[A/N: Very sorry for the delay.  I've been swamped with things upon things.]

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Chapter XII: Fickle

The world seemed to stop, he heard no more music and the people all around him seemed to vanish when in actuality, and they were all staring at this scene unfolding before them.  Had they just witnessed the Head Boy practically ravage the Gryffindor quidditch captain, or was it just a dream, a very bizarre dream?

Wood hadn't realized what happened until a few moments had passed.  He had felt the hand on his shoulder, and had felt the lips on his, but knew nothing of the person clutching him.  The only thing that stopped him from assuming Katie Bell had returned from the lavatory was the haze of red hair that was around his face.  The sheer absurdity of it all turned into sheer frenzy.  He reached out a hand and took a fistful of the other person's robes before forcefully shoving them away.  With distance between them, he could make out not only the hair, but also the entire face, complete with the familiar wide and expectant blue eyes that shone brightly.

"Now Oliver, I know what you're going to say," the red haired boy started quickly.

"I find that extremely hard to believe," he retorted darkly, scowling.  "All I'll say is I hope you're being paid well for that dare.  I hope you're being paid well enough so that you can give me my due for enduring that."

Percy seemed baffled, finding the other boy's response quite hard to believe, and not to mention far from what he expected.  Oliver's words, though biting, did succeed in doing one thing.  The small crowd that had gathered, all watching intently had begun to disperse.  Some even chuckled lightheartedly as they left; what a funny bet it had been.

"I need to use the loo myself right about now," Oliver raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly over at Percy.  He then turned and walked briskly out of the hall, robes flaring slightly.

After a moment of cringing in the eyes of the entire seventh year class, or those who had continued to watch his expression, Percy made his own way out of the hall.  The hallway was deserted; he walked slowly, pondering about what it was he had just done, until the music from the Great Hall had faded away.

Of course it was then that Percy realized the minor flaw in his bold plan.  One minor circumstance he had not taken into account.  It had never crossed his mind, the case being that Oliver did not fancy boys.  How could he have overlooked such a key point.  It seemed the gossip had spread like wildfire, amongst the stationary occupants of course.  A few of the portraits were shaking their heads, disappointed.  Others smiled politely.  It was almost a relief when he reached the door to the boys' lavatory…almost.

The door flew open and a burly arm shot out, grabbing the front of his robes, before yanking him roughly into the brightly lit room.

"What the hell were you thinking?!  Do you realize that you've just embarrassed me in front of the entire seventh year?!" he roared, minty breath hissing between his teeth.

"I-," Percy was about to explain, but Oliver's grip on his robes tightened and the larger boy shoved the head boy into the wall.

"You don't say anything.  You've done enough.  You just don't walk up to someone in the middle of a room and…and just kiss them!"

"I know, I should've asked if you fancied wizards before I went ahead and assumed things."  He hung his head down and began to sound defeated.  Oliver pushed him into the wall once more.

"No, you should've asked if I wanted to kiss you," before Percy had a chance to realize what this meant, Oliver brought his determined face down towards Percy's and this time it was his lips that bore down.  It was much less awkward than the kiss in the Hall, and instinctively, Percy's hands cupped the other boy's face.  Every ounce of confusion and doubt suddenly made sense to each of them.

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"Something's troubling you, I can tell," Roger whispered into the ears of his dance partner.  Her eyes had been elsewhere all night.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she simply smiled lightly and continued to steer him back and forth.

"You can tell me, you know," he insisted.  His face held such a benign expression; she couldn't help but give in and let him know.

"It's just…I have a bit of an obsession."

"Don't we all?"

"I suppose, except my obsession is perfection.  I knew the moment I set foot into this school that I would be Head Girl.  My studies always came before everything.  I didn't even have any friends until…" a look of painful realization came to her lightly freckled face.  She suddenly sighed as a tear leaked out of her eye. 

"Now, now, I'm sure you have had friends.  I mean, you're around the Ravenclaw girls a lot.  You even had Weasley," he cursed himself silently for mentioning that last part.

"That's the thing, now that Percy's gone, I don't know what to do.  I've had a set routine for the past two years and IT'S ALL BEEN BLOWN TO HELL!" a few couples dancing nearby looked over, alarmed at the raising of her voice.  Roger raised a finger to her lips and smirked slightly.  She became irritated at this expression and vocalized it immediately.  "I'll have you know that this is no laughing matter.  The Head Girl of Hogwarts is a title held with honor, prestige, and above all, grace.  I intend to uphold all of them.  What, may I ask, is so funny?"

"You're cute when you're angry," he grinned, brushing a stray curl away from her face.  She slapped at his hand.

"I am most certainly not, I'll have you know that I'm positively ruthless when I'm angry!" a pink tinge appeared in her cheeks.  "I have been known to frighten any student in this castle!  I also think that my last encounter with the Bloody Baron ended quite well, and with me as the victor!  I-."

"Penelope," Roger interjected quickly.

"What?" she sighed, exasperated.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Why on earth would you…what?  That's not something you come out and ask." She shook her head, staring intently back at him.

"Well you seem like the type that would castrate me if I just went out and did it," he blushed when admitting this.

"Oh, piss off, I'm not that rigid."

"Language Miss Clearwater," he mock scolded.  "Admit it Penelope, you are one of the most straight-laced people I have ever met, and I absolutely love it."

She gave him a calculating look before ceasing all movement and firmly grasping the front of his robes, thus initiating the most spontaneous thing she had ever done in her life.  Most of what she felt was complacency, and she paid no mind to the sniggers arising around as the Head Girl practically devoured the younger quidditch player.

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The lights were dim and the party seemed to be dying down.  There was a good deal of people remaining on the dance floor though, including two of the ex-Slytherin captain and his former chaser.  After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Xanne heard Marcus' surly whisper in her ear. 

"I've missed you," his breath was warm on her neck.  Each moment passed slowly after that, and she couldn't find anything to say that seemed fitting.  She did miss him in a way, but it seemed a great burden had been lifted off her back since he had been gone from her life.

Feeling that actions spoke louder than words, she took her hands from his neck and turned to walk away.  His grip on her was too tight and he only pulled her in closer.

"Why do you fight it?" Marcus demanded.  He didn't seem angry, just intent on getting answers to the questions running through his mind.  "We were perfect.  One slip up and I'm unconscious in the bottom of a bloody bath."

"I'm not fighting it, I've left it behind," she said, a bit quieter than her usual brash tone.  "We were not perfect.  We used each other and you know it.  I don't want to use anyone anymore, and I don't want to be used."

"So you want Higgs?" he blurted out rather quickly.

"No, I don't want Higgs, I want you to let me go Flint," she shifted her arm slightly and he found his hands springing apart as she backed away clutching her wand.  "I'm through talking.  Don't know why I even began dancing with you."

"It's what you know.  You must admit we're good together."

"Were Flint…we were good together." Xanne turned and walked across the dark dance floor, weaving in and out of the pairs.  Eventually, she reached the front doors of the Hall and walked through them.  She didn't belong at a seventh year party in the first place.  Down the stairs and into the dungeon, she could make out someone sitting on the cold stone floor, their feet stretching out into the corridor.  Once she got closer, the blue robes seemed a bit familiar.

"You didn't stay at the party?"

"Of course I didn't stay at the party, my date mysteriously disappeared," the barely visible face forced a smirk.

"I'm so sorry Terrence.  I sort of lost track of time, and wasted it just the same."  Xanne walked over to where he sat, leaned on the wall and slid down beside him.  It didn't matter if she had just ruined her robes; she probably wouldn't need them for a while anyway.

"So what did he say?" the corners of Terrence's mouth twitched.

"More like what he tried to say.  I didn't really let him finish his complete thought, which probably would've been something along the lines of 'I'm sorry, now let's go have a make-up shag.'"

"Not the most tactful bloke at Hogwarts, is he?" he grinned and took her cold hand in his before gasping.  "You're freezing, let's get back to the common room.  If you want, we could talk more."

"Alright," Xanne agreed and took his hand as he helped her to her feet.

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 They had sat there talking as he walked by.  Neither looking up, but both knowing it was he who had just entered the common room.  Flint stalked through the corridor and down to his dorm.  All of the beds were empty, as of course they would be, considering it wasn't anywhere near dawn and the seventh year Slytherins were probably somewhere getting sloshed beyond belief.  His, on the other hand, was not empty.

It was vacant of people, but lying there on his pillow was a black envelope with loopy silver letters across the front.  By turning his head in the faint light, he could make out his name.  'Marcus Cado Flint,' it glimmered slightly.  Flint slid one of his callused fingers under the seal and lifted it carefully.  Slowly, he pulled out the folded piece of parchment and nervously read the thick black text.

'Be at the Astronomy Tower at 4:00 sharp.  If you are missing, there will be consequences.'

So she did want him back.  He knew it.

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[If anyone is still reading this…be kind, please rewind…I mean review.]