Chapter Twelve

First of all, let me apologise for not updating in over a year. I'm so sorry, but I'm back now and hopefully I should be updating a lot more frequently. Enjoy the chapter!

"I'm just worried about them, Voldemort, " said Cassie. "They've been in New York for almost three weeks now, and I think they're getting too used to the twenty-first century."

Voldemort scoffed and bit into his chocolate bourbon. "Whatever, Cass," he said flippantly. "It's not the end of the world if they are."

"How can you say that?" hissed Cassie. "Not the end of the world? So, it would be okay if they went back to 1940 and Susan's gabbering on about Pretty Little Liars, Lucy's talking in Klingon, and Peter's reciting the entire script of Dirty Dancing? And what about Edmund? Who knows what he's going to be like, if we even get him back! There could be, like, a paradox or something!"

Voldemort continued chewing on his biscuit, unperplexed by Cassie's whining and her sudden decision to put her head in her hands and groan.

"It's 1940's problem, not yours," said Voldemort. "Now quit being such a whiny bitch and pass me my book."

Without looking up at him, Cassie reached across the table and passed him her copy of Peter Pan.

"Besides," Voldemort added, "they don't seem any different to me."

With that comment still burning Cassie's ears, Peter skipped into the room, shimmying as he did, and sashayed over to the fridge. He began boogieing as he stood there, and seemed to be singing a lively song beneath his breath. He turned around, glass of milk in hand, and saw Cassie staring, open-mouthed at his performance.

"What?" he asked, completely oblivious.

Cassie gaped. "You alright, Pete? You were just dancing a little there."

"I was?" said Peter over his shoulder as he danced from the room. "I didn't realise. I was singing High School Musical in my head."

Cassie glared at Voldemort, who shrugged his shoulders and stood up from his chair, intending to vacate the room. "What? He was crazy as Hippogriff shit when he got here."

Cassie sighed as he left and Hermione entered. In the three weeks that Cassie had known her, she had never seen her walk with such a depressed drag of her feet, but still Cassie smiled cheerfully and patted the seat beside her, which Hermione promptly took.

"Hermione, thank God," gushed Cassie. "Sane conversation, finally."

Hermione groaned and let her head drop to the table, at which they were currently sitting, making a rather audible thumping noise as she did.

Cassie sighed and picked a small object up off the table. It was an origami donkey, given to her by Peter Pevensie that morning. She made it trot across the table, making neighing noises, but Hermione simply stared at it.

"Why am I so ugly!" Hermione cried suddenly.

This had not been the sort of conversation Cassie had hoped to have, nor one she ever thought she would be having with Hermione; before she could answer though, Susan came into the kitchen and set about boiling the kettle. Thinking Hermione might want a little privacy when continuing the conversation, Cassie said nothing.

"What's that?" asked Susan upon noticing Cassie's donkey.

"Origami," Cassie said. "It was supposed to be a horse but Peter said it looked more like a donkey."

"Ooooh!" Susan cried, seeming to come to some sort of epiphany. "That's what Peter was doing! There's like five hundred balls of paper screwed up in your living room, Cass. Peter's been trying to make that thing all morning."

Cassie looked between both Susan and Hermione, confused. "You guys didn't get one? Peter said he made one for everyone."

Susan squealed, clapping her hands excitedly. "This is so cute! My best friend and my brother!"

Cassie gaped. "No! We're not- Me and Peter are just friends. We're not like that. We're- I mean... Origami isn't exactly romantic. Is it?"

Susan nodded knowingly with a broad grin.

"Wait-" said Cassie. "I'm your best friend? What happened to Regina?"

Susan shrugged a shoulder. "She isn't very nice. Do you mind? Hermione can be my back-up best friend, of course."

Cassie grinned and shook her head, indicating that she did not at all mind being Susan's best friend, and the three girls shared an air-tight hug.

"So, tea?" Susan asked, turning back to the counter. "Hermione? Cassie?"

Hermione responded with a series of groans (having taken another look at Cassie's donkey and suddenly remembered the reason for her depression), which Susan took to be an answer to the affirmative (why would she not - which demon-possessed monster would ever refuse a cup of tea?), but Cassie shook her head.

"No, thank you," she said. "I don't drink tea."

Susan had been adding sugar to the three cups on the counter, but now the spoon fell from her hand with an audible clang, and she whipped around with eyes widened in horror.

"You... don't drink tea?" The words were spoken slowly and carefully, and Susan made a great effort not to wretch as she said them. "What kind of demon-possessed monster are you?"

Cassie responded with a series of stammers, turning to Hermione for support, but even she looked disgusted at Cassie.

"I don't drink tea," began Cassie slowly, "because... I'm allergic. Yes, I'm allergic. It's one of my allergies."

Susan gasped in horror, and Hermione put a comforting arm around Cassie's shoulder.

"Oh my gosh!" gushed Susan. "I had no idea, Cassie, I swear. If I had, I never would have come in here, flaunting the fact that I could drink tea when you could not. Oh, goodness me, how selfish am I!"

With that outburst, Susan ran from the room, looking at little tearing, leaving Hermione incredibly disappointed that she would also not be getting a cup of tea presently.

"You can still make one," said Cassie. "I just won't inhale."

Hermione smiled gratefully and set about re-boiling the kettle.

"So, what was it you were saying about Ron earlier?" Cassie asked.

Hermione froze. "Ron?"

"Did I say Ron? I meant being ugly. You said something about that."

Hermione shook her head vigorously. She seemed a little flustered and had already obliviously spooned four lots of sugar into her teacup with no apparent intention of stopping.

"Just forget about it," said Hermione.

"Too late," said Cassie. "Is this about the Halloween ball next week?"

"No," Hermione lied, though her shoulders drooped at the very mention of the occasion.

The ball was an annual dance hosted by Queen Bella at the Cullen Castle, and everyone who was anyone was going to be there. Cassie was going with Peter out of necessity, because the plan was for them to sneak away whilst everyone else was preoccupied and at least find where Bella was keeping Edmund. Cassie, the Pevensies, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Voldemort were all going, and Cassie knew that Hermione desperately wanted Ron to ask her to go with him.

"Hermione, for someone who's supposed to be clever, you can be so simple sometimes," said Cassie plainly. "Do you know what I see when I see the way you look at Ron?"

"A poor, pathetic girl who's hopelessly in love with a boy who doesn't love her back?" Hermione suggested.

"You're halfway there, I guess," Cassie admitted. "But I see the exact same thing when I see they way Ron looks at you, Hermione, and you're both of you too stupid to see that."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but then, as if by magic, Ron came into the kitchen, and Hermione turned back to her tea, blushing furiously as she did.

"Hey, Mione," said Ron. "Cassie, do you have any hotdogs?"

"Check the cupboards," Cassie told him. She was having far too much fun playing with her paper donkey to help him. She thought about what Susan had insinuated about herself and Peter but just the idea made her cheeks turn a violent red.

Ron, holding one jar of hot dogs, politely enquired of Cassie if she might have several more jars. "Lucy's friend Pat just told me I couldn't eat fifty in one minute, and I'm not losing a bet to someone whose name is McCrotch," he told her. As he spoke, his eyes kept wandering over to Hermione, who still wouldn't turn around to look at him.

"No, I don't," said Cassie.

"Can't you go buy me some?" whined Ron.

"Uh, no. How about you people go get jobs and pay for your own hot dogs?"

Ron sighed. "But you have so much money, Cassie! It's endless."

"Well, yeah. I'm, like, the Mary Sue here. I'd be useless if I was poor."

Ron sighed and set the hot dog jar down beside Cassie. "So, what are you ladies gossiping about in here?" he asked.

A tiny light-bulb lit up in Cassie's head, and she said, "I bet Hermione fifty bucks she couldn't get a date to the Halloween ball."

Hermione squeaked from the counter and turned around with eyes widened in panic.

"That's mean..." said Ron. He appeared to be carefully considering what Cassie had said before he replied. "Hermione? If I take you to the Halloween ball, will you use some of that money to buy me hot dogs?"

Hermione looked utterly rejected for a moment but let it pass as she plastered a bright smile onto her face.

"Of course I will, Ron," she said, and waited until he had left before her lip began to wobble.

Cassie squirmed in her seat. "Come on Hermione... Don't be sad. Ron didn't have to ask you. I'm sure the hot dog thing was just an excuse. I mean, he could have just stolen the money out of my purse."

Hermione took a deep breath, nodded and asked, "Do I at least get the money?"

Cassie stood up to give Hermione a hug and a tissue, with which to wipe her tears. "How about, instead, I buy you a new dress for the ball?"

Hermione smiled, this time genuinely, and nodded enthusiastically.