With a Little Help from My Friends Lucy Lupin
Author's Note: Well, I typically needed a big assignment to procrastinate for to really kick this one into gear. It's certainly been a while. I was out of the loop living in Rome for a little under a year, and not having a computer or steady internet connection, got out of the swing of things - big time. At this point I should probably write something like, "I hope it's worth the wait," but as I'm struggling to remember how to write in English, it's probably not. Anyway, thank you for staying with me.
Dedication: To Heather for all her bright ideas, Alison and Catherine for their encouragement, and pretty much anyone who's still reading this.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Particularly decent syntax.
Chapter Twelve: The Homecoming
As William's Quidditch skills attested to, he was almost as quick physically as he was mentally, but Thierry streaked through the halls like a comet. "Wait!" the Hufflepuff Chaser called after him. "You don't even know where she is!"
That made sense to Thierry, so he stopped long enough to allow Veronica's blonder half to redirect him to Dippet's office, then sped up again. It wasn't until he had halted gasping for breath outside the headmaster's door that he realised he didn't know the password, and had to wait an eternal thirty seconds for Will to arrive and supply it to him.
The first person on the other side of the wall was Headmaster Dippet. "Ah, Monsieur Delacour," the headmaster greeted him, gazing up at him thoughtfully from over the rims of his glasses. "I would invite you in, but since of course you are already in, make yourself at home. Miss Black awaits you at the top of the stairs."
Thierry looked nonplussed at the foyer in front of them. There were no stairs to be found. But Will, who as a prefect may had been to the principal's office before (although Thierry was given to mischief, he had been an intelligent boy and knew when to stop before his behaviour got him into trouble to that extent), stepped forward and stood on in an intricate circular pattern carved in the stone. The stones beneath him began to rise and he was slowly spiralled upwards towards the light that beamed down from the ceiling.
The headmaster's office was not unlike an astronomy tower, with a high domed ceiling and large windows. Miscellaneous objects that even he with magic from two different species in his veins could not guess the purpose of cluttered the shelves circling the room. Arthur, Veronica and Diana McGonagall stood off to one side, talking amongst themselves in hushed tones. Molly perched on the arm of an oversized chair with Professor Dumbledore across from her, talking to the figure encased within animatedly. It was that figure that Thierry, now crossing the room, was concerned with. "Salut."
"Salut," Lucille responded. Her manner was curious. She had been moody, icy, fiery, near insane with rage - and sometimes and somehow melting into a gooey warmness from any of the four without warning - but never before this polite indifference.
"How's your French?" he asked.
"It was terrible to start with," she answered slowly, measuring out each word as if it was a drop of poison on the chalice that held the key to her sanity. "I didn't realise how bad until I left the country. But it got better. Day by day. I still had trouble understanding a everything around me though." Her eyes locked with his. Steadily. For the first time he saw a ghost of emotion there. "I didn't realise that you actually spoke slower for me until I got there. Thank you for that."
"You're welcome," Thierry said.
"Lucille has told me that she wishes to continue with her flying lessons," Dumbledore beamed up at him. "Isn't that interesting, Mister Delacour?" Thierry nodded noncommittedly. "Now if you will excuse me, I must have a quiet word with Headmaster Dippet. I'm certain that you young people have a lot to catch up on."
After Lucille's return no one expecting things to go back to normal. But they weren't quite prepared for exactly how abnormal things would be.
The now-eldest female Black had mood swings severe enough to make a Furie look like a sedate creature. She would spend one minute screaming at a second year for coughing too loudly, only to beam sunnily when the unfortunate victim would stammer out an apology. Her marks began to suffer as well. Her performance in Potions was mediocre at best, but now descended to downright abysmal. She was also becoming increasingly taciturn and reclusive, spending long pockets of time tucked away in the library yet returning with nothing to show for her absence.
Molly grew increasing vexed by Lucille's turns. She could charm beetroot out of a shirt and was adequate to dispensing boy advice to her younger sisters, but when it came to matters more weighty than the Ravenclaw boy in Elsie's Herbology class who continually tugged on her braid, she felt herself hopelessly ill-equipped. She therefore decided her best Lucille tactic to be distraction. "So what were those cousins of yours like, Lucille? Are French girls as beautiful and as stylish as they're said to be?"
"More so," Lucille said with a sigh. "Their fashion is at least two years ahead of ours, and they're so tanned too! We went to Monaco for a weekend. I just felt like a beacon of whiteness next to them. They said I looked tres jolie in my new bikini, but I think they were just being nice."
"Well, if you want to do some tanning here at Hogwarts, I've found somewhere." Lucille displaced the first visible signs of interest Molly had seen since she arrived back. "There's a new greenhouse out the back for tropical plants. It has special glass to filter the maximum amount of sunlight, and its very warm inside. The NEWT class had a lesson in there last Thursday. Ronnie said she almost died from the heat."
"Won't we get caught?" Lucille asked, her voice dropping to an anxious whisper.
"It's Saturday on a Hogsmeades weekend. No one will be around. We can wear our robes there and take them off while we're inside. Although it might be better if we tell Veronica or Thierry where we're going. Professor Haricots growing a Strangler inside."
"A Strangler?" Lucille blanched.
"We'll stay in the section of the greenhouse away from it," Molly assured her. This was certainly a role reversal: Lucille preaching caution and Molly throwing it to the wind. "Besides, it's heavily restrained. The chance of anything happening to us is very slim."
"Alright then," Lucille looked far from convinced. "Why is Thierry - and Veronica - staying behind anyway?"
"We have practice. Thierry wanted to take advantage of most of the older students going to Hogmeades. He's afraid Jeremias Bole is trying to steal his strategies." Lucille snorted. "I think he also has a commitment with Dumbledore, a detention or something."
"Right," Lucille said. "I have a detention too, with Noir in the Forbidden Forest. Well technically my detentions have finished, but Dumbledore thinks I need the extra practice. He says it will help me stay on a broom better, and a horse is less risk than a broom - one, because it can think for itself, two, because it's less far to fall off a horse. I suppose I could ask Hagrid if we could go around the lake; it's a much more scenic view and it would be a shame to be cramped up in that dark damp forest on such a sunny day. I could pack a picnic and take some sugar cubes for Noir, he has a real sweet tooth-"
"Lucille."
"Okay, I'll ask if I can do it in the morning instead of in the afternoon, we'll get better sun then."
"You do that. But if you can't find Hagrid or the mule-"
"He's not a mule, he's a stallion."
"-come back here and we'll go anyway, alright?"
They went their separate ways, Molly shaking her head bemusedly. She had never seen Lucille, who typically bemoaned even the smallest and most well-trained housedog as being dirty and smelly, this attached to an animal. Her sense of compassion did not usually extend to anything that could threaten the print of her Mary Quant skirts with its ill-placed paws. Although uncharacteristic of Lucille, it was a good thing. Her friend could do with some unconditional love right now, a warm body with soulful brown eyes and without a critical tongue.
A quarter of an hour later Lucille came bounding up the stairs to their dorm. "I couldn't find him," she panted. "He's probably out looking for satyrs again." She dashed over to her wardrobe and withdrew something lemon coloured that barely filled one hand. "I'm going to the lavatory to get changed. I'll meet you in the common room in ten minutes."
"Let's make it twenty," Molly advised. It was better to err on the side of caution when arranging to meet Lucille when she was arranging an outfit. Although judging by the size of the bundle in her hand, "outfit" may have been a tad too generous.
She was just pulling her cloak on over her beach outfit when what had been so unusual about Lucille's disappearing act hit her. They had known each other for over ten years and even in recent years, Lucille had always got changed in front of her. If her friend had not bemoaned her gallic cousins' lack of modesty, Molly would have put it down to the new environment bringing out a hitherto prudish side of her nature, but this made no sense. She packed a towel and sunscreen in her school bag and knowing Lucille's prolonged efforts in getting ready, did the same for her. As predicted, the other girl was absent from the common room. She made idle chit-chit with Herbie Jordan (who, probably owing to the widespread knowledge of Elodie Black's death, had been making a conscientious effort to be civil to her) until Lucille appeared.
"Here I am," she said unnecessarily. "Are you ready to go yet?" Molly turned to Herbie and gave an exaggerated wink, who giggled. He really wasn't a bad kid. "Oh great, you packed my bag too," she said, spying the second one next to Molly's. "Did you get my transistor radio and French mags? Wait until you see what they wear on the Riviera-"
"Ooh, you went to France, didn't you?" Herbie perked up. "Did you eat any frogs there?"
"Herbie."
"It's alright Molly," Lucille laughed. "No, I didn't eat any frogs - but I sure met a few. My first cousin by marriage was a right sleaze," she whispered as an aside to Molly.
"Oh," said Herbie, looking slightly disappointed. "It would have been cool if you did. The only frog I've eaten was made out of chocolate."
"Well, if she goes there again, she'll bring you back one, alright?" Molly said. Herbie grinned enthusiastically. Lucille had disappeared up the stairs for her precious radio and magazines. "We're going to the library to do our Transfiguration essays now. I'll see you at practice after tea."
Herbie's eyes twitched - he was a smart boy and telling him that they were going to the library yet planning to bring a radio with them had probably been a bit too much - but he said nothing.
Half an hour later they were in the greenhouse and preparing to settle into a lazy morning. Molly had brought along her Arithmancy textbook, but more out of a sense of obligation than anything else. Her own swimsuit had been a sixteenth birthday present. It consisted of a halterneck top and matching shorts, and as it revealed quite a bit of stomach, had needed a fair deal of self-convincing before she could display it on the beach in summer. But next to Lucille's it was almost ridiculously decent. Hers was little - in fact, nothing - more than two triangles held together by a bit of string and a belted bottom which hung dangerously low on her hips and left absolutely nothing of her thighs to the imagination.
"Oh, come on," she said, at least having the grace to have look slightly abashed. "At the Cote d'Azur they go topless!"
Molly bit her lower lip. Even part of Lucille's cheeks - and not of the facial variety - were visible in that contraption. If circumstances had been different she would have made the comment about Lucille's mother rolling in her grave. That thought sobered her up. At least Lucille was smiling and looking relaxed, which was the most important thing. She was even swinging her feet as she lay on her stomach, reading one of her magazines. "Remind me never to go to the Cote d'Azur," she said, and Lucille laughed. "Seriously, aren't you even the slightest bit worried?"
"Worried?" The mirth left Lucille's eyes. "About what?"
"About what Diana's going to do to you when she discovers her favourite hankerchief missing. The lemon-coloured one she bought in France."
"Shut up, Molly," Lucille grinned. "And actually, Constance bought it for me as a going-away present." Her attempt at humour had the predicted affect. She started to feel needed, useful, like she was less of a bystander to Lucille's private grief.
They lay for a while in silence. Molly figured that if other girl needed to talk, she would. She borrowed one of Lucille's magazines and looked over the glossy pictures, not even bothering to read the articles and attempting to understand what to her was just a wall of senseless words. By the way Lucille's eyes flitted from one side of the page to the other, she was evidently having more success. But then something caught her eye. "Lucille, is this what I think it is?"
"Yes, it is," Lucille confirmed. Molly's mouth dropped open. "If it's any consolation, the magazine is designed for married witches, but all my cousins were still reading them. And if you tap the blank squares on each page with your wand, they turn into diagrams complete with movement-"
"Lucille Elodie Black! You really shouldn't be reading things like that."
"Why not?" Lucille turned to face her, her chin raised defiantly. "I'm not too young. I'm sixteen, I'll be of age in two years, and they're talking about an amendment that lowers the coming of age to seventeen. Besides, I may be married sooner than you think."
"Why do you say that?" Molly asked, surprised by the casual way Lucille had dropped the issue of marriage into the conversation. Usually she spoke of it as if it was an act akin to slavery.
"Well, it's just that in certain families, one does things differently," Lucille shrugged. "Father's been saying that things will soon be changing now that Mother has-" she swallowed "-left us. There's going to be a lot of tightening up around our place, a lot of returning to what Father calls the old ways."
"Lucille, what the hell?" Molly barked. "Did you mix Gillywater with your pumpkin juice this morning or something? What in Merlin's name are you on about?"
"You wouldn't possibly understand," Lucille said in that same annoyingly idle, superior tone.
"Oh really? Well, just try me, Lucille. I hardly think that you're the one to accuse me of lacking in common sense or the like-"
"Ah, what an enjoyable matin the two of yer seem to be 'aving," a familiarly accented voice spoke up.
Molly and Lucille both spun around. Thierry was grinning down at them. "Fancy seeing yer 'ere Molly, an' yer too, Lucille."
"Likewise," Lucille squeaked. Molly could feel herself turning red.
"I've certainly seen more of yer this mornin' than usual, Lucille," Thierry continued, his eyes crawling lazily over her. Lucille had risen to her feet and was standing self-consciously in front of him. She half-raised her hands to cover herself, then realised what she was doing and forced them to lie stiffly against her sides. Thierry was looking at her in a way that wasn't disrespectful exactly, but made Molly very aware that he was a man and that he was looking at Lucille as a woman. She may as well have not existed. Lucille bit her lip and looked away. Thierry, seeing her discomfort, redirected his gaze elsewhere. "Ees zat a Stranglaire in the corner?"
"Yes," Molly supplied since Lucille's tongue seemed to have disappeared. "Professor Haricot had it brought in three weeks ago under ogre watch." The plant in question waved one tentacle alluringly. It was heavy restrained against several poles. Nothing had been planted near it, but even the cactuses adjacent to it were leaning away warily.
"Why are you here anyway?" Lucille asked, a little rudely.
Thierry's eyes swung back to her. She took a half step away. "Do I need une raison pour visiter my English friends?" he asked. "I 'eard raised voices, thought that peut-etre they were firs' years and was goin' to tell them to get away from the Stranglaire, but instead I saw yer two in 'ere."
Lucille's eyes narrowed assessingly. "How did you know that there was a Strangler in here?"
"Pourquoi do yer ask so many questions, Lucille?" Thierry shot back. "If yer want me ter go, jus' say so."
"I don't want you to go," Lucille responded. "If I did, I would just say so. I just want to know why you asked us if that was a Strangler when you obviously knew that there was one in here."
Thierry eyed her suspiciously for a moment, as if trying to determine if she was taking the mickey out of him. Lucille's face remained blank. "Well, it's settled then," he said. "Lucille doesn't want me to go and neither do I. Does that end tous nos problemes?" Lucille nodded. "Parfait! So everyone can enjoy le soleil in peace an' quiet!" He tossed his cloak to the ground and peeled off his wool vest with a grimace. "Merde, il fait chaud."
"It would be nice if someone gave me a straight answer for once," Lucille muttered, lowering herself back onto her towel. Molly nudged her foot in warning. She had practice with Thierry and the rest of the Quidditch team that afternoon and didn't want her captain to be in a foul mood.
When Molly arrived at the stadium huffing with her lateness-induced jog and pushing stubborn curls behind her ears and Thierry approached her, holding a bat much larger than the one she normally used, for one split second of panic she thought that his disciplinary methods had reached new extremes. However he was smiling and the team members zooming around them, although working hard, appeared to be in good spirits, so she gathered that the Frenchman was in one of his less zealous moods. "Ah Molly," he said, "today yer weel not be flyin' weeth ze rest of ze team."
Molly's nerves returned. "Look Thierry, I tried to be on time. I really did. But one of the fourth year girls was baking a cake and she'd forgotten to put baking powder in it - well, you can understand why I couldn't leave a travesty like that untouched, can't you?"
"Absolutment," Thierry said solemnly, but she thought she saw a corner of his mouth twitching as he spoke. "Zese things 'appen, don' worry Molly. I don' want yer to fly aujourd'hui parce que tu dois improve yer 'ittin' ability. Zis ees a baseball, un part d'un jour Muggales play pour s'amuser."
"English please, Thierry," Molly said. She'd noticed that his lack of ability to distinguish between the two languages had become worse since Lucille had returned from France.
"Yer flyin' ees fine," Thierry continued, "but yer need to practice yer 'ittin' more. I noticed that pendant, er, "during" de match between 'Ufflepuff et nous, yer were a leetle shy with some hits, especialment quand yer were 'ittin' at Amos Diggory." If Thierry noticed the delicate pink spreading across Molly's cheeks, he was too kind to comment. "Then Arthur mentioned zis Muggale sport an' I thought eet would be a good way for yer to concentrate on yer 'ittin'. I weel charm zee ball ter fly at yer an' yer weel 'it eet away. Don' relax too much, eet weel fly quickly."
"Er, Thierry," Molly squeaked, "could you slow the ball down a little? It's less than three weeks away from the Halloween ball, I haven't found a date yet, and if I end up with a broken nose, my chances of getting a bloke to go with me are next to nothing."
"Aw, don't worry Molly," Thierry soothed. "Yer seemed to 'ave made quite an impression sur Frank Longbottom on ze firs' day back. I am sure zat 'e weel not be lookin' north long enough ter notice yer nouveau physicale ahmperfection."
Molly forced herself to keep the bat at her side.
"You don't need to charm the ball." Arthur Weasley, coupled with William Zjablomej, had arrived at her side. "I can hitch it to her. That's what they call the movement used to throw the ball," he explained in a proud offside to Molly. "Hitching." He attempted to demonstrate and almost tripped over his own foot. "Well, not quite like that," he clarified sheepishly.
"We know what you mean, mate," William assured him. He sent Molly a sideways wink, who giggled.
"What are yer doin' 'ere?" Thierry, enlightening to the Hufflepuff's presence, spun around sharply. "Spyin' on our tactics, are yer?"
"Actually, I've just popped over to give Ronnie my Potions textbook," Will said. "She wanted to look over some of the OWL material for her essay. But if you're uncomfortable by my ability to see what's going on, I'm sure we can reach some kind of compromise." He theatrically covered his eyes and began feeling around in front of him as if he was playing Blind Man's Buff. "Oh Veronica, Veronica, wherefore art thou Veronica? Ah, there you are." His hand came into contact with Thierry's cheek, then he felt downwards to the Frenchman's chest. "Eh Ronnie, you eating well? You seem to have lost weight in some places-"
"Well, fancy seeing you here." Veronica had dismounted from her broom and was standing behind them. William cringed. Arthur and Thierry sent each other Ooh-he's-really-in-the-poo-now grins the way only males could. "It's all very well for him, but if either of you two were saying that, it would be "Don't you talk to my Veronica like that" with a Bat Bogey or two thrown in." She tossed the shame-faced fifth year a quick smile. "Very luckily for you, my lad, your girlfriend has a good sense of humour."
"Yeah, something about your still going out with me even though you know what my last name is clued me in to that," William said. "Pay no mind to her," he continued airily to the rest of his audience. "I've got her in the palm of my hands."
"You proofread my Astronomy assignment yet, Chocolate Froggy?" Veronica deadpanned.
Thierry and Arthur snorted into their hands.
"She must have been inhaling too many fumes during Potions." William had the good grace to smile. "She knows that I wear the robes in our relationship."
"Give me your textbook and stop acting like a prat," Veronica told him. "You free for the Halloween Ball, Arthur? I think I'll soon be single again."
"So I'll see you in the library at seven then?" William fluttered his eyelashes beguilingly at her, then ducked as she took a playful swipe. "Uniformly charming is my girlfriend, and charming in that uniform, if I may be so bold."
"Shut up moron, I already said I'll help you with your Arithmancy," the uniformly charming girlfriend said nicely. "Now stop trying to embarrass me in front of my friends and go back to your den."
"Your wish is my command, Ronniepoo," Will said, sweeping into a theatrical bow.
Molly began to giggle. "Don't pay him any attention; it'll only encourage him," Ronniepoo said. "He's unused to it you see, his house gets little enough of it. Now scaff off, you piewad."
"What do you mean, "his house gets little enough of it"?" Will demanded. "Thierry, I'm afraid I'll have to risk grievous bodily harm to your star Keeper, it's a matter of house pride now." He made a lunge at Veronica, who jumped out of the way and poked her tongue out at him.
"I theenk we should double ze pay, no?" Thierry asked Arthur.
"What pay?" Arthur blinked.
"Zee pay fer bein' 'er boyfriend an' keepin' ze rest of ze 'Ogwarts boys safe from 'er," Thierry clarified solemnly.
"Oh. Right," Arthur caught on. "How about going up to ten Gallons per week, Will?"
"That just might do it," the dodging Hufflepuff responded.
"Ten?" Veronica squealed indignantly. "I'm only worth ten?"
"It will drop down to eight if you don't learn to keep your chamberpot mouth in check," her boyfriend responded. "Although personally I feel the task is worth at least an Order of Merlin: Second Class." A clump of mud came sailing through the air to hit him on the shoulder. "Make that First Class," he amended.
"Seriously Arthur, 'ave yer found a date pour ze 'Alloween Ball?" Thierry asked.
For some reason Arthur found he couldn't look anyone in the eye. Particularly Molly.
"Yer bettair 'urry up, mon garcon," Thierry said, correctly interpreting Arthur's silence," ou tout ze best ones weel be taken."
"Ooh, I hate it when boys talk like that," Veronica squealed, trying to struggle out of Will's bearhug. "Mols, since Lucille isn't here, can you do the honours and put that whopping big bat you're holding to good use?"
"Why?" Arthur pokerfaced. "What has it done?" He felt strangely gratified when Molly laughed along with the interhouse couple.
"Yeah, save the rainforest, doll." William was trying to pin Veronica to the ground, with various levels of success.
"Ah, screw yer all," Thierry retorted.
"For real Thierry, for once in your life can you think with your other brain?" Arthur contributed his Sickle to Witches' Rights.
"Why?" the part-Veela asked blankly.
"Because, because," Arthur fumbled. "Er, William can you help me out here?"
"Because chicks dig that intellectual stuff," William said. "Except this one, she just likes mindless violence towards innocent little boys."
"Innocent little boys who betray people that they make alliances with."
"You underestimated me because I'm a Hufflepuff," William waggled a finger at her. "People only trick you as far as you let them."
"Fair point," Veronica conceded amicably.
"So 'ow deed yer manage to get one ovair our Veronica?" Thierry asked.
"My Veronica," Will said.
"No one's Veronica," Veronica corrected.
"I thought with the right brain, Thierry," Will gave him an exasperatedly good-natured look. Veronica beamed up at him proudly. "So, who are you going to the Halloween Ball with, Molly?"
"I'm waiting for someone special to ask me," Molly blabbered. Arthur was too busy contemplating the broken shoelace on his right shoe to see Veronica and Will elbowing each other or the loaded looks Thierry was sending in his direction.
"Right? I'm surprised a pretty girl like you hasn't been snapped up already," Will said, sidling up to Arthur with intent. "I'd ask you myself if some Furie hadn't already sunk her claws into me." Veronica snorted.
"Oui, a pretty girl oo can cook," Thierry said, looking as though he wanted to rip Molly's bat out of her hands and knock Arthur over the head with it.
"Well, you might want to tell him that, because he hasn't asked me yet," Molly said huffily. "If Herbie Jordan - who hasn't said a pip about balls of the non-Quidditch variety all afternoon - is going to muck around, I might just ask him to hitch the ball to me."
"Herbie says plenty about balls of ze non-Quidditch variety," Thierry grinned.
"Girls present, Thierry," Arthur warned.
"Not for much longer," Molly said. "See you Will, Arthur." She took the ball out of Thierry's hands and walked towards Herbie.
The other three barely waited until she was out of airshot before turning on Arthur. "Did you see the look she was giving you?" Will demanded. "She was so gagging for you to ask her, man."
"Actually-" Veronica attempted.
"Do yer 'ave balls ze size of a Grindylow's or what?" Thierry contributed with his usual delicacy. Arthur winced.
"Yeah, really can't see why us Hufflepuff blokes are stealing all your women," Will said blithely. "Arthur, for real, Molly may seem really loud and bossy, but when it comes to the, uh-"
"Things that need their mouths blasted out with a Scorgifying charm?" Veronica supplied, glaring at Thierry.
"In some extreme cases," Arthur said diplomatically.
"I do not need mannaires," Thierry said huffily, "I 'ave a beeg-"
"-Nose," William timely cut him off. "As I was saying, Molly may seem loud and bossy, but with us blokes she may actually be quite shy. She's not going to ask you, so if you wont, well…"
"But I'm shy too!" Arthur insisted.
"So yer do concede zat yer like 'er zen?" Thierry grinned wolfishy.
Arthur realised that he'd been duped. "You bastard."
"What friends are for," Thierry shrugged.
"Thierry, shut up," Veronica said helpfully.
"My point is," Will tried valiantly to keep the conversation on serious grounds, "is if she doesn't say anything, and you don't either, then nothing will ever happen. You could have two people here who are really interested in each other, but unless one of you makes a move, you may as well not like each other. One of you has to do something."
"Well-" Veronica reattempted.
"I mean, if the worst comes to the worst and she says "no," at least you'll know where you stand. How much can a rejection hurt?"
"Yeah, 'ow much can a rejection 'urt?" Thierry echoed. "I mean, I wouldn't know. I've nevair been rejected."
"For Merlin's sake, you guys," Veronica said huffily. "Molly isn't interested in Arthur. She's interested in someone else. I know who, but since I'm in the presence of the most tactless man in the school, I'm not saying anything more. I'm sorry Arthur, but that's how it stands."
"Oh well," Arthur shrugged, suddenly finding the tussock in front of him very interesting, "there are other fish in the sea, I suppose. And if what Will says is true and the Hufflepuffs are indeed stealing the Gryffindor girls, I could always ask one of their own. There's probably a shortage over there."
"Ar, come off eet," Thierry said. "Eet's early days yet. Don' give up."
"Yeah, Arthur. Don't tell me you're going to let a Gryffindor lose out to-" Veronica broke off abruptly, glancing up at Will and blushing "-a dandy who was spotted wearing a pink shirt last Hogsmeades weekend."
"Nice recovery," Will murmured.
"Thank you," Veronica responded.
"Look, why does everyone feel like getting me set up is their number one agenda?" Arthur exploded. "I'm tired of everyone assuming that I need help in that department. Did any of you ever stop and think that maybe I don't want a girlfriend?"
"Actualement, a girlfriend was not what I 'ad een mind," Thierry said.
"Shut up, our Mollys not that kind of girl," Veronica said.
"Whatever! I'm sick of it! I'm going back to the common room to work on Lucille's radio. If anyone has anything further to add on how hopeless I am with women, that's where you can find me." He turned on his heel and stalked off.
The remaining three gave each other abashed looks. "Er, peut-etre we were a beet too 'eavy zen," Thierry suggested.
"Ya think?" Veronica spat out. "Will wasn't so bad, you were heavy in the same way as a cavetroll is heavy, Thierry. It's no wonder poor Arthur is clueless about women given who he has as a role model."
"Moi?" Thierry looked confused. "But I do vair weel with zee ladies."
"You do well with getting laid," Veronica said, "but not with all the other stuff. You may be able to get girlfriends but you certainly can't keep them."
"Veronica, play nice," Will said, noticing Thierry's darkening expression. "What is it with you guys? Normally you're as thick as house-elves, but this week you've been sniping at each other like crazy. It can't be good for you - and it's not very pleasant for the people around you," he added under his breath.
Both Gryffindors looked shamefaced. "It's Lucille," Veronica said eventually. "She's been - well, one can only imagine what's going through her head right now - and she's very difficult to be around at the moment. We can't take it out on her, so I suppose we've been taking it out on each other. I'm sorry, Thierry."
"Zere ees nothin' to be sorry for," Thierry said.
"Is it like this in Hufflepuff?" Veronica asked.
"It's a little, er, quieter," Will said tactfully. Veronica and Thierry both gave him skeptical looks. "Alright, much quieter," he admitted.
