Grantaire took a deep breath - for once not intoxicated - preparing himself for another torturous year. Whilst staying with his parents was hell, school was worse. It was just the fact that he had a few acquaintances here that made it even slightly bearable.
But, it was also almost time to see him again.
A quick tug on his arm revealed Éponine, who was only a few inches shorter, but still had to look up to meet Grantaire's eye, her eyebrows raised impatiently.
"I dunno 'bout you, Labelle," She started, her dark eyes glancing over the castle in a bored yet curious manner, "But I'm just 'bout ready for a drink."
Her confident tone and demanding nature used to annoy Grantaire, but he had since wormed his way under her skin, getting to know when she was joking and when she meant every single word, and had found that she was in fact alright. To a new friend, she appeared basic and straightforward, but was infact a delicate balance of many things, which Grantaire had, unfortunately, learned the hard way.
"Dining in or out, Madam?" He offered her his arm in a jokey manner, but to his surprise, she took it, and then started pulling him up the hill with it. Éponine was always surprising him.
"Dining in, My good sir." A posher accent slipped into her usual drawl, changing the perspective of her completely, as she straightened up, her cloak now flapping in the wind behind her slightly. Grantaire always thought that she'd go into an acting class of some sort, with all the accents and airs she could put on. However, she'd already got herself a summer internship in the Auror department for the end of the year, and there's no way in hell that anyone would turn that down.
"Sounds splendid, Madam. Any fine wines on offer for us to try?"
At that, she shook her head, in a sort of delicate manner, like you'd expect a member of the royal family to.
"I'm afraid not, good Sir. The only thing available is this little drink I like to call-"
She leant a little closer, as if whispering a secret, even though they both knew what was going to finish the sentence.
"-Vodka."
This earned a grin from both of them, but it was just that point when they reached the entrance to the castle, the light flooding out of the open doors. Normally, the students would all go up in the carriages and then get out a little way down the hill and walk up, chattering and laughing and ready for another year at Hogwarts, but Grantaire and Éponine did their best to avoid these as much as possible. Whilst they kept themselves to themselves, other people didn't always leave them alone. Namely, James Potter.
Instead, they walked from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, which only took half an hour if they were quick, but often wasn't enough time to escape the feast altogether. Their prefects all knew of Éponine and Grantaire's constant skiving, and did their best to cover for them, but sometimes it wasn't enough.
"Didn't you want to see your brother get sorted?" Grantaire asked, as they edged closer to the door, unsure whether to walk straight in or to wait for everyone to leave and go with the crowd. "It's a pretty big thing for him, right?"
She merely shrugged, and crossed the entrance to go and lean on a pillar that wouldn't be in sight if the doors opened unexpectedly. From this angle, they'd learned, they could hear McGonagall's speech, and not be heard themselves. If they'd gotten here early enough, they might also have been a chance at listening to the sorting.
"He'll probably be Gryffindor - my parents don't really give a damn. They don't know much about the magic works - they just want us to keep it so they can use it to their advantage, like making deals here as well as in the muggle world, I guess."
"What would your Father be? Y'know, if he weren't a muggle." Grantaire asked, finally giving in and joining her by the stone pillar, careful not to let his shoes squeak on the floor, as Mrs Norris could feel almost anything under her feet like a radar.
"Slytherin. What else?"
"Dunno. Can you imagine your father being friendly with Slughorn?"
Éponine snorted, but somehow still managed to make it look graceful. Slytherins often had that air of grace about them, which Grantaire had been told was similar to a vampire's.
"Definitely. He'd have been the smarmy arsehole that brought him the bloody pineapple chunks."
Grantaire grinned, trying to imagine Mr Thénardier as a student, supposedly innocent, but probably the complete opposite. All he could imagine was a chubby little 12 year old waddling along to Slug Clubs, but that image was just fine for this purpose.
Then, interrupting their thoughts, a deep, panting breathing worked its way up from outside, as if someone was running towards the castle. No, two people.
Éponine was the first on the case, hopping off the small ledge she'd perched herself on, peering around the door, her eyebrow raised. For 4 years, they'd been uninterrupted whilst they waited for the Great Feast to finish, so why any different this year?
A loud exclamation came from the other side of the door, from which Grantaire could tell that they were students - male students. Sighing, he made his way over to where Éponine was stood, joining her in taking a long look at the arrivals.
He recognised them – but they weren't in his year. Maybe the one below?
Of course, their eyes had instantly latched onto Éponine. Whilst she wasn't what Grantaire would call 'beautiful', she was certainly striking, but still had a hint of familiarity about her face. This familiarity was something her Father adored about her, as it made her excellent for his little endeavours; she was easily trusted and most people in her home town knew her name.
"What cha doin'?" She asked the two boys, her voice seeming casual on the surface, but with an undertone of warning and condescension. "Out for a late-night stroll?"
The first of the boys spluttered, but the other one gained his composure quickly.
"Terribly sorry to have, er, burst in on you like this." His blonde hair was fluffy and sticking up in many directions, and Grantaire guessed that they'd run most of the way. "We kinda missed the carriages."
Éponine waited a second, a painfully calculating look on her face, before shuffling back to let them in.
"If you're going to go in, tell no one you've seen us."
The more confident boy manage to smother a grin at that, and motioned to his friend for them to go inside. After a few seconds pushing, the Great Hall doors opened, and they walked into a stunned silence, Grantaire and Éponine keeping care to stay out to the way. The Great Hall doors were rarely opened for a single person, and often had to be helped by magic; most would think it a suspicious occurrence, as they couldn't see Éponine tucking her wand back into her pocket.
Waiting for someone to close the doors again - it would look too suspicious for Éponine to do it both times - Grantaire checked his watch.
"Only 20 minutes to go." He muttered, stuffing his hands back in his pockets. "Jesus, can't we just go sit in the kitchens or something until they're done?"
"Nah, we'll get caught by Filch or the Bloody Baron or something."
They waited, and finally the Great Hall doors shut, although not properly, so the two outside could hear the commotion inside. It turned out that one of the Slytherin first years had knocked a plate of pudding onto a seventh year, who was getting angry, understandably. Even though it appeared he had been cleaned off, the First year was still terrified and had burst into tears.
Well, that's what Grantaire and Éponine heard in the Common Room later, anyway. At that moment they were playing little mind games, the kind small children play at parties, such as "what would you do for a million galleons?" or "would you rather?". Grantaire had just thrown out "would you rather eat a kilo of hippogriff shit or have everybody hear your thoughts for a day?" when the Great Hall doors opened again, signalling the end of the Feast.
Silently and swiftly, the two hopped back, leaning against the wall close enough that they would be thought of as together, but not close enough to be together. There had been many a incident in previous years where a relationship had been insinuated, and neither of them had remembered the experiences happily. They made conversation a little more forced and wooden for days on end, until finally they'd relax back into their friendship again. All in all, a pointless and unpleasant experience for everyone involved.
Together, they watched the bossy prefects blend into whispering First Years, breaking off into chunks of second, third, fourth years and so on. The cloaks dragged behind them, tugging on their shoulders and tickling at their sore backs, teasing crinkles out of previously pristine clothes. Grantaire had never really seen the point in the cloaks - they rarely kept anyone warm anyway.
Just as they shuffled over to join the crowd, Éponine let out an unladylike snicker.
"Look at their stupid little hats. They look ridiculous."
Rolling his eyes, Grantaire coaxed Éponine out of the Entrance Hall, tempting her with the promise of vodka to come, and lots of it. As usual, it got her moving swiftly, and within moments they were walking ten paces behind the gaggle of firsties, both completely lost in their own worlds.
This stopped, however, when Éponine got knocked over by an incoming Slytherin, who she, at first, lashed out at, but relaxed when she saw their face.
"Scorpius Malfoy, you little shit!" Just for good measure, she punched his arm so hard he winced, and trust me that takes a strong hit. "I could count that as rape."
"Ah, but you'd never confess that, my dear." He said, slinging an arm around her shoulder that she immediately shoved off, scowling.
Grantaire knew that she didn't really dislike him. She always put on this act of cold bitchiness, but she was actually one of the most caring people Grantaire knew; when she cared about someone, she cared deeply and forever. Once you became good friends with Éponine, there would always be a little piece of her heart with your name on it, even if she was supposed to despise you. It was just the way she was.
"Eff off, you creep." She sneered, her eyes narrowing to slits, hands on her hips. "Go fuck some whore and come back when you feel better."
"I would, but all the pretty ones are taken." Scorpius genuinely looked a little sad at this, but then bounced back to his former self.
Well, it wasn't his real self, Grantaire knew that much. The Scorpius he knew would send letters to his mother every week, keep his trunk so ordered it bordered on obsessive, and clean his teeth like it was a life rule. However, the Scorpius Éponine had the pleasure to know was an absolute arse; he was sexist and rude, constantly insulting everybody and getting away with it.
"You're such a pig."
The brunette could hear their bickering, but chose to ignore it. No matter what he said, they would do it anyway.
"Not as piggy as you, babe."
Honestly, Grantaire wouldn't blame her if she didn't really like him.
"Oi," Scorpius waved a hand in front of Grantaire's face, though it disappeared quickly with a yelp, "Call the bitch off."
"Éponine, stop attacking Scorpius. Scorp, stop pissing off Éponine." Sighing, Grantaire finally turned to look at them, dragging Éponine so she was stood on the other side of him, "Honestly, you two are like five year olds. I should get paid fucking babysitter wages."
Éponine simply rolled her eyes and tugged her arm out of Grantaire's grip.
"Oh give it up with the angst, Tubby." She stopped short in front of the entrance of the Slytherin common room, waiting for the stream of Firsties to go in before proceeding, shoving a few out the way if they didn't move quick enough.
However, her lazy plodding soon sped up when she realised what it meant to finally be back in the common room - vodka.
"I'll be back in a minute," Her eyes were bright with the idea of alcohol, "Go grab our seats before some cocky Seconds do."
By the time the two guys had reached the chairs and made themselves comfortable, Éponine was back, and this time with a shiny bottle of liquid in her hand.
"Here's to the Polish muggles that, apparently, invented vodka," She snapped the lid, cracking it open, "I owe them a bloody lot."