Light Nimbus pt 5

“Oh my!” Artemis Fawley gasped, “Marvolo Gaunt and Sally-Anne Perks looking wonderfully cozy in a broom closet together.”

Megan and Millicent rushed up behind her and stared at the two of you in wide-eyed shock.

Perks, who had doffed her robes, jumper, and shoes before undoing her tie and the top four buttons of her blouse to reveal her ‘little perkies’ didn’t need a bra, had gone stiff in your lap at being caught in such a compromising position with a notorious pureblood such as yourself.

You had no earthly idea how Fawley found you in the closet but it was up to you to explain the compromising position she caught you in. “Erm… it’s not what it looks like!” Real smooth, Marvolo. Off to a great start.

“Oh, you have nothing to fear from me,” Fawley stated as she slipped into the closet and sat opposite you. “You see, I have a very strict ‘what happens in the broom closet, stays in the broom closet’ policy.” Now that you were finally up-close with rival Keeper, you noted that she had a very pretty face that seemed strangely familiar, she wore lipstick but no other makeup which meant she was a natural beauty, her blue eyes seemed to sparkle behind her glasses, and while her shoulder-length brown hair was bushy… you could tell that - unlike with Granger - it was by design and that the sixth year Ravenclaw had done something to increase her hair’s volume. “I don’t ask people who they’ve been in a closet with and I don’t tell people who I’ve been in a closet with.”

“Yeah,” you mused to yourself, “I reckon this girl never had trouble finding an eager bloke to snog in a broom closet. That explains why she has that policy.”

Her blue eyes narrowed, “Which is why I find it rather troubling that I was just publicly accused of flashing and snogging a first year.”

Oh no! Not again!

“By Parkinson?” you asked nervously.

“No. Farley.” Your eyes went wide. Gemma confronted Artemis? That was a surprise. “That girl rarely needs a reason to come after me. And she’s quite fond of you. I pointed out my well-known broom closet policy and reminded her that if I had snogged you in a closet… she wouldn’t have heard about it.”

You had an idea how Farley jumped to this hasty and erroneous conclusion. “The only way Gemma could’ve thought that is if Parkinson told her. They were pestering me about my Number Four on the way to Herbology this afternoon and jumped to the wrong conclusion based on some clues I fed them to get them off my back about it.” You glanced over at Jones and Bulstrode who were watching your confrontation with Fawley like it was the Slytherin versus Ravenclaw Quidditch match come early. “These three all know who it really is. But the main reason those three thought it was you… was because you knew about my list at lunch. Wanna explain that?”

She shrugged, “I deal in information. I overhear things and I tell people who ought to know… and in turn people overhear things and tell me.”

Oh Merlin! THAT’S why she was in Ravenclaw! It no longer mattered who overheard one of your discussions about your list and passed it off to Fawley. What mattered now was that you were in a closet with the Gossip Queen of Hogwarts. Knowledge was power. And Artemis Fawley had A TON of knowledge. And given the position she caught you in… a whispered rumor from her could ruin your revitalised reputation.

“You knowing about a list that people only learned about a few hours earlier made you their chief suspect,” you stated, “I specifically told them they were wrong and strongly advised them not to confront you over it. They must’ve assumed I was lying but still heeded my advice and told Farley so she could confront you over it.”

“Interesting,” she intoned with a thoughtful expression, “I see two ways to proceed from here.” She shifted onto her knees and came closer. “Option one: we can put some truth to that rumor. You can snog me now and finally give Farley a legitimate reason to come after me…”

“EEP!” Perks squeaked and started trembling like a mouse caught between a snake and an owl. She was the only thing separating you from the pretty sixth year.

“Or…” Fawley continued, “Option two: you tell Farley what you just told me and ensure she knows that she was up-in-arms over misinformation spread by silly first years.”

She let the offer sink in.

“Personally, I’d prefer the latter,” she commented, “There’s a Quidditch match tomorrow and I’d rather not have to check my pumpkin juice for poison.”

“She wouldn’t do that!” you argued in Gemma’s defense since she wasn’t here to defend herself.

“She would… for you,” the Ravenclaw insisted. “And if I’m going to be caught in a blood feud with Farley for the rest of the year… then I might as well do the thing she’s so furious about. Because in her green eyes… I’m already guilty either way.”

“Gemma’s eyes are sapphire blue!” you objected. A darker, sparkling, and more radiant shade than both the blue-eyed girls in the broom closet with you.

“If you say so,” Fawley replied in what you suspected was supposed to be a placating tone. But if she was going after Gemma then your hackles were already raised. You knew whose camp you were in. So you schooled your face into the fierce teeth-baring ‘snake fang’ smile you learned from the shark-toothed mermaid Chell.

However, your fierce expression was disrupted abruptly when she loosened her blue and bronze tie and undid her collar button… just like Perks had earlier.

“Wh-what are you doing!?” you stammered in shock.

“The rumor is that you saw me topless and then I snogged you,” she stated, “Lucky boy.”

Millicent’s earlier comment about Fawley’s large… tracts of land echoed in your mind and you looked down at her chest as she undid a second button.

THOSE WERE BIGGER THAN GEMMA’S!

What was the size after a D-Cup? An E-Cup? Your face flushed as you looked up and realised she was RIGHT in front of you. So close. So very close. Was she really going through with this!? Sally-Anne Perks was still the only thing between you and her. She, Jones, and Bulstrode were all gawking at the busty Ravenclaw’s brazen display. They seemed just as shocked as you were.

“Wait, stop!” you interjected even though you hated yourself for it. You could feel how red your face was. Perks pulled this a moment ago but unlike the little perky first year… the mature, big-breasted, eighteen-year-old sixth year had a lot more to show. Something you very much wanted to see. You could already see the start of the deep valley of her cleavage.

But as much as you wanted to gaze upon Artemis Fawley’s extra-large E-Cups… you realised the consequences of doing so. Based on their reaction to the less busty mermaid earlier, Megan and Millicent wouldn’t be pleased if you allowed Fawley to go through with this… once they got over the initial shock. And while Fawley claimed she wasn’t going to spread rumors about you being caught in a broom closet with a muggleborn girl… it wasn’t just your reputation on the line. It was Gemma’s too.

Fawley already showed her hand… the Gossip Queen would start by spreading a rumor that Gemma was the one who poisoned Bletchley. It wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t true. It wouldn’t matter if there was no proof. You saw first hand how fast the student body could jump to conclusions. If someone with Fawley’s influence was spreading the rumor… the school would unanimously pronounce Gemma as the guilty culprit. You couldn’t have that. It would spell disaster for your favorite prefect and all her post-Hogwarts career aspirations.

“I’ll tell her,” you quickly assured her. “I’ll get her off your back.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather see the girls?” Fawley pressed you as she undid a third button. They were huge! The emerald bra in your bag couldn’t hope to contain these enormous E-Cups. “Dozens of boys would love to be in your position.” She glanced at the two girls in the doorway and the one on your lap. “I think even these three young ladies want a gander too. That’s why they haven’t said anything yet to stop me.”

“I don’t-” Megan sputtered as her eyes went extra-wide.

“Sod off!” Millicent snapped with a very red face.

“Yes, please!” Sally-Anne requested… then wilted under the **** of two fierce glares coming from the door. “I mean… no. Put those away. I don’t want to see your giant knockers.”

Maybe she was right? You remembered their line of inquiry about Chell’s sea-shells. And then how self-conscious two of them suddenly got when they began mentally comparing. There was no comparison here. Artemis Fawley’s boobs were bigger than Megan, Millicent, and Sally-Anne’s PUT TOGETHER!

That cinched it. Agreeing here would be disastrous.

“Neither do I,” you resolved. Gemma was more important than some tart’s terrific titanic tits. “We’re going with Option two.”

She smiled and patted you on the head, “Good boy.” She rebuttoned her blouse and stood up. Despite being a couple inches shorter than Megan and Millicent…both first year girls stepped aside so the queen could exit the closet. “See you on the Quidditch pitch, Marvolo.”

And like that, she was gone.

All this extra hassle because you didn’t want to admit you liked Hermione Granger.

It was quiet for a moment as the four of you processed what just happened.

“For the record,” you announced, “That girl is now officially higher than Skye Parkin on the list. Parkin can do a ton of damage on the Quidditch pitch… but Fawley can do even more off of it. Knowledge is power and, with her knowledge of the school, Artemis Fawley has loads of power.”

“Did you two actually snog!?” Millicent blurted out. Now that she was no longer distracted by the prospect of potentially seeing the Ravenclaw Keeper’s legendary rack… her attention went to the other witch in the closet with an unbuttoned blouse.

“Were we not supposed to?” you countered with a wry grin as you recalled the trick you planned. “You made it very clear what you expected to happen here.”

“No, he’s having you on!” Perks insisted, Fawley’s display seemingly scared her straight. “It was only a prank! We thought we’d have a laugh at your faces when you opened the door to find us doing the thing you expected us to be doing. But you didn’t open the door!”

Millicent pointed at the discarded jumper and robes, ”Then why’re your clothes off!?”

“That wasn’t me!” you defended yourself now that you’d given up the ruse, “When she climbed in my lap, I told her to make herself comfortable… and she started undressing!”

“Yeah… that tracks,” Megan admitted and repeated Millicent’s words from earlier regarding you and the mermaid, “Sally’s a creature of comfort. Like a cat. She’s not fond of the uniform. But the fact that she was comfortable enough to undress with you says something.”

“He stopped me at four buttons!” Perks chirped as she motioned to her partially undone shirt. “You should’ve seen his face. Actually, you did see his face when Fawley started doing the same. He only let her get to three. If you want a way to make him blush something fierce and instantly win an argument… unbutton your top.”

“Oh, yes, please,” you retorted, “Threaten me by undressing. I dare you. See if I stop you.”

Perks quickly reconsidered, “Hmm… maybe it was only a one-time thing?”

“I see what you meant, though,” Megan remarked to Millicent, “We watched it happen in real time with Fawley. She was barely in there for two minutes and she was already undressing and offering to snog him.”

Millicent nodded as if that hadn’t been all Fawley’s doing, “He’s a dangerous combination of cute, clever, confident, and charming. The older girls think he’s adorable… and the younger ones… I don’t have to explain that to you.”

You slid your arm under Perks’ legs and braced her back with the other as you pressed yourself heavily against the wall behind you. Perks squeaked in surprise as you leveraged yourself up to your feet with her cradled in your arms.

Hopefully, that looked cool.

You princess-carried Perks to the door and offered the girl to her taller housemate. “Here’s your friend back.”

Megan leaned in and grunted as you passed her friend off to her. Perks shifted closer and threw her arm around Jones’ neck to help her hold her.

“I’m sure the two of you have a lot of catching up to do,” you said, “You can keep the closet. Help her get dressed before you start wandering the dungeons. Wouldn’t want her to be caught in that state… again. Perks, find me when you get your hands on that catalog. Or have her find me and tag along again. And next time, I expect to see some of your colorful fuzzy sock collection.”

“You told him about your lucky socks?” Megan asked.

“No,” Sally-Anne assured her, “Just that I prefer to wear my comfortable pajamas and colorful socks around the common room instead of robes. That’s your story to tell him.”

The ‘lucky sock story’ sounded like another inside reference between the two friends that went over your head. You doubled back and plucked your bag and your new flask off of the floor… your empty dinner plate was already gone. Gotta love those Hogwarts house elves.

“Walk you to the pitch?” Millicent offered. You noted that she had her winter cloak and a familiar charmed cat hat. She must’ve retrieved them from the common room while you were in the closet with Perks. “If you want to avoid Flint… then we should probably take the long way and steer clear of the main pathways out of the Great Hall.”

You grinned at the provided set up and patted her on the shoulder, “Make it so, Number One.”

Sally-Anne giggled from where she was still cradled in Megan’s arms, “I taught him that!”

“Later, Hufflepuffs!” you called back as you and Millicent continued down the dungeon corridor past your common room, the Potions classroom, and the Student Potion labs, and finally reached the stairs that connected to the central part of the castle.

But while this area was far removed from the Great Hall… that didn’t mean there was no traffic. Katie Bell nearly ran into you as she came around a corner.

The Gryffindor Chaser lurched back and stared at you in surprise.

“I’m on your list?” she asked.

“Quidditch team,” you stated then smirked and turned to MIllicent, “There. You can tell Parkinson I’ve spoken two words to her now.”

Bell held up two fingers and spoke two words of her own, “Cheeky… dickwaffle.”

You blinked. Parkinson insulted you all the time but… “That’s a new one.”

The golden-haired second year pumped her fist, “Got you! Six words!”

You smiled. And noted that she once again matched your word count. You could appreciate wit. “Alright, go tell Patil you just stole her spot and now she’s on the bottom.”

“What’d she do to earn such a punishment?” Bell inquired with a small smile. Oh. So going down on your list was a punishment? Interesting.

“Implied I snogged Zabini.”

“Oh, no, that’s all wrong,” the Gryffindor Chaser insisted.

“Thank you,” you replied.

“Everyone knows that if you snogged any of the Slytherin boys… it’d be Malfoy.” Millicent snorted and hid a laugh. The ears on her beanie were perked up and the eyes were extra-wide. “See? Even Bulstrode and her funny hat agree!”

“Bad, Bell! Shame!” you scolded her and even shook your finger for added effect, “How dare you put that thought out into the universe! Back to the bottom with you!”

She dashed past and started up the stairs with an over-the-shoulder wave, “Goodbye, Gaunted!”

Alliteration? You could play that game too, “Begone, barmy Bottom Bell.”

She looked back and stuck a tongue out then continued up the stairs.

Your eyes drifted to the back of her knee-length skirt, “It is a nice bottom…”

“Her too?” Millicent complained. The hat’s cat ears were flat on her head.

“What do you mean ‘her too’?” you questioned as you continued your trek to the front entrance, “That was literally our first-ever conversation. Today I discovered Gryffindor girls are fun to banter with. Likely because they’re bold enough to say what’s on their mind.” You sent Millicent a measured and pointed look. Her hat’s ears were still flat.

“Should I tell Pansy you actually like arguing?”

“That’s different and you know it!” you reprimanded her, “When Parkisnon argues it’s mean-spirited and meant to tear others down. I went back-and-forth with four different Gryffindor girls today… and no one said anything intentionally hurtful. Really… I’m not interested in anything Parkinson has to say.” You gave her another very pointed look.

This time she noticed and asked defensively, “What?”

Ahead of you was the front gate. Beyond it was the edge of the lake and the steep, sloping path to Hogsmeade that looped around it. The grounds and the Quidditch pitch were around the back of the castle. But you were taking an alternate route out of the castle so you could avoid the covered bridge where you suspected Flint would be lying in wait to ambush you.

The ‘scenic’ route involved following the familiar path you took to the Owlery on your first morning in the castle. The Owlery was a separate tower with two entrances. One across a stone bridge that connected to a high point of the separate, lower tower. And the other was down a steep path that led down onto the grounds. That was your route to avoid Flint.

After being assaulted by a flock of owls at breakfast, you had a hunch that Flint would want to avoid the Owlery.

You veered off the main path and stopped short of the bridge to the Owlery. “Are you mad at me? You really went off about the snogging thing.”

“You chat up a lot of girls.” Both Millicent and her Mittens hat looked awkward and flustered. “What do you want me to say?”

“Try speaking from the heart,” you suggested, “It’s what the Hufflepuffs do.”

Flat ears. “Yeah… and you’re cozy with them now, aren’t you? You prefer girls in other houses.”

“The fact that the Top Two of my Top Four are Slytherins says otherwise, Number One,” you countered. “What’s this really about? Out with it.”

That was the final push. The cat looked like it was growling as she finally exploded, “What’s the point of being ‘Number One’ if I’m the last witch you want to snog!? There’s a secret pool for when you and Granger get caught snogging!” There WAS!? “You were prepared to snog Perks to prove a point! You’d snog a muggleborn before you’d snog me! Pansy thinks if she annoys you enough, you’ll snog her to shut her up!” That was her plan?! “You snogged a mer-”

You saw what the problem was… and she even provided you with a solution. You pushed yourself up onto your toes… and you kissed her. She went still. Two pairs of shocked eyes stared back at you as you reached up and cupped her chin and tried to put some feeling into it. She didn’t respond so you eventually pulled back after what felt like four seconds.

“That…” you concluded, “Was my first kiss.”

She and her hat both blinked, “But… Pansy…”

“She kissed me, not the other way around,” you corrected her. “I’d like to think my choice is an important factor. I’ve been kissed. I’ve been snogged. But you are the first person I’ve kissed. And no, it wasn’t just to shut you up. That’s a dumb plan. It was to show you how important you are to me. Because I don’t think you fully realise it.” You paused for a beat and pondered your potential explanations. “What was the first conversation we ever had?”

“Wasn’t it… the first morning… you woke us up early and invited us to the Owlery.” She pointed across the bridge to the owl tower. “You offered to let me borrow Romeo.”

“Nope, before that,” you corrected, “The first night. On the way down the common room. I was explaining my mysterious family origin to the back-half of the queue.”

“That was mostly a conversation with Blaise,” Millicent pointed out.

“But I brought you into it,” you countered, “I said my father married Octavia Bulstrode and you stopped so suddenly, I nearly ran into you. And you went, ‘Wot? Did you say ‘Bulstrode’?’ And I asked the question I’d been dying to ask since I was sorted into Slytherin with you. ‘Octavia Bulstrode. Did you know her?’ And you eventually answered…”

“Third cousin once removed.”

“Since she’s from an older generation… that would make us… fourth cousins. Or as you said that night - distant cousins. Millie… you’re more than my best friend. You’re family. Do you have ANY idea what that means to an orphan like me?”

Her expression softened but she and her hat still looked conflicted. You pushed yourself up onto your toes and kissed her again. This time with more feeling. And pulled away after another four seconds. Her cheeks had gone pink.

You smirked, “I guess this makes us kissing cousins now.”

The pink flush on her cheeks immediately flooded the rest of her face.

“That’s what this comes down to, right?” you continued, “Why her and not you?” A nervous nod. “I have two responses to that. Head and heart. Let’s start with ‘head’: have you seen pictures of my grandfather Morfin Gaunt?”

“No…”

“Probably because his face broke the century-old cameras they tried to capture his picture with. He was deranged. The result of generations of inbreeding between Sacred pureblood families. If I came out looking like him… no one would want to snog me. I’m here now… looking like this… because someone added something new to the equation. I don’t know her name… my grandmother’s identity is a closely guarded secret… as is my father’s. But I suspect she was foreign. Her failed attempt of international line theft saved my family line. That tells me I need to keep doing the same and add new blood to the cocktail if I want to restore my family. So the rational part of my mind tells me that after being sired by a Bulstrode… going back and marrying a family member is the opposite of progress.”

She winced, “But… fourth is really distant… and I’m not even…” She sighed, “I’m a half-blood.”

“You think I didn’t know that?” you asked. “Maybe four is our lucky number… if I was going to try something with a member of my mother’s family… I can assure you… it would be you.” Her faded blush immediately reignited and her face went red. “And maybe it would work out… but that leads me to my ‘heart’ response. Maybe I start dating Megan…” She flinched. “And maybe it works out… but maybe it doesn’t. Maybe we’re too different? That’s the whole point of dating. Gambling on a ‘maybe’ and finding out if you’re compatible with the other person. If it doesn’t work out and we go our separate ways… I can live with that… because I’ll know I tried. But you? I wouldn’t dare risk it. You’re my Number One. You mean too much to me. You’re too important to gamble on a ‘maybe’. Millie… I won’t survive seven years at Hogwarts without you.”

You kissed her again. This time she kissed back. A clear sign that you were winning her over. When you pulled away four seconds later the cat on her hat looked like it was swooning.

You smiled at her, “If you need an occasional snog to serve as a reminder of how much I appreciate you… that can be arranged.”

“But… what about… Megan?”

“Do you have a problem with her?” you inquired. “Because as Number One… you’re basically the gatekeeper. If you have a real problem with her… tell me now so I can… disengage before things get too serious.”

She and the cat hat stared at you with wide eyes, “You’d do that?”

“You’re not fully aware of the power you wield as my closest confidante,” you said, “You’re one of only a very few people in the school who I genuinely trust. If you tell me she’s bad news and that I shouldn’t bother with her… then she’s gone.”

“And… if I said she was bad… just so you’d break it off with her?”

“I don’t think you’d do that,” you replied, “That seems more like something Pansy Parkinson would do rather than Millicent Bulstrode. That’s why you’re my Number One and she’s unlisted. I trust your heart. If you said someone was bad for me… I know it’d be because you were looking out for me. I’ll assume you and Jones weren’t just sitting in awkward silence while Perks and I were in the closet together. She was trying to get along with you.”

“She said she likes me better when I’m not standing next to Parkinson,” she quietly admitted.

“I think you’ll find that’s a common sentiment shared by the vast majority of the school.”

“She also said I should say something to you.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Oh? And what is it you have to say? I’m listening.”

“Well… it was mostly the snogging thing…” she confessed but then the cat’s eyes narrowed with new determination, “But… the truth is… I’m scared. You’ve gotten a lot more popular over the last two days. Between Potter vouching for you and McGonagall publicly apologising yesterday, and then your grand gesture of goodwill with the first year broom rule today where you threw it in the face of Flint… everyone seems to have concluded that you didn’t poison Bletchley. Also, your owl led the charge against Flint.” Good boy. You knew he was defending Auntie Millie. “He’s not exactly popular with anyone outside of Slytherin. He’s not really popular with anyone in Slytherin who isn’t vying for a spot on the Quidditch team. And you haven’t seen him yet… but Romeo left some scratches on his face. There’s been an on going debate over whether or not the scratches are an improvement. And then it got out that you have a list of important witches… now witches are paying more attention to you and deciding if they want to be on it. You have this way of endearing yourself to people. Like you did with that mermaid… and with Perks when we left you alone with her in the closet. And I’m scared that you’ll be so caught up in playing with the ‘Puffs and making new friends in other houses… that you’ll leave me behind.”

“Millie, don’t be daft,” you chided her, “If I’m going to be venturing into the badger’s lair… then I’m bringing you with me! You’re the ‘Puffiest Slytherin I’ve ever met. They’re wary and skeptical of me but you? They’d accept with open arms. Even their Head of House likes you. And if any of them have a problem with you… then they have a problem with me.” You took her larger hand in yours and gave it a squeeze. “Friends may come and go. Girlfriends may come and go. But when I look toward the future… I see you and me together ‘til the end of the line.” You paused for a beat and decided to leave it up to her to accept the status quo, “If you’ll have me.”

You hoped hadn’t just broken her heart. That would be detrimental to her magic.

“Ughh… fine,” she agreed somewhat reluctantly, “But don’t forget… I’m still a girl. And you’re still a cute boy.”

You grinned, “That’s another interesting thing I learned today.” You switched to a light, teasing, singsong tone, “~Millie thinks I’m cu-ute!~” Her blush got darker and you smiled warmly at her, “And I’m honored to have a place in your big, beautiful heart.”

This warranted a fourth kiss. Which she returned.

“Guess it’s nice to know where I stand,” she remarked as you took her larger hand in yours and walked across the bridge to the Owlery together.

“By my side,” you responded, “Always.”

She squeezed your hand. “Jones is… not bad. If you like wild and crazy.”

“She’s made today very interesting,” you admitted.

“That’s what she said,” Millicent recounted. “She thinks you’re interesting. The last week has been highly entertaining for her. I guess new and different means good.”

“I hope she doesn’t expect things to stay this barmy,” you remarked, “Most of the time it’s lessons, studying, and Quidditch practice.”

“I think you’ve turned a corner with the list thing,” Millicent informed you, “Now you’re bound to have a lot more of that banter you crave.” She sighed, “But… yeah… she told me to say something even if it would hurt her chances. That was… pretty cool.”

Romeo flew down from the Owlery… and landed on Millicent’s shoulder. It was official. Your owl liked her better than you.

“Hey boy,” you greeted the bird while Millicent reached up with her free hand to stroke his face, “Heard you got into a tussle at breakfast. Good job. Glad to see you came out unscathed.”

You went to take the path down onto the grounds but Millicent tugged on your hand and pulled you back. “You said you’d listen if I warned you that someone was bad news… Jones is fine. Farley is the one you need to be wary of and watch out for.”

You turned to face her.

She rushed to continue before you could get a word in, “I know you fancy her. But she acts differently around you than everyone else. You saw how Fawley was ready to go after her earlier. There’s a reason people would be so quick to believe she was the one who poisoned Bletchley. The older girls have a nickname for her… they call her the Green-Eyed Monster.”

Your mind flashed back to September, when Gemma stuck Graham Montague upside-down to the back of the broomshed… for you.

You thought of Draco’s warning from back in November after Gemma sicced Lysandra on him and Pansy.

“Yaxley was the attack dog. But Farley was the one who let her off her leash.”

You remembered this morning when Gemma set a venomous adder on Yaxley… for you.

Millicent, who you knew to be a solid judge of character, issued her warning in Potions, “In her case… I think she might do the poisoning.”

Your recent conversation with Hogwarts’ Gossip Queen ran through your mind.

“There’s a Quidditch match tomorrow and I’d rather not have to check my pumpkin juice for poison.”

“She wouldn’t do that!”

“She would… for you.”

“I know,” you confessed with a heavy sigh. “But she’s my monster. You said she acts differently around me than everyone else. Did you stop to consider that maybe she lets me see the real her and shows the rest of you that monstrous front she wants you to see?” You remembered Yaxley finally backing off from you and picking Zabini as an easier first year to torment to save her scary reputation. “I want to believe there’s good in her. She hides it because she doesn’t want people to see how hurt she is over being dealt a rough hand. I think… some girls would rather be seen as a bitch or monster than to express vulnerability over losing out on something they desperately want.”

Number One folded her arms at her chest and fixed you a firm glare. Both her hat and your owl on her shoulder added their own glares which increased the effect. “Oh, do you really? Does that remind you of anyone else?”

“Erm…”

“In our house… in our year… in my room!”

Parkinson.

Her voice lowered, “I’m not supposed to say anything… but sometimes at night… I can hear her crying.”

Bugger. Now you felt bad. The thought that you had driven a girl to tears… even if that girl was Pansy Parkinson… didn’t sit well with you.

Millicent met your eyes… as did her hat… and your owl. “You have your monster. I have mine. Someone needs to look out for her or she’ll end up like another Farley. I won’t ask you to date her just to appease her. You’re distantly related to her too and you’d make each other miserable. But… maybe ease back, show some sympathy, and try not to keep throwing the thing with Jones in her face. She’s used to getting what she wants and now she’s dealing with the boy she fancies having no interest in her. It’s… not fun. Imagine she’s a thirteen-year-old Gemma. Would you treat her the way you treat Pansy?”

“No,” you admitted, then sighed, “Fine. I’ll ease back. But you need to do what you can to rein your monster in. I told myself I’d back off after the confrontation at breakfast…”

“Announcing a list of witches you pay attention to and then repeatedly reminding her she’s not on it is backing off? I think you went the other way on that one.”

“Yeah… that kind of got away from me.”

“If Gemma deserves mercy… then so does Pansy,” Millicent insisted. “And if anyone can tame the infamous Green-Eyed Monster… I think it’s you.”

“I actually have a plan for that,” you informed her.

“Good,” your best friend said, “Because she’s over there.” She released your hand and pointed at a distant speck flying over the Quidditch pitch.

“Clever girl,” you remarked, “She’s probably still hacked off about the Fawley thing. She knows I’m trying to avoid Flint… so she took the Nimbus so I’ll have to find her to use it.” You looked at your owl, “Romeo, wouldst thou be so kind as to fetch the fair maiden flying over yonder?”

Romeo flew off.

“Fair maiden?” Millicent repeated.

“Yes, Gemma Fair-ley,” you stated.

She shook her head, “That’s terrible. And inaccurate.”

“But that’s my plan,” you explained, “If everyone else sees her as a monster… then maybe having someone who believes the best of her and supports her will inspire her to be better?”

Romeo reached the Quidditch pitch. Gemma recognised him and slowed down. Your owl flew in a wide circle then swooped around to fly back to you.

You raised your arm and waved.

“Might as well give me your bag now so I can leg it back to the common room,” Millicent advised. “I don’t want to get caught in an angry Farley’s crosshairs.”

You slipped four pre-brewed vials of purple Topical Bruiser Remover out of your bag and stuffed one in each side of your Irish Quidditch boots. After giving one to Draco earlier, there was only one left. But given Flint’s infamous brutal Quidditch practices and the fact that there was a match tomorrow… you didn’t know how much you’d need… or - based on your brewing plan - who would need it. You took your bag off your shoulder and gave it to her as Gemma quickly outpaced your owl on his return trip. “Thanks for walking me out here.”

Your Number One nodded and took off as your Number Two rocketed over and landed on the path in front of you.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

“Of course, my fair lady,” you agreed, “Do you want to hash things out here? Or would you rather give me a lift to the Quidditch pitch so we can talk in private before the rest of the team shows up for practice?”

Romeo didn’t bother flying back to you and instead flew straight back into the Owlery. Animal survival instinct told him that he didn’t want to tussle with this witch. Female dragons were more vicious than the male ones.

She mounted the Nimbus Two Thousand, “Get on.”

You grinned and straddled the broomstick behind her, “Erm… where should I put my hands…”

“Arms around my waist,” she instructed, “And if they stray from there… I’m dropping you.”

“Understood,” you responded as you wrapped your arms around her from behind as instructed. She was still wearing the same trousers from lunch. You idly wondered if that meant she hadn’t put a new bra on either. But you knew better than to ask when she was cross with you.

She kicked off and you immediately noticed that you weren’t flying toward the pitch. Instead you were going across the grounds. At least you were avoiding the covered bridge. You glanced down and eyed an ominous willow tree that shook its branches up at you in a very aggressive manner as you flew over it. Before you knew it, you were soaring over the lake. Gemma finally brought you down on the island in the middle.

You dismounted and rushed to defend yourself, “If this is about Fawley… nothing happened. I hadn’t even spoken to her until thirty minutes ago when she burst in on me while I was hiding in a broom closet. She told me you confronted her at dinner and impressed upon me that I needed to set you straight.”

“Impressed how?” Gemma demanded. She was mad. “Did she flash you her tits again?”

“No!” you objected. “I told you, that never happened!” She started to but you stopped her. “Listen, your information is wrong. It came from Parkinson of all people. You should know better. She, Greengrass, and Davis have been trying to piece together my list all afternoon. But they’re doing a shoddy job of it. They didn’t include Davis, they forgot the witches on the Quidditch teams, and they jumped to the wrong conclusion that Fawley was my Number Four. That’s not the kind of track record you want to be starting a war over!”

“So you saw some other bint topless and snogged her?”

“She’s not a bint… she’s a mermaid.”

Gemma blinked in surprise. “A what?”

“A mermaid,” you reiterated. “I found her floating in a pipe. When Yaxley **** Blaise… Professor Snape sent me to find them. She helped me. She swam through and spotted them then came back. And, yes, it turns out merpeople don’t wear clothing. So she was topless. Technically, naked but there were no visible parts on her tail. When you had me guess Yaxley’s bra size earlier… I used her as an in-between for my estimate. 32C. Spelled s-e-a. After she helped me find Yaxley and Zabini… I thanked her by giving her a kiss on the cheek. She responded by latching her lips all the way over my mouth and nearly sucking my lips off.”

Gemma smirked then her hand flashed out and dipped into the collar of your Irish robes and pulled out your necklace of snake fangs.

“Her name was ‘Sharp Shell’,” you explained, “She wore a necklace of sharp shells. She called me ‘Snake Fang’... so I made myself a necklace of snake fangs while I was hiding out today.”

It looked like she was calming down so you kept going.

“You know the list isn’t real,” you reminded her, “But you’re the one who advised me to think on my Number Four. When the girls were pestering me about the list on our way to Herbology… I slipped the mermaid into the Number Four spot to throw them off. I thought I was being clever by including a non-human they’d never possibly guess. But, based on my vague summary of my mermaid encounter, they assumed it was Fawley. Their ill-conceived conclusion was based on her knowing about my list at lunch. I don’t know who told her… but someone did. And since you, my Number Two, pretended to know about it when they confronted you in the common room… and Jones, my Number Three, knew about it when they confronted her in the Great Hall after I made a point to track her down and tip her off before I met up with you just in case such an altercation occurred… they erroneously concluded that Fawley was Number Four since she knew about it beforehand too. Fawley didn’t appreciate you falsely accusing her in public. And now I’m trying to urge you to back off before you do something you’ll regret. I understand that you have some grudge against her…”

She cut you off with a glare, “Some grudge? You have no idea!”

“No, I don’t,” you agreed, “But I won’t press you on the issue until you’re ready to share.” You reached out and grabbed her hand. “I’m on your side. I’ll always be on your side. And now I’m trying to look out for you just like you’ve been looking out for me. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Fawley’s ready to go to war if you press the issue. When she confronted me in the closet… she revealed what her opening salvo will be. She’ll start a rumor that you poisoned Bletchley.”

Her face shifted into an expressionless mask and her sapphire eyes took on a dark glint. She tried to pull her hand away but you wouldn’t let her. You squeezed her hand and held on.

“You think I did that?” she accused you.

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” you responded, “What matters is what the school thinks. You saw how quick they were to blame me yesterday. It won’t matter if you didn’t do it. It won’t matter if there’s no evidence tying you to it. If Fawley’s the one pushing the rumor then you being guilty will be the convenient conclusion. You saw how that went with Parkinson. So I’m asking you… as a friend looking out for you… and as your favorite firstie who adores you and wants the best for you… back off of Fawley.”

She stared at you. Her eyes were like two hard sapphire daggers piercing into yours. But you met them and did your best to convey your earnest desire to help her and prevent something bad from happening to her. You squeezed her hand again.

“Fine,” she finally conceded. “I’ll back off. But if you’re really on my side… then you’re going to do something for me.” The hardness returned to her eyes. “Artemis… is OFF. LIMITS. You don’t snog her. You don’t touch her. I don’t care if you walk in on her starkers and the slag offers to shag you… you turn around and walk the other way. Anyone but her, understand?”

Did that mean she’d be more agreeable to you standing on a stool to snog Tamsin Applebee?

“Okay, Gemma,” you agreed, “That’s a small sacrifice to make. You’re the one I want to kiss.” And then you did. You tilted your face up and kissed her on the lips. Her sapphire eyes went wide in surprise. Four seconds and you pulled away.

“When did you get so bold?” she asked. “What happened to the boy who froze when I kissed him in the Potions classroom this morning?”

“It’s been a long, crazy day,” you replied. “I’ve decided to show the witches who are important to me how important they really are. Hopefully, my message was received. Just because I start dating someone… doesn’t mean I like you any less. You now hold the distinct honor of being the second witch I’ve ever kissed.”

“Second?” Gemma repeated. “Wait… I saw Bulstrode’s pink face from halfway across the grounds. I thought it was just from the cold… maybe holding your hand… don’t tell me she finally said something?”

“At Megan’s urging,” you informed her. “if you’ll believe that.”

“And?” she prompted.

“Fourth cousin,” you stated, “The closest thing I currently have to family. And an irreplaceable friend. My Number One. And, despite Parkinson’s best attempt after that Quidditch match, the proud recipient of my first kiss.”

“So I’m still the silver Slytherin then?” Gemma mused.

“Well… if you want to grab some Gaunt gold,” you offered, “My first snog is still open.”

She shook her head, “Cheeky little monkey.” She leaned in… and this time, instead of freezing, you met her lips.

Maybe it was seeing the darker aspects of Gemma that you previously refused to acknowledge that allowed you to finally recognise that she wasn’t the Perfect Prefect. She was a flawed person the same as you. You still adored her. But removing Gemma from her vaunted pedestal brought her closer to your level… and this time you were bold enough to kiss her back and did your best to match the pressure she applied to your snog.

You closed your eyes midway through and didn’t bother to count how long it went on. It was bliss.

When Gemma broke the kiss, she rested her cheek against yours and whispered to you, “If you were just two years older… a third year… you’d be all mine. I’d make sure I was first, second, third, and fourth on your very short list!”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t have stood a chance,” you acknowledged then took a deep breath, “But now I’m going to risk saying something that might upset you.” She pulled back and stared at you. “Speaking of third years… I think you should send Bletchley an apology gift.”

She frowned and yanked her hand away, “So you are accusing me.”

“Not accusing,” you assured her, “Simply asking. You set a venomous snake on Lysandra this morning and offered me the opportunity to walk her around like a dog. That was a big red flag. So… did you steal the Hellebore from Greenhouse Five?”

“No,” she answered.

“Are you lying to me?”

“No.”

You nodded, “Okay. I believe you.”

There was a brief flash of disappointment(?) that you were trusting her word.

“Then why should I send Bletchley a gift? What do I have to apologise for?”

“Because you’re a prefect,” you explained, “And he got poisoned on your watch. If I recall correctly, you weren’t too far away from him. That’s why you were there to pull me off the table.” You motioned the Nimbus Two Thousand in her hand, “And now it looks like you’re benefiting from Bletchley’s misfortune. So I think… as an act of goodwill… you should send him something while he’s still in the Hospital Wing. If you’d like a suggestion, maybe a quality flask?” you thought of the one Millicent brought you for your takeaway dinner. “After being poisoned, the poor bloke is going to be extra wary of drinking anything in the Great Hall… having a unique flask that he can fill himself might give him some peace of mind after being so rudely robbed of it.”

“And what are you getting him?” she challenged, “boy-who’s-benefiting-even-more?”

“The best gift I can give,” you answered, “A shutout against Ravenclaw.”

“Weren’t you already squawking about shutting out Mateo this morning?” she retorted. “To prove yourself?”

“I can do both,” you reminded her. “And there’s two other Chasers on that team. Mateo’s the meat… Davies and Stretton are the potatoes. A full shutout means taking the full course.”

“Given your newfound tastes… I think you’d prefer fish and chips.”

You laughed, “Millicent thought so too. She brought me a cod sandwich for dinner. I told her about the mermaid after Potions but left out parts like what she wasn’t wearing and the kiss. She put the pieces together and used the sandwich as an opening to confront me about it while we were alone in the closet.”

“Is that what you were doing in there when Artemis burst in on you?”

“Actually, Megan found us first,” you recounted. “She followed Millicent from the Great Hall. Brought Perks along with her. They both climbed in the closet with us and I told all three of them my mermaid tale. I was in hot water for a bit… especially when they asked me to describe the mermaid’s tits.”

“I warned you, the girl’s an A-Cup,” Gemma reminded you.

“The girl’s fourteen,” you defended her. “I doubt you were a D-Cup at her age and that mermaid looked like she was older than you. I think Megan got over it because she started bonding with Millicent by teasing me with the prospect that I would somehow snog a young centaur mare.” You glanced off at the Forbidden Forest. “Are there female centaurs in the forest?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Gemma admitted, “I stay out of it. It’s forbidden for a reason. There are other - far nastier - things than centaurs living there.”

You continued your recap, “Bulstrode and Jones decided to test my supposed centaur-seducing skills and left me alone in the closet with Perks. Jones called it ‘Seven Minutes in Heaven’ but I saw it as her test to see if I could conduct myself properly around her muggleborn friend. And that’s when Fawley burst in on us. I suspect she came looking for me after you went off on her… but I’m still not entirely sure how she knew I was in that exact closet.”

“Artemis likely knows the Hogwarts broom closets better than anyone,” Farley informed you, “The reason she has that discretionary ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy of hers is because the slag has snogged a lot of boys in broom closets. I suspect she’s even snogged a few witches along the way too.”

That mental image caused your eyebrows to shoot up to your hairline. And you noted that was the second time Gemma called her a slag. Was it true? Or was she attempting to vilify the girl she had a clear grudge against? Fawley had been quick to start unbuttoning her shirt but you were pretty sure that was meant to be another game of chicken. Probably best not to mention that part to Gemma.

“Half my patrols last term were dedicated to catching her in the act,” Gemma continued to vent. “But I think one of the other prefects snitched to her and told her my patrol schedule so she can avoid me. The Holy Grail would be catching her and Mateo together.”

“They do that?”

“Can’t confirm it,” she confessed, “But they’ve always been close. I won’t be able to prove how close unless I catch them in the act.”

“Everyone needs a hobby,” you supposed.

“Are you gonna fly me back to the pitch for practice?” you inquired as a change of subject. “The others have probably made their way there while we’ve been out here.”

“Fly? I thought you’d call your mermaid so you could swim to shore,” Gemma snarked.

“First of all,” you stated, “She’s not my mermaid. She’s her own mermaid. The fact that she was up at the school and not down in the village with the rest speaks of her independent nature.”

“Well, at least you’re being respectful of the watery tart,” Gemma mused.

“Gemma,” you chided her, “Don’t be jealous of a mermaid. Your Quaffles would blow hers out of the water.”

“Some cheeky little scamp wrote in fire that my big, bouncy, beautiful Quaffles are the best in Hogwarts,” she reminded you of your tutoring session. “Does that include the mermaids in the lake, the centaur mares that might be in the forest, and the daft birds up in the Ravenclaw tower?” That last bit sounded like it was targeted at one big-breasted bird in particular.

“If I say ‘yes’... will you give me a ride back to the pitch?” you bartered.

“You’ll say ‘yes’ if you know what’s good for you!”

You knew you needed to play this one up so you went all out with embellishment, “Then, yes, those majestic mounds on your chest were likely crafted from solid gold by some higher being as his lifelong artistic achievement. And if I were ever so fortunate as to gaze upon such heavenly works of art… I’m sure my mortal mind would be unable to comprehend their sheer divine beauty and I’d be instantly petrified and turned to stone.”

Gemma grinned and patted you on the head, “That’ll do.” Her grin became a smirk, “And now I know what to get you for your next Christmas-slash-birthday present. It’ll count as two gifts!”

Your face burned at the prospect.

“Ha! Still got it!” she cheered and laughed at your shocked face. “Come on, mount up. Same rules as before. If your arms stray from my waist… I’ll drop you.”

You mounted the broom behind her and wrapped your arms around her. But now that you were back in her good graces… you felt brave enough to test your luck and tease her back.

“Is that rule because you’re still not wearing a bra?”

“Strike that,” she announced, “if your hands stray from my waist… I’m dropping you… on the Whomping Willow. That tree’ll give you a spanking you’ll never forget.”

“I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

You cast an extra-wary glance down at the now named Whomping Willow as you flew over the aggressive-looking willow tree. But once you were past it, you came to appreciate riding behind a warm, soft body and gave Gemma an extra squeeze. She landed near the broomshed and you spotted Draco at the edge of the pitch in his Irish Aiden Lynch uniform.

“Flint’s holding the rest of the team in the changing room until you show up,” he warned you.

You nodded, “Thanks for the warning.” You turned to Gemma and took the Nimbus as she dismounted. “Grab the Cleansweep and fly it up to your usual spot in the stands. I promised Draco I’d let him have a go on the Nimbus. If you have a spare broom on the pitch, it’ll not only give me something else to fly but it’ll give you another reason to be there for practice.”

“You don’t want me to stick around near the changing room in case he attacks you?” she offered, “If I hear you scream, I can come in wand blazing.” She probably wanted an excuse to hex Flint. You remembered Megan’s thing about vicious female dragons again.

“I’ll be alright,” you reassured her, “I’m going to try reasoning with him.”

“Your funeral,” she said, “You would’ve had better luck reasoning with that troll on Halloween.”

“Perhaps it comes from facing an actual troll that I’m not afraid of Flint who got swamped by a flock of owls?”

“Then why were you hiding from him all day?”

“It needed to happen at the right place at the right time, my fair Farley,” you replied, “Now I’m ready to face Flint.”

She shook her head, “Good luck then, Sir Snogs-a-Lot.”

“A lot?” you lowered your voice to whisper back. “You’re well aware who my one-and-only is, fair maiden.”

It was going to be an eventual Quidditch practice… provided you survived Flint’s fury.