years in a row — Perry only knew this because Jasper and Ginny had complained about it, Charissa and most of her friends didn't care for quidditch. That was just two names, but... Well, they were two very impressive names. Impressive enough for Charissa to think being in Hufflepuff wouldn't be a big deal. That would just have to do. He knew Mum really didn't care what House he was put in, and as long as Charissa wouldn't be, he didn't know, embarrassed or something, he guessed that was fine.

It was possible people worried about this Sorting thing way more than they should, come to think of it.

After a last nod from him and a somewhat reluctant hug from Charissa — not exactly a touchy-feely person, his sister — and Perry was being escorted out of the train, half-shoved at the pack of first years waiting to the side. He didn't say a word the whole walk down to the boats, which might have been a bit rude of him. One of the Fawleys was trying to get his attention. He did feel somewhat bad about that, but he was just uncomfortable, he couldn't help it. He'd get over it eventually.

He ended up in a boat with, to his mild surprise, three girls, and even three girls he knew. Violet, of course, funny coincidence, Xeni Ingham, whom he'd met a few times, and, unfortunately, Ceri Yaxley. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Perry didn't like Yaxley. The look she was giving Violet, as though suddenly noticing she were too close to something that smelled awful, wasn't much improving his opinion. He didn't mind Xeni, but he'd rather pretend Yaxley wasn't there.

So he ended up not saying anything for the whole trip across the lake. Why did the first years always do this anyway? Seemed kind of silly to him, far more effort than necessary, especially considering he was certain there were enough carriages for everyone. The sight of the castle reclined along the cliff edge, lights gleaming against the night and glittering on the surface of the lake, sure, he guessed it was pretty. But it wasn't that especially pretty, okay. Potter manor was pretty, especially on a new moon night, this wasn't that special. But, fine, he'd put up with it.

He kept his silence all the way up through the dungeons, into the Entrance Hall. Though, he'd admit at least to himself, this part might just be because he was nervous. He was going to be Sorted here in a minute, and yes, he was starting to think the whole Sorting thing was a bit silly. But that didn't make it any less of an important thing. How it turned out would affect how far too many things went over the next seven years, the rest of his life, even. It wasn't completely irrelevant. And he'd be doing it in front of the entire school. He thought he was justified in being somewhat nervous, okay. This was just too...he didn't know, big of a thing, he guessed, all tense and dramatic, it made him uncomfortable.

Probably not Gryffindor, then. But he'd known that already.

After a few boring minutes, they were led into the Great Hall. Perry ignored the other first years marvelling at the sight of the place — what, were they all muggleborns or something? — tried to ignore the eyes of all the other students on him. Not him specifically, still. He ignored the song belted out by the Sorting Hat. Or, er, he tried to, anyway. Who'd ever heard of a tone deaf hat? Well, okay, singing hats weren't that large of a group to begin with, but still, it grated a bit, he'd just like it over now, please.

Finally the cursed thing was done, and McGonagall was calling out names. Perry was trying not to be impatient. After he'd mostly failed through the Sortings of a few people, he frowned at himself. He was starting to think he was really not acting as he should. True, he didn't really care how he was supposed to act, and it did seem a little silly, honestly. Everyone on the edge of panicking, or overwhelmed just by Hogwarts itself, or whatever. He just wanted this to be over already. Which didn't seem...quite right to him. He was getting into the spirit of the moment far less than he'd anticipated he would. Was there something wrong with him? Was he tired or something? He guessed he was a bit sleepy and hungry from the overly-long and rather boring train ride...

Why didn't they just have people floo or portkey to Hogwarts or something? Honestly.

He was mildly surprised when the two Fawleys in his year were split between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Mostly, it was the Ravenclaw that was weird. Fawleys were almost always Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs. Odd. Otherwise, the people he knew, even just in passing, generally weren't a surprise. He was barely paying attention, this was so boring. He did look up when he heard "Palmer, Violet!" called, she would probably be right before him, he should pay attention. His muggleborn cousin walked up to the stool, sat down, and McGonagall placed the Hat on—

'SLYTHERIN!'

Perry started at the instant call of the last house he'd expected. Violet looked just as shocked as he did, staring in very clear disbelief at the Hat as McGonagall pulled it away, eyes wide and mouth dropped open.

Belatedly, he noticed the Hall had gone dead silent. Everyone would know Violet was a muggleborn, of course. There might have been doubt ordinarily, but Violet had a brother in Ravenclaw, and Mum, a(n in)famous muggleborn, was their aunt, people knew. Her nearest magical relatives might not be that far away, but she was still muggleborn. Muggleborns never went to Slytherin. He was completely incapable of thinking of any. He'd never looked specifically, true, but still...

The silence had endured for long seconds, Violet sitting unmoving, when Perry jumped as a shivering hiss of Parseltongue worked its way across the air. «Don't stand there looking stupid, girl.» He glanced in his best guess of where the voice had come from, spotted Charissa, risen to standing near the end of the Ravenclaw table. «Go on, sit down. They don't bite.»

«Not much.»

«Only little,» followed by hissing laughter. Perry didn't have to look to know who those were.

Despite himself, despite the present context, he found himself suffocating a very familiar, old guilt. Mum had told him, long ago, to try not to let Charissa know he was a Parselmouth. At the time, she'd just said it was because the fewer people who knew, the less likely it would get out, and he wouldn't have to deal with people being idiots about it. When he'd found out Charissa was one too, he'd wanted to tell her, but Mum had told him he still shouldn't. If they knew each other was one, they'd be tempted to talk to each other with it. The more someone used Parseltongue, the easier it was to use it on accident, revealing the ability to people they possibly didn't want to know — Charissa had done exactly that, in fact. He'd still wanted to, but...well, Mum had told him not to. So he didn't.

He had thought it a bit odd, when he'd learned more about the inheritance of magical gifts, that both he and Charissa had it. That two full-blooded siblings inherited it meant their nearest Parselmouth ancestor would have to be far more recent than he'd heard Charissa speculate. Charissa seemed to think she'd gotten it from their Black side, the talent reappearing in her for the first time in some generations. But, that he got it too made that far more unlikely. But that didn't quite make sense, since—

«Yes. Sorry. Here now.»

Perry stared, eyes steady on Violet as she shakily pushed herself to her feet, started on her walk through the Great Hall, looking somewhat awkward in the continued silence. If he had to guess, Violet had entirely failed to notice she'd just stunned everyone again by speaking in Parseltongue in front of the entire student population.

Well, this Sorting was suddenly far less boring than it'd been a couple minutes ago.

Wait... Wait a second. Violet was a Parselmouth too? But that...

Charissa and Perry both having it was suspicious to begin with, yes. But, if Violet had it too, that would suggest they hadn't inherited it from their father's side at all. It only made sense if they got it from Mum's side.

Was...

Was Mum a Parselmouth? She'd never said anything, but it would make a lot of sense...

He had no idea how to feel about this.

'Potter, Perry!'

Perry jumped, glanced wildly around the room for a moment. Right. Sorting. Trying not to blush at the whispers and giggling he heard faintly running around the Hall, he tromped up for the head table. Ignoring all the people staring at him, he sat down, closed his eyes as soon as seemed reasonable, and waited for McGonagall to set the Hat on his head.

The instant the magic of the Hat started imposing itself on his mind and magic, he decided he didn't like it.

Ah, another Potter, I see. It wasn't a voice, exactly. It wasn't even really words. A subtle impression of meaning and intent, blossoming in the forefront of his mind, foreign in a way he couldn't quite describe, part of him and yet not. And you are a complicated one. Where to put you, I wonder.

Perry opened his mouth to speak. Or, at least, he tried to open his mouth to speak, but his body didn't seem to be working. Since he couldn't move, he decided to just think at the Hat, as explicitly as he could. Hopefully that would work. I thought you'd be sending me straight to Hufflepuff, honestly.

Would that be such a bad thing? What about the house has you so leery of it?

Honestly, Perry wasn't entirely sure why Hufflepuff had the reputation it did. It simply did, and it wasn't like he could entirely counter the immediate impression it would give people by himself. I don't know, really. I never really liked the idea. But it's fine, you can send me there. I wouldn't mind.

Yes, I see that. This is a very recent development, isn't it? Since that awkward little speech your sister gave you. How precious.

If his body were at all connected to his mind anymore, he suspected he would be blushing.

That is the question, though, isn't it. Your opinion of the house isn't any better. Your evaluation of how people would see you differently if you were to join them hadn't changed at all, nor how you feel about it. You were simply reassured your sister, your mother, wouldn't think any less of you.

Is that bad?

No, of course not! In fact, young man, it is one of your most admirable Hufflepuff traits. Your loyalty to your mother and your sister is absolute and inviolable. Is there anything that could turn you from them? And your brother and father, somewhat less so, but them as well. Yes, this sort of dedication is something Hufflepuffs highly prize. Do you not prize it yourself? You think your Hufflepuff-ness something to be ashamed of, it seems. Are you ashamed of your mother and sister, embarrassed of your loyalty to them?

What? Even the thought was horrifying, enough Perry wanted to cringe, but he couldn't at the moment. No! I mean, I don't know, I didn't think of it that way. That is Hufflepuff-ish, I guess, but I never really... I mean, I didn't... I don't know...

An odd impression of amusement washed across his thoughts — not his own amusement, of course, a foreign impression from the Hat. Which felt very strange, but no point thinking about it too much at the moment. No need to stammer, child. Yes, there is plenty of Hufflepuff in you, Perry Potter. Loyalty unassailable, unending tolerance and patience and kindness for those who have earned that loyalty. Plenty, but not enough.

For a few seconds, Perry was too surprised to put a coherent thought together. Which probably wasn't smart, since he was starting to get a headache. He should be moving this along. What? What do you mean, not enough?

You are dedicated to certain people and things with a purity and selflessness rarely seen, yes. But earning this perfect loyalty is exceedingly difficult, and your trust is easily shattered. Just see how far your father and brother have fallen in your eyes the last few years! No, young Perry, you are quick to anger and slow to forgive, and while you do love fiercely, you are quite selective in who you gift that love to. Not to mention I doubt you would consider yourself hard-working, or fair. No, Hufflepuff isn't the house for you at all.

That... But... Okay, he was confused now. Honestly, the thought that he wouldn't be going into Hufflepuff had barely occurred to him at all. Why did you bother convincing me Hufflepuff isn't terrible, then?

We need to talk about something while I'm coming to a decision, don't we? Might as well address a misconception of yours as long as we're at it. And besides, seeing how your thoughts and feeling and memories shift as we discuss such things is also informative. He felt an odd sense of motion, not really against his body, but against his mind, as though the enchantment in the Hat were reorienting itself against his thoughts somewhat. This loyalty of yours is very prominent, however. There is another house that values loyalty, you know, one I think might be quite suitable.

Perry needed a moment to gather himself again. Gryffindor. The Hat was talking about Gryffindor. He definitely hadn't seen that one coming. You're joking.

You are so opposed to the idea?

It just doesn't seem...me.

Really now? Against the background of the increasing agony pounding through him, there was an odd, shuddering pulse of amusement, as though the Hat were chuckling into his head. I don't know about that. You sell yourself short, I think. You perhaps aren't as bold or dramatic a personality as many others, true, but you do have a certain nobility of spirit all your own. It may not be so obvious now, young as you are, but I can see the seeds planted, yet to grow.

What seeds?

Yes, it is not hard to see at all, the Hat thought, as though Perry hadn't asked anything. You are a very clever young man, yes, sharp of wit and broad of mind, no doubt there. Prideful, yes, and jealously protective of those you love, no doubt there. But when your pride is not violated, protection unnecessary? How patient you are! You watch, and you observe, and you evaluate, and you wonder. On the train ride here, how much do you think you actually spoke? Barely at all, it seems. No, you sat and watched, learned as much as you could of the people around you. Watched how they interacted, guessed at the relationships between them, extrapolated their thoughts and feelings. Then started reading instead, only when you'd learned all you could, and were bored. And you didn't even have to think about it, decide to do it! It was entirely instinctual.

I'm not sure what you're getting at. It didn't really sound like the Hat was talking about Gryffindor at all.

A foreign sense of amusement rang again through his skull. That wasn't making his head hurt any less. Who said anything about Gryffindor, child? No, there are two houses that emphasise loyalty, though perhaps with a somewhat different connotation about it. Hufflepuff is one, certainly, but Gryffindor is not the other. I'm sure you could guess.

What? No, you can't be thinking of—

The Hat went on, entirely ignoring him. Though, he guessed he did sort of appreciate that. His head was really starting to hurt, blinding lightning, crackling along his neck and burning his sinuses, anything to speed this up was all to the good. You are not a bold personality, no, not the least bit. You are a quiet boy, preferring to stand to the side, sit and watch. You are quick to anger when those you love are threatened, yes, but are quiet even then. You do not spit and rage right in your enemy's face, no! You step back and seethe, patiently waiting behind an angelic façade, planning the perfect moment to make your displeasure known. No, no, Gryffindor is not for you at all.

Even through the pounding, throbbing, brilliant pain in his skull, if he were able to move at all, he'd probably be squirming in his seat. You make me sound kind of evil.

You can lie to yourself, Perry Potter, but you can't lie to me. I see the fantasies that dwell behind your eyes. I know what you would do to those who malign you or those you love, if it were in your power. And I know you would be good at it, and that you would enjoy it.

What the hell are you trying to say?

You don't see, do you. Interesting. It's not very often I get to Sort a future left hand who hasn't even yet realised what he is.

...

Perry had absolutely no idea how to feel about that.

---

Entirely ignoring the Sorting as it got started, Bella just stared down at Astoria. Since Astoria was rather taller than her — not surprising, fucking everybody was taller than her — that wasn't really something she did very often. 'The hell are you doing?'

'Mm.' Astoria shifted against her a bit, turning her face further into Bella's shoulder, arm crossing over her stomach. Her weight was pushing Bella a bit off balance, she had to plant a hand on the bench behind Énna and hook her foot around one of the legs of the table just to stop herself from falling over. 'Wake me up when the Sorting is over.'

Er. Okay, then. 'You know, you keep doing stuff like this, and you might start giving me ideas.'

Astoria tipped her head a bit, opened her eyes to more properly smirk up at Bella. 'I know.' And she just settled in again.

Bella rolled her eyes. There was no point doing or saying anything more about it. Astoria could be completely impossible sometimes. And that was what she was doing, Bella knew, being annoying on purpose. At least, mostly just being annoying — she wouldn't be surprised if some of the things Astoria had been doing lately had been consciously provocative, so to speak, somewhere between teasing and flirting, but she was certain Astoria just liked being a pain, as Daphne could attest. She was starting to get rather tired of it.

Which she did realise was hypocritical of her, but she just didn't give a damn.

The look Clíona was giving the two of them was not helping. She just knew the bitch was going to make far more of this than what it was. There wasn't even a this to make a thing of! Astoria was just being annoying. And even if there were a this, making any kind of thing of it would be uncalled for anyway. Whatever she and Astoria may or may not do with each other was entirely none of Clíona's business. She could just go to hell.

Actually, if Clíona did start implying she and Astoria were...dating, fucking, whatever, Bella shouldn't even deny it. She should take a position of entirely not giving a fuck, as though she couldn't entirely understand what Clíona's problem was. Which, really, wouldn't even be lying. The latter part, she meant. If she and Astoria were a thing, she didn't see why Clíona should care. Why did people get all wrapped up in other people's personal lives? She didn't understand, she simply didn't. It could be a fun way to slap back at her for whatever she came up with, depending on how exactly it went, she'd have to do that.

Of course, if she did do that, it wouldn't stay just between them. Chances were the entire castle would know within a day or two — or at least anyone who was inclined to pay attention, anyway. Which meant Charissa would probably hear it. Which...

Eh. Bella was fine with that. She seriously doubted Charissa would care one way or the other.

She continued to ignore the Sorting entirely. Why did they have to do this every fucking year? It was so boring, honestly. Name after name after name, dozens of kids, most of whom she'd never heard of, none she really cared about. She did glance up for a minute when she heard an Ingham called, but lost interest again when the girl was almost immediately Sorted into Slytherin. Yeah, this was boring.

The business with the younger of Charissa's muggleborn cousins getting Sorted into Slytherin was mildly interesting, at least. Muggleborns are never put in Slytherin. Which Bella had always thought was kind of hilarious — she meant, she was for all intents and purposes a muggleborn, but nobody had blinked at her Sorting, just because of what her name was. So silly. She had to smirk at Charissa's little Parseltongue trick. It was intuitive for Parselmouths, the magic was just part of them, they couldn't help it. Bella hadn't known baby Palmer was a Parselmouth, but talking at her had cued Palmer using it back, right in front of all the Slytherins, yeah, it was clever.

Since he came right after Palmer anyway, she kept paying attention for baby Potter. Of course, then he had to take fucking forever. Seriously, what were they talking about under there? She couldn't imagine what these longer Sortings were like. Apparently the Hat talked to people, which had been news to her. When she'd been Sorted there had only been a brief pause, frozen in place by that very uncomfortable bit of magic. No profound conversation by any means. Really, what was there to even talking about? It was obvious where baby Potter was going, she'd really only had to consider it a couple seconds.

But, by the way virtually everyone who gave a damn in the Hall reacted when he was finally Sorted, it was possible she was just being a fucking cheater again. Apparently, it hadn't been obvious the littlest Potter was a Slytherin.

Finally, the Headmaster gave his characteristically demented welcome, and then food appeared. And finally Astoria got off her. Well, okay, fine, having her all snuggled up against Bella hadn't really been that terrible, she could admit that in her own head. It was just sort of hard to eat with a girl all invading her space like that. Especially one who happened to look like Astoria did. Impossible, really. She wasn't quite as distracting as her sister, sure, but...

Okay, fine. It was possible her inability to truly pay attention to the Sorting hadn't just been because it was boring.

---

Even minutes after the Sorting had ended, Charissa kept glancing over her shoulder toward the Slytherins behind her.

She'd had absolutely no idea Perry would be in Slytherin. At all. Normally, she would wonder if she just hadn't been paying attention, worry if there mightn't be something actually important she was missing, but nobody else had seen it coming either. Even Perry had thought he would be a Hufflepuff. She hadn't anticipated this.

So didn't really have a plan to deal with this. She would have to do something about their father, at least. Despite his mother and his half-sister and many of his cousins being Slytherins, Dad had an entirely irrational... Charissa wasn't even sure how to put it. Misconception? Bias? Prejudice? Whatever, Dad was stupid about Slytherin. His preference for Gryffindor wasn't even the least bit subtle. With how infuriatingly tactless he'd been writing to her after her Sorting, just for being in Ravenclaw, she could only assume he'd be worse about Perry being in Slytherin.

Which was doubly bad. It wasn't like Dad's thoughtless stupidity had legitimately hurt her — it'd made her angry, enough she'd incinerated his letter right here in the Great Hall over breakfast, but nothing more than anger. This would be worse. Perry was far more sensitive to such things than she was.

Either that, or he was simply much, much better at faking it. He was a Slytherin, after all. But, no, she'd been in his head, she knew him. He would be hurt, she knew. She'd have to do something about Dad before Dad could do something stupid.

She didn't think she had to worry about Perry, she didn't know, being okay, whatever, with his new housemates. He'd be fine. Even if he had trouble with his yearmates, couldn't make friends himself, Charissa had more than enough friends in Slytherin, along with a fair number of cousins. They'd look out for him. She might say something to Daphne, just to make sure. He'd be fine.

Okay then.

This was probably one of the more annoying meals she'd ever taken in the Great Hall. Since she was prefect now, she was sitting at the front edge of the table, next to the new first-years. The fifth-year prefects were generally expected to look after the incoming students, so she was doing that. And it was a pain. She was trying to be nice, and she thought she was mostly succeeding, but the little things had so many questions. She assumed a few of them had to be muggleborn, there was no other way they could just not know so many things. The questions kept coming and coming and coming, a constant deluge. One boy in particular, Charissa had to wonder if he was even getting any food in, the way he kept blabbing. Reminding her of Hermione a bit, actually.

Though, she would admit that when she'd introduced herself, and one of them had asked if she was really the Charissa Potter, the emphasis on the article had been strangely gratifying. The constant questions were partly out of a sense of hero worship, she could see that. Which was entirely unanticipated, but...

Fine. She could work with that.

They'd been eating fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, Charissa so distracted answering incessant questions she'd barely managed a few bites, when she was soundly interrupted. She felt them coming an instant before they arrived, not enough warning to really do anything about it. They both jumped her from behind, arms coming over her arms and around her neck, two heavy bodies slamming into her, weight enough she nearly face-planted into her plate one second, then had to scramble to keep herself from falling over backward the next.

With a bit of effort, Charissa managed to hold in the flash of enraged magic boiling under her skin. She somehow doubted murdering her betrothed and his sister in the middle of the Great Hall was a good idea.

'What the fuck are you two doing?' she snarled once she thought she had control of her voice again.

'So mean, Cousin,' Alex said, voice very close to her right ear. Not that it actually mattered which said what, their voices were different enough she automatically noted it anyway. 'We just missed you.'

From right against her left ear, Hesper said, 'You'd almost think she doesn't love us.'

'We forgive her though, don't we, Brother?'

'Yes, Sister, of course we do.'

Despite herself, Charissa suspected she was feeling faintly amused. Which was no good at all. 'You missed me? We only parted, what, less than an hour ago.'

'And what sweet sorrow it was!'

'We'd say something bittersweet and poetic here, but, you know—'

'—even we think that'd be overdoing it.'

Charissa shook her head to herself — which was rather more difficult than it had to be, with one Gaunt close in on each side. Yes, they must have already broken her somehow. She was finding this far too amusing. 'You two are completely absurd.'

'Old news, everybody knows that by now.'

'And there's newer news! When Mother told me—'

'Which I thought was weird. It's not like Mother actually needed to tell her, or anything.'

'True, but it is just polite. Anyway, I approve. I approve a thousand times.'

It belatedly occurred to Charissa that she'd never explicitly spoken of her engagement to Hesper with Alex. Of course, she hadn't thought to, because she hadn't really needed to: Alex was Hesper, there was no real difference between the two. So while it was technically true this was the first time Alex had given her "approval" it was entirely necessary, and she had to wonder why they were choosing to do this, here, now, this way.

'Mother said we could keep you.'

'Good news.'

'Best news.'

'Is this the best news ever, Brother?'

'I think so, Sister.'

'Best fiancée.'

'Favourite cousin.'

From her spot in the seat right next to Charissa, probably a bit crowded by Alex squeezed between them now, Sorcha let out a low cough. 'Erm, I am sitting right here.'

'Sorry, Sorcha. You know we love you.'

'But you've been demoted. I mean, come on.'

'You have met Charissa, right?'

Charissa couldn't see her at the moment, with Alex in the way, but the smirk was audible on her voice anyway. 'Believe me, I know Charissa quite well.'

For a short moment, the twins were silent. 'Are we jealous right now?'

'Yes, I think we are jealous.'

'We'll have to fix that sometime in the near future.'

'Yes. Fix it. Plans shall be made.'

'Your room or mine?'

'Mine's bigger, but it is on the girls' side.'

'So?'

'Bella might spy on us.'

'Only might? And, is that a bad thing?'

'Good point. Bella is a curious little thing, I guess, and might make good use of a...'

The two speaking simultaneously, in matched slow, smooth whispers, '...practical demonstration.'

And they both dissolved into giggles.

Charissa couldn't help a long sigh. The motion was somewhat restricted by how crowded with Gaunt she was right now, yes, but she managed it. She just knew these two were going to be seriously annoying. Until she could find a time to shut them up, anyway, but even that would likely be counterproductive. Just giving them what they wanted too readily would only make them seek it out more often. Not that she at all minded the thought of shagging either or both of them, she would just like a little time undisturbed now and then, thanks. 'Do you two mind? I am trying to eat here.' And answer unending questions from a pack of tiny Ravenclaws, not the point.

'Fine, fine, we'll leave you alone. For now, that is.'

'See you later, Cousin.'

Close enough against her ear Charissa felt an occasional brush of her lips, voice hot and suggestive, just barely short of outright moaning, 'Quite a lot of you.' And then they were both, suddenly, gone, walking away giggling their heads off.

She turned to look over her shoulder, glaring at the pair of retreating backs. She had to wonder if they had any idea what they were asking for. What she tended to do to her lovers. Though, come to think of it, the twins did have an uncanny way of knowing things, and were rather close with a few of of them. It wasn't out of the question they knew exactly what they were getting into. And they had to know annoying her probably wasn't wise, they knew her well enough, but they were bloody well doing it anyway. She did have to wonder about that.

But, almost despite herself, she found a smirk pulling at her lips. This was going to be interesting.

One of the new Ravenclaws started her out of her thoughts, asking what that was all about. So Charissa took a moment to explain who they were, that the boy-shaped one was her betrothed (sort of, since she hadn't actually signed the thing it was complicated). A couple of the more curious ones were both internally and externally shocked at the idea that she was engaged already, probably confirming her guess they were muggleborn. A question on what exactly Alex's stake was in the whole situation led to a lengthy explanation on bonded twins, mostly for the muggleborns' benefit. By the time she was done, quite nearly everyone in earshot was giving her very strange looks.

She didn't have to peek in their heads to know they were slightly unnerved by what what she'd said and how she'd said it implied about their future relationship — she'd gathered by now that how much she didn't care about exactly what Hesper and Alex were, and that she fully intended to be shagging both of them irrespective of who was married to who, was something normal people found a bit odd. She didn't entirely understand that herself, but she often didn't understand normal people. Just one thing more on the list.

The question of why exactly they'd come over here to make a scene like that, though, got her to snort out a dark laugh, rolling her eyes. 'At a guess, they told their Slytherin friends about us, and they didn't believe them. So they proved it.'

One of the first-year boys, Charissa hadn't caught his name, squeaked in that hyperactive voice of us, 'How did that prove anything?'

Smirk again clear on her voice, Sorcha said, 'She didn't curse them.'

Charissa just smiled. She almost had anyway, but not the point.

The feast was over with soon enough. Charissa and Goldstein lingered with the first-years for short minutes, waiting for everyone else to file out of the Hall. As they were leaving, she managed only a quick glance at Perry; he still seemed rather dazed, attention clearly turned inward, but otherwise fine. She and Goldstein led the pack of tiny little Ravenclaws behind them up the stairs, pointing out various things on the way, dropping anecdotes and advice about navigating the castle and dealing with particular professors, that sort of thing. It wasn't directly in their way, but Charissa led the pack on a detour past the library anyway, since she figured they'd all want to know where it was in the very near future.

And then they finally got up Ravenclaw Tower. Charissa was a little confused, when they reached the entrance, by just how easy the question was. It was the sun, obviously. After a second of thought, just short of blurting out the answer, she realised the riddle was for the incoming first-years, not her or Goldstein. So she sat back to wait for one of them to get it, but it didn't take long at all — one of the ones she'd marked as a probable muggleborn got it almost right away.

After the first-years had had a moment to stare around the common room, Flitwick bounded in, started in on the usual introduction speech. And that was it, her prefect duties for the day were over with. Charissa immediately made for the stairs, ascended a few levels, and slipped open the by now very familiar door.

And froze with shock when she saw, standing over a trunk by one of the two beds, obviously part way through unpacking... Charissa's eyes flicked to the other bed but, no, she hadn't gone to the wrong room, there was Augí lazily spread all over the covers. But...

'Charissa?' Padma asked, staring at her with an expression that looked faintly concerned. 'Is something wrong?'

She opened her mouth to answer, then thought better of it. She turned on her heel, stepping back into the hall, loosening her rigid control over her mind for only a moment. Thoughts and feelings not her own washed across her, but the mind she was looking for was most identifiable in that it wasn't showing her anything within, hard and dark and cold, yet vibrating with the ceaseless energy of a dozen angry hornets' nests. Charissa moved for the door she was certain that mind was waiting behind, turned the latch and pushed it open.

Sure enough, inside she quickly spotted Hermione, breaking off whatever she'd been saying to Morag in mid-sentence. For a long moment, Hermione just looked at her. Not much off a glare, to be honest. 'Charissa,' she managed eventually, just above a whisper.

It belatedly occurred to her she hadn't even seen Hermione for... Well, a couple weeks, anyway, Charissa couldn't remember exactly what the date had been when Hermione had broken up with her. Anyway, point was, she'd hardly even noticed. How had that happened? She'd been busy, she guessed, she hadn't really thought of it. Perhaps that was why she couldn't think of anything else to do besides just staring at her.

She absently noticed Morag slinking deeper into her side of the room, a silencing barrier springing up after a few seconds.

Finally, Charissa thought of something to say. 'You weren't in our room.'

Hermione's face tilted into a very strange look, a sort of crooked grimace. 'Er, no?'

'I mean...' Charissa let out a harsh breath, trying to dispel the uncomfortable itches crawling up her spine. She had no fucking clue what she was doing here. 'I just meant, that's why I came over here. You weren't in our room.'

'Were you...' That unreadable look was only getting more intense, Charissa still unsure what it was supposed to be. The disbelief growing in her eyes was far easier. '...checking up on me?'

'I guess so?' To be entirely honest, she wasn't sure what she was doing here. It'd just seemed the thing to do.

'I...' Hermione stared at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed in something not unlike suspicion. Then let out a long sigh, rubbing at her forehead with both hands, muttering something under her breath Charissa was too far away to hear. 'This isn't going to be a regular occurrence, is it?'

'I really can't say. It's not like I planned this.' Of course she hadn't, she hadn't anticipated Hermione moving to a different room — though perhaps she should have, in retrospect — so she hadn't had any cause to plan anything. 'I guess if you just...' Charissa hesitated a moment, biting at her lip. This would be so much easier if she had any idea what she was looking for here. 'I don't know. Promise to come to me if you have any problems with anything, anyone, and I'll promise to try not to be too...intrusive, I guess.'

Hermione let out an aggravated groan, head tipping back to glare at the ceiling as her arms came up to cross under her chest. 'This is ridiculous! I shouldn't have to promise you anything! I broke up with you, remember?'

'I remember.' Charissa had to stop herself there, going so far as biting her lip again — she highly doubted Hermione would take her saying So? at all well. She went on once she was sure she wouldn't say anything unfortunate. Well, as sure as she could be, anyway. 'That has nothing to do with this. Yes, we broke up, but that doesn't mean you're not—' She cut herself off again. Telling Hermione Charissa still considered her hers, no matter Hermione's own opinion on the matter, would probably be a very bad idea. 'I mean, that doesn't mean I don't still care. I don't know, I just have to make sure you're okay. That's it. No nefarious intent or anything. Tell me to piss off if you want, but then I'll get other people to look after you for me anyway.'

Hermione's face had slid through a few different expressions over that ramble, only some of which Charissa could even guess at, but at the end there she slipped back into anger. 'I don't need to be looked after!'

Charissa shrugged. 'I know.' Which was a total lie. Well, not really. She did know Hermione could more or less take care of herself without her, but it was also true Charissa could take care of her far better than Hermione could alone. But that was very near the top of the list she had in her head of things to never say to Hermione. 'It'll make me feel better, that's all.'

'Fine!' Hermione threw her hands in the air and everything, her face the very picture of frustrated surrender. 'Whatever! Fine!'

Charissa tried not to look too amused. She couldn't help it. This seemed like quite a dramatic overreaction, it was too funny. 'Fine?'

'Yes, fine. I'll try to remember.' That was a strange thing to say — Hermione remembered everything. Without another glance at Charissa, Hermione moved to her trunk, dug into it for a second, pulling out a familiar nightdress and throwing it on her bed much harder than necessary. Then she glanced around to turn another annoyed glare on Charissa. 'Well?'

'Well what?'

'Leave?'

Though she knew it might just make Hermione even more annoyed, Charissa still couldn't help a last narrow smirk before stepping back into the hall, pulling the door closed behind her.

Well. That was odd. No fucking clue what she was doing. She really hoped learning how to deal with Hermione as her ex-girlfriend wouldn't take nearly as long as it had Hermione as her girlfriend. Especially considering she still hadn't had it figured out when Hermione had broken up with her.

Not the time to put too much thought into that, though. She should go slip down to Slytherin quick. Hermione wasn't the only person in the castle she needed to be sure was well, after all.

---

Perry looked around the room he would be staying in for the next seven years, not entirely sure how to feel.

It was a nice room, certainly. Nicer than his at home in fact. All deep rosen woods and plush carpets and cushions, gleaming silver accents running along here or there. He suspected even the curtains around the bed were silk, which was a bit ridiculous. He'd gotten a room to himself, and even his own little bathroom, which he hadn't been sure would happen. Many people in Slytherin have their own rooms, yes, but some people end up sharing. His problem wasn't with the room he was in at the moment, no, that was fine. Though it was very...green. Green wasn't bad, just saying.

No, he still wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that he was in the Slytherin dorms right now. The whole idea was still strange. It didn't help that he barely knew anyone in his year — most of the kids who'd been put in Slytherin were people he had met, yes, but not really people he knew all that well. Generally from families his father avoided. All his pre-Hogwarts friends were in Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, which made this somewhat awkward. He had no bloody clue who he'd be talking to. Xeni, maybe? He didn't mind Xeni. He barely knew anyone else, though.

Well, okay, there were older students he knew, but he somehow doubted they'd appreciate him following them around all the time. They'd put up with him in their compartment, but he knew that'd mostly just been because he was Charissa's brother. He didn't expect them to be nearly so accommodating when Charissa wasn't around.

He'd just have to make new friends, he guessed. He could do that. Starting with Xeni, since they did sort of get along already, and she probably knew people, so that could be a stepping-off point. And there was Violet, he guessed. Sure, he could do that.

He meant, there had to be a few in his year who weren't completely terrible. Here's hoping.

He'd barely gotten changed for bed when there was a knock on his door. For a moment he was confused — who the hell would be coming to see him here, the first night at school? He barely even knew any Slytherins yet, certainly none he would expect to come to his room this late. But eventually he noticed a very slight tingle working up the back of his neck, that indescribable sense of a mind tugging slightly at his own. Ah, it was Charissa. Well, why did she bother knocking, then? He'd think she should just know when she was welcome and when she wasn't.

The door tipped open, only enough for Charissa to slip inside and close it behind her. He was slightly surprised to notice she wasn't wearing school robes, and not even the muggle-style jeans and tee shirt she'd transfigured them out of on the train, but an entirely different dress, in the white and red of their House. Or perhaps she'd just transfigured this too, he wouldn't be able to tell. 'I do know, of course,' Charissa was saying, a slight smile on her lips. 'It's just polite to ask.'

Perry frowned. 'It's only me, though.'

'True,' Charissa said with a shrug. 'But I should do it anyway. If I start cutting corners about that kind of thing too much, it'd be too easy to mess it up when it actually matters, just out of habit.' Well, he guessed that made sense. After a glance around the room, Charissa moved to the couch a bit to the side of the door, sinking to a seat; not really sure what else to do with himself, Perry sat on the edge of his bed, straight across from her. 'I just thought I'd check up on you quick. Make sure you're okay.'

He had guessed as much. He couldn't imagine any other reason Charissa would be here. 'Fine, I guess. Nothing's really happened. I've barely even talked to anyone yet.' Charissa raised an eyebrow, which he was compelled to match with a sheepish shrug. 'We all just went straight to our rooms after Vector's little welcome thing, and at dinner everyone was talking about Violet.'

Charissa's face tensed a bit. She didn't look concerned, exactly, but then she hardly actually looked anything. 'Yes, Violet. That might be a problem.'

'I think you helped a bit already, with the Parseltongue thing.' Once again, he was sorely tempted to tell her he was a Parselmouth too, but Mum had told him—

'She did what?'

Perry jumped at the outburst from Charissa, her voice somewhat louder and somewhat harder than it'd been a second ago. Her eyes were sharp and intense on him, and he couldn't help squirming a little. Partially out of guilt, admittedly. He hadn't meant to break his promise but, well, legilimens, whoops. His voice low and cautious, «Mother says no telling. Why, not known with me, only guess. Make me promise. Sorry.»

For a short moment, Charissa just stared at him, still save for the little twitches in his head he assumed was her looking around in there. Then she let out a hard sigh, rubbing at her forehead. «Yes. Good. I'm not annoyed with you. But I will have to ask Mother if she's a Speaker next time I see her.» Charissa sighed again, shaking her head to herself. 'But that's not really important right now, forget about it.'

Perry still felt a bit guilty. He hadn't meant to spark a fight between them. He hoped it wouldn't be too bad, though, it shouldn't be. By the way Charissa was acting, she didn't really care about the whole thing all that much anyway. And she wasn't annoyed with him, at least, which he'd admit he was a little selfishly relieved about. He'd rather Charissa not be annoyed with him. 'I am mostly fine, though. A little worried about barely knowing anyone. And, well, how Dad will react when he finds out.'

A very slight scowl touched Charissa's lips. 'Yes, he'll probably make an arse of himself. I'll send him a patrōnus in the morning telling him to behave.' Despite himself, he found the idea of his sister ordering their father to behave far too amusing, he couldn't suppress a grin. Charissa returned it with a baffled, reluctant smile, obviously catching the thought. 'I'm still surprised you're in Slytherin, though. I figured Hufflepuff. Maybe Ravenclaw, but...'

And now Perry was a bit uncomfortable, the grin immediately vanishing. 'Ah, I thought so too. And the Hat did say I had some Hufflepuff traits, but not enough.'

Charissa hummed a little. 'The Hat did nearly put me in Slytherin, you know. That's why I was a Hatstall — it couldn't decide between Slytherin and Ravenclaw.'

He wondered if that was supposed to be a surprise.

Shaking her head a bit, Charissa let out a sharp snort of laughter. 'No, I guess not, really. It bothered me for a while, wondering if I were too Slytherin-ish. I had expected to be put in Gryffindor, you see. Which is laughable in retrospect, I'll admit, but I was younger and stupider.'

Perry had a hard time imagining Charissa stupid. But he had been what, six at the time or something, so he guessed he probably wasn't the most informed on the subject.

Charissa was smiling a little, the slightly crooked expression only a shade off a proper smirk, probably having picked up what he was thinking again. 'But anyway, I kept trying to avoid doing Slytherin-ish things, trying to suppress that part of me as much as possible. Because I'd listened to Dad and Sirius too much, had absorbed the irrational mindset that those impulses are evil, and I was somehow wrong for even having them. Which is very stupid. I know plenty of Slytherins I like just fine, and they're not terrible people. To be honest, most of them are probably less objectionable than I am, morally speaking.' Her lips twitching wider, she said, 'You might have noticed this by now, I'm not exactly very nice.'

He almost had to laugh at that. No, he knew Charissa wasn't all that nice. Sort of scary sometimes, honestly. But she was nice enough to him, and she always had reasons for the scary things she did, so he really didn't care. 'You're saying that I shouldn't try to fight my own Slytherin-ness. To just accept it and move on.'

Charissa nodded. 'You'll be happier that way, that's for sure. No matter how you turn out, I'll still be here, Mum'll still be here. Linden too, probably, he likes you more than he does me. Dad might be a bit of a prick about it, but let me deal with that if he does. Even if I can't get him to stop being stupid, I'll be Lady Potter in time anyway, so any issues will be temporary. Don't worry about any of it. Just do as you like.'

For long seconds, Perry could only stare at Charissa. It had been extremely subtle, but... Had... Had Charissa just implied if Dad were to become too cruel to Perry she would just kill him and be done with it?

Still in his head as she was, one of Charissa's eyebrows just ticked up slightly. Right, that had been intentional, then. He had no idea how to feel about that.

Though it did get him randomly remembering what the Hat had said about Perry being a future (potential?) left hand.

It wasn't a thing that technically existed anymore. Not that it had even existed at the time, at least not officially, just a thing people said. Back before the Statute, when Noble Houses in general had been far more powerful than they were now, entrusted with lands and industries and entire communities of people in the combined muggle–magical world, many of them were said to have a right and left hand. Or multiple of each, really, it varied. Many had grown as famous as the Lord they served, some still remembered in songs and literature long after their Lords had been forgotten entirely. When he thought of the concept, he mostly thought of the most well-known right and left hands of Lord Henry Black, one of the very last pre-Statue High Enchanters, widely considered the most successful and most popular person to ever hold the office.

The most famous of his right hands was his eldest daughter Bellatrix — the frequent use of the name by the Blacks in the centuries since was originally inspired by this one, in fact. Lord Henry was a very wealthy, very powerful man, conducting business in practically every market in existence, with ties to most of the magical and muggle leadership in Britain as well as a whole host of foreign countries. The point was, he simply couldn't be everywhere he had to be at once. So, he'd selected Bellatrix to speak and act in his stead when he couldn't. Bellatrix handled much of his above-board affairs. Managing businesses and contacts, arranging contracts and alliances, even voting in his place in the Wizengamot when he had other pressing business. A few times, she'd even stood for him when he'd been challenged to duels by one sore loser or another — she hadn't been misnamed, after all. Bellatrix had been greatly respected in her time, not only for her skill with a wand, which had been appropriately intimidating, but also for her intelligence, and articulateness, and just general respectability, serving her Lord and furthering the cause of her House with unimpeachable social grace.

Her daughter, on the other hand, was an entirely different story. Nymphadora, Perry's cousin Dora's namesake, had at a very early age taken over as Lord Henry's favourite left hand. Much like the Dora he knew, this Nymphadora had also been a metamorph — he assumed that was why Aunt Andi had chosen the name in the first place — and an absolutely deadly dark witch. As her Lord's left hand, Nymphadora's job was to act in his stead in places he shouldn't go, with people he shouldn't meet. Peasants too far below his station for it to be entirely appropriate, primitive peoples or magical races that were too politically toxic for him to be seen with, various criminals he couldn't openly associate with for the obvious reasons. And she also took care of the dirty work he couldn't do personally. Threats, abductions, kidnappings, blackmail. During his meteoric rise, eventually all the way to High Enchanter, literally the single most important person in British magical society, Lord Henry's most ardent enemies had this peculiar way of just...disappearing. Nymphadora had been assassinating them, of course, but nobody could prove that. Nobody knew for sure and, since the various philanthropic activities of House Black had made Henry extremely popular with muggles and mages of all walks of life, nobody looked into it too closely.

Those who did, admittedly, had the same disappearing problem.

He'd heard rumours Nymphadora was still around, somewhere. She had been a metamorph, after all, and they didn't technically have a maximum lifespan as normal people did, so it was theoretically possible. It was known for certain she'd survived the war with the Dark Lady Cromwell, and she had once addressed the Wizengamot late in the Nineteenth Century (though even at the time many had raised doubts she was who she'd said she was). Everything more recent than that were only unconfirmed rumours and stories. But it was still interesting to think about, that she could still be out there. Waiting in the shadows, watching over her numerous descendants, occasionally making the worst of their enemies disappear.

She wasn't the only famous (or infamous) left hand, just the one he knew best. And the thought of doing what she was known to have done...

'Would you really do it?'

He blinked, looked up at Charissa. She was giving him a steady look he couldn't quite read. Her face was mostly blank, eyes only slightly narrowed, unmoving on his, gaze so heavy he could nearly feel it weighing him down. 'Do what?'

Charissa tilted her head slightly, leaning forward in her seat. 'Serve as my left hand, if I asked it of you.'

'I...' Perry tried not to squirm in place, but he couldn't really help it, he was suddenly feeling distractingly awkward. 'Ah, well. I don't think you really need one.'

Charissa shrugged. 'You never know. But whether you ever will aside, you would?'

He... The sort of things left hands did in the stories, all the sneaking and the spying and the hurting and the killing... 'I really don't think I'd be very good at it.'

That one, Charissa snorted at, for some reason. 'You might be surprised. And that wasn't an answer either.'

He guessed it wasn't. But, when it came down to it, it wasn't a hard question to answer. 'I think I would. If you asked me to, I think I would, yeah.' Charissa didn't say anything, just staring at him, seeming almost... No, "confused" wasn't quite the right word. Fascinated? Like she hadn't seen this coming, and had never heard such a thing in her life, and wasn't sure how to respond to something so...big, he guessed. 'Is that bad?'

'Not bad.' Charissa's face tensed a little in the slightest of frowns, only a moment before she shrugged. 'I don't understand it. It's unfathomable to me. To love someone enough to willingly serve them in such a way...' She shook her head. 'Can't imagine myself doing that.'

Not entirely surprising, he'd admit. 'Not even for Mum?'

Charissa hesitated a couple seconds. 'Not exactly, no. If she wanted me to do something specific, and she had a good enough reason for it, then I would do it. But I doubt I'd be able to obey even her unthinkingly. I simply don't think I'm capable of committing myself to the sort of thing. Doesn't come naturally to me.'

Despite himself, Perry thought he felt a smile coming to his face. 'I suppose that's why you're the Lady and I'm the hand.'

Charissa just smiled. 'Getting ahead of yourself there, Perry. Neither of us are either of those things yet.' While he tried to think of some way to respond to that, Charissa got to her feet, slowly padded across the strip of floor to stand right in front of him. Sitting on the bed, his head was lower than hers, but she was short enough it wasn't by very much. She stared at him, for just a second, head slightly cocked. Then she raised a hand, bringing slightly cool fingertips to his cheek.

And then... He wasn't entirely sure what happened. One moment everything was normal, and the next... It was her magic, it had to be her magic. He knew Mum usually held it in, and Charissa must do something similar. He could usually feel more around Charissa than he could Mum anyway — a slight air of reckless energy, warm cheerfulness — but she must be holding it back as much as she could. Because this was...

It was absolutely amazing. His eyes twitched and burned, as though looking too close at something too bright, despite there not being anything that could possibly cause it, a hot, pleasant tingle ran over his skin head to toe, making him shiver. And it was in his chest, his very blood, an eager thrill of sharp power, filling his nose with grass and setting him to nearly bounce in place with irrepressible, hyperactive energy sprung from nowhere. And it was in his ears, a haunting, jangling chorus of alien voices, giggling in harmony, his head filled with warmth and agony and pleasure and possibility and adoration, and he knew Charissa was sifting through his mind right now, examining him at an intimate depth she'd never done before, perhaps never done on anyone before, but he entirely didn't care, she could stay in there as long as she wanted, she could do whatever she wanted, he wanted her to—

Then, abruptly, it was over, the foreign magic leaving him so quickly he was left gasping. Charissa had one hand on his shoulder, as though holding him from flopping boneless off the bed, the fingers of the other threaded through his hair. His forehead came against the cloth of her dress over her chest, he honestly didn't know if he'd leaned forward himself or Charissa had put him there. He was too dizzy, too disoriented, too distracted by his own desperate breathing to really pay enough attention.

'Sorry about that, Perry,' she whispered, her breath flicking through the hairs at the top of his head. 'I didn't realise that would be quite so overwhelming.'

''s okay.' At least, he was pretty sure it was okay. That had been a bit much. And now that it was gone he was feeling a bit exhausted and...fragile? Didn't feel like the right word. He wasn't used to having that much magic run through him, was all, feeling that many impossibly intense things at once. He didn't feel quite right, all raw and shaky and thin. He could really do with going to sleep right about now.

'You probably should. It is late, and it has been a long day.'

'Hmm.' He guessed so. Though he was rather curious what she' been looking for in his head anyway.

'Nothing too important. Just checking how serious you were about this, and whether you have the mental fortitude to actually do it. The latter isn't easy, by the way, involves some of the deepest reading Severus taught me to do.'

'Did I pass?'

His face was still against her chest — his eyes were closed anyway — but he could tell from her voice Charissa would be smiling. Probably a crooked smile, but a smile all the same. 'Yes, Perry, you "passed". You're stronger than you think you are. You could do nearly anything you set your mind to, I believe.'

'Hmm.' Honestly, he thought he'd just rather stay with Charissa. He could do the whole...left hand-y thing. He meant, if he wouldn't be too terrible at it. That was fine. If it was what Charissa wanted, if he could actually do it, he would.

Charissa chuckled a little, felt more than heard. 'Silly boy.' The words were said with a trace of mockery, but the way her fingers gently slid through his hair was almost uncharacteristically affectionate, he didn't mind. 'Perhaps I should start teaching you quite a bit more than just wandless magic. If you really intend to do this, I mean.'

He hadn't gotten that great with wandless magic anyway. It was hard. He'd managed a few basic charms by now, but not a lot.

'A few basic charms is better than I was at your age.'

Perry couldn't even attempt to repress his immediate skepticism at the thought, it was just reflex.

And Charissa was laughing at him again. 'Yes, you are a very silly boy, aren't you. Come on,' she said, hand disentangling itself from his hair, moving down to his other shoulder. 'Into bed with you, before you simply pass out.'

Without really meaning to, Perry's hands had come up, fisting themselves into Charissa's dress. 'Can you...' He trailed off before he could even get the thought off, doubting himself. He couldn't imagine Charissa would want to, he knew she would be annoyed by the whole idea. And besides, it was rather embarrassing. He was supposed to be eleven here, he was being ridiculous, he didn't know why he'd even asked.

'Stay, you mean?' Charissa let out a long sigh. He levered his eyes open, peeked up to find her staring at the ceiling. 'I suppose I didn't help, shooting all that magic through you and digging into your head.'

Oh. He guessed that could have something to do with how weird and unsettled he was feeling right now. He hadn't really thought about it. He just...didn't want her to go. Which was silly. He really shouldn't...

'It's fine, Perry. I don't mind. Not like I have someone waiting for me in my dorm anyway.' Her voice sounded slightly bitter saying that, but Perry was too exhausted to ask after it. 'Just give me a minute.'

Before he could barely blink, Charissa had extricated herself somehow, and had disappeared into his bathroom, door clicking shut behind her. All right then. He tipped over, slid up properly on the pillows, wiggled himself under the sheets. After only a few seconds he decided it would be too hot under here, peeled the quilt off the top and sat up to throw it back. There, that'd probably be fine. It was a bit chilly in the dungeons, but since Charissa would be here it'd be warmer than it would be normally.

The door opened again, and Charissa was walking into the room. She looked around for a couple seconds before spotting the hook just to the side of the door — for cloaks, he assumed — started walking toward it. Before even getting there, Charissa had already pulled her dress over her head. When she started tugging at the slip she wore under it, Perry turned onto his side, facing away. He was well aware Charissa didn't care, and knowing her probably didn't even understand the concept of modesty, but it seemed like the sort of thing he should do anyway, so he did.

He was pretty sure he heard her snickering at him again. Which he didn't think he entirely deserved, but okay.

After a few seconds, the lights went out, and a moment after that the sheets lifted as Charissa got into bed behind him. His immediate impulse was to slide in against her, but he checked himself. For one thing, he really had no idea why he was being so weird and clingy all of a sudden. He knew Charissa wouldn't appreciate it, a bit of an understatement, but it wasn't really normal behaviour for him either. How much he'd like Charissa to be holding him right now was really quite strange. He was just in an off mood, he guessed. He wouldn't say anything, though, he knew Charissa hated that sort of thing, so he'd just—

'Go on, then.'

Perry nearly jumped at her voice, feeling oddly guilty, he wasn't even sure why. It took him a second to figure out what she was saying. 'Erm, are you sure? I don't need to—'

'Oh, shut up.' Perry had only a very brief warning, a faint tingling something sliding against his skin, before he was yanked backward, rolling half-over as he went, in an instant coming to rest against a warm, soft shape he knew had to be Charissa. 'You are such a pain sometimes.'

Squirming at the almost nauseating shifting heat in his stomach, Perry muttered, 'Sorry.'

'It's fine.' Her voice turning a bit teasing, 'I'm long accustomed to dealing with you being annoying by now.'

Yeah, that wasn't making Perry any less embarrassed. He ignored it though, settling in against Charissa, shifting his head onto her shoulder, arm slipping high over her waist. At least, that's what he meant to do. Apparently, in the darkness he misjudged where exactly his arm was in relation to her, because his fingers suddenly hit resistance where they shouldn't have, and he realised what was going on right about when he noticed against his palm what he was pretty sure was— 'Sorry! Sorry!' His hand jumped away as though scalded, his heart jumping hard into his throat, and he started pulling back from Charissa.

But he didn't get very far, Charissa's hand on his back stopping him from sliding away. 'Relax, Perry, I'm not angry.' If anything, he noticed with some confusion, she seemed to think his sudden panic was just funny. While he tried to get his breathing back under control — sort of odd, how fast it'd completely run away from him — Charissa shifted a bit, her fingers finding his wrist, dragging his arm over her waist. 'There. Nothing to be so silly about. Settle down.'

He did realise he was being somewhat silly. He couldn't help it though. He didn't want to make Charissa angry, and he imagined that just there was the sort of thing that, even when done completely on accident, could easily make girls angry. So, even though she'd waved the whole thing off, he still felt the need to mutter, 'Sorry,' again.

'Whatever. You start getting to sleep before I decide to just hit you with a sleeping charm.'

That probably wasn't a bad idea in any case. His face was still so hot with embarrassment, heart still thudding distractingly in his ears, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get to sleep anytime soon as it was.

A few moments passed in silence, Perry trying the whole time to force himself to stop being ridiculous, with some moderate success. It helped that he was sleepy, and Charissa was all warm and comfortable. He thought he even noticed that same easing of previously unnoticed tension he'd gotten earlier, meeting Mum on the train. But then he was jerked around a little when Charissa shook with sudden laughter, by the hissing sound of it choked behind her teeth but still strong enough to escape. It went on for long seconds, Perry bobbing a bit with each half-suffocated snicker.

He had absolutely no idea what she was laughing about, come out of nowhere. He was rather curious, even though he suspected she might be making fun of him again. Oh well. 'What?'

'Nothing,' she gasped, voice thin and breathless from laughter. 'I was just randomly thinking, you know, that thing boys do for some reason, talking about sexual stuff they've done and—' Charissa broke off a moment, giggles partially muffled, probably by a hand over her mouth. '—and then you mention groping your sister in bed and—' And she dissolved into laughter some more.

Turning rather hot and squirming again, Perry pressed his face into Charissa's shoulder, letting out a long groan. 'Charissa,' her name drawn out sounding rather whiny, 'stop that.'

It took her a few seconds to gather her breath enough to speak. 'Hey, you're the one who wanted to know what was so funny. Don't ask next time.'

Grumbled under his breath, Perry said, 'I didn't mean to, just an accident, not my fault you just have to be half-naked...'

'I'm completely naked, actually.'

Perry froze. Er...

'Oh, calm down, silly boy.' The hand behind his back moving a bit, her voice turning low and slow and meticulously serious, Charissa said, 'You're too young for me.' And then Charissa's fingers were in his hair, roughly messing it about.

He turned his face fully into Charissa's shoulder, fruitlessly hoping that would be enough to hide his mortification. Which he knew was ridiculous, Charissa was a bloody legilimens, but it still seemed the thing to do. His voice sounding far too much like whining, 'Charissa! You're evil.'

When she again burst into laughter, just how much it sounded like wicked cackling did less than nothing to prove him wrong.

---

In case anyone is curious, Xeni is short for Polixeni (Greek: Πολυξένη), and Ceri is a nickname for Cerðwyn.

[she hadn't been misnamed, after all] — In Latin, the name literally means warrior woman. (bellum = "war" -› bellō "I wage war; fight" {plus} -trīx (feminine agentive suffix) -› bellātrīx "woman who wages war")

---

Well, that was interesting. No comment on...a lot of things that just happened, actually.

Yes, this chapter is a bit late, sorry about that. Well, technically, it is only a week after the last TRW chapter, but that one was significantly delayed. For those who don't also read TRW, much of my lateness is due to driving over seven hundred miles, followed by various distractions. This entire chapter was written sitting on LeighaGreene's couch. So there's that.

I know I've said this before, but I'll try to get back on schedule.

~Wings