AN: Wow, hi. It's been, uh, too long. Months too long. I'm sorry about that. I've been overwhelmingly busy with schoolwork and the process of applying to college. But hey, better late than never, right?

In case you need a refresher (because I certainly would), we last left off with Marina's adventures in tutoring first years, namely Peter Pettigrew and my own little Rachel the Hufflepuff, at Fliwick's request. This chapter didn't get quite as far as I wanted it to, and it's certainly on the shorter side for this story, but I think I like the way it turned out anyway. Enjoy, leave a review if you'd like!

It was Marina's aptitude for taking exams that got her through with even less studying than she'd done last year (except for Transfiguration—Gideon and Quincy had once again spent an extremely generous amount of time trying to help her improve). The morning of the last day of term, the heads of houses sent exam results to each of their students to wait for them in sealed envelopes on their bedside tables. Annie woke Marina excitedly, shaking the parchment list of her scores in Marina's face.

"Look, Mina, look! I improved my marks since last year!" she whisper-exclaimed, grin the widest it ever got. "Open yours, come on!" Annie stuck Marina's envelope right under her nose so that she had to cross her bleary eyes just to look at the blue eagle wax seal.

As Marina sat up, she noticed Artemis laying down against her pillow, quietly looking over her own results. Lark's curtains were, of course, still shut, not doing much to muffle her snoring. Annie perched on the edge of Marina's mattress, waiting, so she slid her finger under the flap of the envelope and broke the seal, flipped it open, and slid out the folded parchment within. Slowly, Marina straightened out the paper, smoothing out the creases, not yet reading her results. She was nervous, but she was also simply tired and sluggish.

Marina Stewart-Lautrec

Year 2 Exams

Astronomy: Exceeds Expectations

Charms: Outstanding

Defense Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding

Herbology: Exceeds Expectations

History of Magic: Acceptable

Potions: Outstanding

Transfiguration: Exceeds Expectations

Congratulations; we look forward to seeing you for your third year in September. Expect supply lists to arrive by owl no later than 1 August.

It took at least two minutes of staring at the page for Marina to absorb the information, but once she'd blinked her eyes a few times and yawned once, she felt her chest explode with the pride of success. "I got an E!" she whisper-shouted, clutching the paper to her chest. "Annie, I got an E!"

"In what?" Annie took the paper from Marina's hands, scanned it, and then looked back up at Marina with an even bigger grin, if that was possible. "You got an E! You improved in Transfig! I'm so proud of you!"

Marina grinned back. "I dropped in History, but I don't care because I got an E in Transfig!"

"History's useless anyway," Annie laughed quietly. "Rarely anyone needs it in life."

At breakfast, Marina noticed Rachel sitting at the Hufflepuff table, looking happy enough. She decided she should probably go over and ask how the first year had done, so she broke away from her friends to do just that. She figured it would probably be rude to just sit down without being asked, even if it was a table of un-ruffle-able Hufflepuffs, so instead she tapped Rachel's shoulder and smiled when the girl turned.

"Good morning," Rachel said shyly, tucking a few blonde curls behind her ear. "Um, what are you doing over here?"

"I just wanted to see how your exams went. I hope you were successful." It struck Marina suddenly that all the Hufflepuff first years had stopped talking. She quickly glanced up, noticing they all seemed to be paying attention to her. Lovely.

Rachel blushed. "Oh…um, they—they went okay. Thank you. How did—um, how did your exams go?"

"Pretty well," Marina answered. This was probably not as good an idea as she'd thought; things were getting uncomfortable now. Too many eyes on them. "Alright, well, I just wanted to check in. Have a good summer, Rachel!" She tried to end with a cheery tone, even if the awkwardness made her want to cringe.

"Oh, you too!"

Marina smiled again and hurried back to her own table. With a sigh and a slouch of relief, she sat, prepared to pile her plate high with…oh, there were omelets this morning!

"What was that about?" Lark asked, speaking as she always did with her mouth full. It was almost odd eating breakfast with her again after two years of almost never seeing her before they left for their first class. Annie had wanted to wake Lark a little early so they could all celebrate their exam results together in the dorm. Lark took another bite of syrup-drenched pancake, watching Marina for an answer.

"I wanted to see if that girl I tutor did well on her exams," Marina replied, more focused on the steaming omelet she'd just served herself. There was cheese melted over top of it, and it looked positively stuffed with…something.

"Oh, right, the tutoring. You know—"

Marina didn't get to find out what Lark was about to say she knew. At that exact moment, Gideon deposited himself on the bench on the far side of Annie just as Quincy's arm shot forward from behind her to grab a piece of bacon from the tray on the table. Marina felt him settle his forearms on her shoulders just before she saw his non-bacon hand appear at the side of her face.

"Morning," Gideon drawled, drawing out the "o." A new place setting appeared for him on the table as he reached for the box of Pixie Puffs.

"Oh, good morning," Annie said cheerfully. "Are those first year boys planning something?" After a second glance, she tsked and added, "Neither of your shirts are tucked in." There was some fumbling kerfuffle as Gideon attempted to shove his shirt into his trousers in while still sitting down, and Quincy tried to tuck his in one-handed so as not to drop his bacon.

"What, can't we share the last breakfast of term with our dear Ravenclaw friends?" Quincy asked, feigning offense in his voice to cover up his talking-to-Annie jitters. Marina could just picture his faux-shocked face and had to smile. "This is the last we'll see of you two for months, you know," he went on, assumedly referring to Lark and Artemis, his nervous undertone gone.

"You better not be getting bacon crumbs in my hair," Marina threatened, cutting into the omelet to reveal onions, tomatoes, mushrooms, and spinach. Yum.

"I'm not! Don't—" Quincy cut himself off suddenly, and Marina sighed, passing a napkin up to him. He swiped at the top of her head with it. She resisted the urge to groan loudly, settling instead for rolling her eyes.

That was when disaster struck, proving Annie right.

Now, the student body was no stranger to mealtime pranks by the first year Gryffindor boys. They happened at least once a month, often involving dung bombs (they must keep getting them from older students; no way could they pull off sneaking into Hogsmeade to stock up on Zonko's dung bombs), sometimes floating food, and occasionally explosions. Marina had spent enough time with Peter and the rest to know that the only thing restricting those boys' creativity was their lack of skill, and she expected their mischief to only grow more and more interesting as the years went on. This, though, she hadn't quite been expecting from first year-level students, even budding geniuses like James, Remus, Sirius, and Peter.

The Slytherin banners from last night's end of year feast were still hanging above the breakfasting students and professors, until suddenly they turned bright, solid red, one at a time, each with a loud pop, flash of light, and the heavy flutter of fabric. Marina only had a second to wonder how they even knew that charm because she was sure she'd only learned it a few months ago before bright golden fireworks exploded above the hall, showering glitter onto the occupants below. Again: how did they even know how to do that? Where was the glitter even coming from? The Gryffindor table burst into applause and cheers and whistles. Marina looked up at the professors' table, amused to see Slughorn in a state of distress, Flitwick grinning into his goblet, Dumbledore looking quietly pleased, as if he'd been expecting this, and McGonagall half out of her seat, seemingly torn between congratulating or punishing the culprits.

"Ah, bloody hell," Gideon swore, trying to brush the golden sparkles out of his unruly red hair to no effect.

Annie gasped, scandalized by his language, but Marina honestly couldn't blame the boy. Her omelet was now glittery. "Did you two know about this?" she asked, craning her chin up to raise her eyebrows at Quincy. He only grinned down at her sheepishly.

"Er—not exactly…" Gideon answered, giving a despairing look at his gold-dusted cereal.

"We, uh, had an idea that they would be doing something. Just a vague hint of a hunch, I swear!" Quincy added.

The whole train ride to King's Cross, Marina couldn't get over the prank. She was impressed. Sure, the Colovaria they used was a little sloppy—a well-cast color change charm should produce no popping sound, and the resulting color was likely more garish than the Gryffindor scarlet she imagined they'd been going for—and the glitter fallout was less than ideal—she had a hunch they'd have avoided that if they knew how—but it was more advanced than anything she'd seen them pull off yet. Was it petty, changing the Slytherin banners red? Absolutely. But it was really cool. Marina wondered how much preparation had gone into it. They must've researched outside of their required textbooks, and Marina felt weirdly proud of them for that.

—

In mid-July, Marina thumped barefoot down the stairs of her house and strolled into the kitchen for breakfast, only to pause when both of her parents smiled at her from their seats at the table. Even groggy as she was, she could tell something was up. First of all, they looked like they were expecting her and had been waiting specifically for her. Usually they were already in the middle of eating by the time she found herself awake and in the kitchen. Second of all, they both looked too happy. These were no casual, did-you-sleep-well-dear, morning smiles; these were the smiles of two parents who were too excited about whatever news they had for their daughter. And—yes, that was it! They looked like they had news to share, or more specifically a surprise to share.

"Um, good morning…" Marina said slowly, eyes darting between her two parents suspiciously.

"Good morning dearest," her mum said. Then her parents shared a conspiring look, and Marina could've sworn she heard them do that breathy almost-giggle thing people did sometimes. "Sit down, Mina, we have something to tell you."

Not again! Really? This was all too similar to when her parents told her they were engaged. Marina took a seat, eyes narrowed.

"Can I—?" Theo asked Bobbie.

Bobbie nodded. "Go ahead!"

"Your mum is pregnant," he stated, almost too casually for an announcement of that caliber.

"Congratulations," Marina said, smiling at her parents, who seemed about to burst with happiness. "When—um, how long—…" How do you even phrase that politely? She couldn't just say "When are you giving birth," could she?

Luckily her papa knew exactly what she meant. "I believe the words you are looking for are 'when are you due,' no?" he supplied with an always-gentle smile.

"Yes. Right. That." If Marina spent too much brain power on this entire situation she'd end up with a mental picture she really, really wanted to avoid.

"I'm due in February. You'll have a baby sibling when you come home for Easter holiday!" her mum gushed, or as close as she could ever come to gushing. Her mum didn't gush.

Marina nodded, smiled again, and decided she would really like to move on to eating breakfast. She had more questions, of course, because when did she ever not have more questions, but it was probably better that she not interrogate her own parents over something that made them so happy. Maybe she could ask later. Mostly she just wanted to know why, but after the way that same question dampened the joy of her parents' engagement last year, Marina figured it was probably better that she just wonder on her own for a while until she had a better chance to ask. And anyway, if she thought about her mum being pregnant for too long…well, again, she really, really, really wanted to avoid certain mental pictures.

Later that week, though, Marina did talk to Quincy about it. As per usual, or maybe Marina could call it a tradition now, they discussed it over ice cream on the curb somewhere along the street between their houses. They sat wherever they'd caught the ice cream van, truthfully.

"I feel like I should understand, but I really don't," she admitted, stabbing her spoon into her scoop of butter pecan.

Quincy licked at his cone, surprisingly keeping the drips under control thus far. "Well, Mina, when a man and a woman love each other very much…" he teased, laughing when Marina shoved his arm. "Watch the ice cream!" he shouted, grin splitting his face over his own cleverness.

"Ugh," Marina sighed, rolling her eyes. "I understand that part, you idiot! I mean why they're having another child, not why my mum's pregnant!" She settled, taking a bite of ice cream. "I mean, I know when people get married they tend to have kids right after—"

"Not my parents; they waited four years before they had me," Quincy interrupted, still doing alright with his cone.

Marina continued as if he hadn't spoken. "—and that feels like it should be enough to make sense, but what about me? I'm a contradiction. I don't fit the guideline. My parents already had me long before they were married, so why wait thirteen years until they were actually properly married to have a second child? It just seems like a really odd age gap, you know?"

Quincy shrugged. "Well, I don't know much about age gaps," he began. "Maybe—"

"Did they wait to see how I would turn out before they decided it was safe to have a second child?" she interrupted, mind still churning. "Maybe they wanted me out of the house for most of the year so they could just focus on raising another baby. What if they decided raising me without being married was the wrong choice and that's why they waited until they were really married to have their next baby?"

"Maybe you're overthinking it," Quincy suggested. "Sometimes there isn't a real reason. People are weird and spontaneous like that sometimes."

"Maybe, but I don't know," Marina replied. "It would make me feel better if there's a logical reason."

Quincy smiled and transferred his cone to his other hand so he could sling his arm around Marina's shoulders. "There can't always be a logical reason, you robot," he joked. "Maybe your dad was like, 'Hey, do you want another kid?' And your mum was like, 'Sure, why not?' And that was the end of it."

With another sigh, Marina dropped her head onto her best friend's shoulder. "You might be right," she conceded, taking another bite of ice cream.

They sat like that in silence for another few moments, comfortable and focusing on enjoying their ice cream. Then the bottom tip of Quincy's waffle cone started leaking blue cotton candy drips all over the place, and Marina sat up so she and Quincy could attack his hand and shorts and shoes with paper napkins. Once they'd cleaned up as much of the sticky mess as they possibly could, they moved on to other subjects.

"Gideon and I are thinking of trying out for the Quidditch team again this year. A lot of the team graduated, so there's plenty of positions to fill," Quincy said brightly. "We finally have it figured out, I'd say: Gid is best playing as Beater, and I do best as Keeper. We're both okay at Chaser, too, if that's what we wind up getting to play on the team."

Marina shook her head with a fond grin. "I doubt if you're mediocre Chasers the captain wouldn't just find really good Chasers instead. If you make the team this year, you'll make the positions you're the best at."

"Well, I really hope Gid makes Beater then. His brother Fabian's gonna be a seventh year. It would be really cool if Gideon and Fabian could be Beaters together, even if only for one year," Quincy said.

After a moment, Marina remembered something she'd just about forgotten. "Speaking of our friends," she began, "what's the deal with you and Annie?"

Quincy was in the middle of taking a calculated bite out of his cone, but at Marina's words he jerked in surprise and ended up stabbing his nose into his ice cream and stabbing the edge of the cone into his gums. He flushed red as she gave him another napkin for his face. "Uh…why—why do you, uh, ask?"

Marina laughed. "Because you're blushing right now! And whenever you have to talk directly to Annie, actually," she answered. "You fancy her, don't you?"

To her great amusement, he actually screwed his eyes shut and groaned the most disappointed and tortured groan she had ever heard. "Do we really have to talk about this?" he questioned, reminding Marina of a petulant little kid.

"Yes we do!" She laughed again when his entire body slumped as he sighed.

"Quit laughing," he said, chin on his chest. "Just because—just because I—I, uh, fancy Annie doesn't mean you get to laugh at me. It's not funny," he grumbled.

"Okay, I'm sorry," Marina said, trying to school her face into a serious expression like her mum could do so well to hide when she wanted to laugh at Papa. "I'll stop laughing. I swear it's not because I think your crush is funny, really! I swear on Merlin's spectacles!"

Quincy popped his head back up. "Did Merlin even have spectacles?"

"We don't know that Merlin wore pants either."

"Fair point," he nodded.

Marina finished off the last of her ice cream, kicking her feet out in front of her. "So…you admit you fancy Annie, then?"

"Yeah, I suppose," Quincy sighed, blushing again. Marina could tell he was almost bursting to talk about it if she could just provoke him into it. Kindly, of course. Not in, like, a mean or pushy way. In a friendly, just-trying-to-get-things-off-your-chest-for-you sort of way.

"Do you want to talk about it at all?" she prompted.

"I—well…it might be good to hear things from a girl's perspective."

"Right."

"Yeah."

"…so are you going to tell her?" Marina asked.

"What? No!" Quincy exclaimed.

"Why not?"

"Because—because I just can't!"

"What makes you say that?"

"I—…well—I—because she's Annie! She'll be so—so upfront about it, and…I don't know!" he spluttered.

"What's wrong with being upfront?"

"Nothing!" Quincy stared down at the last bit of his ice cream. "That's, uh, one of the things I guess I like about her…"

Marina smiled. "So why is that why you won't say anything?" He'd crack any second now.

Just as she expected, Quincy had reached his limit of spluttering inarticulate-ness. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before taking a deep breath and letting all his words rush out of him in one big sigh. "If she doesn't like me and I tell her she won't be nice about it, she'll just say it, and it's not like that's mean because I like that she just says whatever because it's cute I guess but she'll reject me and she won't even let me down gently and it'll be so embarrassing and then because she just says anything she might bring it up again and embarrass me even more and it would be awful and I'd never live it down." And immediately, he chomped on his remaining ice cream before covering his face with his now-free hands.

So he was scared about the hit his pride might take if Annie didn't like him back. Understandable, she thought. That was the thing about Gryffindors, as far as she could tell, anyway: they were brave, but they were so proud, and half the time their pride goaded them into stupid stuff and half the time they were incapacitated by their pride if someone hurt it. Marina bumped his shoulder with her own. "The mighty, fearless Gryffindor is afraid?" she teased as gently as she could tease.

Quincy huffed between his fingers. "I'm not afraid. I'm just…I'm just concerned, is all."

"Well, it's all well and good to be concerned, but sooner or later you should tell her, I think." Marina paused, trying to dig through her brain for anything that might suggest whether or not Annie liked Quincy. She'd have to find out as soon as possible. "She might like you too, you know."

Unfortunately, Annie's summer correspondence with Marina was blunt, as usual, but too blunt. It was blunt to the point of being curt—terse, even. Yes, she was doing fine, but no, she couldn't see Marina and Quincy anytime, and no, she wouldn't be school shopping with them this year. Marina wondered why Annie was writing so lifelessly and almost rudely, but she thought it would be even more rude to ask her about it. She got the feeling that Annie was not, in fact, having a fine summer, and that writing to her about Quincy would be a bad idea, no matter how curious Marina was.