The next morning dawns fair and bright, sunlight melting through the windows of Doctor Dillamond's classroom and illuminating the wrinkled features of his face as he leads the first lecture of the day.

She scribbles as fast as she can, hand aching from the effort of making sure not a single word is lost. Oz, she's going to run out of parchment at this rate – the Doctor is on fire this morning. His face is flushed with the passion, telling a story of Shiz as it once was and his Antelope colleague's controversial opinions on the Great Drought. She's on the edge of her seat, just listening to him.

Perhaps she'd visit the library later, to read up on this infamous friend of his? Or perhaps the Doctor himself could recommend her a good title?

Oz, she loves Shiz.

Galinda's drooping head is a faint, warm pressure against her shoulder, but no matter. The Doctor has long since given up trying to invest Galinda in his lectures and – and she doesn't mind. Not after last night. Not after learning there's more to Miss Galinda Upland – more depth, more kindness, more intelligence…and more pure, open longing for approval and esteem – than she could ever have imagined. Beneath the fountain of blonde curls she takes so many hours to style, there is a brain struggling to work and heart more honest and gentle than she'd ever given her roommate credit for.

Things are going to be different from now on. Now they've come to an understanding. Now they've become…well, as Galinda had put it…friends.

The thought brings a small, private smile to her face and she bends low over her quill to hide it.

.

Fiyero wakes to an unforgiving headache and the taste of sweetened cherries on his lips.

After the three tries it takes him to make out the hands of the grandfather clock across from his desk, he's forcing himself to his feet, cursing his drink - Avaric had spiked it, no doubt now - and stiff joints. He's late - almost regretting the fact he didn't have a roommate to wake him when it was time to leave for classes - and still in his formal wear of the night before.

At least his hair is fairly undamaged from his private moments with Galinda. While not the most experienced, she was a rather enthusiastic kisser - and what glitter and gloss had remained on his lips has transferred to the arm he had slept on. Stroke of luck, he supposes, as he finds his uniform and bag.

It's twenty minutes past nine when he strolls lazily into Dr. Dillamond's class, uniform crisp and shades on the bridge of his nose. Even if it is overcast, it's still far too bright for him.

Essay left at the edge of the professor's desk, he ignores the majority of what Dillamond says as he slips into the space Galinda hurriedly makes for him in the middle of the row. Subsequently, he ends up sitting on the same bench as Elphaba, flashing her smirk before fixing his attention on the blonde.

Or, at least, he tries to, but Elphaba's hair is down and it looks…good.

.

There's just one thing – one tiny, miniscule, absolutely insignificant thing – that's stopping this day from being, in all likelihood, the best of her life so far. And that's Fiyero Tiggular's lounging presence on the bench beside her.

Of course, he's already disgraced himself thoroughly by sauntering in twenty minutes late and chucking half a page of essay on the Doctor's desk – for Oz's sake, how had he even got into Shiz? – and it's not like she has to pay him any attention whatsoever, in spite of his being Galinda's sweetheart…but still. He looks nothing short of abysmal, his hair pressed flat on one side and the most ridiculous pair of shaded glasses obscuring what must be horribly bloodshot eyes.

She shoots him the most unsympathetic look she can muster, before fixing her gaze firmly on the parchment once again.

.

Oh Oz, he hates this class.

Well, to be entirely fair, he hates just about every class he's forced to take. No matter how many Galinda - magically – appears to be in as well, he can't stand sitting, and writing notes, and listening to lectures of centuries of mistakes and the same basic knowledge schools had been regurgitating for the past decade of his life. His private tutors had been more interesting than this, likely because of how quickly they were replaced as they gave up hope on successfully teaching him. And as Dr. Dillamond continues, he almost misses his lessons on princely etiquette and the basics of ruling a kingdom.

Elphaba's obvious rapture with the lecture - and the headache-inducing scritch of quill on paper - do little to soothe his irritation. He's come to this class to...to...

To what exactly?

At some point, there had been a reason. Some inane idea to see Elphaba again, probably, that had made sense when he was half-drunk and three-fourths asleep.

But now, sitting here, fighting a hangover and dying of boredom over the history of Oz, he berates himself for even thinking it was worth it. He's dragged himself out of bed, forced half the essay on paper, and actually arrived to a class for what? To see a girl who wouldn't give him so much as half a glance, much less the time of day?

.

"My dear students," the Doctor intones, bending over his desk towards them and lowering his voice to a half-whisper; the passion has deflated now, leaving behind only a faint gleam in his eyes. It's the sort of look that always precludes talk of Animal Rights. Forbidden talk, talk that wakes everybody up and prompts the very best discussions they ever have at Shiz. Elphaba holds her breath, quill poised over her parchment.

"I am sure that – some of you – will have noticed the disturbing headlines emblazoned across this morning's papers."

His eyes meet hers for the briefest of seconds; she nods frantically, leaning forward in her seat. Of course she'd seen the headlines. How could anyone have missed them? The board of governors – not only at Shiz, but at every educational institution across Oz – had made a unanimous decision to forgo the use of the capital letter, when referring to Animals in lectures, lessons, on-campus and off. A cumbersome and outdated tradition, they'd called it. Oz, what an insult.

The Doctor clearly agrees. He spends the rest of the lesson expanding on the history of the capital's usage – and how disgraceful it was that this practice was slowly but steadily being suppressed.

"It's no coincidence, is it, sir?" she speaks up, when he asks for questions at the end. "The movement has clearly been endorsed – not only by the schools, but the press as well. A systematic sway of opinion."

"Precisely, Miss Elphaba," he beams, clapping his hooves together in a way that makes her glow, inside and out.

"It seems like such a small thing," she continues, feeling the eyes of the class fixed on her – one bloodshot, bespectacled pair in particular, but she refuses to let herself think about that, "but the capital stands as a sign of utmost respect for the Animal community, doesn't it, sir? A public acknowledgement of the Animals' rightful place in society, of your status as 'more than mere beasts' as your friend put it."

.

The class breaks out in whispers. Fiyero isn't really listening - his headache won't allow it - but he catches snide remarks about Elphaba sympathizing with the Animals because she was just as weird, being part of the rumoured second rebellion. He shouldn't really care what they say – after all, they aren't talking about him, and he cares rarely at the few who do speak poorly of him – but even so, he finds irritation curling in his belly as the whispers continue. A few students are bold, speaking loud enough for Elphaba to easily hear them.

Dr. Dillamond isn't deaf to them either. He clears his throat, diverting their attention again, and gently reminding the class of Shiz's policy regarding harassment of students before trying to refocus them on Animal - now animal - rights. This only serves to rile a rotten few into voicing their rather close-minded opinions.

"So what if we take away the capital? It's not like they changed the name -"

"Isn't this a history class, professor, about historic events? This don't count as -"

"They shouldn't just stop there. Everyone knows animals aren't people. They shouldn't be -"

"- Just lock them up!"

.

"How dare you!" Oz, she could wring Avaric's neck for that. "That has to be the most childish, inane –"

.

"And while they're at it, why don't they take people with green-skin too -?"

"- Hey!" His head spins as he twists back to confront Avaric. An insult is at the tip of his tongue, a few choice words to shut him up. His protest, however, doesn't go unnoticed and he feels the eyes of several others on him.

What is he doing, anyway? Defending her?

He swallows. "Keep it down, would you?"

.

What in Oz? Fiyero Tiggular, an Animal rights supporter?

Something inside her gives a stupid little leap of excitement at the thought; she fights the feeling down, fixing the Winkie prince with a hard stare over the heads of the rest of the class. He mumbles a flimsy, half-formed, noncommittal response, sinking lower into his seat and smoothing his perfect hair and oh no, if he thinks he's going to get away with it that easily –

"Speak up, Tiggular," she snaps out, turning her chair with a loud scrape so she can face him full-on. "What were you going to say? Do you think the Doctor and I have a point? Or do you agree with Avaric's impeccably nuanced views on this matter? Tell us. Tell us right now. We're all ears."

"Miss Elphaba," the Doctor chides quietly, but she refuses to move her gaze from Tiggular. His face is entirely unreadable beneath his shades and the knowledge grates at her no end. If he'd just take them off, if she could just look at him…she feels just as she did last night in the Ozdust: heart thumping in her ears, magic hissing at her fingertips, her whole body on-edge.

.

Regret settles cold and heavy at the bottom of his gut as Elphaba stares him down. He's now the centre of the class's attention.

Elphaba - the class outcast – has called him - the school's golden boy of two days - out. No hesitation, no subversion, no attempt at subtly doing it.

His posture doesn't change as he lets his head swing lazily her way, but he's hard pressed for an answer. Animal rights have never been his issue - a mandatory essay topic, sure, but never something he's never personally considered. But then again, Avaric has never been the kind of individual Fiyero's enjoyed associating himself with. Even the deeply shallow have their standards.

Neither opinion guarantees a stellar outcome – ruining his reputation or losing Elphaba's good opinion of him. Although who could call what she thinks of him good? And since when does his reputation ever have equal standing with an individual's opinion of himself?

With a sigh, he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, meeting Elphaba's cold stare.

"I said, could all of you keep it down? As interesting as the history of Oz is, some of us would rather sleep on the textbooks rather than read them."

He's avoiding the question and it's clear Elphaba sees it. Fiyero is sure she's ready to continue, to shout at him until he gives, so he doesn't stop there.

"But if you want my opinion, then here's my reply – you can't have it. A governing royal is taught to listen to both sides of an argument and side with whichever will most benefit the people. Personal opinions matter very little in the world of politics."

It's a low blow and he knows it, but he can't stop himself, not with a growing headache on the heels of sleep-deprived irritation, "Not that you would understand, seeing as your father would rather send you here than pass you his governorship."

.

She's out of her chair almost before he's finished speaking, practically choking with rage – "Well, that makes two of us!" – magic sparking and crackling deep within her clenched fists and no, no, you promised Nessa, don't

"Miss Elphaba, stop – please, stop at once, or I will have to ask you to leave –!" The horror in Dillamond's voice makes her heart clench, but it's too late. Power and rage have blurred into one, the feeling coursing unstoppably through her veins, and Fiyero's papers are already flying in every direction, his satchel tumbling to the floor and a jagged crack splintering across the top of his desk and oh Oz, she is done for

.

Whatever thin ice he's been walking on is gone - shattered - and he's falling. He tells himself he isn't afraid when Elphaba rounds on him, the air suddenly smelling of charred wood, whilst something promptly splinters his desk and the floor before it. It's as if the floor attempted to smile, leaving a jagged slice through the wood.

Of course, he's heard rumours that Elphaba had power – but he's fairly sure the worst of the gossipers don't know the extent of her talent.

Or the danger.

The class is still in awe when Dillamond ushers them both outside, with a stern word to Elphaba to not do that again, a sharp look Fiyero's way, and a promise to come for them both after settling the class. He's fairly sure the professor doesn't trust him – but he trusts his favourite student not to make the same mistake again.

Even so, he's ready to continue their argument as soon as the door is closed. He can't sink any lower than he already has and her father's name is on her lips when he turns to her – but it dies, as soon as her face is in view.

She's terrified.

Because his mistake, he realises, is far easier to overlook than hers.

.

Oz, how could she have been so stupid.

In spite of Morrible's seminars, this was the second time she'd lost control in just a few short weeks at Shiz, not even counting Nessa's spinning wheelchair on their first day. And to do it in her beloved Doctor's classroom, of all places? Unforgivable, it was unforgivable – dangerous and disrespectful to the utmost degree, even if Tiggular had been driving her insane.

Later, the disappointment in the Doctor's face as he deals out their punishment is almost too much to bear. She swallows hard, teeth gnawing frantically at her lip to stop herself bursting out. She tears her eyes away from the Doctor's gaze, staring down at her tightly folded hands instead. The fingernails are ruined, every nail ripped to shreds – Galinda would have a heart attack, she thinks – as she'd spent the past half hour tearing at them whilst they awaited their sentence.

When the Doctor dismisses them both – under strict instructions to meet Professor Nikidick in the library, at 8 o' clock sharp that evening, for a double detention – she flees to the dinner hall without paying Tiggular so much as a glance.

Damn it all, what has she done.


Author's Note: There will be more.