Best Laid Plans

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or pride and Prejudice. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Part One: The Defence Association

Chapter Thirteen:

Helena doesn't get the opportunity to speak with Neville until breakfast. It's far less dramatic than the morning prior, spent in quiet conversation with her friend over a bowl of yoghurt, muesli, and fresh fruit.

They speak of their classmates, mostly, mutual friends and acquaintances, and their respective holiday pastimes, and of her parents' relocation to Isolde Cottage. She speaks of her encounter with Fitzwilliam Darcy, as well - they, too, are childhood playmates - and Neville is predictably sympathetic, but also unsurprised.

Lady Anne Darcy hasn't always been as ill as she is now, but her prognosis has always been bleak. Devastating as it is to acknowledge, it was - and remains - only a matter of time before her body succumbs to the curse.

"Have you visited her?"

"No," Helena denies, "Uncle Sirius contacted Mr Darcy, but they're not receiving visitors."

"Should I write a letter to Darcy, do you think?"

"I don't know," Helena grimaces, "I thought about it, but I don't think I've had a proper conversation with him in years. Wouldn't it be strange?"

Neville shrugs, clueless. "Extenuating circumstances?"

Helena's dubious, but she's not about to stop him. "If you think it's a good idea, I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

Neville doesn't look like he believes her, but he nods to himself, apparently resolved. "I'll let you know how it goes."

Their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of that morning's post, though the customary assortment of newspapers and private correspondence is supplemented by the unmistakeable appearance of their (very late) Hogwarts letters.

"They're cutting it quite fine, aren't they?" Emilyn muses. She distributes the lot - Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Fred and George, Neville and Helena - before she turns her attention to the rest. "Better late than never, I suppose."

Helena, meanwhile, is distracted by her Hogwarts letter, weighed down by the presence of a badge she'd mostly expected and half hoped would go to Padma Patil. It had been a toss-up, admittedly, because they are similar in that they are both excellent students, part of Hogwarts' 'High Achievers' program, actively involved in extra-curricular activities, and each in possession of a pristine academic record.

But where Padma is gentle and kind, friendly and approachable, and endlessly patient with their fellow students, Helena is none of those things. She's impatient, distant and disinterested, more inclined to foist her classmates - and their problems - on the nearest authority figure she can find, and she'd assumed those character traits would work against her, so to speak.

Though it is an honour, and the privileges are nothing to scoff at, Helena isn't even sure she wants to be a prefect. As far as she can tell, the responsibility does take up an awful lot of time and energy, and she's sure she can find something - anything - else far more interesting to dedicate that afore-mentioned time and energy to.

"Well?" Lady Augusta prods, impatient and expectant. Her gaze is on Neville, but he hardly notices.

"Gryffindor Prefect," Neville replies, tone flat. He holds the crimson badge in his palm, entirely unenthused by the prospect, and the Dowager Countess nods, satisfied.

"Good."

Apparently, she doesn't notice Neville's complete indifference.

"Congratulations, Neville," Ginny says, "You definitely deserve it."

"Thanks."

"Well, let's see it, then," Hermione leans across Helena. She wears a bright, beatific grin on her face, and she clutches a prefect's badge of her own.

"It looks just like yours," Neville says, but he offers her his own badge all the same, "Though I'm not sure why in Godric's name Professor McGonagall thought I'd make a good prefect."

Professor McGonagall is the Gryffindor Head of House. She's also the Head of the Transfiguration faculty, presently teaching the N.E.W.T level students, and by all indication, she is a demanding taskmaster.

"Who else did you think it would go to?" Hermione asks, genuinely baffled. Across from her, Ron is pointedly silent, and Helena is suddenly desperate to be somewhere - anywhere - else.

Neville shrugs. "It's not exactly something I've spent a lot of time thinking about."

"That's fair."

As Hermione and Neville discuss the responsibilities and privileges inherent in the role of a Hogwarts Prefect, Helena returns to her breakfast. She isn't about to open her own letter - receive her own badge - under the scrutiny of everyone else, while Ron is sullen and envious in his silence, his face a progressively deeper shade of red.

Instead, Helena eats the remainder of her meal in a silence of her own, drains the remainder of her orange juice, and then retreats to the privacy of her bedroom before anyone can call attention to the fact her letter remains unopened beside her breakfast dishes. There, she breaks open the wax seal with a tremulous exhale, pours the sapphire blue badge into her waiting, trembling hand, and struggles to decipher whether or not she's pleased, or unhappy, or resigned by the appointment.

It is, perhaps, something she'll figure out as she goes along.

-!- -#-

"We've been assigned Slinkhard."

"Looks like it," Helena acknowledges, ambivalent. She's not thrilled by the prospect of another year's worth of wasted Defence classes, but it's not anything new. It's unfortunate, of course, that it is their O.W.L year, but Helena's sure they'll manage just fine. "I wonder if they've only found one teacher for the lot?"

"Sounds painful," Neville opines. He's absorbed in an intense game of chess with Ron, and Helena doubts he particularly cares, "Can you imagine? I'd sooner throw myself from the Astronomy Tower."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Dramatic, much?"

"That's 24 classes," Neville counters, emphatic, and thoroughly diverted from his game with Ron, "How many essays is that?"

Ron shudders. "I could never be a teacher."

Ginny laughs, scornful. "Merlin forbid. You're not even good at being a student."

Ron pulls an unpleasant face. "What would you know?"

"More than you, if our report cards are anything to go by."

Before Ron and Ginny can start properly squabbling as siblings do, Hermione raises her voice over both of them. "We'll have to do something about it. We need to learn practical defence."

Helena, who is more interested in learning more about the clay-firing technique of Raku, does not contribute to the discussion. Ron and Neville aren't thrilled by the thought of more study - on top of their O.W.L workloads, that is - but they're not about to dismiss their friend outright.

"It could be useful," Neville admits reluctantly, "I'm sure I'll run into Old Mate at some point."

"He definitely has it in for you," Ron concurs.

"Don't you see? This is why we need to learn. Everyone else, too. I doubt Death Eaters would spare us because we had an inadequate Defence education."

Ginny is thoughtful. "I wouldn't mind learning some new hexes."

"As long as it doesn't involve essays," Ron capitulates.

Hermione smiles, oddly relieved. "No essays."

Hermione proceeds to share her plans with the others, and Helena tunes her out, uninterested. Not only is she unsure of whether or not she's invited into their little study group, but she's always learned better on her own. Less distractions that way.

"What do you think, Hallie?"

Diverted from her musings regarding the effects of Raku on clay were she to substitute horse hair with that of a unicorn, Helena glances at her friend, nonplused. "Pardon?"

"Hermione's study plan. Weren't you listening?"

"I didn't think I was invited," Helena replies, "So no, I wasn't."

Neville rolls his eyes. "Of course you're invited. You're here, aren't you?"

Hermione and Ron don't disagree, Ginny's face is carefully impassive, and Helena shrugs her acquiescence. She peruses the study plan Hermione offers her, concedes to herself that it's actually quite good, comprehensive and thorough and well-researched, but very much reflective of and limited by the standard O.W.L curriculum.

Helena is underwhelmed. She has maintained her independent study schedule quite determinedly throughout the years, and she's recently begun to make inroads into the N.E.W.T course material for Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration. That independent study has only been supplemented by her extra-curricular training in Duelling and Combat Magic - not to mention her various side projects - and she has no particular interest in reviewing it all in the company of Neville's friends.

"It's good," Helena acknowledges. Hermione nods, confident in her work. She doesn't need validation from her peers. "It'll serve you well for the O.W.L's."

"But not you?" Neville asks, intent. He picks up on what she doesn't say - of course he does - because Lady Augusta, Lady Anne - all of the matriarchs in their lives, really - had taken it upon themselves to teach them the art of wordplay early on, to prepare them for their future as the Earl of Lockvale and the Countess of Peverell, respectively, and more particularly, to prepare them both for the life of politics, prestige, and power-plays awaiting them.

Neville had taken to it well - he is exceedingly sharp beneath the vernier of affability he wears like a second skin - and Helena is decent enough, if uninterested. Fitzwilliam had been terrible - he's always been forthright, honest and open, far too genuine for the political and social machinations of Wizarding Britain's upper class - and despite the distance between them now, and the time that has passed since those early life lessons, Helena doubts that has changed.

"Not likely," Helena denies, and demurs, "I'll be a busy little bee this year. A lot going on."

"Well, you're always welcome," Hermione says, and Helena's unsure if she's disgruntled or not, "Though I do encourage you to consider coming along. The O.W.L's are important, not to mention with everything else going on…"

"I appreciate the invitation."

And despite her disinterest in the matter, Helena means it.

It's nice to feel included.

-!- -#-

Author's Note: An early update. Don't get used to it. I can promise Hallie (finally) boards the Express in Chapter 15. Took me (and them) long enough. Hope you enjoy. Until next time, -t.