Ravyn: In this chapter, we have some interesting Transfiguration lessons: Marcus is a git, Penny loses her temper, and on top of that, you'll find out something about Salazar Slytherin you never knew you didn't want to know. XD

Thalia: And we have sexual tension, because sexual tension is our friend. I want a green lily from a Slytherin Quidditch God TOO, dammit!

Disclaimer: We'll come up with a witty disclaimer after we've finished glomping ferrets and being ebil.

My work is a game, a very serious game. (M. C. Escher)

~*~ Flowers and Facades ~*~

It wasn't something that she WANTED to do, that was for sure. If she'd... had a choice... she wouldn't. Really.

But Penelope was a responsible girl. This was necessary. A necessary evil, perhaps.

For her own peace of mind... and Percy's safety, of course.

She would tutor... THAT person. In Transfiguration.

It wasn't truly her best subject, although it was one of her better ones. She would be up to it, academically.

Whether or not her sanity and soul might survive this... remained to be seen.

But Professor McGonagall, despite a few rather dubious glances and evident doubt of her sanity, had agreed, and had merely switched his tutoring sessions so that they fell upon her, rather than Percy.

She took a deep breath, and gave Cho Chang, who was sitting in the Common Room, a small smile as she walked out. Cho, friend though she certainly was, didn't know. Penelope... had not told anyone of these new arrangements. No one would have understood.

Not even Percy.

She reached the appointed classroom, opened the door, and waited.

She had ten more minutes before potential chaos.

Assuming he would arrive on time.

~*~

An irate Marcus Flint slammed down the hallway, glowering angrily and gnashing his teeth.

Bloody tutoring.

Bloody Weasley.

Oh, but if Weasley were to say anything (and being Weasley, he most certainly would)... he'd literally be bloody.

But there was no getting out of tutoring. Both Warrington and Susannah had informed him, the former looking oddly almost smug and the latter looking rather stern... that it was necessary. He'd just have to go and deal with it.

Meaning, he'd have to remain silent for as long as he felt inclined to, before "transfiguring" Weasley into a bruised and bloodied pulp.

He reached the door of the classroom, and seeing a light, turned the doorknob and pushed inwards.

And stared, before smirking.

"And what in the name of Salazar Slytherin's undersized genitals are YOU doing here?"

Penelope was silent for a moment, as if steeling herself for her reply. Then she raised her chin, not quite challengingly, and said, "I'm your Transfiguration tutor."

"You?" Flint asked incredulously.

"Is there a problem with that?"

The initial shock gone, Marcus had regained his cool composure. "I was just surprised that Weasley would trust his ickle girlfriend with a big, bad Slytherin, that's all. You must have had to force an entire bottle of Sleeping Draught down his throat before you could come." He threw himself into a chair, safely back from the front row, and leaned back in his seat to shoot her a galling smirk.

In contrast to his slouch, Penny seemed to stand even straighter. "I don't need Percy's protection or his permission. Now, if you'll please, this evening is going to be long enough without you making it even more difficult…"

Flint snickered quietly as she flipped open a worn copy of A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration. She paused to glance up at him. "May I ask what's so funny?"

"You," he answered with a lopsided grin. "Being all business-like. I mean, honestly, you can't be serious about all this…"

She met his eyes again. "McGonagall says you need a Transfiguration tutor," she said simply. "So I'm going to tutor you."

"Silly me. I shouldn't have expected less of Miss Perfect Prefect."

This time, when she looked up, it was the clock above the door her eyes sought. However, she said nothing in reply to his comment. 'Tired already, Miss Clearwater?' Flint thought smugly to himself.

"All right, you'll be on Chapter Nine, then…"

"Aren't you going to wait for the rest of your ickle students?"

She took a deep breath. "There are no other students."

For the second time that evening, Flint didn't know quite what to say. He'd always known McGonagall was an elitist, prejudiced bint, but now it was quite clear to him that she was barking mad. She honestly expected him to spend the entire night studying Transfiguration. With Weasel's girlfriend.

"So if you'll please turn to Chapter Nine…"

"I don't have my book."

She frowned. "You don't have… why not? Were you expecting a practical lesson?"

"No, I was expecting to come in here, listen to about four words out of Weasley's mouth - 'I told you so,' to be exact - bludgeon him with the largest blunt object I could find, and spend the rest of the evening in detention."

"Honestly, you two!" Flint had the decency to look surprised before smirking at her little outburst. "I don't understand how someone as level-headed and practical as Percy can waste his time and energy on something as stupid as this little rivalry of yours." Flint was looking quite pleased with himself before she turned on him, advancing down the aisle to point an accusatory finger dangerously close to the end of his nose. "And you! You go out of your way to make him angry, for whatever perverse Slytherin pleasure you get out of it, just like - " She trailed off quite suddenly, her eyes wide for just a moment before she frowned. "Just like you're doing to me now," she finished evenly.

Flint only smirked.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, but her eyes were still hardened in a determined frown. "It's just that - well, it won't happen again."

While the apology seemed less than sincere, the promise to control her temper was obviously for his benefit. He wasn't so sure, though; the Clearwater that had come that close to outright yelling at him seemed quite a bit more interesting than the Clearwater he always saw standing demurely at Weasley's side.

"We'll see," he said.

She turned away from him with an exasperated sigh to retrieve the book on the desk at the front of the room. Wordlessly, she came to sit in the seat next to him, placing the text before him where both of them could see. "Transfiguration is complex, but really…" She acutely felt his intent gaze on her, and paused, but couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. "… if you learn to focus, it's…"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, not out of any real interest, but because there was a faint blush on her cheeks that darkened as he drew closer. She stiffened when he made to peer at the page she'd turned to, almost imperceptibly, but he noticed in their proximity.

"… it's quite straightforward… Perhaps we'll just try a spell or two now, shall we ?" she asked, pushing back from the desk quite suddenly. He arched a brow at her, but she seemed less flustered now that she was standing over him again, and curtly instructed him to take out his quill. He reached into his bag, pulling out an eagle feather quill and laying it on the desk.

"Something simple to start, then. Pluma Albucum Immutatum." She touched her wand to the quill, leaving in its place a stark white lily. With a quick counterspell, his quill was back on the desk, and she was looking at him expectantly. "Your turn."

He glanced dubiously up at her, keeping his expression hard. He was suddenly unsure of himself, not wanting to make a mistake with Miss Perfect Prefect looking over his shoulder. Not that he ever would have admitted that to her. However, he turned his attention to the quill on the desk, focusing on the dark plume, the green ink stains, hoping the spell would work out of sheer force of will…

"Pluma Albucum Immutatum."

He took a deep breath, seeing that the spell had in fact worked. He allowed himself a small smirk of satisfaction, picking up the flower, a perfect… GREEN lily.

That somehow didn't seem right.

"Good," Penelope was saying, without a trace of derision tainting her voice. "Very good. Now, to turn it back…"

"As much fun as all this has been, Clearwater," Flint interrupted smoothly, "it's nearly ten. I hate to think what Weasley would say if he knew his girlfriend was out with a Slytherin after hours."

"Oh," and a quick glance at the clock confirmed this. Time went by surprisingly quickly when one was being tormented by a Slytherin. "All right, then. Any questions before we leave?"

"Just one. What are you going to tell Weasley when he asks where you were?"

"I -" She paused the scene playing through her mind. She really couldn't tell Percy. It was for his own good, but she just didn't think he'd understand. "I really don't think that's any of your business."

The corner of his mouth turned up in a grin. He slung his bag over his shoulder, and she tensed as he stepped towards her until she realised he was simply making his way towards the door. Not for the first time, she reprimanded herself for letting him affect her. After all, it wasn't as if his comments meant anything to her…

He'd paused in front of her, and while she moved quickly out of his way, he didn't continue. His hard green eyes pinned her to the spot, but still he said nothing.

"Same time next week, then?" she asked, doing everything she could to hide her helplessness in that moment.

He shrugged, managing to make that seem almost a stately gesture.

"All right, well, good night, Flint." She turned away from him, very aware that she was blushing, but was stopped by the sound of his voice.

"Wait."

She turned back to find him quite close, his eyes cool and calm on hers, no hint of a smile on his lips now. She was expecting him to speak, and was quite surprised when he reached out to her instead, gently smoothing a lock of dark curly hair back into place.

"Can't have you looking less than perfect, can we?" And with that for an explanation, he had gone, leaving her with a rosy blush on her cheeks and a Slytherin green lily in her hand.

~*~

By the time Penelope walked into the Ravenclaw Common Room, she was fairly sure that her face was calm, collected, normal...

And Cho Chang, who was just closing up her Ancient Runes textbook, glanced at the older girl, then at the odd, forest green, smoky-gray-speckled lily in her hand.

"Hmm... odd choice of flower for Percy to give you," the young Chinese witch remarked with a slight shrug, "Still, pretty."

Penelope turned away abruptly. So much for a semblance of calm, collected 'nothing's wrong'...