Adrian barely managed to suppress his smirk as he entered the Charms classroom on Monday. The exchange occurring between the three and a half foot Professor Flitwick and Adrian's nearly six foot girlfriend was nearly too much.

HIs smile faded as bit when he realized that Flitwick could see clear up Jas's skirt, but then he couldn't really blame the guy. He himself found it difficult to tear his eyes away from her, and he got laid so much more than the tiny teacher. And she really was a testament to feminine sexuality. Flitwick grumbled to himself and waved his wand up and around, "Wingardium Metiri!" he squeaked, a flush across his cheeks, and a measuring tape sprung out of his wand and laid itself along Jasmine's leg. Flitwick peered at it and shook his head, looking triumphant again, "Five inches, Ms. Parkinson. Definitely not regulation."

Jasmine rolled her eyes but relented, tugging the hem of her uniform black skirt downwards, to the minimum three inches above the knee. Or thereabouts. She graced Flitwick with a diabetic smile and Adrian struggled not to snort that the picture she made. "I'm afraid it doesn't get any longer, Professor. The house elves much have given me one of Pansy's skirts by mistake."

Adrian grinned as she flounced over to sit between he and Aemelia.

"You're incorrigible, Jazzy," he murmured into her ear, twining a golden curl around his finger. She rolled her eyes and swatted at him leaning forward.

In the row in front of them, Sheraton turned to look over her shoulder, grinning at her friend. "Wow Jas, you've managed to make the extra inch Julian forced on me look positively prudish," she teased both Jasmine and Julian.

Adrian noticed that Julian's ears were turning red while Jasmine remained unaffected, though she did stick out her tongue at the other girl. Merlin. How could such a minx in bed, so expressive, so warm, turn into an Ice Queen in most situations. There was still humour about her but it was very clearly tightly controlled, along with everything else in her life. That was his favourite part about shagging the girl, watching the cold, hard arrogance melt away.

Adrian grinned, thinking of vixens. He could imagine the colour that Julian's ears would turn if he ever heard about Sheraton's experiences with both Edward and Miles. In front of him, Julian laid a hand on Sheraton's ear, she leaned into him to listen to his whisper that Adrian didn't quite catch. Knowing those two, it would probably be on topic and academic, amazingly enough. Adrian's favourite pasttime in Charms was daydreaming - when he was younger he had envisioned playing on the English National team and scoring goal after goal. Now, his fantasies were much more realistic, usually featuring the girl sitting next to him. Or girls. He and Baddock had a goal for the year to get two of the girls drunk enough to snog one another. Now that would be a sight that Adrian would smile about.

Aemelia regarded Adrian's dreamy expression with a great deal of suspicion. It never boded well when Pucey seemed.... so happy. Quite frightening actually and she unconciously shifted in her chair. Aemelia sighed softly, leaning down on the desk and accidentally knocking elbows with Edward, waking him from a slight doze.

"What, 'Lia?" he grumbled, running a hand through his close cropped hair.

"Nothing, sorry," she responded softly - doodling across the parchment. Unconciously, she drew a few hearts in the corner and Edward looked down on her with some sympathy.

She bristled at the look, she didn't want to be pitied. "What now?"

"He's no good for you, you know," Edward murmured, nodding significantly towards Pucey.

Aemelia shook her head. "He's not even mine," she whispered back.

"But you want him to be. Merlin - what you girls see in him I'll never know."

She would have been worried about Pucey overhearing their conversation but he was leaning towards Jasmine, listening as she spoke intently into his ear. "I wouldn't ask you to understand."

"Then explain it to me," he crossed his arms across his chest.

Aemelia gave him a long look, "And why should I exactly?"

"Why is the entire world suspicious when I try to do right by one of my friends?" he asked the ceiling.

She grinned slightly, ducking her head. "Past experience. But seriously Edward, why do you want to know? Some sudden concern for my mental well-being?"
"No... I've given up all hope for that. I just don't want to see you unhappy in ten years, saddled to a man who doesn't deserve you."

"That infers I'm happy now." She sat back in her chair.

"Are any of us? It's just..." He leaned in towards her to make eye contact. "You're so much better than him."

Aemelia returned his look plainly. "Am I? I'm a Flint, younger sister of Marcus, well regarded as the most impetuous idiot out there. I love my brother, and my family, but it's not exactly easy to be me."

"But it would be easy to be a....Pucey?" the look of horror was clear on his face.

Adrian turned at the sound of his voice, "What's that Montague?"
"Mind your own bloody business, Pucey," Edward snapped back and Adrian, rolling his eyes, turned back around. At the front of the class, Flitwick prattled on - completely unaware that next to no one in the class was paying attention.

"You see what I mean?" Edward drawled and Aemelia rolled her eyes.

"You're baiting him."

"Damn right I am. He's a prat."

"He's better than Marcus. Marcus would've just hit you." she responded, nudging him with her foot.

"No he wouldn't - Marcus loves me."

"Not that much," Aemelia muttered under her breath.

Edward sighed and turned to her again. "Seriously, 'Lia - I'm just trying to look out for you."

"I just got rid of one big brother thank you very much. I don't need another. Or did he appoint you to keep an eye on me?" Aemelia asked jokingly. At Edward's guilty silence she stifled a shriek. "The bastard! I'll kill him! I'm seventeen bloody years old! I don't need a fucking babysitter anymore!" she pounded her palm flat on the desk, then stopped when she realized her outburst had drawn the attention of the entire class. She shut her mouth primly.

"Are you quite well, Ms. Flint?" Flitwick inquired tremulously.

"I feel somewhat unwell sir. May I be excused to visit the infirmary? Perhaps Mr. Montague could escort me, in case I faint." 'Only it'll be Edward requiring the medical attention when I'm through with him...' Aemelia reflected as Flitwick consented and she slipped her parchment and quill into her shoulder bag as Edward helped to her feet, a hand under her elbow. They moved slowly out of the class, Edward giving her both concerned and suspicious glances. They turned the corner down the corridor when she spun on him, smacking him in the chest.

"What the HELL Edward! You're supposed to be my ally, not conspire with Marcus to ruin my life!!" Her eyes were dark with emotion as she stared at him.

"'Lia, he asked me to just watch out for you. He doesn't know anything else. I swear on my honour as a Slytherin."

"Oh that's comforting." Aemelia started to pace in front of Edward. "I don't need my brother hovering, nor do I need you trying to be 'helpful'. I need to be allowed to live my life - it's the only way I'll ever escape."

Edward looked at her steadily. "You're so much smarter than this 'Lia. You don't need to sell yourself short just to grab a hold of a name."

"Yes I do, Edward. Believe me - I've thought about it. And I'm not selling myself short. I don't - love - him, but I could be with him. Both of us know he'd never be allowed to marry Jasmine, her parents probably have someone picked out for her. So he'll have to look around - and I plan to be there."

"He's still a prat."

"And I'm still a daughter of a has-been family. Neither of us are perfect - but we can be something together."

"You see? You've thought about this." Edward stepped towards her and captured her hands in his. "You're so much smarter than him. Don't allow yourself to get caught up in his downfall."

Aemelia shook her head. "I won't let him fall. And neither will you."

Edward stepped back. "What are you asking of me exactly?"

"I'm not asking anything - I already know you'll do it. He's... loyal to the cause, but may screw up sometimes. You can help me make sure it's not such a spectacular mistake. You and Miles. You're like brothers to me - you'd protect me like a sister."

"I thought you just told me to not think of you that way."

"I never said I was consistent. But I'm serious. You'll be there for me. I'm not stupid - I've heard about what's been going on. My brother's not particularly discreet. And it'll be your turn next summer. I'll never take the Mark, but I can help you in many ways. And you'll help me."

Edward couldn't do anything but agree as he looked at the girl who had suddenly become a woman in front of his very eyes. "All right then."

Her smile was bright as she reached out, and very much unlike herself, kissed his cheek. "Thank you," she breathed.

He would have hugged her if they hadn't heard a sudden noise down the corridor. Umbridge was speaking loudly to Filch and the two Slytherins simultaneously sprinted for the stairs and ran down towards the dungeons.

It was after dinner when Chris reached the Owlery - there had been practise once classes finished for the day and his legs had ached as he walked up the turning staircase. A plain vellum envelope was clutched in his hand, the product of the time in Charms had offered. He had finished it just as Umbridge had stalked into the class and proceeded to watch the rest of the lecture, furiously scribbling the entire time. They had never actually listened to a lecture before and Chris had been surprised at the sense Flitwick had made in a few instances. Perhaps he had written the small professor off to quickly. The envelope was simply addressed Alicia, with a flourish above the i as he tied the letter to his owl's leg. As it flew off, Chris turned to make his way back to the dungeons again - the falling dusk mirroring his mood. He had seen her at lunch today, laughing with her friends and had wanted to be sitting with her. Not at the Gryffindork table - he'd slit his wrists before sitting there, but with her. Chris smiled grimly at his own longing thought - he was getting emotional and weak in his grand old age of 17 years.

When he reached the common rooms, he was surprised to see the only seventh year sitting there was Cordelia.

"Cordy," he greeted, flopping onto the couch next to her.

She looked up and gave him a half smile as she continued reading the Divination textbook.

"Where's your boy?" he asked, unbuttoning his robes and peeling them off his shoulders.

She shrugged, "He's in Sheraton and Julian's rooms - I'm not sure about what. Aemelia and Jasmine wanted to talk - so it was suggested to me I find somewhere else study." she wasn't able to keep the note of bitterness out of her voice.

Chris's eyes narrowed. Cordelia was never one of his favourite people, but she was obviously slipping by telling him such a thing. He stood - "I'm meant for the showers, I'll see you later."

Cordelia expelled a long breath as he stalked away. Warrington hadn't approved of her since fifth year - he saw her as a social climbing slut - a liability to the House as a whole. Not cunning enough, nor smart enough - but none of them had any inkling of the ambition coursing through her body. So what if she had been unladylike pursuing Neil - but she was going to make him go places. She was going to be married to him, and he would be an important man. Her hand fisted when she thought of what she could do - one day, Sheraton would have to be polite to her, more than the veneer of nicety she always wore with Cordelia. Cordelia would have friends, people she could speak with, like Aemelia, Jasmine and Sheraton were friends. They'd be friends with her. They'd want to be friends with her.

Miles wandered into the room, books from the library tucked under his arm. "Cordy," he greeted her, plunking them down on the coffee table before her.

She raised her eyes to smile at him softly. "Miles. What were you up to?"

"Research."

She raised an eyebrow, "On what? We don't have any papers assigned yet."

"Private research, Whitby," he gave her a lopsided grin.

"I'd be intrigued if I didn't know it was you reading 'The Prince' for what - the millionth time?"

"Like it's not under your mattress at home," he countered.

"Would I ever pretend it wasn't? It's taught me too much, though some days the lessons are harder to remember than others." She could keep the quaver out of her voice.

He sat forward in his seat. "Don't, girl. You've come so far - you can keep going for another year. Don't let it all get to you."

She raised her eyes to his and was surprised to see the support there. "But they're your friends."

"That may be true but you still impress me, Whitby. Not a lot of girls could do what you've done, and not buckled under the pressure and reputation. Jasmine and Sheraton, Aemelia too - they don't know. They've worked a bit, here and there - but the rest of their lives had been handed to them."

"On a silver platter," Cordelia breathed - her eyes hardening.

"But don't bother getting bitter about, it's not like they chose it that way. They were lucky, you weren't - you're smarter because of it. You're not naive, and that may come in handy one day. Look at Jasmine - she doesn't see a world outside her own circle, and doesn't even come close to realizing the consequences of her actions. It'll hurt her some day. Even some day soon."

Cordelia smiled. "I look forward to it."

Miles sat back. "Careful there. I'm not telling you this out of the goodness of my heart. I'll still back her before you - I'm just keeping you in the game. You might be a somewhat worthy adversary some day." He stood and collected his books. "For a girl."

Cordelia bit her lip as he walked away. A girl. Bloody misogynism. They'd see. She would just have to bide her time.