NOTES | Since this one never made it to FFnet, I wanted to make sure y'all have the chance to read it, if you'd like! So here we go: The completely self-indulgent Hogwarts-based AU I wrote about Debbie, Tammy, and the other Ocean's 8 ladies. It's about half secret relationship and half coming of age fic, and if you haven't yet read it, I will be posting chapters (21 of them!) one at a time for you! If you already read it on AO3 when I posted it last year (?!) (has it been that long?), consider this your opportunity to reread. Enjoy!
There are certain places designed for the peaceful kind of silence. For the camaraderie involved in being quiet somewhere, together. For being alone but maybe not entirely, for being able to hear yourself think, for grounding yourself to something that feels solid. Like the top of the highest tower after curfew, like sitting under a tree twenty paces into the woods, like sunrise at the beach and two o'clock in the morning and the deepest, farthest corner of a bookstore.
And libraries. Like the one on the second floor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where Deborah Eloise Ocean occupies an entire table all on her own, having spread her books out across its surface in a sort of mosaic. The only sounds are pages turning, people breathing, quills scratching on parchment, the smallest whispers.
Okay, scratch that. There's another sound, and it's shoes clicking purposefully on the floor in her direction.
Her best friend drops unceremoniously into the seat opposite hers, crosses her arms over her chest, and stares at her intently with one eyebrow raised until it becomes evident that the heavy transfiguration textbook laid out on the table is winning the battle. Then she takes on another tactic – which, evidently, is to simply annoy Debbie into paying attention to her. "Deb. Deb." She reaches out to close one of the textbooks and Debbie counters by pointedly flipping it back open again. "Come out and watch our practice."
"I'm busy, Lou," she says shortly, a dramatic sigh on her lips already. "Besides, Claude's going to be there, and I'm already set up here." She's been doing quite well at avoiding him since the breakup in March, just like she spent the last few days of Easter break steadfastly refusing to talk to her parents about him. She glances up just in time to see Lou's nose wrinkle at the mention of him, but she doesn't linger on the subject. "I'm studying. It's our OWLs, they're important. They're going to shape our whole future." She sounds like she's quoting her father, and she might as well be; he recites things like that enough for her to have committed them to memory.
"You don't even need to study for transfiguration," objects Lou, brushing her bangs out of the way to roll her eyes. She's forever doing that, like she's worried Debbie will miss it otherwise. It's easy to tell that she's not going to drop this until Debbie follows her downstairs and into the grounds, but she doesn't plan on giving in so easily. Lou nudges at Debbie's foot with the toe of her shoe under the table. "I bet she'd cut you some slack. It's not like she's going to fail you."
Sighing, Debbie rolls her eyes right back at the blonde. "She's not going to go easy on me just because I'm her daughter, that's completely unethical," she protests. Which is only half the point Lou is trying to make, she thinks, because transfiguration is her best subject and she's not exactly in danger of failing, regardless. Still, she fixes the other girl with as serious a stare as she can muster right now, and Lou takes advantage of her momentary distraction, snatching up the textbook and holding it tauntingly out of reach. The only silver lining is that she keeps Debbie's page marked with her thumb, backing up a couple of steps. "Lou," hisses Debbie, already up on her feet to make a futile grab for it.
Lou grins, spinning on her heel. "If you want it, come and get it," she tosses over her shoulder, entirely too loudly for a library. She doesn't seem to care that people are narrowing their eyes in her direction, that she's shushed as she passes the librarian's desk. Lou Miller doesn't tend to let anyone tell her what to do, except maybe Debbie, and even then, only sometimes. "The fresh air is good for you, and the others will be down there, too. You don't have to talk to Becker, and you can make Nine quiz you."
Cursing under her breath, Debbie gathers up her other books, shoves them into her bag, and hurries out of the library after her.
Technically, she could sit stubbornly at her table and study something else, but the truth is, transfiguration is the one weighing most heavily on her mind. The rest of her OWLs are going to be stressful enough, trying to pull high enough marks to please her parents and set her up to follow in her father's footsteps to the Ministry of Magic – but disappointing Caroline Ocean as a student and a daughter? That's not exactly an option. Her mother is equal parts supportive and intimidating, and Debbie has no intention of letting her down.
She catches up to Lou on the staircase, finally slowing to adjust the way her bag hangs from her shoulder so that its weight isn't hitting the backs of her knees and making her gait lopsided. "You're the worst," she says when she's caught her breath.
Lou only smiles. "You love it." She doesn't pass the textbook back, keeps a tight hold on it instead like she's worried Debbie will make a break for it the second she's got it back in her hands. Constance and Nine-Ball fall in on either side of them as they push out into the sunshine and head around the side of the castle, matching the lengths of their strides to each other with the practiced air of people who no longer have to focus on doing so. Lou and Constance trade off the items they carry, Lou's broom for Debbie's textbook, the smaller girl nearly losing the page but managing to keep it marked in the end.
"You're late, Charlotte," says Daphne Kluger loftily when they reach the Quidditch pitch, and Lou visibly bristles. This reaction is probably exactly why Daphne keeps calling her by her first name instead of the chopped-up middle one, knowing it will get her teammate riled up right off the bat. It's always said just so, smug and innocent all at once, with that wide-eyed, deer-like look that the girl perfected way back in first year when the two of them discovered just how thoroughly they don't like each other.
There's tension building in Lou's shoulders already. "One day, I'm going to kill that girl," she mumbles before she steps onto the pitch.
Claude is watching her like a hawk, and Debbie meets his gaze coldly for a full three seconds, counting them mentally before she allows herself to turn away. She trails after Constance and Nine to the bleachers, sidestepping around Daphne's friends as she goes.
They don't mix, the two groups. This is primarily because of the Slytherin girls' rivalry, the constant negative energy crackling between Lou and Daphne. They got along for maybe half a year before their competitive natures got the best of them, and Debbie unquestioningly chose her side right from the beginning. She's known Lou since before Hogwarts, in that way that many pureblood children know each other solely because of their parents' social circles, except that Debbie and Lou clicked better. They are kindred spirits, Debbie thinks, offbeat and rebellious, slightly-crooked puzzle pieces not quite fitting in with their families in the way they are meant to. Unconventional Lou and her rejection of the name her parents gave her, the ever-present push-back on what they want. She purposefully cuts her hair herself because her mother doesn't like the bangs, has set her sights on becoming a professional Quidditch player even though her father thinks it's a waste of time. Her bravery is inspiring, though Debbie doesn't feel as confident in her own rebellion. It's enough that she dons red and gold every morning instead of green and silver. She was eleven the first time she got a taste of disappointing her father, and she'd rather like to avoid more of that. So she is more subtle about it, sticks to the smaller things when it comes to the parts her parents see, like taking Care of Magical Creatures as an elective just because it's interesting, or breaking up with a boy who they have always expected her to end up with in the long run.
It wasn't long before they formed their own found family, a handful of misfits who have no particular interest in trying to blend in. Like Constance Hong, loud and opinionated and perhaps a little sticky-fingered, clinging to Debbie from day one when they claimed the beds next to each other in their Gryffindor dormitory. And Nine-Ball Stevenson (nobody can get away with calling her Leslie, except her little sister), a Muggleborn Ravenclaw picking up on everything magical with near-frightening speed. And Debbie, and Lou.
Daphne Kluger is a solo ringleader, less willing to share the spotlight. She chose quieter people to surround herself with, people content to let her lead the way. The closest thing she has to a second-in-command is her girlfriend, Rose Weil, a sixth-year Hufflepuff mother-hen type with unruly curls and big glasses. Then there's the prefects: Tammy Prescott, Ravenclaw, the quiet and more sure-footed one, and Amita Chandra, Hufflepuff, perhaps less confident but making up for it with an endless stream of chatter most of the time. She's talking animatedly to Rose now, head tipped back so the sun warms her face, as Debbie moves around them to get to the bleachers.
Daphne has zeroed in on Constance as she takes a seat and finally hands Debbie's textbook back to her, narrowing her hazel eyes in that unimpressed, Kluger-trademarked fashion. "She can't be here," she frowns, crossing her arms. "She might take information back to her team."
"Oh, please. What's a Seeker going to get on us? Besides, you've got Prescott." Lou's arm sweeps in a wide arc to gesture in the direction of Daphne's friends, sitting on the edge of the pitch. "I'm pretty sure a Keeper's a little more dangerous. Have you already told her what hoops you're going to take shots on?"
Frown deepening, Daphne shakes her head. "She's not even paying attention." It's true – Tammy is sitting cross-legged in the grass, leaning forward to stick her nose in a textbook lying open in front of her, mouth moving to silently form the words as she reads them. She doesn't seem to register hardly anything around her: Not her name, the eyes on her, the stream of words Amita is still spouting a foot away from her.
Cutting in smoothly before Lou can answer, Constance raises her hands in a surrender. "Relax, it's fine. I won't look. Cross my heart and hope to die," she promises, deadpan, and promptly turns her back on the pitch, facing Debbie and Nine-Ball. There are no further arguments to be made, and Daphne opens her mouth and then closes it again, and the Slytherin team's practice begins.
And it's all going very well, until it happens.
Debbie is only half paying attention, letting her friends quiz her and each other on the course material, flipping pages forward and back again. But she sees Lou fumble, distantly sees her friend's dismayed expression as a Bludger sails directly in Daphne's direction. Then it all escalates very quickly: The hit, and Daphne with the wind knocked out of her, losing grip on her broom handle for a moment but managing to stay on the thing until she and the rest of the team reach the ground.
"Miller!" she snaps, voice rising so it rings sharply across to where Debbie sits. She dismounts awkwardly, stumbling a little in the aftermath of the Bludger. "You did that on purpose!"
Lou lands more smoothly, swings her bat nonchalantly. "I did not," she says unconvincingly. The point of that tone is to ensure that every person who might hear it knows it's a lie, and she looks just mischievous enough that anyone with eyes and ears should be able to put the pieces together. Debbie watches interestedly, certain that she knows the other girl well enough to be able to acknowledge the truth – that it was an accident. There is no other explanation for the stricken panic that flitted across Lou's face when she realized where that Bludger was being directed.
But Daphne doesn't know Lou as well as Debbie does, and Lou is determined not to admit it, and so she just shrugs. Spinning outraged to their team captain, Daphne allows her voice to rise, shrill and clear and sharp, drawing the attention of everyone in earshot. Rose is up on her feet, trying to place a calming hand on the girl's shoulder, to no avail. Even Tammy is drawn out of her textbook by the noise, a slight frown drawing at her eyebrows.
Their captain looks downright exhausted, which is only to be expected. He's been dealing with the two of them for far too long to be unaffected. Maybe they pull it together during actual games, but the rest of the time is pretty much a nightmare. Debbie only hears one-sided stories of the things going on in the Slytherin common room and dormitories, but she thinks if she were Marcus, she'd be on the verge of snapping, too. "All right, all right. Practice is over! I'm calling it!" He waves his hands, exasperated, and wheels around to Lou. "Apologize," he orders.
Debbie steps onto the pitch, purposefully, as if she belongs there. She doesn't; she's never been good on a broom, is firmly of the opinion that Quidditch is sort of overrated. Her dad used to play, is pictured grinning in Slytherin robes in a cabinet up in the castle, and she likes to think that has no bearing on her thoughts on the matter at all, which is probably a lie. By the time she reaches Lou, the blonde has crossed her arms over her chest and, with a deep frown, muttered an apology just sincere enough to keep Marcus from benching her for Saturday's game. Debbie reaches for Lou's elbow and tugs her towards the edge of the field. "C'mon, let's go." She doesn't leave room for argument, only releasing her when they're halfway back to the castle with Constance and Nine-Ball in tow.
All in all, the Slytherin team's Quidditch practice is not the most productive of places to have gone to study. Debbie doesn't say this aloud to Lou, who's already on edge enough after that practice, and she doesn't pry about the Bludger incident, either. The girl is dead-set on allowing everyone to think that she did, in fact, send that Bludger at Daphne on purpose. Just because Debbie is mostly certain that's a lie, doesn't mean talking to Lou about it will be even remotely helpful. Instead, she focuses on distraction, insisting that they sit out by the lake, and her textbooks sit untouched next to her until dinner.
Someone taps on her shoulder in the Great Hall and she tenses, but it's only a second-year Hufflepuff. "Um, Professor Ocean wanted me to give you a message," he says, a little apprehensively. "She'd like to see you in her office after you're finished eating."
And then he melts away, leaving Debbie to spin in her seat to search her mother out at the staff table. The woman is deep in conversation with Professor Lupin on her left, and doesn't seem to feel her daughter's eyes on her at all. Either that, or she's simply got enough willpower to pretend she doesn't. Heaving a sigh, Debbie turns back to her food and rolls her eyes across the table at Constance. "Isn't that ridiculous? Summoning me like that? Like she couldn't just ask me herself?" she asks, but she's not really looking for an answer.
On her way out of the Great Hall, Danny jogs a few steps to catch up to her. "Hey, little sister. Quidditch team is barely even looking at each other, what do you know?"
"Lou hit Daphne with a Bludger," she answers absently, letting Constance climb the stairs ahead of her. Her brother stands a few inches taller than her in his Slytherin robes, hands in his pockets, always the picture of confidence. His NEWTs are coming up, and he doesn't even look worried. Danny never lets his outsides be affected by his insides; Debbie sometimes thinks she still has room for improvement in that area. She glances around for one of his ever-present friends, but he's alone. "Did Mum call you up to her office, too?"
He shakes his head. "Nah. Good luck, kiddo. I'm going to go find Tess." He ruffles her hair and hurries off, fully ignoring her frown as she combs her fingers over her hair to flatten it down again.
As she heads for her mother's office, something inside her feels like it deflates.
Of course it's only her tonight. Danny is not the one her parents are concerned about – that's Debbie, has been all along. They were supportive enough, but not exactly pleased, when the Sorting Hat placed her in Gryffindor instead of following in the Oceans' Slytherin legacy. Her mother is less dead-set than her father is on shaping her into a better person, Debbie thinks, but they like to present a united front as parents, and with one of them at Hogwarts constantly to keep an eye on her, it's easy to feel like there is a pressure weighing on her constantly. Sometimes she wonders if Danny feels that pressure, too, or if he's simply better at living up to the expectations set in place for him.
She beats her mother there, waits outside the locked office door for a minute or two before the woman sweeps down the corridor. "Deborah," she says smoothly, waving her wand at the lock on the door. "Come in, sit down." She waits pointedly until Debbie is seated in the chair opposite her desk, and leans against the edge of the furniture to look down at her curiously. "How's your studying going?"
"Good, it's good," Debbie lies. She's been trying, but it's hard to focus, and every time she gets in the proper mindset to pay attention, Lou or Constance or Nine shows up with a little bit of chaos in their wake, and she is drawn away. This is probably why her father isn't a huge fan of any of them – Lou, the only pureblood, has the biggest shot at his approval, but has a thing for shattering the expectations people have for her. There's something about it that opens her up, lets her breathe easier. Would it be like that for Debbie, if she felt ready to fight back, too?
Her mother doesn't look as if she completely believes her, but she lets it slide. This is the key difference between her parents; Elijah Ocean is rarely, if ever, inclined to let things slide, where Caroline is more lenient. She watches as Debbie twists her fingers together in her lap and doesn't elaborate, and maybe something about that picture makes something in her soften, because all she does is nod and say, "All right."
But she glances meaningfully out her office window until Debbie follows her gaze, and this vantage point offers a glimpse of one corner of the Quidditch pitch, and oh, Debbie shouldn't have lied.
"Debbie, honey." Leaning forward, she puts their faces on the same level so she can look Debbie very seriously in the eyes. She looks tired. "I know your OWLs don't start for almost a month and it feels like you've got all the time in the world to prepare for them right now. And Merlin knows you've got enough going on, between school and your friends and" – here, she hesitates briefly – "breaking up with Claude and, well, being sixteen. But these exams are important, especially if you want to go into the Ministry like your father. Which means you need to put in the time to study, every day. Limit those distractions."
These words echo in Debbie's head for the rest of the evening.
They run on a loop when she tries to think, rendering studying pretty much useless, and when she finally crawls into her bed, they fill the gaps between Constance's quiet snores and project themselves onto the ceiling. Just past midnight, she throws her covers back and slips her shoes back on, shrugging a big, soft sweater over her shoulders as she heads for the door. There is one place in the castle where she can always hear herself think, without fail, where she goes when she cannot sleep. Where everything always seems to dwindle until it no longer matters, even if it's only for a little while.
Sneaking out of the Gryffindor common room and tiptoeing past the portrait of the sleeping Fat Lady is hardly difficult at all, anymore. Debbie has done this a hundred times, is well-practiced in it. She ghosts down the corridors and staircases until she reaches the base of the astronomy tower, climbs the spiral stairs inside until she reaches her destination. Her spot, where she has been coming on nights she can't sleep for five years – only tonight, there is something different about it. Something unexpected.
Tonight, there is somebody else here.
NOTES | Thank you for reading, and if you've got a moment to leave a review, please do! Next chapter will be uploaded probably early next week!