Serpentine

This week's sweets package has two more biscuits than Eric's, so if that's not proof that mum prefers her, then nothing is. They're even her favorite, complete with a jar of the special jam that Cook makes custom just for her.

Hedwig eats them contently, saving a few for her Puff.

Across the table, Lestrange is talking to Tom about politics. As much as he knows about it anyways, his family is a bunch of useless airheads. Only still relevant thanks to money and who their children marry. She'd say similar of the Blacks, but at least their kind haven't made it onto her personal shit list. Tom's still on it, despite their tentative friendship, because he's a bastard. But that's why Hedwig likes him. He's got balls. Even if he is hopeless in some ways. Like with Lane. She's debated before about disclosing some of their conversations with him (if one could call them conversations), but he deserves to suffer a little. Probably. Boys are usually guilty of something. That's something that Eric is actually right about. She says as much to the mousey witch during mornings in the Slytherin girls' bathroom. Lane usually brushes off comments made to her (particular if they involve her personal life), but somehow always seems to take Eric's advice with a grain of salt.

Hedwig wonders if perhaps Lane prefers Eric over her.

She steals rashers from Nemesis' plate and ignores her protests, "Girl Rosier and you were chatting about going on diets the other day, did ya change your mind?"

Nemesis gives her best disappointed expression, looking like a peeved kitten, "You know she doesn't like it when you call her that."

"She can get fucked." Girl Rosier loves their arguments, no one can tell her otherwise, "You don't need to lose weight, you're twelve."

A blush, "Thank you, Hedwig, stop stealing my breakfast."

She steals from Tom's plate. His glare is more convincing, but Hedwig's desire to bother is stronger.

"Hedwig."

"Tom."

"Fawley might not need a diet, Hedwig, but perhaps you'd might consider--"

"Good to fucking know your big ears aren't just for show, Lestrange, how about I stretch them out further so you can hear across Scotland?"

The table snickers, as they should. Lestrange, the little weasel that he is, is about to retaliate before Tom gives him a look. Pathetic. Like a cowering dog.

"Katux, don't escalate this." He's really mastered that disappointed father tone, Hedwig feels bad for his future children, poor bastards.

Lestrange harrumphs and goes back to his beans and toast. Nemesis stops tensing. She'll expire from nerves, that girl, she needs to learn how to stop giving care to lesser beings. And Lestrange, well, he just needs to stop pissing her off.

"Well," Nemesis baps at her mouth with a napkin, getting up, "I must be going, I have a meeting with my Herbology partner...Hedwig, I'll see you later today?"

She waves her off dismissively, mood ruined by Lestrange's ugly face, "Ya, fine."

Tom, the nosy brat, inquires as to what the two of them are up to.

"Mind your fucking business."

"Oh, just girl things, Tom."

Neither of the answers satisfies him, but they don't live to please him so he can kiss her ass. Nemesis makes her exit, and Hedwig occupies the rest of breakfast with finding someone new to steal rashers from--Ah! Mulcifer! He's a pushover, he'll probably let her steal his jam too.

He does.

-

The polished walls of the girl's bathroom in the Slytherin dormitories are becoming more and more familiar. Previously, Hedwig had only been in the room during early mornings and late evenings, when the Slytherin girls would get ready for the day and prepare for slumber. How was she supposed to know that it was active during other times of day? What else is there to do in a bathroom? Lots, apparently. She's seen girls younger and older than her practice potions for ease of clean up and rehearse for choir thanks to the pleasant echo provided by the room. During free periods and weekends, there'll be fifteen, thirty girls at a time soaking in the big tub for a relaxing spa day. Even little meetings between girls regarding their lives happen here. It's safer to gossip and discuss nonsense when there's no boys around, especially if the nonsense you're discussing is your planned elopement with a half-blood. Disgusting. The things these girls get up to. At least run off with a poor pureblood. Respect yourself.

As for Hedwig, she finds herself in the bathrooms chatting with Nemesis and Lane.

It was Nemesis' idea, really, being Lane's friend. Or at least friend-adjacent. Even the students closest to Lane look like they have a six-meter pole separating them at the best of times--Tom included. Actually, in the time she's been hanging around Lane, she's never once mentioned her supposed intended. And if Hedwig were some kind of empty-headed fuckwad, she'd assume it was because of proper conduct regarding courting protocols, but she's not Cygnus, so she knows they're not actually in the midst of courtship. She suspects that Tom fucked up somehow and got her mad because whenever she sees them together, they're separated by another student. That, and Tom always looks like he was cheated out of something. Whatever it was he did, he probably deserves it. Hedwig's bet is on the bracelet itself: she'd be pissed off too if someone made everyone believe she accepted an offer to be wooed. Ugh.

"Do you have plans for the holidays, Lane? Father and Mother instructed me to ask you and Tom over as guests of honor." Hedwig almost scoffs. Does Nemesis actually think she's the first the only to give out this proposition to Lane? Eric herself had just done so earlier this week, explaining that both Mum and Dad would enjoy the pleasure of her company again. Hag.

Lane hesitates, "Thank you, but I'll decline. I was hoping just to spend a quiet two weeks at home, but..."

"Ya been getting lots of formal invites for winter holidays, haven't you?"

"From everyone, yes." Heh. She can see the jealousy on Tom's face now, as clearly as she can see annoyance on Lane's, "People I haven't even spoken to are offering me a place to spend Yule. Or Modranicht. Or the New Year."

"Leeches."

"Hedwig!"

She sticks her tongue out at Nemesis.

"--It's a great honor, I assure you, Lane. These families, they just want to learn about you and meet you because of what you did for Slytherin house."

Hedwig rolls her eyes. Nemesis pinches her. Bitch.

Lane presses her lips into a thin line, "Maybe...Maybe some of them are. But I don't trust that they all have the best of intentions." Smart girl. But she wouldn't be in Slytherin if she wasn't.

Nemesis, despite herself, doesn't try to protest Lane's suspicions. She knows better. Rather than try to say that Lane is overreacting, she shares a look with Hedwig. Hedwig cocks a brow before silently agreeing. Nemesis opens her mouth to speak again, "Lane, if you'd like, we can help. Hedwig and I know the ins and outs of these families well...We've spent many holidays among their children and heads, so it would be fairly easy to try and deduce which ones mean to try and...take advantage of the situation."

"Like the Yaxleys, for example," Hedwig points a finger out and wags it knowingly, "Feckers are definitely out to see what else you can do. If you can be used as a front for a few other accidents."

"Selwyns are mostly harmless, but they are social climbers. They'll want to put you in front of cameras and take you out in public places to be seen with you." Nemesis adds.

"Macmillans are half-badgers, so they're fully-fucking-harmless, but if you're not careful, they might end up adopting you. You don't look like a Ximena Macmillan."

"And the Flints are half-falcons, they'll scrutinize you before deciding if they want to publically align to whatever cause you're championing."

"Fawley here is safe, but her sisters are annoying as shit--" Nemesis pinches her again, "--fuck."

"My sisters are lovely and well-behaved, and Father and Mother would love to have you, Lane."

Lane seems overwhelmed with the information, but Hedwig can tell she's listening. She has to, her survival depends on it. A witch doesn't spend three years with Slytherins without learning a thing or two, but it's impossible for Lane to know all that she and Nemesis do. All those years going to parties and weddings and playdates...The very least they could do for their fellow snake is set her up for success. Dress her up in armor before going out to battle. Letting her know the supplies she'll need and what the enemy has in their arsenal. That's just logistics.

Their informational chatter echoes through the Slytherin girls' bathroom for the rest of the afternoon.

-

Hedwig rarely, if ever, speaks to her sister during school. There's a sort of strange, fucked up understanding between them where they pretend the other doesn't exist unless absolutely necessary. Not for lack or love, but because there isn't anything to communicate. Whatever their parents send in their letters will be told to both if important, they have different curriculums, and have completely different social circles. Hedwig can't even name half of the girls in Eric's retinue, though a part of that is because she finds them tiresome at best. In short, much of her elder sister's life remains a mystery. But she knows the important bits. Her weaknesses, where she falls short, her political aspirations...And likewise, Eric knows the same about Hedwig. Maybe when Hedwig was younger she would have wanted a real bond with her sister. Something warm and loving. Playful. But the hope was bled out of her fast enough. Eric and she are sisters only in water. Not in blood.

This is why it's easy to tolerate Nemesis: they share an understanding only sisters can hold. Specifically youngest sisters. Granted, Hedwig doesn't have whatever inferiority complex Nemesis has (poor chit), but she does live in a shadow of sorts. And her family does like to play favorites.

She just wishes Nemesis was quicker in growing a pair. All this dancing around subjects is irritating. Like she's afraid of offending someone or stepping on toes. A waif edging around a pool of water, afraid of getting wet.

The entire walk back to the common room at the end of the day is mostly quiet save for little observations being given by Tom about Dueling Club this week (not a peep out of Nemesis). He expects to be treated like glass at his return, and Hedwig can tell he's eager to show he's not a complete welp. As relatable as the feeling is, she wants to take him down a peg, and hopes that Willow will pit them against each other. If anything, it'll be a good fight. Tom won't underestimate her, and he'll certainly won't go easy on her. He's smarter than that.

Hedwig eyes the blonde besides her. Elbows her not so subtly (Rosier snorts), and gestures to their glorious leader. Finally, Nemesis timidly invites Tom to the Fawley winter home for Modranicht and Tom declines, stating that perhaps he'd take up her offer for Eostre holiday instead. Hedwig asks what kind of other offers he'd gotten since the trial, and the baby-faced sonofabitch stays tight lipped about it. So be it. She'll find out anyways. Mainly because Rosier doesn't know how to keep his stupid mouth shut.

At the fork in the common room, the group splits, bidding each other a good night. After a few paces up the stairs, out of hearing range, Hedwig finally speaks. "Why don't you tell him you also invited Lane?"

"...There's no guarantee she's coming. She said she'd think about it." She turns to her, "Why didn't you tell him I invited her?" Ah yes, that does seem like the type of shit she'd pull just to tease him when he immediately changes his mind. It's also the type of shit that would immediately hurt Nemesis' feelings. Sensitive idiot.

"His crush is annoying. He needs to start making more decisions for his own merit rather than on the basis on whether Lane's involved." Hedwig hums, "If she's smart, she'll accept your offer. Or the Averys. My money's on Avery, though." The heir sniffs around her too much otherwise. Not to mention Colin Avery's the one who represented her in trial. That's a big stone to weigh over a young girl's head.

Nemesis twiddles her fingers, "I'm worried about her. She doesn't know anything about what she's gotten into...No frame of reference for our customs or histories...She'll be eaten alive."

"Are we talking about the same witch?" Hedwig holds her hands akimbo, "I know she's as meek as a churchmouse, but didn't you tell me about how she held her own in front of the Wizengamot?"

"That was different. She was coached."

"Well she's being coached by us now, so she actually has a fucking chance." Hedwig also saw her talking to Acarya in passing, and that can only aid her. "Why're you so worried over her anyways? You two bosom buddies now?"

Nemesis frowns, "It's the right thing to do."

"Pfft. Your Hufflepuff is showing." She shakes her head, "For what it's worth, Tom likes her because she's her own person. Not because she does what she's supposed to."

"I--I don't know what you--"

"Don't insult my intelligence. You're nice, it's in your blood and you can't help it, but I know what you're doing. Don't imitate her."

For whatever reason her last words make Nemesis freeze up instantly. As if she had cast a full-body bind spell instead. Ouch. Hit a personal nerve, then? Maybe the lass has a Lane wig somewhere in her trunk that she puts on to play pretend. Ha.

"Tom likes you best when you speak your mind. Not when you follow tradition. Just an observation." An obvious one. He doesn't like it when people go against him, but he admires will. He likes things that are Special. Hedwig can relate, "He might play pureblood, but his tastes are common...In a good way."

She leaves Nemesis on the stairs, the latter lost in thought.

Nemesis does not mention Hedwig's talk to her the next day in any of their shared periods, nor walking in the hall. As expected.

-

The library is always flourishing with students both dicking around and taking their education seriously (sometimes within the same groups), and offers a comfortable escape from whatever political game Tom is starting up. He's still learning how exactly to use the results of the trial to his advantage, and when he does, Hedwig will be there to help steer. She expects that Nemesis is there as a bystander and Evan is there to ride his coattails while the rest sort of form a village around him. She sees it now, how people wait to see how he reacts to certain news or events before voicing their own opinion. Like watching the rise of a charismatic dictator. An emperor. She won't be surprised when it's revealed that Tom's ancestry is grand. How else could he keep up with her grades?

These thoughts are kept to herself, obviously, lest his big head get swelled up.

She's sure that if she really applied herself, she'd leave him in the dust, but why bother? Thus, when entering the library, instead of joining any study group, she goes off on her own to kill time until her next class. Sit at a table all on her own and pretend to read through her textbooks. People hate her for it, but that's a given when you're exceptional: she doesn't need to study. She just chooses to. Occasionally. If the subject isn't completely mundane or useless. Like Care of Magical Creatures, which despite how much her Puff loves it, is still a waste of time. What kind of career can be found in such a thing? A healer for magical creatures? A cryptozoologist? She's better than that. Her Puff is better than that. Better than a lot of things. She's Special. It's a good thing she found Hedwig, because otherwise she'd be swimming around with other filth and never get a hand stepping into the right circles.

She doodles circles onto the margins of her brand new textbooks, eyes glazing over the paragraphs, hand eventually gliding into practicing her script on the pages. Fuck. Cunt. Bitch. Bugger. Bloody. Shit. She makes it through thirty percent of the curse words she knows before she settles into writing out the names of people she knows. Nemesis. Abbas. Tom. Evan. Druella. Topaz. Katux. Dion. Cygnus. Walburga. Sophie. Sophie. Sophie. Sophie. Sophie.

Someone clears their throat. Hedwig flinches and a splotch of ink mars the name Soph. She'd gone into a trance, not realizing how many times she's written the name over, she'd have to vanish it all later before someone sees it--

She looks up.

"Your Puff told me to hand this to you," Acarya holds out a black book with a blank cover. An inconspicuous little thing on it's own, but the sight of it makes Hedwig's heart pound. She snatches it up immediately, indignant that someone like Acarya was holding something so dire. She doesn't seem to take offence--Rather the corner of her lips twitch in a half-smirk. Come and gone in an instant. "--said it was important."

She scowls, Sophie knows how she feels about Acarya. Probably. They haven't really discussed it. But it's implied. Even if the older girl has mentored her in Potions and they're both Slytherins, "Thank you." Hedwig wasn't raised in a barn. Even if she sometimes speaks as though she was (Mum will never know), "..."

"I did not look through it." It irritates her that Acarya just always seems to fucking know what's on her mind. Is she projecting her thoughts out? Her skill in occlumency might be on par with that of a toddler, but it's better than nothing...And it's not like Acarya is a legilimens anyways, though she wouldn't put it past Older Acarya to be one. "It would have been wrong of me." Yes, true. Acarya is a lot of things, but a lover of gossip and drama she is not. Eyes on her own parchment and that sort. It doesn't bode well for Hedwig to have these bouts of paranoia--

"I understand your bond with your Puff." Acarya says, eyeing her carefully, "Mine was the same."

A moment of silence sinks in the air between them. Steeps into Hedwig like tea in hot water. She remembers Acarya's old Puff. Briefly. Gupta. Long hair. Golden skin. Flowers in her hair. Kept her hands in her pockets and preferred the hour just after dusk[1]--

There's a million ways to answer this. How dare you. Excuse me. I have no idea what you're talking about. You're mistaken. I believe you have the wrong idea. I'm sorry. What are you insinuating. That's disgusting. I'm not like that. Fuck you. Come again. What do you mean. Did Evan tell you anything. Were you the one who told Cygnus. Lies. Are you trying to blackmail me. Are you trying to insult me.

Instead Hedwig grips her wand tight in her hands until her knuckles turn white. As white as her hair. Trembling. There's a million ways to process this. And it feels like Acarya will wait for however long it takes for Hedwig to collect herself and say something. There's something like understanding in her eyes, and Hedwig hates that. Don't fucking look at her like that. Because how dare you understand something about her that she hasn't even begun to think about. How dare you piece together the mystery that she didn't even know existed. Who are you, Miss Fucking Bloodtraitor, to tell her about who she is?

But none of these things come out.