A/N—Sections have been pulled from HP:TSS for accuracy, parts have been adjusted for continuity. Please see disclaimer.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, neither do I seek to reap financial benefits from this piece of fiction. I am in a weird place with my feelings about "She-who-owns-it." Please know that I believe that transwomen are women.
-the story-
"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, through mouthfuls of food, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering the whole time, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."
Harry drew his eyebrows together, and pushed his own food around his plate. He knew that Snape is up to no good. He had walked in on Filch bandaging Snape's leg after an apparent attempt to retrieve whatever was being guarded by that monstrous three-headed dog. But there was a small part of him that wanted to trust in Dumbledore. He wanted to trust that the headmaster wouldn't hire anyone who would bring about harm to the students.
Harry frowned, "I suppose."
"Oh!" Ron emphatically gestured with a fork of mashed potatoes towards Hermione. "Any more news about Harry's mystery sibling?"
Hermione picked a small lump of potato out of her hair, grimacing, she said, "No. Not yet. I haven't had a lot of time to read. We've been getting a lot of homework, which neither of you seem to care about!"
Harry and Ron both looked up and gave her a put-on look of incredulousness. "We care!"
"Well! Then let's get this History of Magic essay written! It has to be three feet you know!" She stood from her seat, and began walking out of the Great Hall. Harry and Ron quickly trailing after her.
Flint, Pucey, Higgs, and Montague were still complaining about the game when they left the locker room to head to dinner. It took almost all of Sarra's patience not to hex the lot of them. Not a single one of them mentioned the fact that she scored all of the points that they had earned, albeit due to the fact that her brother had nearly fallen to his death, but she scored them nonetheless.
She waited until they had all left before she peeled off her quidditch kit and stepped into the shower. She stood under the water for a short while, before she washed and rinsed. She dried off, and changed back into the clothes she wore that morning. She put on her cloak, shouldered her bag and thrust her hands into her pockets as she left the pitch. She felt something in her pocket.
'Oh! I never gave Oliver back his handkerchief!' She pulled the cloth out of her pocket, and admired it. It was a simple white handkerchief, but it had the most intricate and beautiful embroidery on one corner. In shades of red and gold was the Gryffindor crest, and under that were two crossed brooms and the initials "OFW."
"Evans!"
Speak of the bloody devil, she quickly stuffed the handkerchief back into her trouser pocket.
"Were you waiting for me?" She asked, as Oliver ran to catch up to her.
"What? No. No. I was just putting all of th' game stuff away. You know, the ball chest, making sure all our brooms were stored properly… you know." He looked down at his feet. Sarra thought that she might have seen a blush begin to tint his cheeks.
"Hooch took the ball chest with her after the game was called." She narrowed her eyes.. Oliver was most definitely blushing.
"Right, well…." He kicked a bit of gravel around. "I suppose I was waiting for ye."
"Well, then! Here I am! Let's go eat! I'm starving after scoring so many goals!" Sarra laughed, slipping her arm around Oliver's, and hurriedly began walking back to the castle.
"Hey! Not fair! Potter nearly died!" Oliver laughed as he was being drug along the path back up to the school. The pair of them walked together laughing about how Sarra's teammates are sore losers.
When they reached the large wooden front doors, they stopped-the laughter dying on their lips.
"Hey, so..". Sarra removed her arm from Oliver's and adjusted her bag.
Oliver cleared his throat. "So?"
"I was wondering, are you going on the Hogsmeade trip tomorrow?"
"Ah, oh. Uhm, I wasn't planning on going. I have a wee bit of homework tae get caught up on, but…" He trailed off, not quite sure if he was ready to say 'but if you are going, I'd go.' but not before the implication was laid out.
"Oh! No no! I wasn't going to go! I have some homework too, plus Quirrell asked some of the upperclassmen to assist with his Duelling Club for the first years." Sarra tried to keep the smile out of her voice at hearing that Oliver wasn't going to Hogsmeade.
"Right! I had forgotten about that! He asked me t' help too."
"Ok. Cool." Sarra looked away from him, a small blush was creeping up her cheeks. "Well, I suppose we shouldn't walk in together, huh?" She looked down to the stone patio, kicking at a small clump of grass that had feebly found enough soil in between the stones to take root.
"I dinnae see why not!" Oliver gave the top of Sarra's head a wide grin, which was quickly replaced with a somewhat morose expression. He did see why not. He had been sorted into Gryffindor, and she-Slytherin. They weren't supposed to be friends, let alone even cordial to each other. "Ah, you go on ahead. I'll stay here for a moment and come in after you." Oliver gestured to the door.
Sarra sighed, and put her hands in her pockets, finding the handkerchief tucked away there. "Oh! Oliver! Here's your handkerchief! I forgot to hand it back to you this morning!" She pulled out the cloth and offered it back to its owner. "It is very beautiful."
He looked down at the handkerchief still in Sarra's hand and smiled. "Me mum embroidered that, and sent it tae me the day after I was sorted." He took the handkerchief, his fingers barely brushing the back of Sarra's hand. His heart began to beat wildly. "Th-thank you." Keeping his breathing as even as he could, he carefully put it in his own trouser pocket. He dared not look up into Sarra's face, he knew his own was becoming a very unappealing shade of red judging by the heat he felt on his neck and ears.
Sarra's gaze lingered on his profile for a moment, before she turned and opened the doors, trying to keep her own blush from blooming further.
Sunday after breakfast, Harry, Ron, and Hermione found themselves sitting in Hagrid's hut, on the squashy armchairs eating rock cakes with tea.
"Rubbish" said Hagrid. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"
"Because!" Ron said, emphatically spewing crumbs. "Harry found out that he tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween! It bit him. Harry saw Filch bandaging his leg!
Harry nodded. "We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."
Hagrid dropped the teapot. "How do you know about Fluffy?"
"Fluffy?" Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah - he's mine - bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year - I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the-"
"Yes?" asked Harry, leaning forward.
Hagrid quickly closed his mouth. "Nope. Don't ask me anymore. That's top secret, that is."
"But Snape's trying to steal it!"
"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."
"So why did he try and kill Harry yesterday?" asked Hermione. "I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"
"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh - yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel -"
"Flamel… That name seems familiar." Harry furrowed his brows and gnawed on an edge of his rock cake.
"To me too." Ron mimicked Harry's thoughtful gnawing.
"No more." Hagrid stood to show the three students out of his home. "You three best be gettin' back to th' castle, and gettin' on with your studies… The holidays are coming up an' you don' want ter go off and fail a class, now do you?"
Hermione's eyes grew wide, "No! Of course not! Come on, you two! Even if Snape tried to kill Harry, we still have a Potions essay to do, and a Defense Against the Dark Arts extra curricular lesson this afternoon! Let's go!" She quickly scurried out of the hut, thanking Hagrid for the tea and cakes. Harry and Ron sluggishly following-still deep in thought.
Sarra looked up from her homework and across the lawn towards the little hut by the Forbidden Forest. She watched as her brother and his two friends exited the hut.
She must have sighed, because Amanda asked her what was wrong from over the top of her Charms textbook.
"Nothing. I'm just tired from yesterday."
"I bet you are! I can't believe you scored so many times! Well, I mean… I can, because that one kid was nearly thrown off his broom to his death, and Wood was a little preoccupied with that, but… Way to go!"
Sarra rolled her eyes and threw a ball of wadded up parchment at her friend.
Amanda used her text book to block it. "Hey! I am not a quidditch hoop! Keep your parchment over there!" She picked it up and tossed it back at Sarra, then looked down at her watch.
"'Bout that time?" Sarra asked.
"I feel really awful." Amanda looked at her friend with sorrowful large brown eyes.
Sarra gave a small smile. "It's ok. It's not your fault that I don't have a signed permission slip. Snape and Dumbledore offered to let me go anyway, but I'd much rather stay here. I'm going to the Duelling Club thing, with Oliver that Quirrell is doing. He said we'd get extra credit if we went and helped out."
"Oooh! With Oliver?! Have the two of you set a date?"
Sarra's eyes bugged out of her head. "Amanda!"
The dark girl looked back at her friend. Spreading her hands out, "What? You're the one who told me that he gave you his embroidered and monogrammed handkerchief!"
"I gave it back!"
Amanda shrugged.
"Anyway!" Sarra stood and stretched. "Is Robbie going today as well?" The question was a little bit stiff.
Robert Hilliard was a fifth year Ravenclaw boy who had recently been asking to compare notes, and study with Amanda. She had been very quick to respond to his advances. They had spent quite a bit of time together as of late. Sarra watched a blush tint Amanda's already dark cheeks. She couldn't be mad that her friend was choosing to spend time with a boy and not her. Sarra had been doing the same thing, and she felt a little guilty about it.
"Hey! No worries! Let's head back inside so that you have time to get ready!" Sarra smiled, trying to assure Amanda that she wasn't upset.
The two girls gathered their books, and made their way back to the castle.
As they stepped inside Sarra caught the eye of Oliver-who had just exited the Great Hall. "Hey Amanda, I'll catch you later at dinner, ok? Tell me how everything goes!"
Amanda nodded and left for Ravenclaw tower, leaving Sarra to stand awkwardly waiting for the Gryffindor boy, who leaned against the adjacent pillar with an open textbook.
"So when is th' thing supposed to be today?" Oliver turned a page in his book, pretending to read.
Sarra looked at her watch, 10:30. "Not until one o'clock." She crossed her arms, trying to look like she was waiting for someone - who wasn't from her rival house.
"Mm… I don't suppose ye'd be willing tae help me with a Potions essay?"
"Is this an actual Potions essay?" She adjusted her bag on her shoulder, and turned to look Oliver in the eye, though he was still looking down at the pages open before him. She touched his elbow - no one was paying them any attention. They were all bustling to get ready to leave for Hogsmeade or have lunch out on the lawn.
Oliver closed his book, and turned his gaze toward her. "Aye it is a legitimate assignment. I assume Snape assigned the same to your class, 'How to brew a Strengthening Solution.'"
"He did assign that to us." She sighed with a smile. "I suppose I could help you. Though I think Professor Snape assigns these kinds of essays as exercises in tedium. You could just copy the procedures from the book." Sarra began walking towards the library, but was jerked backward by a pull on her hand.
"Then… how about we have a repeat of yesterday's breakfast, though without my stupid questions. I made a few bacon sandwiches at breakfast…" Oliver didn't actually wait for her response. He hoped his boldness would be convincing enough for her to go along with him as he tugged on her hand.
"Oh, okay." Sarra trudged along with him back outside and followed him to the bench that they had shared yesterday morning before the match.
The two of them sat on the bench munching on the sandwiches Oliver had made, talking about Quidditch and the OWLs that they would be sitting at the end of the year, and their plans for the upcoming Christmas holiday.
"I'll be heading home. Granda hasn't been well, and Mum wants us all tae be around 'just in case', though if you ask me the old bugger just wants the attention. He got over spattergroit a couple o' years ago, and ever since any major holiday 'might be his last.'" Oliver rolled his eyes.
Sarra nodded and smiled, her grandmother had a close friend who was like that.
"Anyway, whatae'bout you? Are ye going home to Cokeworth?" He inwardly smiled, pleased with himself that her remembered where her grandparents were living.
"Oh, no. I'll be staying here over the holidays." Sarra thought back to a few mornings ago when Professor McGonagall had gone around to each house table asking about students who would be staying over the holiday. She remembered overhearing Harry say that he was going to stay, and when McGonagall made it to the Slytherin table Sarra quickly stated that she, too, was going to stay. Her housemates seemed a tad scandalized by this, but she shrugged it off.
"What? Ye must be th' only Slytherin stayin!" Oliver raised his eyebrows. He never knew of a Slytherin student to not go home for Christmas.
Sarra met his question with raised shoulders, "My housemates were just as surprised as you. I just would rather not go home, get comfortable, just to have to pack up and come back. Plus, I have signed up for practice time out on the pitch nearly every day!" Sarra clapped her hands together excitedly.
Oliver smiled at this. She was like a little girl who was allowed to ride one of the ponies at a village fete. "I suppose I would be jealous, if my family didn't have a practice pitch on our estate grounds." He casually looked at his nails in mock snobbery.
"What!? You do not! Ugh! So jealous!" Sarra crossed her arms and gave a small pout.
"Maybe you'll just have to come over sometime and see for yourself." He noticed her blush before he registered what it was that he had said, then he felt his own redness spread over his cheeks. He cleared his throat. "Oh. Uhm. Well…." Oliver didn't know what to say or do. His hands felt like they were in the way of everything. He was very aware of Sarra's leg pressed against his, but he didn't want to pull away and call attention to his uneasiness and embarrassment.
Sarra was also aware of how close they had gotten on the bench. Her shoulder made contact with Oliver's arm as he fidgeted around. "Oh… one day… I suppose."
'This is ridiculous,' she thought. 'You are fifteen years old. It's not like you haven't had a boyfriend. Remember Jean-Henri? Or Sebastien? Get a hold of-'
Sarra's internal chafing was interrupted by a pair of hands on her shoulders pulling her forward-her lips met those of the owner of the hands….
All too soon Oliver released her. He looked her in the eyes, searching them for something, and then quickly picked up his bag and all but ran back to the castle.