The Good War

by inwardtransience

Despite her best efforts, Elizabeth Potter is repeatedly drawn into situations she wants absolutely nothing to do with. People just refuse to leave her the hell alone. (fem!Harry, dark!independent!Harry, mentor!Snape, F/F, playing with tropes for fun and profit)

32. 3rd Year — Holidays at the Greenwood III

It turned out, the Greenwood had a hell of a party at the winter solstice.

There was a bit of odd history behind the whole thing, only some of which Dorea had been aware of before, from lessons with Cassiopeia. Despite what some of the more 'traditionalist' mages might claim, the old Celtic tribes of the Isles hadn't had a holiday around this time of year — the beginning of winter, and also the traditional new year, had been on Hallowe'en, but the next major holiday after that wasn't until the beginning of spring, traditionally placed in February. The winter holiday had been an import, originally from the Romans as Saturnalia, and later from various Germanic tribes as Yule, in time various cultural influences fusing together to create the Christmas Dorea had grown up with in the muggle world.

Though, not exactly the same, of course: there'd been a major discontinuity after the Reformation, where particularly strict Protestants had essentially banned the public observation of Christmas. The holiday had been revived later, but a lot of old traditions had been lost during the hiatus, especially some of the more Saturnalia-esque bits. The mages hadn't had the same hiatus, since their societies had been largely separated by then, and of course the Greenwood in particular had been part of a weird isolated subculture in the first place — Dorea was pretty sure they still would have been primarily a religious cult even that recently — so the muggle and magical holidays were related, but different.

The celebration itself would start at sundown and run through the night — and continuing on over the next few days, though rather less...exuberantly than at the start. Daphne, Astoria, and some of the locals who knew better English met with all the guests over lunch, explaining what would be happening here. The opening ceremony was a somewhat solemn occasion...at least going into it, that did change abruptly during the ceremony itself. There was a lot of stuff about carrying light on into the darkness, just as day would come after every night, observing that they were at the darkest point of the year but then making a lot of light and partying and stuff to kind of encourage the days to lengthen again, if that made any sense. Weird pagan stuff, basically.

There was some weird theological justification Dorea didn't quite understand — maybe she'd ask the Grangers later, Hermione's parents asked a couple questions and just sat back nodding to themselves — but something about this sun stuff naturally led to the rules on earth being temporarily suspended. For the duration of the holiday, all the things about how people were supposed to behave, politeness and etiquette stuff, that was all ignored, and people could do whatever the hell they wanted. Within reason, of course, obviously people weren't allowed to hurt each other — in fact, punishments for murder and rape and things like that were actually increased, since doing anything like that at this particular time of the year was violating religious law on top of just normal law. That made some of the adults a little nervous, since they knew hardly anything about the Mistwalkers' religion, but Daphne assured them not to worry about it, as long as they didn't intentionally hurt anyone they'd be fine. Also, try not to damage the plants in people's gardens if they could help it, but accidents happened, don't worry about it.

Though, they did end up going on a long, meandering tangent about what did and did not count as theft in the Greenwood — the Mistwalkers' concept of property was very different from the one Dorea had grown up with. It basically boiled down to don't take people's things without asking — unless it was food or drink, which didn't belong to anyone — so they didn't have to worry about breaking those rules either. And it turned out trespassing wasn't a property thing, but a politeness thing, and was one of the rules that would be suspended during the holiday, so they'd be allowed to wander around wherever they liked, even poking around inside people's homes if they felt like it, which, okay then...

Besides the ceremony itself, there would be very little organisation to the holiday — once the ceremony was over, there'd be food and drink set out all over the place, and there would be music and dancing, and just do whatever you feel like, have fun. They wouldn't be the only guests here, the Greenwood had a lot of people visiting over the solstice. Most of them would be other Mistwalkers — Babblings, Lovegoods, Hartwrights... — but they got some outsiders too, especially those they had family or business ties with. Astoria claimed that the Greengrasses invited most of the Noble Houses every year, though of course none of them ever showed up save for the very rare exception. (In particular, the Boneses, Glanwvyls, and Ollivanders frequently took them up on it, and sometimes the Bellchants, Dunbars, and Eirsleys.) Which the Grengrasses fully expected, of course: the nobles would send expensive gifts in place of their attendance, which the Greengrasses would either give to someone in the Greenwood who had more use for whatever it was, or simply sell it, putting the money toward the traditional seasonal gifts to the locals from the family — most often the latter, because they rarely had any use for anything the magical nobility were likely to gift them.

Dorea picked up a few huffs from some of the guests — probably remembering the gifts their own families had sent the Greengrasses over the years, reluctantly amused that the silly, stereotypically naïve Mistwalkers had conned them like that — but nobody commented, so, couldn't be too annoyed about it. It was their own damn fault for not accepting the invitation, she guessed.

They could observe the ceremony itself, but Daphne told them they probably didn't want to. While a lot of it would be obscure religious stuff they wouldn't get — and it would all be in Cambrian, so only a few of them would even understand most of it — but it also involved animal sacrifice. Of a cow, specifically. Apparently, the soil in the Greenwood was far more fertile than it should naturally be, and the regular animal sacrifices they did were to thank for that — the cow's life was returned to the land, increasing the agricultural output they were capable of considerably. (The Grangers argued it shouldn't make that much of a difference, since they had a lot of land and there was only one cow for all of it, but Daphne argued you always got more out of a ritual sacrifice than you put in, for some reason, Dorea wasn't sure how that was supposed to work.) They didn't actually eat meat at the Greenwood, but they did have dairy, and they returned the life of one of their cows to the land eight times a year, at each of the solstices and equinoxes and halfway between...and the sacrificed cows weren't butchered to be eaten either, instead respectfully laid to rest with the same funeral rites a person would get, which was bloody weird.

Hearing them talking about it, Dorea suspected the cow getting a proper funeral and everything was because they used to sacrifice people, but she kept that thought to herself — it was only speculation, and really wasn't her business.

But yeah, Dorea would pass on that part, thanks. Elsewhere, as the ceremony was going on other people would be lighting lamps and stuff, hanging them up in the trees to illuminate the celebration — and also for religious reasons, bringing light into the deepest darkness and all that — and that sounded much more Dorea's speed. By the attentive look on Liz's face, though, Dorea felt certain she'd be watching the sacrifice, because she was quickly turning out to be such a witchcraft nerd, and Hermione would probably be going too, if only out of morbid curiosity.

As the explanation of the holiday wrapped up, which took the entirety of lunch and a couple hours afterward (some of the younger kids had even been put down for naps partway through), the locals finally got to the last topic they were here to talk about. A set of rooms in a nearby building had been prepared for the visitors to change. Into local dress, that is — the Greenwood had a collection of unused clothing and jewellery and stuff that they could borrow, and the locals here now had volunteered to help get them outfitted. This was completely optional, of course, just if they wanted to try out the proper Mistwalker holiday experience. If they liked whatever they tried they could even keep them, the Greenwood had more than enough things in storage, knock yourselves out.

The talk done, the air was split with chatter, discussing who wanted to try out local dress and whether they wanted to watch the ceremony or not (mostly not, by the sound of it), a few running off to collect napping children (or spouses watching them). "So, what do you think?" Dorea asked, looking around the table. They'd had lunch in the strangely autumnal courtyard at the centre of the guest hall, at plain ceramic tables Dorea assumed had been conjured. She'd ended up at a table with Liz, the Grangers, Susan, Hannah and Mrs Abbott, and the Moons — Snape was sitting elsewhere, with the Finch-Fletchleys and the Monroes, and Richard had taken the boys upstairs, leaving only Mum with Dorea.

"Well, I'm not bringing the boys to the ceremony," Mum said, "but trying out the clothes sounds like fun. I'll go talk to Richard about it, I'll be back soon." She took a last gulp out of her mug of cider, stood and started off back toward their room.

"I think it all sounds fascinating." Daniel — Hermione's parents both insisted that her friends call them by their names — turned to look at Emma over Hermione's head. "Et toi, mon amoureuse? Ça te tenter?" Um, Dorea understood maybe half of that...

"Pourquoi pas, ça pourrait être amusant. Hermione?"

"Oh yes, of course. Though, I don't know how—" Hermione cut herself off, her cheeks pinking a little, she glanced around the table before leaning a little closer to Emma and muttering something. It was in French, Dorea was pretty sure, but she wasn't nearly as good with the language as she probably should be — Cassiopeia had taught her a little, but they'd had other priorities.

While those two muttered to each other, Susan said, "We've all done this before," pointing at herself and the Abbotts. "Never at the Greenwood, though — the Boneses and our vassals are always invited to the Babblings' for the holidays." Well of course, they used to be Mistwalkers, and Dorea suspected most of their vassals technically still were. "I didn't bring my things, though, I should have thought of that and had them sent ahead..." Because, obviously, she wouldn't have brought her Mistwalker clothes to Hogwarts.

"I think what Susan means to say," Mrs Abbott said, smiling, "is that we all know how this works, so we can help you pick things out."

Seemingly out of nowhere, Hannah said, "Speaking of, they use enchanted breastbands, but you can stick with your bra if you prefer. A strap might show, depending on how you wear it, but we can figure that out." It seemed random, but Hermione's blush darkened, so apparently that was what she and her mother had been talking about.

After a bit more discussion, it was decided that everyone would be trying out local dress — Lily's mum looked a little reluctant, but she agreed after a moment — and the Grangers, Susan, and the Abbotts would be going to the ceremony. But Dorea noticed there was one person at their table who still hadn't said anything. "Liz? What about you?"

Liz had been so quiet for a while, slumped back in her chair with her mug of water, Dorea thought some of the people at the table had forgotten she was even there. Her voice flat, but with a slight edge to it Dorea didn't know how to read (excitement, maybe? curiosity?), Liz said, "I'm not trying the clothes. I am going to check out the ceremony, though."

Of course, Dorea hadn't really expected any different. When she thought about it, most of the examples of local dress she'd seen would probably show Liz's scars, on her chest or her back (or both), and Liz was a witchcraft nerd. Honestly, Dorea might worry she would start getting into seriously Dark Arts — not little things, but the stuff that was illegal for a reason — but Snape wasn't an idiot, surely he'd keep an eye on her and would intervene before it got too far.

Mum was back a couple minutes later, but she came alone — Richard didn't want to try the clothes (which Dorea might have guessed if she'd thought about it), and the boys were probably too young not to make a fuss about it — and by that point pretty much everyone had decided what they were going to do. The group milled about for a bit, slowly filing through the exit, the narrow archway working as a bottleneck. Grimacing at the crowd, Liz said she'd be in her and Snape's sitting room reading, come find her when they were ready. It wasn't a long walk to wherever they were going, just across the street and through another archway. This one also led to an open courtyard, similar to theirs, but with far less in the way of trees and brush — there were some vines on the walls, also in autumn colours, spread out across the tile floor a bunch of equipment, most of which Dorea couldn't identify. She did see a few of what she thought were spinning wheels, so maybe this was a weavers' workshop or something.

They were split up in the courtyard, by sex — Dorea hadn't really noticed a difference in how men and women dressed here, but apparently there was one. Through a door was a long, low hallway, hooks and bars folded up along the ceiling, a faint hint of something sharp in the air — there were drains set into the floor, one wall slats that could be slid aside to let in the sun, maybe they hung something in here to dry? — down the middle of the hall a line of racks hung with colourful cloth, sparkling a little where beads caught the lamplight. Every so often there was a stand where beaded metal hoops were hung, more necklaces and bracelets and stuff, when they were nudged as someone passed sending rainbow chinks of light dancing on the floor.

There was a little bit of a hitch right at the beginning: apparently they should dress differently depending on whether they were girls, women, or young, unmarried women, and it took a little bit for their helpers to explain what the difference was. It didn't help that their English wasn't quite perfect, and of course most of them didn't know Cambrian very well — Dorea had thought the two words for "woman" they were using were synonyms. Even Hannah's mother wasn't sure, despite speaking the language and also having done this sort of thing before. It turned out, since she didn't plan on remarrying she should be with the older women — it was Sophie, as in Tracey's mum, who cleared up the confusion on that one, since she was in the same position (and was already made up in local dress) — and apparently the line between "girl" and "young woman" was whether they'd started their period yet. Red-faced, Lily had silently walked off to join Astoria's friends.

Which left Dorea, Hermione, Susan, Hannah, Millie, and Sophie. Dorea was a little surprised Sophie was here, since she was from a pretty normal muggle family — Hermione had a leg-up when it came to getting comfortable with different cultures, having practically been raised half-French and by parents who liked to travel (and was also naturally curious) — but she was more adventurous than Sally-Anne, so between the two muggleborn Hufflepuff girls Sophie was the more likely to try this kind of thing. Still hadn't seen it coming. They only had two available helpers, so they were then split in half, the Hufflepuffs sticking together (they did share a dorm room at school) leaving Dorea and Hermione with Millie.

Despite that neither of them spoke a word to each other, Dorea picked up on immediate tension between Hermione and Millie. Something uncomfortable had happened between them and Liz during dinner their first night here, or so Daphne had told Dorea, but she still didn't know what it was. And this was not the right moment to ask.

"Okay!" said their helper, grinning and clapping her hands. A girl with dirty-blonde hair, she was only a couple years older than them, definitely still young enough to be a NEWT student. Dorea had been introduced to enough locals she could tell her name was odd-sounding by Greenwood standards — Hadassah Rowanydd. She was assuming at least one of the girl's parents was from one of the other Mistwalker Clans. "Have any of you worn y llieiniau troëdig?"

"I don't even know what that means," Dorea said. It was definitely Cambrian, and she was pretty sure it was plural...

Hermione was better at Cambrian than she was, though. "Um, 'twisted linens', I think?"

Millie muttered, "Wrapped."

"No, I'm positive 'troi' is to turn, not to wrap. I don't know if—" Hermione cut herself off with a little huff. Probably realising she was arguing about a language with someone who'd been around it since she was a child. "I'm sorry, you must be right. Anyway, no," she said to Hadassah, "I don't think any of us have."

There was a little bit of a slant to the older girl's smile, amused. "Okay, we'll figure it out. Favourite colours to start with?"

"Ah, blue? And white, I guess."

Millie hesitated for a second, before saying, "Red." Hadassah glanced up at Millie's hair, head tilting a little bit, let out a low hum.

And now everyone was looking at Dorea. She didn't really care that much which colour she was wearing, she guessed she could just say something innocuous. But, at the same time, she was really being quite silly, there was no reason she couldn't just give the honest answer. She paused even longer than Millie did, the other girls' eyes on her making her feel weirdly self-conscious. "Um, pink." Hermione's eyebrows ticked up a little. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything, I just didn't know. I thought it would have been, I don't know, blue or black or something."

Dorea just shrugged it off, not sure what to say to that. Besides that the nobility tended to prefer rich, dark colours, and obviously walking around in anything too bright would look weird in the Slytherin dorms — and also, she wasn't eight anymore, so being seen in anything too pink was kind of embarrassing. Which was itself silly, she was aware of that, but it was what it was.

(She pretended not to notice the warmth on her own cheeks, and everyone else politely ignored it.)

"Ah, I don't know about pink," Hadassah was saying, "that one is a rare colour. Maybe a nice lavender will do?"

"Yes, thank you." Purple was also nice, and less embarrassingly girlish, so, sure.

Getting dressed up was awkward at points, but also kind of fun. The clothes on offer were loosely organised by their dominant colour — which was why Hadassah had asked what their favourite was — but had other colours mixed in, coming in all kinds of different patterns, some with embroidery done with glass beads or metallic thread. Part of the reason why they had a local here was because the patterns weren't random, there was cultural meaning behind it, and they wouldn't want to walk around essentially wearing a sign that said, for example, they were on the look-out for a husband. (Hadassah said that Dorea at least still looked young enough people would assume it was unintentional, but still.) After a bit of looking around, Hermione found one mostly in dark blue, with some white and orange mixed in — the pattern on that one was for one of their clan groups, which was fine — and Millie had gotten one mostly in red with green and blue — this pattern suggested the wearer was a potions student, which was technically true — and Dorea had found a pretty pale lavender one, with white and blue and gold, lines of pale clear beads along the hems — her pattern was also for a clan group, though the beads could mean a lot of things, Hadassah wasn't sure what the original wearer had intended.

Once they had the things picked out, then they had to decide how they were going to wear them — there were a lot of ways they could be wrapped around a person, and most of the time it was just personal style, but sometimes it could also signal other things, including, um... Dorea thought maybe "sexual availability" would be the way to put it, so, obviously they wouldn't want to give the wrong idea there. Hadassah would cast illusions of different options — not with a wand, she was using some kind of enchanted bracelet instead — making a note on her arm whenever one of them expressed an opinion. There was one that looked fine to Dorea, mostly in that it would actually cover both her shoulders, and would also be convenient in her case, since she was rather short. Dorea gave Hermione a double-take when, after a bit of hemming and hawing, Hermione picked a style that showed rather more of the back and one side than Dorea would ever be comfortable with in public. Seemed like that would be, just, awkward to walk around in...

Dorea belatedly remembered that Hermione had been to actual nude beaches on the Continent before, several times, on holiday with her French relatives. Never mind.

Anyway, then they had to pick out the pins and stuff that would hold the things on. There was always one big hoop, wider then Dorea's hand splayed all the way open, that went through a couple layers to hold it in place over their hip, but depending on how the thing was wrapped they might need one or two smaller things — Dorea and Millie both needed a second one, but Hermione only needed the one hoop. The metal was mostly plain iron or bronze, but all of them had plenty of beads strung along them, in a few places dangling down. There were sometimes special things people would wear, identifying them or their role in the town somehow, maybe some special recognition they'd achieved at some point, but none of those sorts of things would be here. The girls didn't have to worry about accidentally giving the wrong impression or whatever, they just had to find something that went with the wrap, and that they liked the look of. It took them rather less time to finish with this, since they already had colours to match against.

The changing part of the whole process was definitely the most uncomfortable. Dorea had kind of expected it to be, since she didn't really know how they were supposed to put the things on, so there'd be at least one person there helping them...but, of course, there weren't changing rooms, they were just supposed to do it out in the open. How cavelier mages could be about this sort of thing was still a little weird to her, but they were in something approaching private, if with rather more people than she would like, and they had split up the boys and girls, so, fine.

...Maybe the way men and women dressed wasn't that different, and the real reason they'd split them up was because they'd be changing clothes. Hmm.

Anyway, yes, it was a bit awkward — more for Dorea than it seemed to be for the others. Even Sophie, with the rest of the girls nearby, hardly seemed phased, but the Hufflepuff girls did share a single bedroom, and rumour had it they even bathed together sometimes, so. (Of course, there was a bath with their rooms in Slytherin large enough they could use it all at once, because it really wasn't that long ago that public bathing had been the norm — so recent that the individual showers had been added after Cassiopeia was a student but before Andi — but no one ever used it anymore.) In their trio, Millie had hesitated for a little bit before shedding her robes, and then another moment after that before moving on to the shorts and vest under that, leaving her only in a pair of mage-made knickers, smooth pale cloth held in place with laces — Dorea noticed Millie had a lot of faded little scars, but they were randomly all over the place, and none of them looked too deep, probably gotten running around playing as a kid. It took a little longer for Hermione to start getting undressed — she lingered for a bit over which hoop she wanted to go with, also grabbing a few bracelets and things — but she went about it quicker than Millie did, pulling her jumper and her shirt over her head both at once, shimmying out of her jeans a second later. By the time Millie was done, Hermione was balancing on one foot as she pulled off a sock, seemingly unconcerned about standing around wearing only a bra and little cotton pants.

Feeling the flush on her face, Dorea dipped her head, delaying over the laces of her robes for a moment. She would do it, it was just a little uncomfortable — she wished there were changing rooms...

"What should I do about this?" Hermione asked. There was a little snapping noise, Dorea assumed she'd plucked the strap of her bra. Oddly, less embarrassed to be talking about it than she'd been back in the guest hall, Dorea didn't know what that was about. "I imagine you don't wear these here, but you must have something else."

"Why must you wear any soutif at all?" She didn't think that word was Cambrian, maybe French?

"...Well, I imagine I might find it somewhat distracting." Yes, Dorea suspected she might — Dorea didn't really need to wear a bra yet (in fact she didn't much of the time, depending on what she was wearing), but Hermione would definitely be able to feel the difference if she didn't. She was the oldest girl in the year, but after having met Emma it was clear it was also just genetics.

(Dorea was aware Blacks tended to be rather flat-chested, and Mum wasn't particularly well-endowed either. Not that she minded, honestly — she didn't envy Hermione the future back pain.)

"Hmm, there is— Wait a moment..."

Hadassah returned to the clothing racks to poke around for a minute, leaving them waiting, standing around undressed. By this point, Dorea only had her knickers and shorts left — she wasn't going to bother talking the shorts off, she didn't think it would make a difference — and Millie was standing there with her arms wrapped around her stomach and her shoulders hunching a little, uncomfortable. Hermione shot her a couple glances, obviously considering saying something but uncertain whether she should. Finally, a little delicately, as though worried she'd be snapped back at, "There's nothing to be feeling self-conscious about, Millie. You look fine."

Oh, was that what that was about? Dorea hadn't been watching that closely — she certainly wouldn't be comfortable with people just staring at her at the moment, she'd been trying to be polite. Millie was hardly a conventional beauty, too tall and thick and— Not "thick" in a fat way, she was just a big girl, was all. If Dorea were a less tactful person, she might make a joke about Amazons, and maybe boys just being worried she might hurt them. Point was, Dorea hadn't been paying attention, but if Millie was self-conscious about her body that would make sense, especially since the nobility had a thing about women being all delicate and graceful and so forth — easy for girls like Dorea or Daphne to live up to; girls like Millie, not so much.

Millie blankly stared at Hermione for a moment — an awkward moment, Dorea should think, given neither of them were properly dressed at the moment. "Um. Thanks, Maïa." Since when did Millie use Hermione's nickname? Even most of her friends didn't, Hermione thought of it as something she only used in French. "You're, um..." Millie trailed off, glancing away. Dorea was guessing she'd intended to return the favour, but had no idea where to go with that sentence, which was fair, because this was very awkward.

Hermione's lips twitched a little. "I could stand to lose a little," she said, poking herself in the belly, "but oh well." She gave a light, careless shrug with that, clearly something she wasn't particularly concerned about.

Thankfully, Hadassah returned before Dorea or Millie had to decide if they should be saying anything in response. She'd brought a strip of plain white cloth, which was to be wrapped around a woman's chest to support her beasts — primarily to prevent them from getting uncomfortable whiplash when doing something athletic, Dorea gathered, not something most women wore on ordinary days. Hermione's bra tossed aside on top of her pile of clothes, they took care of that first, Hermione seemingly unbothered with Hadassah helping her get the thing on correctly. (Which continued to be weird, she'd seemed so embarrassed about it back in the guest hall.) Once it was in place, Hadassah laid a hand against it and said a word in Cambrian — it must be an enchantment key, because the cloth abruptly turned invisible, the skin showing as though there were nothing there at all. Though it did make Hermione's chest look funny, smooshed up a little and ignoring gravity.

Dorea found the getting the things on part very uncomfortable — standing around underdressed was uncomfortable to begin with, but of course none of them knew what they were doing, so Hadassah had to physically help them get the things on. Both in a humiliating I'm fourteen, I shouldn't need help dressing myself anymore way, and in an awkward this stranger is touching me and I don't even have a shirt on way, but Dorea, just, tried not to think about it. Like she were at the doctor's office — which was something she had far too much practice with — just a thing she had to do at the moment, pretending as well as she could that this was perfectly ordinary and nothing to be awkward about. She got through it without too much trouble, but Liz had definitely made a good call not joining him, Dorea doubted she would have managed it without her calming potion.

Hermione was nearly finished with her turn, Hadassah adjusting the fold over her hip to get the 'skirt' to sit right — Dorea suspected Hermione had volunteered to go last because she was obviously the least uncomfortable of the three of them, standing around in only her knickers and the invisible breastband thing — when Mum and Emma wandered over, their group apparently finished, clothes carried in a simple cloth bag hanging from their elbows (likely conjured for the purpose). Mum's wrap dress thing was in a deep blue-green, nearly (but not quite) the same shade as her eyes, Emma's a bright yellow with orange and red, apparently sunset-themed. Both had borrowed extra jewellery, as Hermione had, beads glittering at wrists and necks and ankles — Mum had also gotten a kind of headband thing, a thick row of coloured glass following her hairline all the way across her forehead to tuck behind her ears, mostly in blue and green, bringing out the subtle hint of red in her hair.

Also, the style both of them had gone with was, er, rather more revealing than Dorea would be comfortable with. Mum's left shoulder bare, the 'skirt' tilted such that one side nearly reached all the way up to her hip — hardly scandalous by muggle standards, but still. The skirt on Hermione's mum's was longer — though also skewed, which seemed to be standard here, but unlike most longer toward the outside and shorter in the middle, creating a sort of upside-down U-shaped profile, the tip reaching high enough the inside of the very bottom of her thighs just above her knees showed — like Mum's also only folded over one shoulder, but unlike Mum's left her stomach exposed, from the top of her hips to the bottom of her ribs. Okay, then...

Dorea could clearly make out rows of faded, pale, kinking lines — stretch marks from pregnancy, she assumed, Mum had the same, though thicker and darker (newer, Hermione was fourteen and Sam only three). But, well, Hermione's parents were remarkably in shape for their age — they were medical doctors, after all, teenaged but sport-shy and swotty Hermione was the least fit of the three — presumably Emma felt she had absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. Which she didn't, honestly, Dorea had spotted people here covering rather less than that, and it wasn't like having had a kid was anything shameful. Unless one had gotten knocked up outside of wedlock twice, by two separate men — Mother.

(Not meant in a disparaging way, of course, especially since Dorea was one of those unexpected pregnancies, she was just saying, honestly, Mum...)

"Oh, well this is cute," Mum said, reaching over to Dorea's shoulder to run her fingers over the beads. "How do you like it, lovey?"

"It's nice enough." Honestly, once she got through the actually getting dressed part, it was fine — felt a little odd, though she couldn't put her finger on how exactly, but she did like the colour, and the beads were pretty. "I see you had fun over there," eyes flicking up to the headband.

Mum smiled, reaching up to run her fingers over the beads crossing her forehead. "Of course. I haven't played around with costumes— My, not since before you were born. I almost forgot how fun it could be."

"Playing with costumes? Were you in theatre?" Emma asked — good guess, right in one.

"Oh yes, obviously, did I never mention that? I was quite serious about it once upon a time, got into performing arts schools for secondary and university and everything. I had dreams of a career on the West End before this one came along," she admitted, gently running a hand through Dorea's hair.

Dorea was aware of that, Mum was very upfront with her about pretty much everything. She'd even come out and explicitly said Dorea shouldn't feel guilty for putting an end to her time in theatre practically before it'd started — keeping her had been Mum's decision, and she didn't regret it. Dorea didn't think it'd been necessary to have that conversation, but fine, good to know for certain Mum wasn't bitter about it, she guessed.

"Mm. Have you ever thought of getting back into it? Ben and Sam are still young, but they'll be starting primary before too long, and there's no reason you can't start slow. And it's never too late to get back into the arts. I first picked up the guitar only a couple years ago, around when the girls started at Hogwarts in fact, and I've been looking to get a group together — and I'm a good decade older than you."

Did... Had Hermione's mum just casually mentioned trying to start a garage band? It must not have been news to Mum, though, she just let out a thoughtful hum. "It hadn't occurred to me, honestly. U.K.C. does have a theatre program, but I'm not... I'll think about it, thanks."

Around then, Hadassah had Hermione hop up and down a couple times, and then turn back and forth on her toes, making sure everything would sit right as she had with Dorea and Millie earlier, before telling her that was it. Hermione bounced closer, the beads in her borrowed jewellery jingling. "All done. Looking good Mum, Gail."

"Thank you, lovey, and right back at you. Blue is good on you."

Emma glanced around quick, before leaning a little closer to Hermione and muttering something in French — Dorea didn't catch more than a word or two but, by the way Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes, probably teasing her about boys. "And you, Millicent, I love the red."

Millie blushed a little. "Thank you, Missus Granger."

"Ah, ah, ah, Emma. Or 'Doctor Granger', if you truly must — I worked hard for that title, dammit." Millie didn't respond, but she did smile a little, quietly amused. "But seriously, I saw you tugging at it and shuffling around on the walk over here, but you look lovely. We taller women, we can't hit the cute and delicate mark, so we have to aim for striking and intimidating instead."

Mum nodded, with a solemn, serious sort of expression. "I believe Machievelli said something about the relative value of cultivating love or fear."

This time, Millie actually laughed out loud, seemingly despite herself — Dorea didn't think she'd ever actually heard Millie laugh before.

Not all of them were done yet, but they didn't have to wait, it wasn't as though they wouldn't be able to find their way back to the guest hall from this nearby. Bags were handed around, they stuffed in their clothes, Dorea charming the bottom of her shoes clean first. (Everyone went barefoot here, so.) After Emma confirmed with Hadassah what they were supposed to do with their borrowed things at the end of the night — they could just leave them in their rooms when they left for home, they'd get back where they were supposed to — they filed back out into the courtyard. There were a few people here, milling around talking as they waited for opposite-sex relatives to finish being fitted. They were halfway through when Hermione's dad found them. Daniel was wearing mostly red, which actually matched Emma's yellow quite nicely (despite that they couldn't possibly have planned that), and had also borrowed a few bracelets and stuff, to Dorea's surprise — though she maybe should have expected that, it wasn't as though the men here didn't wear this stuff the same as the women. She guessed she'd just expected him to be, well, more muggleish in his sensibilities, if that made sense. But then, she guessed, he was French.

Dorea caught herself staring at him — Daniel's also only went over one shoulder, the folds loose enough to allow a good look at his chest from the right angle — and forced herself to look away. Yes, the Grangers were in very good shape for their age.

(The realisation that Hermione's dad was actually kind of hot was not one she'd needed to process right now. Honestly, he was like thirty-five years older than her, this was even worse than Adrian Pucey...)

After a brief delay, Daniel complimenting Emma and Hermione (and a couple token comments to the rest of them) in an eclectic mix of English and French, they were heading back to the guest hall. They were partway across the street when Hermione let out a sharp huff, snapping out something — it was in French again, Dorea didn't catch it. Dorea glanced back in time to see Emma and Daniel were walking arm-in-arm directly behind Hermione, who'd turned to give Emma a look Dorea couldn't see from here; her parents were both smirking, Daniel leaned a little closer to mutter something. Hermione scoffed, smacked his chest with the back of her hand, hissing something annoyed-sounding, but Dorea could tell she was trying not to laugh, a waver at the edge of her voice. With a smirking comment from Emma, Hermione let out a little huff, and turned to walk away, faster than before to catch up with Dorea and Mum, frizzy brown curls floofing as she shook her head.

"What was that about?" Dorea asked as she joined them.

"Oh, nothing." Hermione's eyes flicked over to Mum for a second, hesitating, before her lips curled in a wry, reluctant sort of smirk. "My mother felt the need to inform my father that she's not wearing knickers."

A huff of breath was surprised out of her. "Er, what? Really?"

"Apparently, their helper told Mum that it's pretty common for people here to not bother with underclothes most of the time — her excuse was autre pays, autre coutume."

"Um." That would be other country, other, er...

"When in Rome," Mum said.

"Right, sorry, forgot." That Dorea didn't speak French, presumably. "It is just an excuse, though, my parents can be, you know. I won't be surprised if they sneak off before we even get to dinnertime, let's put it that way."

"...Okay." As much as she'd stormed away from her parents in a huff, it didn't look like Hermione was actually that bothered. Dorea shot her a couple glances as they passed through the archway back into the guest hall courtyard, wondering about that. They hadn't ever talked about this sort of thing before, so Dorea couldn't say for sure, but she'd kind of expected Hermione would be uncomfortable about her parents being, well, so open about it.

Hermione obviously noticed the looks, turned to frown back at her. "What?"

"I don't know," Dorea muttered, "it just seems kind of...awkward. Doesn't your parents talking like that right in front of you bother you?"

"Not really," Hermione said, with a careless little shrug, the motion making some of the stitching in her dress shimmer. "As long as they're not having sex right in front of me, that would be awkward."

She didn't quite manage to hold in a shocked scoff — she guessed "awkward" was a word for it...

Hermione smirked at her, seemingly amused with herself. "I guess it might seem a little weird, but it's kind of nice to know, honestly. I mean, I would rather my parents still be mad in love with each other than the alternative, you know?"

...Well, when she put it like that...

Mum also seemed amused, but was doing her best not to laugh (at Dorea), not quite managing to hide a smile. Pausing in the courtyard, Mum said, "I should go see how Richard and the boys are coming along. How about you give me your bag and I'll put it in your room?"

"I'll go put my things away too," Hermione said, "meet you at Liz's?"

While they headed for the stairs, Millie silently drifting after them, Dorea looked around the courtyard to orient herself, then started in the general direction of Liz and Snape's rooms. If it weren't for the sign Liz had stuck to the doorframe, she might not have been able to find it, they all looked more or less the same from the outside. The sliding door was open, but Dorea didn't walk straight through, paused at the threshold with a knock on the frame. "Hello?"

"You can come in," said with a slight hint of exasperation. Liz was sitting in one of the armchairs in the common room, what was probably a textbook splayed open in her lap. While they'd been gone, she'd also taken the opportunity to change — she was in the 'robes' (really a dress) that she'd bought during their trip to Charing on her birthday, vibrant red threaded with black, knee-length pleated skirt. Like most of the locals', this dress also left one shoulder uncovered, which Dorea still thought was a weird thing to do, but whatever. Dorea had never seen this one in person, only in black-and-white photos in the Prophet, she hadn't realised how very red it would be.

"Is Snape in?" Honestly, having Professor Snape along on holiday was slightly unnerving. Not that she disliked Snape, exactly — he was all cold and sharp and intimidating, but he was generally nice to the Slytherins ("nice" being a relative term) — but it was just hard to ignore him when he was in the room. She kept glancing his way, to make sure he was still where she'd last seen him, or consciously trying to not do that, because she was being silly and neurotic, honestly, what did she think was going to happen? That and, well, she was here on holiday, and he was one of her school teachers, it was weird.

Marking her page and folding her book closed, Liz rolled her eyes. "It's the solstice, you're supposed to be using his first name." Oh, right, she'd forgotten about that... "Though, I guess since they do things a little different at the Greenwood, maybe not until sunset? Whatever. Anyway, he's here, but he's in the bath," waving vaguely over her shoulder toward the back of the room.

Right, he'd be getting ready for the party too. Good, then. Dorea had been walking into the room as they talked, now close enough to see the cover of Liz's book — Echoes of the Past. "Oh, isn't that one of your Divination books?"

Liz nodded. "The one about dream-walking. I'm planning on giving it a try sometime, but I want to make sure I know what I'm doing first."

"What's dream-walking? I don't really know anything about Divination — unless we're including what Trelawney is teaching us, and I prefer not to."

"That class is all pointless shite," Liz said, a little venom leaking into her voice. She'd even been looking forward to that class, a little, had been very disappointed by Trelawney turning out to be a sodden fraud. "But dream-walking is real, if uncommon in Europe. It does sound a little scary, honestly, but..."

For a few minutes, they talked about dream-walking — or, honestly, mostly Liz talked about dream-walking, and Dorea listened to her babble about it and asked the occasional question. (Very similar to when Hermione got excited about something, honestly.) It did sound kind of scary. The basic idea was to experience events that had happened in the past, anywhere from the day before to literal millennia ago, in one's sleep, but that made it sound way simpler than it was. It could be difficult to focus on a particular thing, the Seer might get carried away to one event or another completely at random. Having an object on hand that was important in the event they wanted to See could help, and major, important, dramatic events had a greater pull than day-to-day life, but it didn't always work the way it was intended. Also, while the Seer might witness it from their own perspective, they might relive the memories of someone who'd been there (supposedly with a preference for themselves or their ancestors, but also seemingly at random), which could be confusing and overwhelming, and sometimes even traumatic — especially if the memory they were reliving happened to include the person's death.

And it wasn't a normal sleep that this worked through, but a special kind of trance, which could be difficult to achieve unassisted...which was why there were potions to help the Seer along. Understandably, Liz was leery of the possible consequences of dosing herself with what were basically magical hallucinogens. Mind-altering drugs and PTSD tended not to mix.

Dorea tried not to react to the revelation that Liz had PTSD — she'd suspected as much, of course (she had not forgotten the incident back in first year), but this was the first time Liz had ever mentioned it. Just, casually, in an aside about those weird mind-altering Divination potions, as though it were a minor detail of no consequence. She wondered if Liz had even noticed.

Though, while she managed not to show any external sign, Dorea doubted she'd covered her reaction so thoroughly Liz couldn't feel it, with mind magic. But if she did, she didn't give any sign of it, just kept babbling on...

Anyway, she hadn't actually worked up to trying it yet, but she did have a few things she wanted to try to See. At the top of the list was the fall of Ignatius Gaunt — Liz had walked through the whole compound all the way to the throne room, back in second year, said it looked like it'd been a hell of a fight, sounded fun (bloody weirdo) — but since the whole area was locked down by archaeologists and scholars studying it, she couldn't exactly sneak in there and take a nap. She thought, maybe, if she was sure she could get dream-walking to work, they would let her give it a try in exchange for writing down for them what she Saw — though that would require getting practice in first. She had a few other things on her list, major events that had happened in the Hogsmeade Valley over the centuries, but she hadn't worked up to trying it yet. She wanted to make sure she knew what she was doing, and intended to ask "Severus" for advice on the potions first.

Dorea let out a breath of relief at that detail — at the very least Liz would be getting advice from a Healer and Potions Master before dosing herself with mind-altering substances. This dream-walking stuff still sounded freaky as hell, but it could be worse...

Before too long, Hermione was back, casually strolling into the room without knocking or announcing herself — all but silently, since she'd gotten rid of her shoes too. Though, when Dorea thought about it, Liz would definitely feel her approaching with mind magic, so she probably didn't need to announce herself...which might have something to do with why Liz had seemed a little exasperated with Dorea politely knocking. Whatever, force of habit. Anyway, Liz didn't react to Hermione appearing at all, not even looking in that direction — which didn't necessarily mean anything, the more common charm was directed by eye contact but true mind magic was omnidirectional — talking about the divination potions, that they weren't that complicated to brew, but some of the ingredients were poisonous, so "Severus" would probably insist that he brew them himself, or at the very least that she could do it under his supervision, but he was so busy these days, she had to wait for a better time...

"I don't think you're going to find a better time than now," Hermione said, walking up to lean against the side of Liz's chair. "You two are going to be staying here through the whole holiday, right? There's no reason—"

"Whoah." Hermione cut off, Dorea glanced back at Liz to find her staring up at Hermione, face blank. After a second she twitched, blinking, said, "Ah, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt, you just look good in that." Liz twitched again, and abruptly looked away from Hermione, frowning down at her knees, fidgeting in her seat. "I was surprised, is all, sorry. Go on."

...Okay, then.

Hermione didn't continue immediately, looking down at Liz, both of her eyebrows slightly raised. Probably didn't know what to think about Liz acting so...unusually un-Liz-like any more than Dorea did. "Um, thank you, Liz. I do like those robes, by the way — red is a good colour on you."

Still staring at her lap, fingers picking at her skirt, Liz just shrugged.

"As I was saying, Snape isn't likely to be less busy when the term starts up again. There are probably places you can brew the potions here, and Heli did say you can apparate in and out if you want, so..."

Hermione was nearly as fascinated by the idea of dream-walking as Liz, though for different reasons. She mostly seemed to think it would be neat to be able to directly investigate historical events like that — if that were possible, she didn't know why magical historians didn't do it more often, their techniques didn't seem any different from muggles'. Dorea would guess the necessity of actually being a Seer — Liz said it wasn't like scrying, it wasn't possible for people who didn't have the talent — the imprecision in aiming it to the desired event, and also the unnerving possibility of reliving someone's death all had something to do with it. Hermione seemed less than entirely convinced that those were good reasons not to use it more, but mages hadn't any common sense, so, not surprised.

Those sort of comments were increasingly funny these days, because Dorea was starting to suspect Hermione hadn't any common sense. Oh, you might accidentally experience the agony and trauma of someone dying from their perspective, that might be unpleasant, sure, but think of all the things you could learn from it! Honestly...

It wasn't that much later that Tracey's mum Sophie appeared, looking for Snape. Liz had hardly even had time to explain that he was in the bath when one of the doors toward the back of the room clicked open, and Snape walked out. Unlike the rest of them, he was in perfectly ordinary professional robes, which was rather more casual than what he always wore at school, though still in dark, solemn colours, because this was Professor Snape. Not long after that, Susan, Hannah, and Mrs Abbott turned up, and then Mum, Richard, and the boys — the boys were very excited by the magic holiday party coming up, all but bouncing on their toes and chattering away. (Dorea saw both Liz and Snape wince at the noise.) Lily and her parents, all in local dress, arrived a few minutes later — Lily silently squeezing next to Hermione in the armchair she'd claimed at some point and her parents hovering to the side with the other adults — and then Justin, Sally-Anne, Sophie, and their families (Sophie the only one of the lot in local dress), the Hufflepuffs quickly forming a whispering, giggling little huddle (Justin, the only boy, looking only slightly out of place). And only after the room was well and truly crowded did Dorea finally spot Hermione's parents.

It could be her imagination, but she thought the Grangers looked just slightly dishevelled, Emma's hair the most noticeably...though it was kind of a mess to begin with, if not quite as bad as Hermione's, so it was hard to say. It really hadn't been very long, but Dorea guessed they'd probably had time to snog for a bit, before remembering they were supposed to be going somewhere. Because (according to Hermione, at least) Emma and Daniel were still basically teenagers half the time, which still seemed weird, but it really wasn't Dorea's business.

The room was getting pretty loud and crowded, but thankfully for Liz's sanity it wasn't too much longer before there was a clanging of bells, their group being called back out to the courtyard. While people began streaming out, Liz delayed for a little bit to pull off her boots and socks — didn't want to accidentally crush anyone's feet, after all. (Liz was tiny, so she probably wouldn't hurt anyone too badly, but still.) They were met out in the courtyard by Daphne, Heli — it was still bloody weird that the Greengrasses had a mistress they were sharing, she knew mages did things like that sometimes but come on, Dorea was trying not to think about it too hard — and a few locals, chattering as the group milled around, a last few stragglers streaming in.

Once everyone had arrived, they were told that anyone who wanted to observe the ceremony should follow Daphne and Heli. The rest would be led to the Wheel, which would sort of be the centre of the party. There should already be people there setting up food and drink and stuff, there would also be games and whatever, lanterns and decorations — if they wanted to volunteer to help set up, they were welcome to, but if they just wanted to stand around and wait for it to start that was fine too. Out in the street, Liz slipped out of the crowd to follow Daphne and Heli, of course, followed by Snape, and so did the Grangers and the Moons, Susan and the Abbotts. Mum handed Sam over to Richard before joining them. Dorea also spotted Millie and her father moving that direction and...all the Ropers? Even Sophie's little siblings, which... Okay, then.

The "Wheel" was basically a town square, a relatively large open area surrounded by shops and things — though "shop" was probably the wrong word, Dorea suspected they didn't charge at least the locals for anything — roads leading off in seemingly random directions. Their first day here, the road they'd taken into the town had seemed pretty straight, if wavering back and forth now and then to get around uneven spots in the ground (rather than just pave over them as muggles would), and there were roads that went off at right angles, so Dorea had kind of assumed the town was on a rectangular grid, if a rather crooked one. She'd figured out yesterday that she'd guessed wrong: those intersecting roads made layers of concentric circles, looping all the way around, the straighter ones like the one they'd taken extending through the layers to meet in the middle, like the spokes of a wheel. So maybe it was appropriate that the open area in the middle was called the Wheel.

Though, since this was still the Greenwood, "open" was a relative term. There were places where the ground had been paved over with tiles — these were stone instead of the so-frequent glass, presumably to hold up to wear better — but there were large patches of greenery as well, grass and flowers and bushes and trees. They all had that weird look most green spaces here did, in that they seemed sort of cultivated...if only because natural spaces never looked that pretty, dense leaves shading grassy patches and thick banks of flowers and brightly-coloured fruits poking out here and there, but also without the rigid rows most artificially planted spaces Dorea had seen before had, different plants not restricted to certain places but all mixed up in... It was a weird combination of natural growth and conscious cultivation — which wasn't bad, of course, it was very pretty, it just always struck Dorea as somehow slightly off.

There were a fair number of people already here by the time Dorea and the guests arrived, setting up for the celebration. There were long tables placed seemingly at random — not for sitting at, there were no chairs around, but loaded with platters and pots of food, some of it visibly steaming, casks set out here and there with arrays of mugs. One place she spotted had buckets of beads sitting out, apparently for people to just take and use if they felt like it — there was already a group sitting there, mostly little kids with a couple adults looking on, stringing colourfully-dyed glass together. There were other things going on, people drawing patterns onto the bricks underfoot with chalk, posts being put up, Dorea didn't know what those were about. In multiple places along the Wheel little groups of musicians were pulling themselves together — a lot of violins and guitars and similar stringed instruments, different sizes and shapes of flutes, a few wind instruments she didn't recognise (looking closer, they had double reeds, like an oboe, but were otherwise unfamiliar), various drums and tambourines and the like — little snatches of notes flittering across the air as they warmed up.

In a few different places, paper lanterns were being filled with... Well, Dorea didn't know what that stuff was — magical, clearly, a liquid of some kind glowing a constant bright, clear, blueish-silver. The paper shutters came in different colours and cut into different shapes, illuminated from within to create glowing flowers, or birds, or just interesting asymmetrically-curving shapes, all kind of things. There were groups of kids — well, teenagers, the average age seemed pretty close to Dorea's — who would pick up a lantern, climb one of the trees inside or along the edge of the Wheel, hang it up somewhere in the branches, and then go back for another lantern. By the time they got here, some of the trees nearby where the lanterns were being filled had been layered top to bottom with the things placed every few feet, bright and colourful against the deepening shadows as the sun approached the horizon, the trees a little further just starting to get the same treatment.

Dorea hesitated for a moment, not sure what to do with herself while they waited, before deciding to join the people putting up the lanterns. Normally, she wouldn't go about climbing trees in a skirt, but she was wearing shorts, it was fine. (And it wasn't as though the Mistwalkers were likely to make a fuss about it, so.) Even distracted by the boys — Ben wanted to go see what the little kids by the beads were up to, Sam held in one arm, looking around wide-eyed and asking what this or that thing was — Richard didn't miss her moving to leave, and was paying enough attention to even know where she was going. Gently snagging her at the elbow with his free hand, he asked, "Are you sure that's a good idea, Doe? I mean, climbing trees..."

...She hadn't thought about that, honestly. Unlike some of the other students she knew had epilepsy, she hadn't had any drop attacks, but seizures could hit with very little warning sometimes — less likely for people with the stealing away than normal epilepsy, since the corrective ritual extended the onset so they had more intense auras, but still. And, even if she didn't get a seizure at a very inopportune moment, she could still slip and fall, and getting even minor head injuries wasn't a great idea. She wasn't particularly clumsy or anything, but...

But Dorea hadn't thought of it, because she felt...fine. Great, even, better than she'd felt in months. Honestly, she hadn't— Well, no, she had noticed how worn out she'd started feeling, but it hadn't really been high on her list of concerns, what with the infrequent seizures and much more frequent migraines, and Sirius off doing who knew what reckless nonsense, and Liz's complicated home life situation starting to get out, and— There'd just been a lot going on, okay. But she felt fine, now. Maybe it was just being away from the dementors, maybe once they were gone Dorea would go back to normal...though she couldn't entirely convince herself of that, she suspected that now that she'd had a single breakthrough seizure she'd have to deal with this stuff indefinitely.

Or, well, this was a very old magical site, maybe it was just the Greenwood. "It's okay, Rick, I feel fine. I think the magic here might be good for your health, you know, the same way it helps plants grow really well?" Not that Dorea had any idea how that worked, but it sounded reasonable to her. "I'll be fine, I think."

Richard looked a little sceptical, but he did let go of her arm. "If you say so, just making sure. You know how to get back to the guest hall from here?" In case they couldn't find each other in the crowd again when the night was done, which was a reasonable thought, this was a pretty big place.

"Yeah, I think so. And I know enough Cambrian to ask for help if I can't figure it out. And, with the tree-climbing, if I start not to feel well, I'll stop. But I think I'll be fine."

"Right, good. Have fun, Doe."

When Dorea arrived at one of the lantern-hanging teams, she meant to ask if there was a particular pattern they were hanging things in, certain spots certain lanterns were supposed to go — and then immediately hit a road-block when it turned out that the adult in charge didn't speak English. Oh well, it looked pretty random, Dorea was sure one of the kids would correct her if she messed something up.

The lantern hanging turned out to be rather fun, honestly. It wasn't very often she did physical things — partially because she'd gone through a period as a little kid when her health had been so bad she really hadn't been able to, but she'd also never been particularly sporty to begin with — and it must have been ages since she'd climbed a tree, but it was kind of nice. The lanterns were pretty, and looking up and down the trees, figuring out where she wanted to put the thing and how exactly she'd climb up there, like a little puzzle, and the actual climbing part wasn't so bad either, kind of fun. She did scratch up her hands and feet and even her shins a little, but those were easy to fix with a couple simple healing charms now and then, no big deal. After several times up and down, her legs and arms were starting to burn a little from the effort, sweat dribbling down her neck and chest, cold in the breeze, but that wasn't so bad — the breeze was even quite nice, actually.

The kids she was helping tried to include her, all talking at her and everything, though that was complicated by most of them not speaking much English at all, and Dorea's Cambrian really being not very good. They were understanding about that, at least, and they were nice enough, so it wasn't that big of a problem. She introduced herself with Young, her mother's maiden name (and still technically Dorea's legal name in the UK), to avoid making anyone uncomfortable with suddenly finding themselves in the presence of a Lady of the Wizengamot (from one of the Most Ancient Houses, no less). It was a little awkward at times, with the language barrier, but it went well enough, Dorea thought.

One of the boys right around her age (or more likely a couple years older) must be getting warm from all the climbing — he undid the hoop holding his clothes together for a moment, rewrapping the cloth around his chest and over his shoulder down to all settle around his waist and thighs instead before closing the hoop again. Leaving his chest and back completely uncovered. Dorea caught herself staring after at least a few seconds, forced herself to look back up at the tree she was about to climb, feeling the nerves tingling along her neck and warmth on her face.

Her group had finished with most of their lanterns, less than a dozen left, when the sun finally dipped below the horizon. A moment afterward, there was a deep thrum, like the strike of an overlarge drum — but, somehow, Dorea knew it wasn't a physical feeling. It wasn't sound, but an echo of some kind carried through the magic around her, like a wave cast by a stone dropped into a pond. As the wave passed, tingles raced over Dorea's skin head to toe, intense enough she shivered. But it wasn't unpleasant, after it was gone she found herself smiling, even if she couldn't put words to why.

And then the holiday celebration started properly.

As informal as the Mistwalkers seemed to be in general, there wasn't any organisation to the event at all. There was food here, and music being played here, and games here (most of which were completely unfamiliar), do whatever you want, go nuts. People were hanging out talking over drinks, or running around doing who knows what, shouting and laughter mixing with the music — several different groups playing in different places, far enough apart you couldn't really hear the others if you were close to one, but get far enough away from all of them and it all turned into a confused mess. There were games that involved throwing little things — small wooden rectangular blocks, something colourful painted on the faces — across the shapes that had been sketched onto the tile — some kind of betting game, she thought, though she had no idea what they were betting. (It wasn't like people here used money.) The posts she'd seen being put up turned out to be something rather like tetherball, though not the same thing, there were short little spines sticking out of the post that would catch the rope, they seemed to be taking turns to... Well, she didn't know, and she didn't bother asking — she didn't speak Cambrian well enough to understand if someone did try to explain the rules to her, so she didn't really get close to any of the games and things going on.

As the celebration keyed up, everyone's accumulated excitement almost seemed to sizzle in the air around her head. (In retrospect, their ritual might have done something to the ambient magic in the area.) It was hard not to get drawn into it, quickly starting to feel a bit giddy and jittery, throwing herself into it with very little thought. And "very little thought" was a good phrase for it — Dorea allowed herself to be carried away enough that she didn't even remember much of the night, a gleeful haze broken with occasional clear moments.

Not long after it started, the people who'd gone to witness the ceremony started trickling back. Dorea happened to be up a tree hanging another lantern at the time, so she was at a good angle to spot Liz and Hermione — she scraped her leg on a branch trying to get down maybe a little bit too fast, but oh well, a simple charm would fix that. The crowd was still sparse enough at this early point that Dorea could pick out Hermione without too much trouble — Liz was too short to see clearly — wove her way through clumps of people to reach them, heading toward one of the places where the meal had been set out.

"Oh, hey Dorea," Hermione called as she approached. "I was wondering how we were going to find you in all this."

"I was up a tree, hanging lanterns." A frown crossed Hermione's face, probably wondering if that was really safe for Dorea to be doing, but she went on before she could say something about that. "So, how was the ceremony?"

"Fine enough, I suppose..."

"I understood most of the litany," Liz started, "but there were parts— It was in Cambrian, you know, but there were a few special chanted bits I think were really, really old. It sounded off, and I think some of the words even had inflectional endings, you know, like in Latin?"

Hermione let out a little scoff. "Goodness, you followed it well enough to notice that?"

"Well, it wasn't hard, when a lot of the words end with the same sounds in a pattern it's pretty easy to figure out..." Dorea was pretty sure Hermione had meant that Liz could follow it well enough to pick out where one word ended and the next started, but that didn't really matter. Besides, Liz was good with languages, she'd probably just shrug it off anyway.

"Anyway, yeah, that's possible. Cambrian is an Indo–European language too, it just dropped the endings a long time ago. Though, in order for the older bits you noticed to have that sort of thing, they'd have to be very old — dating to Roman Britain, or maybe even earlier."

"They are an old pagan cult, right? So that's not impossible."

"I'm not saying it is impossible, just that it's somewhat impressive that they managed to maintain an oral tradition stretching back that far. I assume the litany was passed down orally, anyway, they weren't reading it from anything..."

"Also, the magic was nice. I didn't even do anything, and I still feel kind of up just being so close to it." Now that Liz mentioned it, she did seem to be smiling, a little — which was noteworthy, since Liz hardly ever smiled unless she was consciously trying to communicate something.

"It was a bit messy though, it's probably a good idea you didn't come with," Hermione said, her voice dropping a little. "There was a lot of blood, and, well. They cut its throat toward the beginning of the ritual, and there was more after that, they— Well, it was kind of gruesome."

"Hermione is trying to avoid explaining that they cut out the thing's heart and pitched it into the fire."

Dorea grimaced. "Yeah, I wouldn't have wanted to watch that. I'm kind of surprised Sophie's parents brought the little kids."

"Apparently Sophie's grandparents raise sheep and pigs, nothing they haven't seen before." Hermione shrugged, her borrowed jewellery tinkling a little.

...Okay, then. Dorea still thought the cutting out the thing's heart part would have been a bit much, but how the Ropers decided to raise their kids wasn't any of her business.

She ended up having a light dinner with Liz and Hermione, a couple other of their friends joining in over the next minutes — though they didn't have much, since they were just supposed to grab things as they wanted them, the meal stretched out over the course of the night. The food was a little weird. Most of it was finger-food, obviously, but there were also stews and things. Apparently those half-loaves of bread — not big things, Dorea could hold one in one hand without any awkwardness — were meant to be used as little edible bowls. The crust was pretty hard and thick, so it worked, just, Dorea wouldn't have thought of doing that if she hadn't seen a local do it first. Dorea stuck to finger-food, which necessitated going back and forth between their group and the table as she exhausted the few things she could hold, but Liz actually tried it, using a handful of crisps in place of a spoon. (The crisps were almost certainly not made with potatoes, probably a mix of flatbreads and various vegetables.) She did have drips now and then, getting broth on her nice robes, but cleaning charms could take care of that, so.

They lost each other pretty quickly after that — Dorea wasn't sure how it happened, but there were kind of a lot of people milling around now, and Liz was so very short. For a while, Dorea just wandered around, watching people chatting and listening to the music going on here and there, a few last lanterns being hung up, people starting to get into the games and stuff, carrying around mugs of whatever. (Dorea had her own, one of the wines they'd had sitting out, though she was being very careful about only having a sip now and then.) She bumped into her mother at some point, by chance, and also Emma and Daniel. They were just getting to the Wheel now, having stayed through the funeral for the sacrificed cow — apparently Liz and Hermione had decided not to stick around for that part. But they only talked for a couple minutes before they went their separate ways, Dorea left on her own.

While hanging around listening to one of the groups of musicians, there was a bit of shouting, she was being waved over— Oh! It was the same group of teenagers she'd hung lanterns with earlier. Introductions went around again, making sure everyone remembered everyone's names — the locals used an odd mix of Cambrian, Gaelic, and Latin names, it could be hard to keep straight, and they hadn't realised that Dorea and Sophie already knew each other (complete coincidence Sophie was here, where were the other Hufflepuffs?) — and there was to be dancing, did Dorea know how? Well, obviously she knew some, since she'd needed to learn as part of her proper noble girl education, but she seriously doubted they were the same dances. But that was fine, they needed to teach Sophie anyway. The two of them were led through some of the basics, and once they weren't likely to trip over anyone, they...

Dorea probably spent most of the night dancing, honestly. She hadn't really gone dancing before — mostly just in practice, with Cassiopeia or rarely Dora playing the male partner for her (as boys, because metamorphs) — and it was way more fun than she'd expected. The music was quick and bouncy and energetic, the beat beneath pretty easy to follow, but they'd also frequently pass solos back and forth, which were much more complicated and varied and sometimes heavily syncopated, but the easy-to-follow beat kept going on under that, so Dorea thought those were meant to be largely ornamental. The dances were...

After a bit watching and playing around, Dorea thought the style of folk dance here was a very distant relative of Irish stepdance — there was definitely a heavy focus on the footwork, but they also definitely weren't the same thing. For one thing, there was a lot of moving around, no one ever staying in the same spot for more than a few seconds, and even some twirls and stuff. The important thing to follow along with was the pacing, the way people were moving around and turning and stuff, it—

Most of the time it was sort of a partner dance, but one of those ones where people switched partners every few bars, so you had to follow along with how the pairs were moving, and time the swaps right and everything, but as long as you were staying within that broad pattern you could do pretty much whatever you wanted. By which Dorea meant there was a lot of complicated footwork going on, but... Well, there were places in the pattern where there were specific things you were supposed to do — especially this one spot in one, the pair were face-to-face, where there was this thing where they went all step-step-step, cross, then lifting the back foot and leaning and doing a sort of swishing dip kind of thing with their arms around each other's waists, turning fast enough Dorea had to pull against the centrifugal force, the arm around her waist pressing in, and then repeating it back the other way before moving on — but most of the time outside of those specific moments it looked like people could just do whatever the fuck they felt like. Improvising, a lot like the violinist, she guessed.

Especially, when they were supposed to be swapping partners, there were a few seconds where people would be on their own, many people apparently taking the moment to show off, a lot of really complicated stepping going on, or sometimes spinning, skirts whipping around, or sometimes both at once, Dorea couldn't even follow what people were doing sometimes, too fast and all over the place. (Which was slightly absurd, they were mostly around her age, a little older, how long had they been practising this?) Thankfully, that stuff was apparently optional, so Dorea just didn't bother — though as she got more comfortable with it she started adding in twirls as she went, the spin lifting the cloth of her weird wrap dress away from her skin an inch, allowing a little breeze through, getting sweaty enough it was almost shockingly cool, sometimes all but stumbling into the next boy she was passed to, breathless and giggly.

There were a couple of proper partner dances, where they weren't swapping off all the time, though these tended to be as quick and complicated as the group ones. When the song switched to one of these, Dorea had ended up with one of her fellow lantern-hangers — Maredudd, a boy about her age (maybe slightly older, but not by more than a year or two), tall and dark-haired and grinning. (That was Meredith, she was pretty sure, but she knew from History class that was originally a masculine name.) Dorea hadn't known the steps, of course, so that first time one of these dances came up Maredudd had to teach her, carefully picking through it bit by bit, but it wasn't too complicated — the basic stuff, at least, obviously people added more elaborated stuff to it just to show off — and once she had it she made a point of coming back to Maredudd for a proper dance, to make up for mostly missing out on the first one.

(Also, he was pretty — tall and fit, obvious with one shoulder uncovered, the beaded piercings through his lips and nose and eyebrows still a little weird to Dorea's eyes but not bad, his arm firm around her waist distractingly pleasant — and he'd been nice and patient teaching her the steps, so, that helped.)

It was fun, was the thing. But eventually she was starting to get tired, and hungry. She must have been at it for a couple hours maybe, she didn't know, there weren't any clocks around. Most of her fellow lantern-hangers also thought it was a good time for a break, so they went off toward one of the food tables together, the group including Maredudd along with a boy and girl Dorea was ninety per cent certain were his brother and sister...or maybe cousins? (Dorea thought which word they used while speaking Cambrian depended on whether they were in the same clan group thing, "brother" didn't necessarily mean they shared parents, it was confusing.) Dorea's Cambrian wasn't any better than it'd been at the beginning of the night — well, maybe a little, having been forced to actually use it for once — so she couldn't follow most of the conversation, but they were nice enough, and it wasn't as though Dorea had any idea where her friends were at the moment, so whatever.

She ended up staying with Maredudd and his friends for the rest of the night. She didn't have anything better to do, and they were nice enough...and also Maredudd was pretty, so.

There were a few little flashes of things she'd just caught a glimpse of, without any context, not even sure what part of the night they'd been in. She passed Millie dancing at one point, which seemed a little out of character, Millie always seemed so quiet and reserved, but good for her. At another one of the dance clumps, Mum and Emma had apparently borrowed a violin and a guitar from local musicians, playing around with backing from the rest of the group — an obviously different style from what the locals played, but the musicians clearly knew what they were doing well enough to follow along, the dancers improvising steps to go with it. Dorea had heard Mum play plenty, of course, but she hadn't known Emma played at all before earlier today, not bad. (Dorea pointed out Mum to Maredudd, didn't entirely understand what he said back, but she was positive it was a compliment of some kind.) There were occasional snogging couples here and there, mostly huddled in shadows off to the side where they wouldn't bother anyone. They were mostly all locals, but Dorea was positive one couple she saw — kind of all over each other, rather too, um, intimate to be in public — were Lily's parents, Lily would be so embarrassed...

After eating and refilling drinks the group she was with went to a patch of trees, to relax for a while, most of them sitting just a couple branches up (since there weren't chairs around). Glancing away from their group for a second, she spotted another snogging couple in the shadows...and then nearly fell out of her tree when she realised they were Susan and Hannah — what the hell...

Dorea had absolutely no idea what to think about that, and decided she didn't want to deal with it right now, turned back to the group she was with and tried to pretend she hadn't noticed.

There was a game people were playing a few places here and there — it was kind of a dance, she thought, but kind of not. There were these wood sticks, a bit longer than Dorea's forearm, and it looked a lot like play sword-fighting, trying to whack each other with the things, but like the dancing mostly seemed to be about showing off, tossing the sticks hand to hand and doing complicated twirling things, the footwork way more elaborate than Dorea thought would be done in a real fight, with a lot of hopping and spinning, and all kinds of things. Since it was the most violent thing going on around here, it probably shouldn't have been any surprise that this was where Liz was. She happened to be taking a turn when Dorea was passing by, she paused a moment to watch.

Liz was rather smaller than the boy she was play-fighting, but she was quick, snapping out with flickering jabs and swings — holding her stick like a wand, Dorea noticed, which meant she probably had better control of it but wouldn't be able to hit very hard without it getting knocked out of her hand — turning aside from counter-attacks with dips and spins, the vividly red skirt of her nice dress flaring out. She and the boy were tossing taunts back and forth in pauses between clashes, which Dorea suspected was also part of the game, but they were in Cambrian, didn't understand most of them. (Since when was Liz's Cambrian good enough to trade insults?) Looked like she was having fun, at least, bouncing around grinning and laughing, but this wasn't Dorea's kind of thing, she moved on before too long and just left Liz to it.

(Dorea still didn't know how to feel about Liz being in the duelling team now — she was going to be so worried, watching her fights, she was so little...)

Eventually the group Dorea was in went back to dancing, and she joined in, because why not. There was little else better for her to do here, since she wasn't familiar with any of the games and didn't speak the language well enough, and it was surprisingly fun, so. Dorea had had enough wine by this point that she was feeling very warm and tingly, so she should probably stop — if she had enough to start messing with her coordination too much, that would kind of make dancing difficult...

It was in a pause after a partner dance — there'd be a brief pause as the musicians took sips of drinks and bites of food, sometimes swapped a person out — Dorea breathless and flushed and a little giggly, leaning against Maredudd to keep herself from falling over...and also because it was just nice, his arm still lingering at her waist a little distracting. She wasn't quite done catching her breath when Maredudd said...something. It was definitely a question, but Dorea didn't catch it.

Leaning back a bit, but not all the way, very aware of one of her hands resting on his arm and the other his chest, she said, in her best attempt at Cambrian, "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

Maredudd smiled, teeth flashing, and perhaps repeated what he'd said before — again, she could tell it was a question, but she was missing too many words. As he spoke, one hand came up, his pointer and middle finger touching the corner of his lips and...

...Oh.

He was asking if he could kiss her.

Um.

Her face suddenly burning, her shoulders and the back of her neck crawling with nerves, Dorea took a (slightly shaky) step back, Maredudd's arm around her waist smoothly loosening and dropping away. "I don't– um, I have— No. I'm sorry." And she was, a little, but she didn't want to... She wasn't quite sure how to articulate it even to herself, just...didn't seem like a good idea.

It didn't help that she'd never kissed a boy before. At a Christmas party when she was slightly intoxicated (if only slightly), didn't seem like a great time to do it, and a boy who was, yes, very nice and very good-looking (if a little foriegn with the strange clothes and piercings and all), but whom Dorea could barely even talk to due to the language barrier, and whom she would probably never see again, didn't seem like a great boy to do it with. It just wasn't a good idea, was all.

She'd been a little worried that he might be disappointed or annoyed or something, but if he was Dorea saw no sign of it, just smiled and nodded and said...probably something about understanding and that being okay, she thought. And when the music started up again, Maredudd offered his hand — very clearly giving her the choice of leaving if she didn't want to dance with him anymore — and they went right back to it like nothing had happened.

For the most part, anyway — Dorea didn't just magically stop thinking about it. She thought she was managing to act...mostly natural, at least.

Another break in the music came up, Maredudd and the other locals talking about...taking a break and getting a little more food, she thought. She was directly asked at one point if she was hungry — she'd picked up enough Cambrian over two and a half years of classes to understand that much, at least — and yeah, sure, she could eat. She couldn't really follow the conversation, just idly looking around at the other dancers waiting for the music to start up again, and— "Oh! Luna Lovegood!"

The tiny, waifish girl — a second-year Ravenclaw, Dorea knew, with long, pale blonde hair, peculiar silver eyes looking rather too large for her face — was almost unrecognisable, wearing the local dress as naturally and comfortably as though she belonged here. Dorea might not have recognised her at all if she didn't sit at the Ravenclaw table so often. Luna slowly turned to look up at Dorea, blinking, surprised to see her...or maybe that was just what her face always looked like, hard to say. "Dorea Black. What is it?"

"Nothing, I just— I didn't notice you were here until just now. I didn't think Astoria invited you...?" In fact, Dorea was certain she hadn't. She didn't know all of Astoria's friends, but she would have noticed if she'd brought Luna — if for no other reason, Xenophilius Lovegood was kind of hard to miss.

"No." Luna just stared at her for a moment, blank and slightly unfocused, long enough Dorea thought that was it. "Mummy was from the Greenwood, Daddy and I are always invited over for the holidays."

"...Ah." Dorea was starting to get the feeling there was something off about Luna. Well, there was always something off with Luna Lovegood, but something more than usual, she meant. Dorea didn't pay that much attention to the odd little second-year, so it could be her imagination, but she thought her face looked a little thinner, and she seemed...tired. And not just because it was getting late. "Are you... Is there something wrong?"

Luna frowned, just a little, the expression faint and somehow vague but definitely present. "Ginevra is dead." Dorea started a little at the flat statement — they had been friends, hadn't they, she'd forgotten... — Luna went on after a second. "And the Castle has a terrible infestation of derrywises and wrackspurts, not to mention all the nargles and porphyds — I can't understand how anyone can focus on their studies there. Daddy is thinking about pulling me out of school at the end of the year."

...Well, that was a lot to just casually blurt out. Dorea had absolutely no idea how the hell she was supposed to respond to that.

After a brief, awkward pause, Luna blinked, mouth opening in a little oh of realisation. "I'm sorry, was that too personal? People say I'm bad about that."

"No, it's all right. Well, I guess it was, a little bit, but it's fine. Um." Dorea hesitated for a second, glancing back at the group — about ready to go, by the sound of it — but it would probably be fine, she doubted they would care. "We were just about to take a break, get some food and hang out...if you want to join us...?"

"That's kind of you, Dorea, but no thank you."

...All right, then. "I hope you feel better, Luna."

"Yes, that would be nice. Tracking charms do work on the Greenwood." Um, okay...

Dorea didn't know what she was supposed to say to that either, but thankfully it was only a short moment later that those who wanted to get food were going, Maredudd taking her arm as they started off. (Oh, okay, they were doing this now.) Taking a last glance at Luna's back as she left, Dorea let out a sigh, and put the odd girl out of her mind.

While picking up a snack, Dorea also got some more wine. That probably wasn't the best idea, but she was feeling a bit giddy and reckless — whether that was the festival atmosphere all around, the magic of the Greenwood tingling against her, or Maredudd hovering all tall and nice and warm and handsome — and what could it hurt, really? Their group picked out an open patch of grass to sit down and eat and chat, which was slightly awkward, since Dorea was wearing a skirt...though she did have shorts on, so that wasn't really that big of a deal. She was maybe a little overly self-conscious about making sure she didn't give anyone a good angle on her way down to the grass, but it was probably fine.

Of course, the language barrier hadn't stopped being a thing, so she couldn't follow much of the conversation. Maredudd and his friends were trying to help now and then, Dorea'd probably learned more actual spoken Cambrian tonight than she did in months of formal classes, which was nice of them, but it didn't make that much of a difference. But that was fine — it was a clear, cool, beautiful night, the air fragrant with greenery and innumerable flowers and spices from the food, she'd found some kind of crispy cheesy thing that was really good, and the wine was good, and Maredudd warm at her shoulder...and his hand, occasionally touching her arm or her back as a comment was directed to her, which startled her the first couple times, unexpected, but she wasn't about to tell him to stop...

Before long their food was gone, but they didn't move on right away, sitting around chatting, a few laid out across the grass on backs or stomachs. There were a few lilting comments that'd been passed back and forth, ending with one the girls (Eustacia?) leaping over and tackling one of the boys (Faolán?) to the ground, and then they were snogging, going on for some seconds, to laughter and teasing comments from the others, and... Dorea had definitely missed something, because that seemed out of nowhere to her, and also like it would be embarrassing? but it didn't seem like the Mistwalkers were quite as, um, shy about this sort of thing, so maybe this was fine...

Maredudd's fingers were idly trailing over her arm, lightly in circles up and down, almost ticklish, so casually Dorea wondered if he was even aware he was doing it.

Distracted, Dorea was startled at a call of her name, jumping a couple inches further away form Maredudd. (Which was quite silly, she wasn't even doing anything.) She looked around, trying to find who that was, and spotted Liz's vibrant red dress appearing out of the night...

...an instant before she tripped over someone's leg, and crashed face-first into the grass. There were a few shouts of surprise, people scrambling up to see if she was okay — but Dorea could hear Liz giggling, she pushed herself to her knees, flopping her messy hair out of her face with one hand. Liz looked a bit flushed, the red on her cheeks and throat making her look rather less terribly pale than usual. Still chuckling under her breath, she replied to the questions of whether she was okay — in Cambrian, because of course — spluttering a little as she brushed a few blades of grass off her face. Instead of getting back up to her feet, Liz shuffled closer on her knees and one hand, the other bunching her skirt up a little to make sure she didn't trip over it. That was...weird.

She quickly figured out what was going on when Liz got close enough. "Doreeeeaah!" Her arms spread, she tipped over into Dorea — hugging her, but at an awkward angle, her face smooshing into Dorea's shoulder. "I found you. Hi."

"...Liz, are you drunk?"

"Mm, maybe? E'rything is kinda...spinny. There was this stuff, maybe too much, it was sper– surrise– soop– Good, it was good."

...Surprisingly. That's the word she was trying to find. "Um, what stuff?" There weren't other drugs being passed around here, were there? They were Mistwalkers, that was definitely possible...

"Er...'scalled gin, I think?" Liz squirmed closer against Dorea's side, there was an odd tickle on the air, Dorea grimaced at the mind magic — she didn't think Liz was doing anything, just kind of...floating there... "Mm, you're all warm."

Right, okay, definitely drunk. Who the hell gave a thirteen-year-old girl gin? While Dorea honestly didn't mind Liz being unusually cuddly — on normal days Liz hardly even tolerated the occasional few-second hug — it probably wasn't safe for Liz to stay out here anymore. Especially if her mind magic was...leaking? That was still supposed to be a secret. "Ah, I think we should get you in bed, Liz..."

"Nooo," she whined, half-muffled by Dorea's shoulder in her face. "Is all nice out here. Magic's all tingly."

"I'm pretty sure it'll still be tingly inside." If Liz was picking up something on the ambient magic in the Greenwood, she should still be able to feel it in her room, Dorea thought? "Um, I'm not sure what I should..." Dorea didn't have a lot of experience dealing with drunk people, she didn't know if there was, like, a potion she should be getting her...or something. For that matter, she wasn't sure how to get back to the guest hall from here, that could be a pain. "Do you know where Snape—"

Tracking charms do work on the Greenwood.

"Oh! Huh. Hey, you know Luna Lovegood? Is she a Seer?

"Looooona. Funny name, Luna Lovegood. Mmmm...that odd little Ravennaw?" There was something funny about Liz calling anyone odd or little — especially since Dorea suspected Luna, as tiny as she was, was actually taller than Liz. "I dunno. Is tha' Seer thing, Seeing Seers? Can Seers See Seers? Or maybe a special Seer who Sees Seers Seeing." Liz giggled, a little breathlessly. "Um. I dunno. Why?"

...Right, never mind. "Come on, get up, let's go find Snape. Um, Maredudd, can you help me with..."

Getting Liz up to her feet was a bit of a struggle. It wasn't hard to convince her to come with, insistently glommed on to Dorea — because apparently she was warm — but Dorea was a little light-headed from the wine herself, and having someone hanging onto her made it slightly difficult to stand up. With help from Maredudd and his brother, they managed it, but it was very awkward. Straining to reach around Liz, she got her wand out, cast a basic tracking charm Dora had taught her ages ago...and good, it did work, Snape was that way — not sure how far, and unfortunately the charm pointed her in a straight line, which would be annoying with all the clumps of people and trees around, but she'd figure it out. After thanking the boys for the help, stammering out something in awkward Cambrian about coming back when she was done helping her friend, they started stumbling away.

Which was also awkward, because she had to hold up most of Liz's weight — though a featherweight charm helped with that, Liz giggling as the magic crawled over her — and she got tripped up on Liz's feet a few times. It was slow going, especially as they had to carefully pick around people and trees, Dorea recasting the tracking spell to make sure they were still going the right direction, but the sense of pressure that came with the spell was slowly increasing, so they must be making progress. Despite Liz being no help at all, clinging on and muttering about Dorea being warm and her magic tingling...

Eventually, Dorea found Snape, but she kind of wished she hadn't. Not that he was doing anything scandalous no, but... They weren't far from one of the clumps of people dancing (had Snape gone dancing?), but a bit off into the shadows, lit in striking bands by the lamps hanging on the branches overhead. And Dorea said "they" because Snape wasn't alone — he was with a woman in local dress, the two of them standing very close and...well, friendly. Not going so far as to openly snog in public, no, but it was still pretty obvious what was going on there.

Liz dug her heels in a little, stumbling. "Nnooo, leave him alone." Tipping on her toes, leaning up closer to Dorea's ear — close enough she could smell the spices and liquor on her breath — she hissed, "He's gonna get laid."

Dorea couldn't quite hold in a snort — that was just a funny thing for Liz to say, she didn't know why. Though, at the same time, that was...sort of an odd thought, wasn't it? She didn't spend that much time wondering over what the professors did in their private lives, less than a lot of their classmates did. It was common knowledge that Snape was single, as most of the professors were — spending ten months out of the year at Hogwarts didn't leave a lot of space in their private lives for families and such. (In fact, she'd been told the Board of Governors preferred unmarried applicants for that reason, which was considerate of them, she guessed.) Back before she knew about Liz's situation, she recalled, with how much time she'd been spending around him and how oddly she spoke of him, that there might be something inappropriate going on there, a little relieved when it turned out it was perfectly innocent and she was worrying over nothing, but besides that she'd never given it much thought.

Though, it seemed the unkind rumours about Snape being gay floating around were false, at least. If what Dorea was looking at right now was any indication.

Honestly, the thought of Snape seeing people was a little weird, though she couldn't put her finger on why. He just...didn't seem the type? He was all stiff and cold and formal all the time, you know, it was hard to imagine him dating. She never really did see him in private, so she guessed it was possible he wasn't like that all the time, but still, it was weird.

But she also didn't want to interrupt — that would just be kind of embarrassing. Hmm. Tracking charms pointed at people worked, but would it work if Dorea tried to find the guest hall? The Greenwood was Unplottable, but...

Before she could make a decision, Snape stiffened a little, his back straightening. And his head turned, his eyes immediately finding them. Right, mind mage. Forgot. "Liz, Dorea. Is something the matter?"

They were at an awkward distance to talk across, so Dorea started shuffling closer, but Liz was still resisting (moaning noooo under her breath), quickly gave up. "Um. I'm sorry for interrupting, Professor, but I didn't know what to do. Liz is drunk. A bit."

Snape let out a little sigh, the shifting of his shoulders barely visible from here. He turned back to the woman, muttered something in what Dorea suspected was fluent Cambrian — because of course it was — a couple quiet comments back and forth, and then the woman was walking away, toward the nearby clump of dancers. Picking through the brush and branches toward them, Snape said, "Do we need to have a conversation about moderation and self-control, Elizabeth?"

"I din't have tha' much! Is just the normal mug the mead was in, an' I had less of the gin 'cause I was arready kinda..."

Snape sighed, one hand coming up to rub at the bridge of his nose. "Elizabeth, gin is a distilled liquor, often in excess of fifty per cent alcohol by volume. It was likely five times the strength of the mead."

Liz was quiet and still a moment, hardly even seeming to breathe. "...Oh. Oops?"

"Yes. Oops."

"Well, I din't know that! Nobody said anything," she grumbled, with an uncharacteristic whiny tone. Dorea could almost hear the pout on her face. "And you were gonna get laid, I'm sorry..."

One of Snape's eyebrows ticked up a little — if he was amused with Liz's language, or annoyed by her talking about him like that, he didn't show it. "You are the Seer here. Has anything changed?"

Liz paused for a second. "Oh. Don' think so. I dunno, being a Seer is weird. I din't know if you're before, and— Do you have a girf– girlfriend, or, you know? I always won'ered..."

"I realise you feel you have the right to demand your every curious whim be sated, but I'm afraid my love life, or lack thereof, is no concern of yours."

"That's a 'yes'. Who is she? Does she know you're here shagging Misters?"

Snape rolled his eyes. First flirting with women and now rolling his eyes like a bloody teenager — seeing Professor Snape in more casual settings was weird. "All right, you need to be put in bed before you do something even more foolish. Come on." He stepped closer, taking hold of Liz's arm. A little reluctantly, she let go of Dorea, ended up leaning against Snape instead. (Which was also an odd thing to see.) "Thank you for coming to find me, Dorea."

"Oh, um. Of course. Sorry for interrupting, Professor." One of his eyebrows ticked up — oh right, it was the solstice, she hadn't actually noticed he was using her given name for maybe the first time ever, damn... "I mean, Severus, um. Oh, that feels weird."

Liz giggled, a little breathlessly, but Snape just drawled, "Good."

Soon, Snape and Liz were walking off — a bit slowly and awkwardly, Liz no more helpful to Snape than she had been to Dorea. Dorea watched them go for a minute, thoughts bouncing around in her head, mostly about how weird their relationship still seemed. She meant, Liz living with Snape was a definite improvement over her abusive relatives or being literally homeless, but still, it was Professor Snape. He was a perfectly fine Head of House, yes, but Dorea wouldn't want to live with him, and it was honestly hard for her to process that Liz seemingly did. They did seem to get along, but still, it was weird.

And then her thoughts turned to the party, and Maredudd, and... She had said she'd come back, but she was starting to think she maybe shouldn't. It was getting late, she was a little sleepy, and the additional wine she'd just had was not helping with that. And there was... Well, hormones. Maredudd was very nice, and standing here thinking about it, if she went back she thought it would be far too easy for her to...well, to quote Snape from just a second ago, do something even more foolish.

And she did want to, well, do something foolish. She'd been thinking about it ever since Maredudd had asked if he could kiss her, and... She did want to. But she hadn't changed her mind about it being a bad idea, and she was sleepy and a little tipsy, so... Yeah, probably not a good idea. Maybe it was time to go to bed.

By the time she decided, yes, she was going to bed — meaning she was going to break her word about coming back after she dropped off Liz, which she felt slightly guilty about, but oh well — Liz and Snape had made enough progress that she could just barely make them out through the crowd and the greenery. Skipping into motion, she followed after them. She could ask for directions, sure, her Cambrian was good enough for that (as long as whoever she asked used simple words), but presumably Snape knew where he was going, just following him would be easier.

Dorea was ninety per cent certain that, on the way, she spotted off in the shadows out of the light — far enough out of the way Dorea would never have seen them if Snape weren't trying to avoid the crowd — a couple actually having sex, the woman pinned with her back against a tree and, well. She was even more certain the couple were Hermione's parents — the combination of the woman's floofy blonde hair and the man's mildly darker skin were pretty distinctive — which, okay then...

(She wondered whether Hermione was aware her parents were off having sex in public, if only barely public, and then immediately had doubts as to whether she would care — she had been rather blasé about her mother informing her father she wasn't wearing knickers...)

Some minutes later, just as they were leaving the Wheel for the rather emptier and quieter streets of the town, Snape seemingly gave up trying to get Liz to walk properly. Instead he picked her up, probably with the aid of some kind of charm, carrying her held against him with one arm.

...Huh. That was bloody weird to watch. Liz didn't seem to protest being picked up, but whether it was because she was too drunk and tired to care or if they were actually that close, Dorea had no idea.

Probably the former, come to think of it — Liz could be sensitive about how bloody tiny she was, she'd probably object to being carried around like a small child.

By the time they reached the guest hall, Dorea was starting to get seriously cold — it was warmer in the Greenwood than it should be naturally this time of year, but without the bonfires and the bodies all around it was a bit chilly — stepping through the archway into the environmental wards over the courtyard inside coming as a relief. It was warmer in here than outside on the street, she hadn't noticed that until just now. Liz and Snape had already disappeared into their rooms before Dorea got into the courtyard, she climbed up the stairs to find her family's, holding in a yawn. After the walk over her she was more tired than she realised, going to bed had definitely been the correct decision.

The lights in their salon were down low, but there was a lamp on, Mum sitting in one of the chairs with a book. She'd changed out of local dress, in her pyjamas instead. "Oh, there you are," Mum said, as Dorea paused to close the door, "I was wondering when you'd get back in."

"Were you waiting up for me?" Dorea cast a quick charm to check the time, and oh jeez, it was well after midnight, oops... "Oh, sorry."

"No, lovey, it's all right. I'm still a little jittery from the party, I didn't want to keep up Rick and the boys."

Walking a little closer, Dorea let out a little scoff. "I see you had fun."

"Hmm?" Instead of explaining, Dorea simply pointed at the mark on the side of her neck, subtle enough she hadn't seen it from the door but definitely there. "Oh!" She twitched, her hand coming up to gingerly poke at her neck — moving her hair enough for Dorea to make out there was actually more than one mark, because of course. "Oh dear. I suppose we were a little, mm, enthused, but—"

"I don't need to hear about that." Obviously she was aware Mum and Richard had sex — not just theoretically, she'd overheard them on a number of occasions, and a few times even accidentally walked in on them — but she really didn't need to know the details. Even just a little, mm, enthused was bloody uncomfortable to hear her say, honestly...

With a little smile Dorea was trying not to think of as mocking, Mum said, "Of course, Doe, I'm sorry. How about you, did you have fun tonight?"

"Well, not the same kind of fun." Mum snickered a little, unreasonably amused with herself. "But yeah. It was really... I spent most of the night dancing, actually."

"Oh really? I didn't know you liked dancing." By her tone, Dorea guessed she was thinking but not saying that she was under the impression Dorea didn't have the energy for that kind of thing most of the time, especially lately, which was true enough, so.

"I didn't either, honestly. It was fun." Of course, probably part of the reason why it'd seemed so fun was because of Maredudd, but she didn't feel like telling Mum about him — she'd only tease her, and Dorea wasn't likely to ever see him again, so it hardly mattered. "But it's been a long night, I'm tired. I'm going to have a bath quick and go to bed." She had been climbing trees and dancing and stuff, she'd gotten pretty sweaty...

"Of course. I'll be turning in soon myself."

"Mm." Dorea paused on the way toward the bathroom, pausing a moment to lean over and kiss Mum on the cheek. "I love you, Mum."

She seemed a little surprised, blinkingly smiling up at her, reaching over to rub Dorea's arm as she leaned away. "I love you too, you big sweetheart. Sleep well."

Right, now, how did she get this thing off? There were a couple different pins holding the thing together, let's see if she remembered where they all were...

---

Well, this scene didn't turn out much like I imagined it, but I guess it worked out. These things happen sometimes, writing is an adventure!

I was supposed to be doing a chapter of By Gods Forsaken next — it doesn't help that I'm having a flare-up of sleep and concentration problems again — but that chapter was fighting me, so I decided to go back to this instead. Also struggled with this one a bit, but hey, here it is, success. I'm gonna make a try at that chapter again over the next few days, but if I'm not feeling it I'll continue with this fic again instead. These things happen as they happen, I'm afraid.

Anyway, I think there will be two more winter break chapters, but maybe a third if the first chapter goes long, we'll see how it goes. Thanks for putting up with my overly verbose bullshit, bye.

(Edit 1/5/2022: French corrections from Taiyong on AO3.)

(Edit 2/5/2022: A tiny French correction from someone on FFN (they sent a PM, so I'm withholding the name), and Ziel on AO3 noticed I accidentally wrote "Satinalia", the Dragon Age holiday, instead of the IRL Roman "Saturnalia", because my brain is cancer, uuuggggghhhhh...)