"You are not allowed to steal my cousin," Pansy remarks while plopping down into the seat beside him after boarding the train back to Hogwarts. "He's my cool cousin, get your own."
"I'm not stealing your cousin," Atlas remarks flatly, glancing out the window to spot the boy in question standing amongst Pansy's family on the platform. If Atlas recalled correctly he would be heading back to Beauxbatons the next day.
"The two of you spent the whole of yesterday together."
"Hardly the whole day," Atlas states, shifting upon the seat to relax further. "We talked books and theories, things you expressed boredom in and flitted off after five minutes of." Atlas glances her way as she is rolling her eyes. He does not mention the fact that after she had departed the two had spent a bit of time not talking as well.
"All the more reason you shouldn't steal him away," She pouts, "when it was the two of you the conversation got boring. When it's just me and him it was far more interesting with him telling me all the fun gossip of the kids at Beauxbatons."
"English wizards and witches not entertaining enough for you?" Theodore, thankfully, interjects as he slides into the compartment.
"More like been there done that," Pansy drawls. "I know all the scandals here, but learning about all the drama in France? Very entertaining. There's part-veelas there apparently."
"Sounds exciting," Theodore says with excessive faux excitement to his voice. He glances at Atlas, looking pointedly at the book resting open already upon his legs. "Going to read the whole ride back? Do you ever tire of the written word?"
"Do you ever tire of the spoken?" Atlas retorts, the other boy laughing and shrugs.
"My voice is a beauty. Why deprive you of it?"
"I've heard you singing in the shower, Nott," Malfoy drawls as he drops down into the seat beside Theodore. "You sound more like a mandrake than any sort of beauty."
"Thank Merlin for stone walls keeping our delicate ears from ever having to hear that in the girls dormitory." Daphne jokes.
"My singing is a gift and you would be lucky to receive it, Greengrass."
"I think it's one gift Daphne would return in a heartbeat." Mina laughs.
"Gah," Theodore shakes his head, crossing his arms and putting on a put out expression. "Everyone is a critic it seems."
"We were all simply raised with high standards," Atlas remarks, "can't blame us for sticking to them."
Theodore rolls his eyes, but is smiling. He nods Atlas's way, "well, mister high standards, fancy putting that book down for a change and playing a game? You know, the way most find entertainment on long rides to school?"
Atlas ponders it a second, and is struck with the memory of Eliot's lips and the words he'd spoken on life and fun.
He sighs, laying on some bit of exasperation, lifting his book as though he were going to pointedly ignore Nott's request. And instead shuts it, settling it between his leg and the wall of the compartment. "Alright, but you better make it worth my time, Nott."
Theodore, with a glimmer of surprise that Atlas was actually taking him up for once, smiled wide and bright and nodded. "Five galleons?"
"That's a start." Atlas nods, a bit of challenge in the own slyer smile he puts forth.
And for once he spends the journey to Hogwarts with his book put away and enjoying conversation during a back forth game of exploding snap with Theodore.
It's only about a week after the return to school that Atlas is sat at a table alone in a quiet nook of the library only to be startled a bit from his reading by Hermione Granger dropping her books upon the table.
He collects himself and watches as she starts spreading her stuff across the opposite half of the little table he had found for himself. Her hair is a bit wilder than usual, as though she's been running her hands through it a lot more, and she moves with tense energy as she shuffles books about and pulls out her quill and ink. A bit of ink splotches out onto the table and she lets out a very loud and frustrated sigh.
Atlas clears his throat, raising a brow delicately in question as she glances his way finally. "I wasn't aware of inviting you to share my table, Granger."
She frowns, "I need to study."
"Yes, well I'm sure there are plenty of other places…"
"Please?" She near whines in the breathless word. "All the other tables are full up, and I'd study in the common room but Harry and Ron are still mad at me and it makes it very hard. Plus this is right by the section I need for Arithmancy."
Atlas studies her a second further, and can clearly see the bit of stress whatever relationship issues she's having with her two companions is holding on her. Plus the usual amount of stress Hermione tends to exhibit from what Atlas has come to realize is an excess amount of classes, the amount of which he has figured should be impossible but the girl seems like the sort to figure that out for herself.
So finally he lets out a put out sigh and shrugs. "Fine, so long as you aren't a bother."
She glares his way, "I'm not the one who writes in books."
He smirks, "lucky for you Pince would likely murder me if I even thought of writing in any of her precious library books."
"Still," Hermione tuts, "it's an awful method of taking notes."
"My marks say otherwise."
She makes a hum of disbelief before pulling the first book from her treacherous tower of books before her and begins to read. Looking down to his own work, Atlas shifts from his reading of the Arthimancy textbook to actually writing the paper due soon.
He's halfway through the paper when he sighs and glances up, Hermione having been staring his way the last several minutes.
"Yes, what is it?"
She flushes, and shakes her head, "nothing."
"You've clearly got something to say, as you have been not working and instead staring at me the last five minutes."
"I have not been staring at you." She defends.
"You entirely have."
"I've just been thinking, nothing to do with you." She's a bit too red in the face for him to fully believe her. "And you're directly in front of me, there's not really anywhere else to look."
"There's plenty of other places to look," he waves a hand about the library. "Or you could always just look at your book. So what is it?"
"Nothing." She shakes her head, and forces her eyes down to her page, her mass of curls falling forward a bit and blocking her face.
He sighs, leaning back in his seat and stretching out a second. He sighs, figuring he could personally use a break from the mind numbing science of Arthimancy, "well, if you won't tell me whatever you wanted to say. What is it exactly the two wonder boys are mad at you for?"
She frowns at whatever she hears in his tone before sighing, "Ron is being a bit thick headed, he is mad at me because my cat Crookshanks keeps attacking his rat. He's really just being ridiculous about it all."
"He's mad at a cat for being a cat," Atlas scoffs, shaking his head. "And Potter?"
She frowns, looking a bit more guilty for whatever that is rooted in before shaking it away and straightening her shoulders. "He got a new broom for Christmas and McGonagall confiscated it for inspection."
"And he's mad at you about that because…?"
She sighs, "I was the one who told her about it."
"What's so suspicious about the broom?" He inquires. He'd heard of the tragedy of Potters Nimbus 2000 falling into the Whomping Willow during the match where the Dementors had appeared. But a new broom was not something he'd heard anything about, likely for the fact it was confiscated.
"It was an anonymous gift, and while I recognize it seems to be a well made broom, it could also very well be jinxed." She crosses her arms and huffs, "I was really just looking out for him, but he's all angry at me for it. But with Sirius Black going about it's perfectly reasonable for me to be worried over mystery gifts appearing for him." Atlas ignores the slight hiccup of a pause she has after saying his uncles name.
"You did what you figured was right," Atlas shrugs, leaning back forward onto the table and lifting his quill. "And honestly you are right, it's not the smartest thing to take unidentified gifts without at least getting them checked out."
She nods, but it's distracted. He pauses his quill, and sighs when he recognizes the look of curiosity in her gaze.
Hermione is hesitating though at asking, and though he now knows what exactly she wants to ask right now he wonders if it was the same as whatever had been on her mind before. "Alright just spit it out."
"I—" she clears her throat and leans forward. "I know you don't like talking about him, and that you don't know much…"
"So why even think of asking?"
"Because even though you've never met him," she speaks clearly, and low for the library setting. "You are related to him, and well surely you've heard at least a little bit about him, more than the general public at least."
Atlas sighs, setting his quill back down and running a hand over his face. "What exactly are you fishing for about my uncle, Granger?"
She licks her lips in consideration before inquiring, "do you have any… insight as to why he did he what he did?"
Atlas raises a brow, "insight?"
"I mean…" she sighs shaking her head as she doesn't seem entirely sure where she's going with this. She pauses, glances his way with a look that treads on the edge of trepidation before hesitantly asking, "your family is, uh," she sighs looking fairly uncomfortable, "pureblood?"
His chin raises, he's not entirely sure he wants to enter this sort of discussion with her considering their differences in origin, but he goes on anyhow "yes."
She nods, and with just as much hesitation asks "and do they… are they of the belief…"
"Do we buy in to the pureblood's are better than muggleborns ideals?" He finishes for her.
She flushes again, before nodding with a look to her eye that relays some fear over what exactly he'll tell her. Does she really care that much what he thinks of her blood status?
He sighs, and settles back in his chair. "The Black family dates as far back as the Middle Ages, and are fairly strict about the bloodline. Anyone who doesn't fit into familial expectations tend to be disowned so as not to ruin the families record of blood purity. I mean we are part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."
"Sacred Twenty-Eight?" Hermione's brow furrows. "I've never heard of…"
"Twenty-Eight families that were found to be truly pureblood by the 1930s," He informs her. "Funnily enough your friend Weasley is also part of that list."
Hermione frowns, but seems to push that bit away, focused on what she is looking for and not any distractions Atlas could offer. "So your family believes in it all, the idea that pureblooded wizards and witches are better?" She still holds that hesitation.
Atlas hesitates himself, before sighing with his decision to lay it out for her entirely, plainly. "My father was a Death Eater, if that answers anything for you. My grandparents were proud of him for it, if that makes it clearer."
Hermione blinks, clearly surprised by his candor. "He was?"
"Yes," Atlas pauses before adding, "though if it makes you feel better he died because he got cold feet about the whole thing." At least that was what Atlas was always told.
She swallows, and nods. "So you were raised to think as much as well?"
Atlas nods, "my grandmother holds it as the most important thing. Would view you quite poorly. Like I said, the Black family is one of the more ancient of the pureblooded houses of Britain, our motto is even Tojours Pur."
"Tojours Pur?" Hermione repeats, seeming to run the words through her mind in effort of translating the saying.
"Always Pure." He shrugs.
"So you…" She pushes just the slightest bit further, "I mean you've never really treated me poorly."
Atlas shrugs, "I recognize that it is the way I have been brought up, and don't try to believe me to be some rebel against the society I live in. I don't care for it myself, I've grown up all around the other pureblooded families and can say safely many of them are pompous dicks." Hermione frowns, "and I've met plenty of half-bloods and muggleborns who are also pompous dicks." He smiles even as Hermione frowns further at his apparent choice of wording. "At the end of the day, I don't really care. I mean I see witches like you, with no magical ancestry to be traced, that rise to the top of the class easily. And then I see wizards like Goyle, who has magical ancestry dating back at least a few centuries, who can barely use a wand let alone perform any substantial magical feats."
Hermione nods, taking a few moments to think over it all. Before nodding further and looking at him with renewed determination, "so Sirius Black would have also been raised like that. And I mean your father was a death eater and your grandparents supported it, so clearly it isn't entirely unbelievable that he was one too."
She was grappling for explanation, and he thought for a moment on that one. It would make sense, raised the way they were, to fall into the ease of pureblood ideology. It fit an easy picture, an easy explanation for why Sirius Black served Voldemort, for why he sold out the Potters.
But Atlas is brought back to Eliot's words on the balcony on New Years.
It all depends on how much of the picture you have. And the picture Hermione was grappling for was not a complete one.
Atlas figures he has a bit more than what Granger is running off of. "Perhaps," he finally settles on saying, "but I don't think it's really that simple. It'd be nice if it was."
"What do you mean?"
He leans forward again, picking up his quill and rolling it through his fingers. "My uncle was sorted into Gryffindor. And from what I have heard that was very much viewed as the first of his many, many, rebellions against what our family stands for." He looks to Hermione, seeing her looking back with intense attention. "He befriended Potters father, a man part of a pureblooded family well known to be blood-traitors, and from what my grandmother has told me my uncle was very vocal against the ideals of the pureblood supremacy that You-Know-Who would use to rise to power."
"He could have changed his mind?" Hermione grapples for a last bit of the easiest explanation.
"Maybe he did," Atlas shrugs. "It's possible, perhaps. But it doesn't really make much sense to me personally, you know." And it hadn't, most of Atlas's life since he learned of Sirius Black and the reason he was in Azkaban. The question of why, the pieces not really fitting, had rested in Atlas mind somewhere to not be examined for a long time now. "I mean, how does a man who was so vocally against his families ideals, who got disowned at sixteen and ran away to the Potters residence for refusing to bend to them, suddenly only a few years later decide to join up with a man who voices those same ideals? How does he betray someone who took him in as family, made him godfather to his son?" Atlas shrugs again, "I suppose at the end of the day, only one person can answer those questions."
Hermione nods, a furrow between her brows in deep consideration over it all.
"Now," Atlas settles his quill against his parchment once more, "may I finish this essay, or do you have any more inquires into my family?"
She blushes, just a tiny bit, and shakes her head. Brown curls bouncing with the movement before she drops her head to her own papers and forces herself into working as well. Atlas watches her a few moments before returning to his own work.
But his mind lingers a bit on the questions Hermione had posed. On the one he had posed too at the end, at all the pieces of Sirius Black that didn't really make sense and he wonders just a bit what pieces are missing still.
Slytherin beats Ravenclaw in the quidditch match held during January. And as such the common room is a rare place of loud celebration.
Where typically Atlas can typically find himself at least a modicum of peace within the lake lit room in the quiet day to day of his housemates, with the most disturbance being the pestering of one or more of his classmates settling in around him and partaking in conversation with the intention of dragging him along into their social affair. Days like this he were better off avoiding the space all together as Slytherins were nothing if not more than happy to boast about their successes.
He would have avoided it entirely, but Mina had hooked her arm through his on the way back up from the quidditch pitch and tugged him along with little willingness to listen to his wish to not suffer through the social atmosphere that came after a victorious quidditch game. He would have just slipped into his dorm but Mina had settled him onto one of the dark leather couches and soon enough Theodore had dropped into the spot next to him and Daphne had sat on the other side of Theodore, laying her legs out over him and just a bit on top of Atlas.
He was effectively trapped and he scowled a bit with it for the first several minutes as people excitedly recounted the game before him.
Malfoy arrived not long after, puffed up like a proud peacock from his for once successful capture of the snitch. Pansy was sat beside him on the couch opposite from the one Atlas sat on, leaning close to the blond boy who held a smarmy look that said he was very much enjoying the attention. Crabbe and Goyle settled on the floor leaning against Malfoy's couch, chortling and whooping as they tossed Bertie Botts back and forth trying and often failing to catch them within their mouths. Millicent Bulstrode took the spot on the other side of Malfoy, leaning against the armrest heavily and laughing when the two boys on the floor argued over which had hit the most bludgers into the Ravenclaws chasers.
Even the other typical recluse of their year was out and sat amongst them, Blaise Zabini lounging in the armchair between the heads of the two couches. Lithe legs stretched out before him and typical uninterested expression of arrogance poised on his face. When one of the thrown Berties Botts beans landed on his lap he flicked it off with a roll of his eyes.
Atlas resigns to the company eventually, stretching his own legs out before him and leaning back on the sofa and listening to the ambiance of chatter about the room. He can hear underneath it all the typical sounds of the common room, the low hum of the Black Lake in which the rooms extended partway under. Sometimes, if one really listened, the musical sounds of the merpeoples songs could be heard.
There is a loud shout of jeering laughter over in another part of the common room, Atlas glancing to see his older housemates cheering on as two witches kiss after a round of spin the bottle. He glances away, thinking of his own lips pressed to another's and figures there is some fun to be found in social activities, even if most of the people in his company were a bother to him.
Most people bother him anyways. It's just about finding the ones who do so the least.
"Oh come on," Theodore's shoulder bumps Atlas as he leans forward to point aggressively Malfoy's way. "Ballycastle Bats over fucking Puddlemere United any day. The way the Bats are going they're shoe ins for getting the new record of wins in just a few years."
"Puddlemere is a classic," Malfoy drawls, "the oldest team and it still holds an impressive amount of wins." And the Malfoys hold significant financial shares of the team and have for generations. Though Atlas doubts Malfoy will admit that as reason for his support of the older team.
"But not the most," Daphne responds, "that goes to Montgrose. The Magpies hold a solid lead over them all. Puddlemere has the years, and Ballycastle has certainly made its way up in the ranks quickly, but Montgrose is the safest bet by way of statistics."
"I personally will continue rooting for the Harpies." Mina puts forth, holding fast to a team she's loved as long as Atlas has known her, despite it's average placing in the league.
Crabbe and Goyle boo at her while Malfoy scoffs a laugh, "please, the Harpies are a pity team. Just for press, all girls as it is. It's not one to be taken serious."
Both Daphne and Mina throw heavy pillows his way, while Millicent slams her fist against him and Pansy glares wickedly despite her still draping a bit upon him.
"I'm certain any of the girls in this room would be more willing to curse you, and not just for press Malfoy." Atlas chuckles.
"Ah, well then will you be betting on the Harpy's too then Atlas?"
He ponders, and shrugs, "no, Daphne makes a good point on the Montgrose, safest bet is there."
"Always the cautious one," Theodore teases, leaning back and bumping his shoulder to Atlas's more purposefully.
"Well there is one thing I think we all can agree upon," Blaise speaks up, low and drawling. "Any team is a better than the Chudley Cannons."
"Ugh," Pansy scrunches her face, "a farce of a team that one."
"They even make the Harpies look good." Malfoy nods, earning yet another punch from Millicent.
"Can we move on from the discussion of Quidditch? I think I've had enough of it for one evening," Daphne inquires.
"Not a fan of the game, Greengrass?" Malfoy asks.
"The league statistics are fun to look at, but the actual sport? Not really, it's not my thing."
"And what do you suggest instead?"
Pansy leans forward, "I think if we play our cards right we might be able to swipe one of the bottles of firewhiskey the seventh years smuggled in." She peers over to the lounging group of upperclassmen, each with a glass of the liquid in their hands.
"Do you really wish to risk that?" Daphne voices worriedly, "I mean I don't know if you heard but their was a group of fourth years that once took some fire whiskey from seventh years and the next morning woke up to find they could only speak in tongues, the bottle having been hexed against unwanted consumption."
"We could always take the risk and ask?" Millicent puts forth. "What danger is that?"
"Hexes and curses for one," Daphne reiterates.
Pansy nods, glancing the way of the elder housemates. "And cruel dismissal and laughter in tandem I'm sure."
"Well lets find something fun to do please," Theodore drones, hanging his head back over the couch to look at the ceiling. Atlas ponders himself a few moments before some little thought strikes him. He stands and heads for the exit from the Slytherin common rooms. "Oi! Where are you going?"
"Surprised he lasted this long," Malfoy drawls sardonically.
Only a few steps out of the common room he's caught up to by Mina and Theodore. Both casting curious glances his way.
"So…" Mina bumps her shoulder against Atlas, "where exactly are we headed after curfew?"
"I hope it's something fun and not the library." Theodore states, glancing about the darkened empty hallways.
"Perhaps it is, you know of my fondness for books after all." Atlas muses, smirking the other boys way.
Theodore's eyes narrow and then he pokes Atlas's shoulder. "You're having me on," he shakes his head, chuckling quietly. "Alright I can tell you're keen on keeping it a secret, lead the way and if we get caught I'm telling them you imperiused me."
"Like I'd need to." Atlas glances at the boy, raising a brow and Theodore chuckles again.
"Shush," Mina stops them at the base of the stairs heading up, the three listening quietly as footsteps pass the top of the stairway before fading away.
"Come on," Atlas ushers them forward.
The three quietly make their way up the castle, stopping on occasion to avoid patrolling Prefects. At one point Mina pulls them all into a classroom, and they listen to the soft passing paws of Mrs. Norris as she patrols herself.
"Here," Atlas stops them eventually.
Theodore scoffs, "the Defense room? Did we really come all this way for books after all?"
Atlas rolls his eyes, "I noticed once that there's an old bottle of Odgens in the back office."
"Scandalous," Theodore snickers, "Think Lupin's a drunk?"
"He hardly seems the type," Mina says as Atlas tries the door, it's locked but still as easy and simple to unlock as it had been the night he'd come to see the Boggart. Atlas pushes away any prospect of the Boggart still being somewhere within.
"I don't know," Theodore shrugs, "those rags he wears sometimes, you'd think even with a teachers salary he's be able to afford some a bit newer, maybe he's spending it all on booze."
"Doubt it," Atlas speaks up after unlocking the door and nods the other two in. "More like it's something left behind by some other professor, or it's his, doesn't matter either way. Come on."
"Ah yes sorry, I should know better than to speak ill on your favorite professor." Theodore teases.
"Don't be a prick, Nott." Mina shoves at him, smiling Atlas's way but he just shrugs.
"Nott, if I didn't spend so much time with Lupin then I wouldn't know this was here, and you wouldn't be potentially enjoying it tonight."
"Fair enough."
Atlas leads the way to the back office, and pulls his wand once they step into the dark lit space, "Lumos." He whispers glancing about for the little dusty corner of stacked books and boxes where he's noticed a few weeks back that the little bottle was tucked. As he walks that way a large chest rattles familiarly.
Atlas just keeps himself from jumping, while Theodore hisses out a swear, "bloody hell, did he keep the damned thing?"
"Probably a useful teaching tool." Mina suggests with a shrug, skirting about the locked chest and glancing about the room.
Atlas moves for the bottle and picks it up, tilting it to feel that it was about a third full still, and blew a bit of dust off the glass. He looks over to see Mina peering at a potted plant overgrowing its pot and Theodore shuffling through a desk. He's about to speak when he hears the soft creak of the door to the main classroom opening slowly.
He gets Theodores attention and tosses the bottle the other boys way, "hide." He hisses low at them and watches as Mina pulls Theodore into an empty wardrobe near the door of the room. And Atlas leans to catch just a slight look through the doorway which he'd left cracked, spotting a familiar shaped figure moving through the classroom towards the back office.
Atlas glances about, thinking quickly before heading for the precarious shelf further back. He glances over and swipes down a book. Flipping through it just as Professor Lupin pushes through the door.
"You know," Atlas speaks carefully, glancing up from the book and putting on a nonchalant expression for Lupin. "I was wondering if you had some sort of alert spell on the room, considering last time and how you just happened to show up." He's careful not to speak to openly on his last visit, not particularly wanting Mina or Theodore to have any knowledge of his run in with the Boggart.
"I'm well aware of some students tendencies to break into classrooms and teachers offices for various reasons," he smiles a bit, like thinking of some fond memory, "and Professor McGonagall warned me particularly of the Weasley twins, so I figured the precaution was warranted." Atlas pursed his lips before nodding, Lupin steps a bit closer glancing over Atlas with a studying gaze. "And you have broken in twice now, so I am curious what the reasoning is for this particular visit?"
The door of the wardrobe shifts open just the tiniest bit and Atlas tilts his head as though in thought in the direction of the door. Lupin was facing him, and Atlas watches as the door slips further open and Mina moves quietly out of the room. "Something in the book I borrowed required further investigation." Atlas lies, lifting the book he'd swiped off the shelf on zombies anatomy.
"And it couldn't wait until morning?" Lupin inquires, peering at the book. Theodore slips out of wardrobe quietly, he smiles broadly at Atlas, lifting the bottle in cheers before slipping through to the classroom behind Mina.
"Couldn't sleep." Atlas lies, shrugging. "And as you said I'd gotten in here once before, a second time was hardly difficult."
Lupin chuckles lowly, shaking his head. "Very well," he ponders a moment, studying Atlas a bit longer before saying, "but I'll have to take 20 points from Slytherin, it is after hours after all."
Atlas shrugs before narrowing his eyes, "I feel as though you're taking more than you otherwise would."
"Well as you are aware I was a Gryffindor," Lupin shrugs with a cheeky smile to his face, "I have to uphold old rivalries."
Atlas rolls his eyes and walks past Lupin towards the door, "goodnight Professor."
"Do try to stay out of trouble Atlas," Lupin calls, "not many teachers would be as lenient with you out after hours."
Atlas waves a hand over his shoulder, and makes his way from the room. He doesn't spot Mina or Theodore immediately, and presumes they made their way back without him. Atlas swears he'll hex the other boy if he takes credit for the bottle upon returning.
He turns a corner and near jumps from his skin when an arm drapes about his shoulders. "You know its adventures like these that make me think those Gryffindor's aren't entirely mental." Theodore whispers into Atlas's ear, making the hair on the back of his neck raise as Atlas rolls his eyes. "A bit exciting, can understand the appeal of being reckless and brave."
"You hid in a wardrobe," Atlas shrugs the other boy off and cuts down another flight stairs to get them down to the dungeons faster. "Hardly brave."
Theodore holds a hand to his chest in faux offense, "please, I was the bravest one there. You should have seen Mina, gripping my hand like she was facing down a dragon and not little ole Lupin."
Mina shoves him, "Please, you were whispering the whole time that Atlas was mad for staying out the way he was."
"It was strategic, not brave." Atlas waves off.
"Oh?" Theodore leans close, "how do you suppose?"
"As you had pointed out, I am friendly with Lupin." He shrugs, "the same can hardly be said for most other Slytherins."
"I'm not mean to him the way the others are," Mina defends.
"No, but still," Atlas thinks on what Lupin had said in some bit of joking. "But he was a Gryffindor when he was here as a student, and old views of house rivalries, while dismissed in theory, aren't always so easy to shake from ones views."
"And you don't fall into that?"
"I'm sure I do, but I have other preconceived views placed on me by Lupin that rival them." Theodore raises a brow curiously, but Atlas pushes through. "Besides, in the even more important strategic part of my shoving you two into hiding, getting caught stealing a book is far less punishable than stealing a bottle of fire whiskey."
Theodore nods, "that's a fair enough point."
"Very much so," Mina agrees.
"Now," Atlas swipes the bottle back from Theodore. "Lets rub our bounty in the others faces."
Theodore laughs loudly as Mina chuckles while stating the password, the three entering the common room. "Let's make them beg for it," Theodore shoulders Atlas, a devilish smirk to his lips that draw Atlas's eyes a moment before he laughs lowly and nods.
The two boys and Mina enter, plopping onto the couch they had left and holding the bottle up with pride and settling in for a bit more of fun and social company for the evening.
Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know your thoughts, I always love hearing them!