Thanks again to ShadowQuill426!
Alicia winced for what felt like the thousandth time. If she kept it up, she had no doubt that her face might freeze, and she would be permanently disfigured, like Malfoy and his perpetual sneer.
Malfoy. Lord, the little bitch certainly knew how to let his mouth run. Alicia scowled as the Slytherin Quidditch team hurled well-timed insults whenever she or Katie threw a quaffle in Ron Weasley's direction. The poor boy was more than flustered - he was trembling like a leaf, and Alicia could see it from here, the way he bobbed up and down on his broom as the insults got louder and louder.
Friday nights were the only evening slots the twins had managed to book, because nobody wanted to practice after a long week of school. Personally, Alicia didn't mind - morning practices were going to be ten times worse, and she was not anticipating the next week. She winced again, when Katie's quaffle not only hit poor Ron in the head, but actually managed to hop through one of the hoops upon deflection. The Slytherins whooped. Pricks.
The sad part was, Ron was undoubtedly the best potential keeper they'd seen thus far. Alicia didn't doubt for a second that McLaggen would have done better, but the idiot was locked up in the Hospital Wing as Angelina had predicted, and so it looked like Ron would be their replacement for Oliver.
Weasley is our king, the Slytherins chanted, and Alicia couldn't help but privately agree, as bad as she felt. Still. Ron was a nice boy, and he was a Gryffindor.
"I swear to God," Alicia muttered as she flew down to land, "I'm going to hex them all."
The Gryffindor team, with the exception of Harry who was in detention, as well as all the potential keepers, stood around in a circle while Angelina congratulated them on their efforts. They ignored the Slytherins, who continued to chant Weasley is our king while guffawing loudly. Alicia could hear Warrington's rough laugh, and it made a shiver crawl down her spine. Out of disgust, she hoped, of course.
He'd all but ignored her since the Incident, and she'd been equally cool towards him. Not that this was anything unusual. She had to keep reminding herself that they were not friends, that they weren't even acquaintances, and that ignoring each other was normal - expected, in fact. Despite the... heated nature of their last run-in, it was not something that could be - or should be - repeated. It had been a mistake, and she was certain that he'd felt the same way. Surely he wasn't waiting for her to actually get back to him on his... proposition. It had to have been some kind of joke. Despite having had Arithmancy, Theory of Magic and Ancient Studies together over the last two days, they'd managed to keep a distance. Everything was normal. Absolutely normal, right down to his presence here with the rest of his teammates, insulting their potential keepers and shouting vulgarities about how the only brooms the chasers ought to have been riding were their brooms. Original. Very original. And absolutely not directed at her in any meaningful sort of way. Again, It had to have been some kind of joke, something Warrington had undoubtedly cooked up to get a little action, and to throw her off her game. And it was working. Just a little tiny bit, but it was working.
"So something tells me that we're going to have to do triple the scoring this year if we want to make up for... well, Oliver's absence, shall we say," Katie mumbled as they sat in the common room by the fire, discussing the disastrous nature of the last practice.
"At least we've still got Harry," Alicia muttered dejectedly.
"Ickle Ronniekins is definitely going to need some work," said Fred.
"Never would have thought a Weasley would be so rubbish," George added.
"He's not bad," said Angelina, "He just needs... confidence. Which, by the way, you two have done nothing to help him with over the years! No wonder he's so bloody nervous!"
"I would be too if you were my brothers," said Alicia darkly.
"Oi, we're not that bad!"
"Nope, we're worse!"
The girls rolled their eyes. Angelina opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly they were interrupted by a little cough.
They all craned their necks over their shoulders.
"Oh, 'ello Hermione," said Fred.
"Erm, I hope wasn't interrupting anything serious but, er, I do have something ask you all."
The Gryffindor quidditch team exchanged wary glances. They all knew enough about Hermione's SPEW campaign to last them a lifetime.
"Er, as a matter of fact -
"This isn't about SPEW," said Hermione quickly. She glanced around her to see if anybody was looking. "It's... well, I was thinking that... since DADA is an absolute sham this year -
The team cut her off, every single one of them spouting obscenities about Umbridge and the ridiculousness of the year's curriculum.
"I WAS THINKING," Hermione said loudly, then dropping her voice, "I was thinking that maybe - we should just teach ourselves. And... well, since Harry's got loads of practical skill, that he should be the one to do it. Only, I haven't spoken to him about it yet, obviously, so I'm just going around asking a few people how they would feel about it and -
"Absolutely," said Alicia without second thought, "Sign me up. Fucking Umbridge can take her curriculum and shove it up her arse -
Hermione looked momentarily pained by Alicia's use of language, but she beamed anyway.
"Count us in too," the others chimed.
"Excellent, okay, great! I'm going to go speak with some other people, and then I'll let you know what Harry has to say about it. Oh, but you wouldn't mind contributing to -
"Sorry, Hermione, we haven't any money at the moment," said George.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course you haven't. Speaking of money, I know you've been paying first years -
Angelina interrupted her, and kindly suggested that she bring up the twins' experimentations later, after they'd picked a keeper for the year.
"... So. I guess Ron's the new keeper, then?" said Alicia weakly, once Hermione was out of earshot.
At breakfast the next morning, Angelina received a letter from her father informing her that there were some changes about to take place at Hogwarts, and that it was best if she and her friends kept a low profile for the year. The girls exchanged wary glances, and looked up at Umbridge, who beamed at the students with a horrible glint in her eye.
"Something's up," said Katie, stating the obvious.
"I really really fucking hope that Harry's going get this DADA thing on soon," said Alicia, "Because if he doesn't, I swear to God, I'm going to start practicing on the next person to piss me off."
It turned out, naturally, that the first person to piss her off was Warrington.
Alicia had been the first to leave the locker room for practice, and as she walked onto the pitch, the first thing she heard was Warrington's unfortunately familiar laugh. She looked up and around, and saw that the Slytherin quidditch team was, yet again, perched up on their side of the stands, waiting to heckle the Gryffindors. Warrington looked down at her, his face as impassive as always, but with one dark eyebrow raised impossibly high, with the barest of crinkles around the corner of his eyes. He was laughing at her.
Alicia gritted her teeth, refusing to allow herself to blush. Not this time. She hopped onto her broom, ignoring the raucous laughter and stupid insults, and she flew around the pitch as she waited for her teammates to show up. One by one the others appeared and joined her. Ignore, ignore, ignore seemed to be the general unspoken policy.
Ron was the last to appear, and he trailed behind Harry, clutching his broom and looking like he was going to puke. The Slytherins howled in laughter, and Malfoy shouted, "Weasley is our king!"
"Fucking pricks," Angelina mumbled.
Practice ended in disaster, just as Alicia had suspected. Ron had buckled under the pressure of being watched by the handful of students who'd come by simply to watch the new Gryffindor keeper, and the jeers from the Slytherins who'd come for the sole purpose of, well, making him buckle. During passing drills, he'd thrown the quaffle a little too hard, and Angelina had to escort poor Katie to the Hospital Wing when the twins' attempt to fix her bloody nose had only made things even worse.
Dejected, Alicia wandered into the locker rooms with the rest of the team. The boys disappeared to their side, and Alicia stumbled into the girls' shower, dropping her clothes as she went.
The hot water felt good on her back. It'd been chilly out, a disheartening reminder of the weather that was to come. Practice hadn't been nearly long enough or vigorous enough to make up for the bite of the wind.
She was just about to slather on her shampoo when she heard footsteps echo across the tiles.
"Angie?" she called out. "I swear to god, if it's Fred or George -
Whoever it was let out a sarcastic scoff.
"Please, just stop there, I don't think I've ever been more offended in my life."
Alicia shrieked. She poked her head out from behind the shower curtain, and much to her horror, Warrington stood before her, smirking.
"You - You - What the fuck are you doing in here? How did you even -
"Well, I walked in, there was nobody in the anteroom, and I decided to pay you a little visit."
"You fucking pedophile -
"I think you have to be a child for me to qualify as a pedophile," Warrington interrupted. Alicia flushed when he bent down and picked up her bra, holding it by the strap with one finger. She nearly rushed out to grab it from him, only remembering that she was completely naked.
"You prick, get out of here! What the hell are you doing in here, anyway?"
"Well, you never got back to me on -
"NO!" Alicia screeched. "N, O, No! Merlin, and you thought it'd be a bloody good idea to just pop on over and see if I want to be your new flavour of the sodding month? Where's my wand? Get the hell out of here! Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening. And give me my bra back!"
Warrington grinned and stepped back.
"Why don't you come and get it?"
"You pervert, I can't believe this is happening!"
"Believe it, Spinnet. Anyway, if you'd only been civil -
"Argh!"
Alicia yanked down the shower curtain with all her force, and she muttered triumphantly as it tore. She wrapped it around herself, and holding it together with one hand, she stepped out of the shower and stomped over towards Warrington. He smiled at her mockingly.
"Give me my bra back," she hissed, jabbing him in the chest.
"Funny," he mused, "Never took you for the lacey sort."
"Warrington!"
"Cassius."
"What?"
"Cassius. You asked me what my name was the other day. It's Cassius."
"Of course it is," said Alicia sarcastically. "And I don't give a shit! Give me back - oh for Christ's sake."
She crouched down and snatched her wand from the tangles of her robes and hastily rose to her feet. She raised her wand to summon her bra, when suddenly, he tossed it in her direction. Her chaser skills never failed her, and this rather unfortunate situation was no exception. Without hesitation, she flung her arm out and caught the offending item mid-air. The caress of cool air across her skin and Warrington's choked gasp told her she'd made a mistake. For a split-second, neither of them moved, too shocked to say or do a thing. Then, when the burn of embarrassment hit Alicia's cheeks like a well-aimed hex, she reacted with all the grace of Ron Weasley with a quaffle aimed at his head, and she dropped to the floor to grab the shower curtain, limbs flailing in desperation as she tried to cover herself as quickly as possible.
Warrington, for his part, looked just as flustered, and for a second, Alicia felt sharp satisfaction.
"Honestly," he said hoarsely, "I didn't mean for that to happen. But for what it's worth -
"Get. Out."
"Spinnet -
"Get out!"
And much to Alicia's surprise, Warrington turned around and fled. Well no, not really. Warrington didn't really strike her as the fleeing type. He sauntered out. And when he was gone, Alicia slumped down onto the floor in shock.
Cassius groaned for the umpteenth time as he swam around in the Prefect's bathroom, trying not to picture his fantasy-come-reality, without much success. Montague had given him the password to the bathroom the second he'd gotten it, and Cassius had taken advantage of it as much as possible. It was moments like these that made him appreciate how good a friend Montague really was.
"You should go to the Hospital Wing," somebody called out suddenly.
Cassius stiffened.
"What the - who's there?"
He looked around, but the bathroom was empty. Of course it was, the portrait door automatically locked whenever somebody came in. He groaned again when Moaning Myrtle suddenly materialized, giggling like the school girl that she perpetually was.
"Get out," Cassius snarled.
"Oooh, you're not very nice," she said indignantly. "And here I was, trying to be all friendly -
"I'm in the bath!" he exclaimed.
"Well I only thought I would try to be friendly... I was just passing through, but you keep making that awful groan - I'm sure if you visited the Hospital Wing, Madame Pomfrey would fix you all up," said Myrtle, sounding slightly miffed.
Cassius groaned again.
"See?"
"Argh! I'm not ill. Just - just leave. Now."
"Hmph, as though I'd want to stay here with you anyhow."
Cassius flinched when the ghost dove in his direction, but she disappeared into the wall behind him. He sighed in relief.
Fucking Myrtle... The heir of Slytherin had done nobody a favour by killing her off. She'd be an annoying little brat for the rest of her ghostly existence.
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Myrtle had taken away any safety he'd felt in being able to rub one out in private - who knew what other ghosts could be hanging around, snickering in silence amongst themselves while he got himself off like a prepubescent first year... but the downside was the image of a very wet and very naked Alicia Spinnet still haunted him, ever since she'd kicked him out of the Gryffindor locker rooms some six hours earlier, and now there was nothing he could do to relieve the tension. Madame Pomfrey indeed. He shuddered at the thought.
At dinner, he mentioned Moaning Myrtle's presence to Montague, who didn't even bat an eye.
"Yeah, I know," he said, "Flint warned me about her."
"And you didn't think that maybe I'd find it a little pertinent that the ghost of a twelve year old bitch likes to hang around the prefect's bathroom?"
Montague shrugged as he chewed on his steak.
"To be honest, I kind of forgot. If you start getting yourself off, she just goes away. Freaks her out or something like that."
Cassius was glad that he wasn't the only one to choke in surprise. Montague thumped Pucey on the back.
"What the fuck?" said Pucey. "I don't even want to bloody know how you figured that one out."
"Flint told me," said Montague. "He said that one day he was going at it and Moaning Myrtle passed through, only she didn't realize what he was doing at first, but when she did, she hightailed it out of there."
Cassius let out a snort of disgust.
"For Circe's sake, that's the last fucking thing I really need to picture right now."
"Yeah, well, it definitely works -
Cassius choked again.
"Merlin's fucking beard," he said, "Are you telling me that everybody who goes in there - that's just disgusting, mate. How many people use that bathroom on a daily basis?"
"There are such things as house elves. Anyway, I always scourgify everything before I get in."
"And you couldn't tell us this before?" Pucey deadpanned.
Montague shrugged again, and Cassius groaned in disbelief.
"Sometimes, mate, I think you do it on bloody purpose."
"Do what on purpose?"
Cassius had to refrain from banging his head on the table. Sometimes - just sometimes - Montague could be really thick.
From the other side of the Great Hall, cheers echoed. The boys glanced up, and inevitably, the noise was coming from the Gryffindor table. Bell had just walked in, looking fresh and happy as though nothing had happened. Her friends greeted her, and Cassius smirked when the girl whacked both twins on the back of their heads as she slid into her seat. Suddenly, Spinnet's eyes met his from out of nowhere, and he felt himself tense. She glared at him, a flush high on her cheeks, either from embarrassment or anger, most likely both. He waited for her to quickly look away as she usually did, but this time, she held his gaze. He narrowed his eyes.
"What are you looking at?" said Pucey curiously.
"Nothing," Cassius replied, refusing to look away. It'd become a contest, and he could see her lips moving, undoubtedly explaining to her friends why she was staring at him, because both Bell and Johnson suddenly had their eyes on him.
"Why are the gryffinbitches staring at you?"
"Because," said Cassius through gritted teeth, "I don't know. It's a staring contest. And I just lost. Thanks, Ade, really appreciate it."
"You're welcome."
On Monday morning, Cassius was thoroughly unrested and unexcited to begin another week of classes. Sleep had escaped him ever since Saturday's Incident. Things were, in fact, becoming unbearable. He'd actually gone as far as hooking up with Charlene Cartel the previous night, with whom he'd more or less severed ties with the year before, and despite having given a tip-top performance judging by her cries, he'd failed yet again to take his mind off what was starting to feel suspiciously like an obsession with Spinnet.
Kissing her had not been the mistake. The mistake had been not taking it further when he'd had the chance. He'd left her hanging, and now his poor decision-making skills had come back to haunt him with a vengeance.
He made sure to present himself nice and early for Ancient Runes, and he sat in the far back corner of the classroom, far from professor Babbling's spitting range, and far from Spinnet's usual choice of seating, which tended to be dead centre.
For Circe's sake... now how in the hell did he know that?
He refrained from exploring the matter further, and instead, distracted himself by flirting with the three Ravenclaw girls who were in the class. When the three Ravenclaw boys showed up, he actually began enjoying himself somewhat, because he could see the three boys becoming more and more tense with every second giggle. He almost hadn't even noticed Spinnet walk in, had she not stumbled over one of the Ravenclaws' book bag as she tried to get herself a seat. Before he could say anything, though, Professor Babbling strode into the class, shutting the door behind her, looking less than pleased.
"Professor - ahem, High Inquisitor Umbridge will be joining us later today," she announced crisply, clasping her hands together in front of her, "So I do expect all of you to be on your best behaviour. Today we will be discussing the social structure and context behind blood magic, and then we will be looking at a range of curses and spells specific to families. As you all know, much of the magic that is known to us today is a combination of continuous invention, as well as the publicizing of what was once considered private, sacred magic, kept as secrets amongst families, passed on from generation to generation in an oral form. Much of it was, of course, lost as the years went on. Others exist to us through Ancient Runes.
Actually, now's quite a good time to discuss this your project for the semester. And as I understand, you are all taking History of Magic, of course, as is required of you, as well as Advanced Arithmancy. Because of the close relation between the three subjects, Professors Binns and Vector and I have decided to take advantage of this opportunity to create a project that will be used for evaluation purposes in all three classes, instead of assigning three separate projects. You will be researching blood magic as a general topic.
In this class, each group will be assigned a package of works that will have to be translated. I need the usual diplomatic edition, the eclectic and the critical editions. You will then be required to research whatever it is you uncover - that is, the spells themselves, the social context, the historical context, the family of origin - all this falls under Professor Binns' sphere of evaluation. The use of primary - that is Runic sources - is a must. Your other research needs can be met using secondary sources. Now, you will all notice that at least some parts of your packages will contain information pertaining to Arithmancy.
Once you have translated the works, Professor Vector requires you to make use of the information in order to compose the usual number charts and to solve any Arithmantic problems you may come across. She would then like each of you to create full Arithmantic profiles of your partners, and to theoretically apply them to any charms, curses or spells to see how each one would have to be modified in order to suit the given Arithmantic profile.
Let me be very clear that we are not giving you any more work than in any of the other years - in fact, if anything, we have lessened your load, because in the past, this assignment was given out by each of us as individual projects, and your other professors and I did not collaborate on the texts we handed out. Let me also underline the importance of not applying any of the spells or curses you uncover. Some of these curses can be extremely dangerous, if not deadly. I can only say it is safe to assume that it will be next to impossible for any of these to be applied anyway, as many of them also have the added component of life magic, in addition to what is commonly called sex magic added to it, and I highly doubt any of you will be off fornicating amongst yourselves or sacrificing your fellow students for the purpose of acting out any of these spells. Just in case, however, if any of you suspect even for a second that something may have happened - and rest assured, you will know - do not hesitate for a second to report to the Hospital Wing. You must inform somebody immediately if you think even the most minor spell may have been activated. And for merlin's sake, be very careful to not accidentally cut yourselves either. We have had incidents in the past where students have given themselves minor parchment cuts whilst reciting incantations, and thankfully, nothing serious came of it. But I do shudder to think what may happen if all the conditions of any spell may have been accidentally fulfilled. Some of these do not take much more than a drop of blood. Are there any questions?"
Jasmine Clearwater raised her hand.
"Yes, Miss Clearwater?"
"Do we get to pick our own partners?"
Babbling rolled her eyes.
"Yes, yes," she muttered, "Always the same questions. Yes, Miss Moon?"
"When do we get to pick our partners? And when is this project due?"
"You will hand in progress reports once a week. It will be due before the holidays. And... well, I suppose now's a good a time as any. Yes, now, in fact, that way, you can all get started as soon as possible. Once you've formed your groups, please come sign up at my desk, and then we can begin lecture. Yes, Mr. Kapur?"
"How many people per group?"
"In twos!" Babbling said, sounding exasperated.
Cassius realized with sudden dread that there was only one person with whom he could be partnered with. The class of twelve was evenly divided between four Hufflepuffs, Six Ravenclaws, and then there was him. And Spinnet.
The Ravenclaws were already looking exasperated as they heatedly tried to figure out whom their potential partners would be. Notorious for their academic haughtiness, Cassius knew that they wouldn't dare risk partnering up with anybody outside their own house. The Hufflepuffs, meanwhile, were already front and centre, happily signing their names on Babbling's parchment, and pulling bits of parchment and photographs of runic scripts out from the envelopes Babbling had handed them.
Cassius groaned and stood up from his seat. Spinnet turned and glared at him.
"I can't believe this is happening," she said flatly.
"I don't want this anymore than you do," he replied dully. And it was true. He'd just about enough of Spinnet to last him a lifetime. Continued proximity to her was going to cost him dearly, he could feel it.
"Whatever, let's just get this over with. And you better not be a slacker, Warrington -
"Me? A slacker?" he said innocently. "I, at least, actually have read Hogwarts: A History -
"Don't even say it!"
"Say what?"
"You're a prick."
Out of sheer madness, Alicia had agreed to meet Warrington in an abandoned classroom in order to work on the project, because working on anything in groups in the library was absolutely impossible with Pince breathing down their necks every two seconds about making noise. Binns too, had gone on about the project for the first bit of class, and had given them all recommendations on books to consult. Alicia had gone by after dinner to see if his list of books was available, and not to her surprise, somebody had beaten her to it. She snorted. Ravenclaws.
She sat on a dusty desk and kicked her legs back and forth, a childhood habit she hadn't managed to quite break, much to her grandmother's chagrin. In fact, Alicia was simply a fidgeter in general. She jumped in surprise, nearly falling off the desk when the door to the classroom suddenly swung open.
"What are you sitting here in the dark for?"
Alicia shrugged. She hadn't really noticed the dark - it was actually rather... calming. At least, it was, until He'd shown up. And now, well, it made her rather nervous that she couldn't quite see him clearly.
"Lumos."
Alicia didn't like Warrington's voice. It was rough and smooth all at the same time, and it made her think of things she didn't like to think about. At least, not involving him. He was so close, she could smell him. When she looked up, he stared down at her, his face eerily illuminated by the little beam of light at the tip of his wand.
"Boo."
She felt a shiver snake down her spine. Suddenly very aware that her legs were dangling over the edge of the desk in what could be perceived as an inviting manner, she crossed one over the other and leaned back, away from Warrington's presence.
"Alluminos," she said, pointing her wand up towards the floating candles.
She blinked at the sudden light.
"Nox." The tip of Warrington's wand went out.
"Let's just get this done," Alicia muttered.
Warrington dropped his book bag on the desk next to the one on which Alicia was perched.
"I managed to snag a couple of the genealogy books Binns recommended, but that prat Bishop grabbed whatever he could get his hands on."
Alicia looked at him in surprise.
"Seriously? I went by and there wasn't anything left."
Warrington looked unimpressed.
"Yeah, well you snooze you lose, Spinnet. And there you were, accusing me of being a slacker."
He pulled out a couple of books and laid them out on the desk. Alicia hopped off hers and stood next to Warrington, trying to pretend that he didn't smell good, that they hadn't kissed, and that he hadn't seen her as naked as the day she was born.
"Well... no point in looking at these now," she said, trying to sound as professional as possible. "I was thinking we just get the translations done first, that way we know what we're looking for."
"Yeah, no kidding, Spinnet," he said sarcastically.
Alicia breathed deeply.
"Listen, Warrington," she spat, "I'm trying really hard right now to pretend that I don't hate your bloody guts, okay? So if you can offer me that much, then let's just pretend that we're two people who've never met each other and who are assigned to work on the same project." She took a deep breath. "Professional."
"That's not what you were saying the other day," he sang, taunting her with a smirk.
"Oh fuck off about that! It was a bloody mistake. MISTAKE. Anyway, you're the one who kissed me!"
"And you weren't complaining were you?"
Alicia fought the urge to shake him.
"Listen, Warrington, you understand that we're in seventh year, and that this project is going to effect three of our bloody NEWT-level classes, don't you?"
Warrington sneered at her.
"I'm not thick, Spinnet. I'm just saying, this could work a lot better if we just... you know, gave into our instincts or however the hell you want to put it."
He was deranged. Absolutely deranged.
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not going to screw you, Warrington. One day you kiss me, the next day you come insult my bloody team while we're holding tryouts -
"That's fair game! I never said I wanted to screw your team -
"I'm on the team!"
"And I still stand by what I said," he insisted, "You can have a lot more between your legs than a bloody broom -
Alicia raised her arm to slap him, but he caught her wrist before she could even move.
"Okay, I'll stop. Let's just get this done."
Alicia exhaled sharply.
"You're a fucking ass, you know that?"
"And I could be fucking your ass right now, if you weren't so bloody stubborn."
Alicia shut her eyes and massaged her temples, pretending that the idea didn't somewhat appeal to her on a minor, animalistic level.
For a second, Cassius almost felt bad. Almost. But he knew she didn't really have a headache, and persistence was the name of the game. She'd break eventually, and he knew that eventually would be soon. At first, he'd taken their forced partnership as a curse, but it'd dawned on him that it could be a possible blessing. If he was going to obsess over Spinnet anyhow, why not be within her proximity? And at least now he had an excuse to see her without arousing suspicion. This could actually work, if she got over herself for a second. One shag, and that'd be that. More, if it turned out that they were compatible, which, judging by her history - or rather lack thereof - would turn out not to be the case. Cassius preferred experienced girls. Spinnet, as far as he knew, had never been with anybody. She'd said she wasn't a virgin, and oddly enough, he believed her. But something told him that she wasn't any Charlene Cartel by any means. For now, though, he would have to let the issue drop. They did have work to do after all, and despite everything, Cassius wasn't the sort to let his whole life slide to hell over some silly obsession with a bint like Spinnet. Anyway, he could tell that she was running out of patience, and the last thing he wanted to do was have to waste a perfectly good opportunity to get at least some of the work out of the way.
After two hours of sitting with Spinnet, Cassius knew two things. First, Spinnet was a hair twirler. He hadn't expected it, but the facts were facts. She twirled her hair, and when she was particularly frustrated, she sometimes twirled hard enough that her finger came right up against her scalp, and then she'd have to let the entire length of her hair unravel. Second, Seventh Year was a bitch.
"The syntax is all bloody wrong," Spinnet snarled, jabbing the photograph of the first part of the text with her hand.
"It's not wrong," said Warrington for the umpteenth time, "It's got to be regionalism. I'm telling you, we need to get one of those fucking books from Bishop. There's a reason why Binns recommended Unification and Regionalism of the XIVth Century."
"Okay, fine, it's regionalism. That doesn't bloody explain why we don't understand any of the words!"
"Yes it does, don't be daft. Think about it this way. We speak English here, they Aussies speak English in Australia, and the Americans have their own English - sometimes the syntax is different, but usually it's the words. They mean the same thing, they're just different. It just takes a bit of time to understand."
Spinnet groaned.
"And that's why she said editions. She didn't say edition, she said editions."
She pulled out the other photographs and laid them out on the desk.
"I can't believe we fucking looked this over. They're all the same texts. Sort of... this first bit is all pretty much the same..."
"So either we're looking at the same texts, written in different times, or we're looking at the same texts written in the same time for family members in different regions."
"It's got to be times. Different generations, it has to be - most families stayed within the same area for centuries, even extended families, marrying people within the surrounding areas... which means they wouldn't have to be translating the text for different family members because different family members would all be in the same area, which means there wouldn't be any bloody need to translate because they'd all be speaking the same fucking language! For god's sake, this is the most ridiculous fucking project in the universe."
Cassius couldn't help but agree. With the ridiculous part. But he knew a thing or two about old wizarding families because he was from an old wizarding family.
"No, you're wrong. I mean, you're not wrong, but you're wrong that they didn't marry outside the area. A lot of them would have been marrying outside the region to consolidate power. Lot of French and English and Spanish were intermarrying at the time..."
"So what? You think this one here translates into French or Spanish or something? That's not bloody fair! I'm fucking English!"
Cassius smirked.
"Well I'm French."
Spinnet looked at him in surprise.
"My mum's French."
"... so? Is it French then?"
"I dunno. Maybe Ancient French, but I wasn't really looking at it like that, so I don't really know... and Ancient French isn't anything like Modern French, which means we'll have to do some more research -
"Which is what they want. Primary sources and secondary sources. If it's actually in another language, then we'll have to cross reference it with other texts in Ancient French runes or whatever, and then back it up with the secondary sources. This is fucking ridiculous."
Cassius stood up and stretched his arms, cracking his neck and back in the process. He sighed in relief. His entire upper body felt cramped and exhausted from two hours of bending over the stupid photographs of runic texts. Spinnet took the sign as meaning they were unofficially on a much needed break, and began to massage her left shoulder with her right hand. Cassius reached down and pushed her hand aside.
"What -
"Just enjoy it," he interrupted, rubbing her shoulders with a firm grip. "But you owe me," he added.
She didn't even retort, literally melting in his arms, letting out little sighs of contentment as he worked on her shoulders.
"Oh, that's nice - ouch! Not so hard - oh, there!"
Cassius rubbed her shoulders for a few more minutes, and she let out a sigh of displeasure when he finally removed his hands and slumped back down in his seat.
"My turn," he said.
"I don't want to do anything right now," Spinnet moaned as she stood, "That was bloody amazing."
"I better be saying the same thing when you're done," Cassius warned.
He let out a soft hiss when he felt her hands brush against the back of his neck, the tips of her fingers skimming his earlobes. Slowly, her hands worked out the little knots in his shoulders, one by one, until he felt like he'd died and woke up in heaven. It took him a second to realize that her hands had gone from his shoulders to his back, and he tensed for a second before relaxing under her gentle pressure.
"Fuck, Spinnet, that's it - just do that for a bit," he groaned, when she hit a sore spot that had bothered him since he'd been thumped by a bludger during last practice. "Not too hard, mind - hurts like a bitch..."
When she finished with him, she hopped onto the desk next to him, her bare legs dangling like a child's, hands crossed in her lap. Awkward silence filled the room.
"So I don't know about you," she said suddenly, avoiding his gaze, "but I really don't feel like doing anymore work right now."
"Agreed," said Cassius, still absolutely content from the little impromptu massage session. "And I'll get those books from Bishop, don't worry about that."
Spinnet hummed in happiness, and flashed him what had to be the first genuine smile he'd seen on her face directed at him, for him, in seven years.
"I guess there are some advantages to working with a big bad Slytherin," she said happily, before snorting and laughing at herself. "Merlin, I can't believe I just said that. Now that was bloody tacky."
Cassius shrugged.
"The truth is the truth."
Spinnet scoffed and Cassius gave her a predatory grin.
"I can be very bad," he said softly, standing up so that he towered over her small, seated frame. Before she could cross her legs, he stepped in between them, pleased that she made no move to get away, though she was as stiff as a board. He could feel her thighs pressing against his own, though her legs hung limply over the edge of the desk. He leaned closer, so close that he could feel her heat, and hear her raspy breath. "And I'm sure you'll find that I can be just as big."