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runespoorIt's not writing a fic I hate, it's updating it. I have about ten finished fics sitting about my comp and gathering dust, waiting for the moment I'll force myself to post them. This time, it took quite a bit longer than I hoped.
Title: Third Year
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
runespoor7
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Andromeda Black, Ted Tonks
Prompt: 088 - School
Word Count: 2360
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Third in the Love in Hogwarts Years series. My thanks go toluckilyotto who beta'd the series.
Third Year
Ancient Runes is a shared course, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. With two years of experience behind him, Ted knows, when he reads his timetable, that it won't be a walk in the park. Perhaps one in the Forbidden Forest, not that he has ever been in the Forbidden Forest or that he's even interested in the possibility. Well. He's interested, not suicidal.
Turns out Runes with Slytherin is an even messier business than Herbology, no mean feat considering the lack of dirt. To be fair, it takes over six months for the situation to go downhill and refuse to come back up.
He has chosen three classes, as do only a handful of Ravenclaws every year, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures. He doesn't trust himself not to burst into laughter if he ever has to listen to the bunch of rubbish that is the wizarding world's perspective on Muggles, and surely anyone in their right mind knows that Divination is just bullshit anyway.
It's also the year he realises there's more to Hogwarts than the library, sort of. He regularly goes to the Charms Club sessions, he wouldn't dream of missing one of the Ravenclaw matches, and, no, he doesn't join the Duelling Club yet, though Flitwick himself says it would do him good. It's as if Ted is forgiven and a trustworthy, responsible student once more, and somehow that makes him want to stay away from Duels for a while, because what if the same thing happened again during the club's sessions? There must be a lot of Slytherins, and Ted doesn't want to fight Bellatrix Black, who is not only a prefect, but also very brutal when it comes to Duelling.
He's heard it be said about her younger sister, too, but Ted dismissed the rumour as being just that. His experience tells him this lazy, arrogant little girl isn't anywhere near as dangerous as her sister. She's not very bright, and she's unbearably sufficient, if her conduct in Herbology is any indication, but it's only fair to agree that she's nicer than her sister. Not that it is remarkable in any way, as Ted has read about Jarveys that were nicer than Bellatrix. At any rate, people of other Houses seem to get on rather well with her. Ted is completely prepared to think that it's because she's not clever enough to be mean, and that's also the reason her zealot of a sister is so accepting of her socialising with practically anyone.
Just because Ted is a Ravenclaw and a genuinely nice person doesn't mean he cannot be a judgemental bastard when affronted with something that doesn't quite meet his criteria.
For the six first months or so, Ted disinterestedly dislikes Andromeda Black, without giving her a second thought.
But Andromeda takes Ancient Runes too.
The situation leads him to dramatically revise his opinion.
She takes Ancient Runes, and it's pretty much obvious since the very beginning that she's not daft, even though she never seems to really listen to what the teacher say, and is instead scribbling away at her parchment. Ted knows because the teacher has commented on it, but whenever the weary Professor demands that she explain what he just said, she looks up and calmly complies. Sometimes she comes up with the kind of honest questions that make Ted want to look further into a subject, unless she's only pointing out how the beautiful demonstration that's just been exposed to them cannot hold if – and Ted always thinks of stones and glass houses, because her remarks never miss their mark.
He comes to the conclusion that he can respect her weirdness. After all, that's what intelligence is for.
*
The problem is that Andromeda loves Runes. As such, it means she's personally offended if anyone dares compromise her place as top of the class. For no particular reason, maybe, except that she's Andromeda Black and that she deeply enjoys Runes. Bellatrix doesn't take Runes.
Bellatrix is also a Prefect, which would be a delight were it not for the fact that she has that Bigger Sister Complex that make her a little overbearing sometimes. Of course, Narcissa's bearing the worst of it – Andromeda has never been gladder she never stepped into the role of the Baby – but there are times when Cissy's not available, and Bella is forcibly reminded that no matter how Andromeda manages to make people forget the fact, she's but a third-year. There are Things she doesn't Know, even things that are Hogwarts-approved.
Hogsmeade, for instance.
It doesn't take more than the first week-end for Andromeda to decide she hates Hogsmeade and would more than gladly set it to the burning flames of sweet, sweet oblivion. Bella hasn't stopped chattering about it since the train ride, and insisted she showed her around, and made her spend the whole afternoon with her cronies at the Three Broomsticks. Which is, if Andromeda cared to face it, exactly what she'd have done had she chosen out of her own free will. Bella, in her enthusiasm, hasn't given her much of a choice.
It is… that is, nothing unpleasant happens; they talk and laugh and have a Butterbeer, and Andromeda isn't bored, but… Bella wanted her to be there. In fact, Bellatrix had expected her to be there, which is far worse. Does she not know that Andromeda knows everyone and could have spent the afternoon in the company of whomever she wanted? And would likely have honoured them this way, if Bella recalled what it implies to be a Black.
Course she doesn't say so, because she knows all too well that Bella would just look blank. Sometimes she ponders that blood has no meaning to her. Well, luckily one of them is keen on history. It makes it hard to listen to Bella's assumptions without correcting her, but if Andromeda set herself to the task, she'd never do anything else. She does, on occasion, remark that Bella's grasp of the situation is somewhat… skewed. Or blunt, depended on times.
For instance, that first Saturday in Hogsmeade, they've somehow got started on the subject of Ted Tonks, the Ravenclaw boy in Andromeda's class who has started a fight with Catchlove, the year before. Maybe it is Andromeda herself who pronounces his name first, when Edmund Wilkes, who obviously hopes to get into Bella's good favours by taking an interest in her younger sister, asks how her new classes are going. She may have mentioned he was in her Runes classes. (Edmund doesn't stand a chance. Bellatrix doesn't date. Andromeda suspects she thinks it's all vaguely obscene, and can't be reconciled with her self-respect as a Black. Andromeda privately thinks her sister is a prude, and wishes Bella would take more time reading on the family history and less honing her Duelling skills.)
Anyway, it soon degenerates from the boy's own stupidity at taking such a Gryffindorkish stance, to his "lack of proper wizarding pride, as a Mudblood." The four of them, Bella and Wilkes and Rodolphus and Avery, loudly proclaim the statement with the authority that comes with personal experience and single-mindedness.
Andromeda has been content in indulging them to their favourite pastime, that is, how non-purebloods are clearly beneath them, don't understand the finely tuned rules of wizardkind, and are less powerful anyway. She has known it was coming, and she's braced herself for another round of misplaced pureblooded pride.
As to herself, she doesn't see the point in repeating over and over again how non-purebloods are inferior in all manners, bemoaning at Dumbledore's folly, but she's been willing to let it pass without a single scathing comment. It's obvious to anyone with two thoughts in their head that non-purebloods are, by definition, not as good as a pureblood, though she finds it mildly amusing when she has to listen to people like Wilkes or Avery. You listen to them, you might think they're Blacks, the way they speak of befouled tradition and new blood upstarts! It isn't as if they have much tradition to begin with. But they're her friends, and she grants them their delusional moments. They aren't actively hurting anyone with it, after all. As long as they're only talking to themselves.
So Muggle-borns don't have a sense of history. Big deal, when so many purebloods are just as ignorant, among whom Bellatrix herself hasn't thought about questioning the French motto of the Black family. As for power, surely the Catchlove/Tonks disaster can't be dismissed that easily?
The Mudblood word is another matter entirely. She can't shake a shudder of distaste every time she hears the word. She has drawn the line, very early on: there would be no use of the loathed word in her presence. Oh, how tacky it is.
She snaps when they call Tonks a Mudblood. She reminds Bella that Mother and Father would not be pleased if they knew she uses the word freely, in a public place, without a modicum of shame. Besides, she adds, would they want Dumbledore to know about their talk? Does Slytherin need the publicity? And Bellatrix Black is a Prefect. She has a role in the school. Behave improperly, be rash, and have that power be taken from you. Do they want their famous Prefect stripped of her badge? Are they stupid? They look properly chastened. It's not often that Andromeda calls them so sharply on their behaviour.
There's a bit of an uncomfortable silence, until Rodolphus points out that it's getting dark, and maybe they should think about being back at Hogwarts in time for the feast.
When they make their way outside, a hand falls on Andromeda's shoulder and she's greeted by a deep male voice. Hi, you're Andromeda Black. She turns around to meet a tall boy with dark blond hair and broad shoulders under the blue pull-over Andromeda is eye-level with. She feels almost foolish at her surprise, because of course she knows him. He's surrounded by an aura of relaxed energy, and healthiness. And you're Brutus Scrimgeour. He replies with a smile tucked neatly at the corner of his mouth, and a nod. Everybody at school knows Brutus Scrimgeour, who's been commenting the Quidditch matches for two years now. Slytherin House is reasonably proud of him, and of course Professor Slughorn positively lavishes him with favours, especially now he's a post-O.W.L.s student.
Mind if I have a word? Andromeda's eyebrows raise, but it's an excuse to leave the gang and its uneasiness, and she'd be foolish to turn down an invitation to talk with Brutus Scrimgeour. Bella must be scowling, but even she knows that the Scrimgeours are a respectable family, at their level, and Brutus is an able wizard in his own right.
They've exchanged a few words before, in the Slytherin common room, may I borrow your quill, have you seen Lucius Malfoy, oops sorry, we won we won we won, but that's it. Andromeda is unsurprised that he knows her name. It doesn't occur to her that she might be.
Brutus' friend just left to go meet a girl, so they're alone at the table, and Andromeda is getting rather curious. She's seized by the blinding hope that he's a messenger from Slughorn, who'd have decided to allow her a Restricted Section pass and maybe even a few tips, because he's a Slytherin and he's a teacher so he must have more than an inkling of what there is to know, but Brutus promptly undeceives her. That was truly a thing of beauty you did, he says, sincerity echoing in his voice. I get enough of this Mudblood bullshit with Malfoy as it is. He grimaces. Don't remind me, she replies with a grimace of her own.
The same image, prim expression and puckered lips and blond hair, must have gone through both their minds, for they both snort, and get on in an enthralling discussion of how annoying Lucius Malfoy is.
Then they have to go to the castle – Halloween and everything – but they greet each other and they sometimes have the time to talk, about anything at all, and Andromeda finds his rattling about Quidditch annoying but still funny, and he accepts that she does things her way only, and that she doesn't care about what anyone say or think but her. He informs her than she really has a superiority complex, which confuses her but not so much that she doesn't get the gist of it, and she mocks his immaturity when he's out of breath and yells his commentary and jumps up and down when what he perceives to be a fine move is acted out on the field. It's nice, Andromeda thinks, to get on so well with someone who is older than her and is not part of Bella's social circle.
*
Why can't she let it go, he thinks in Ancient Runes. He grasps for straws. He has noticed that every time the teacher congratulates him on his translation, a phrase, a nuance he respected, she loudly demands the professor's attention, pointing out a mistake, giving her own translation, sometimes drawing an erudite parallel with other works. Ted doesn't even need to be awarded points for her to react.
She never does that in Herbology, is the main reason he doesn't get it. It's not as if she's a master scholar, after all. Well. Except in Runes, where she quotes and analyses enough theories to make Ted… well, a little annoyed with her and her know-it-all attitude. And when she was told, once, that she was, in fact, wrong, she froze in an attitude of offended dignity. Blacks are drama queens, but don't they have a sense of measure?
Ted concludes that it may have something to do with his bloodline, or lack thereof. Ancient Runes probably isn't meant to be known and practised by first-generation wizards.
Which may or may not explain the wicked grin that breaks on his face when he reads, in the letter containing the results to his end-of-the-year exams, that he's the first in every single class.
Up to and including Ancient Runes.
Title: Third Year
Author:
runespoor7 Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Andromeda Black, Ted Tonks
Prompt: 088 - School
Word Count: 2360
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Third in the Love in Hogwarts Years series. My thanks go to
luckilyotto who beta'd the series.Ancient Runes is a shared course, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. With two years of experience behind him, Ted knows, when he reads his timetable, that it won't be a walk in the park. Perhaps one in the Forbidden Forest, not that he has ever been in the Forbidden Forest or that he's even interested in the possibility. Well. He's interested, not suicidal.
Turns out Runes with Slytherin is an even messier business than Herbology, no mean feat considering the lack of dirt. To be fair, it takes over six months for the situation to go downhill and refuse to come back up.
He has chosen three classes, as do only a handful of Ravenclaws every year, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures. He doesn't trust himself not to burst into laughter if he ever has to listen to the bunch of rubbish that is the wizarding world's perspective on Muggles, and surely anyone in their right mind knows that Divination is just bullshit anyway.
It's also the year he realises there's more to Hogwarts than the library, sort of. He regularly goes to the Charms Club sessions, he wouldn't dream of missing one of the Ravenclaw matches, and, no, he doesn't join the Duelling Club yet, though Flitwick himself says it would do him good. It's as if Ted is forgiven and a trustworthy, responsible student once more, and somehow that makes him want to stay away from Duels for a while, because what if the same thing happened again during the club's sessions? There must be a lot of Slytherins, and Ted doesn't want to fight Bellatrix Black, who is not only a prefect, but also very brutal when it comes to Duelling.
He's heard it be said about her younger sister, too, but Ted dismissed the rumour as being just that. His experience tells him this lazy, arrogant little girl isn't anywhere near as dangerous as her sister. She's not very bright, and she's unbearably sufficient, if her conduct in Herbology is any indication, but it's only fair to agree that she's nicer than her sister. Not that it is remarkable in any way, as Ted has read about Jarveys that were nicer than Bellatrix. At any rate, people of other Houses seem to get on rather well with her. Ted is completely prepared to think that it's because she's not clever enough to be mean, and that's also the reason her zealot of a sister is so accepting of her socialising with practically anyone.
Just because Ted is a Ravenclaw and a genuinely nice person doesn't mean he cannot be a judgemental bastard when affronted with something that doesn't quite meet his criteria.
For the six first months or so, Ted disinterestedly dislikes Andromeda Black, without giving her a second thought.
But Andromeda takes Ancient Runes too.
The situation leads him to dramatically revise his opinion.
She takes Ancient Runes, and it's pretty much obvious since the very beginning that she's not daft, even though she never seems to really listen to what the teacher say, and is instead scribbling away at her parchment. Ted knows because the teacher has commented on it, but whenever the weary Professor demands that she explain what he just said, she looks up and calmly complies. Sometimes she comes up with the kind of honest questions that make Ted want to look further into a subject, unless she's only pointing out how the beautiful demonstration that's just been exposed to them cannot hold if – and Ted always thinks of stones and glass houses, because her remarks never miss their mark.
He comes to the conclusion that he can respect her weirdness. After all, that's what intelligence is for.
*
The problem is that Andromeda loves Runes. As such, it means she's personally offended if anyone dares compromise her place as top of the class. For no particular reason, maybe, except that she's Andromeda Black and that she deeply enjoys Runes. Bellatrix doesn't take Runes.
Bellatrix is also a Prefect, which would be a delight were it not for the fact that she has that Bigger Sister Complex that make her a little overbearing sometimes. Of course, Narcissa's bearing the worst of it – Andromeda has never been gladder she never stepped into the role of the Baby – but there are times when Cissy's not available, and Bella is forcibly reminded that no matter how Andromeda manages to make people forget the fact, she's but a third-year. There are Things she doesn't Know, even things that are Hogwarts-approved.
Hogsmeade, for instance.
It doesn't take more than the first week-end for Andromeda to decide she hates Hogsmeade and would more than gladly set it to the burning flames of sweet, sweet oblivion. Bella hasn't stopped chattering about it since the train ride, and insisted she showed her around, and made her spend the whole afternoon with her cronies at the Three Broomsticks. Which is, if Andromeda cared to face it, exactly what she'd have done had she chosen out of her own free will. Bella, in her enthusiasm, hasn't given her much of a choice.
It is… that is, nothing unpleasant happens; they talk and laugh and have a Butterbeer, and Andromeda isn't bored, but… Bella wanted her to be there. In fact, Bellatrix had expected her to be there, which is far worse. Does she not know that Andromeda knows everyone and could have spent the afternoon in the company of whomever she wanted? And would likely have honoured them this way, if Bella recalled what it implies to be a Black.
Course she doesn't say so, because she knows all too well that Bella would just look blank. Sometimes she ponders that blood has no meaning to her. Well, luckily one of them is keen on history. It makes it hard to listen to Bella's assumptions without correcting her, but if Andromeda set herself to the task, she'd never do anything else. She does, on occasion, remark that Bella's grasp of the situation is somewhat… skewed. Or blunt, depended on times.
For instance, that first Saturday in Hogsmeade, they've somehow got started on the subject of Ted Tonks, the Ravenclaw boy in Andromeda's class who has started a fight with Catchlove, the year before. Maybe it is Andromeda herself who pronounces his name first, when Edmund Wilkes, who obviously hopes to get into Bella's good favours by taking an interest in her younger sister, asks how her new classes are going. She may have mentioned he was in her Runes classes. (Edmund doesn't stand a chance. Bellatrix doesn't date. Andromeda suspects she thinks it's all vaguely obscene, and can't be reconciled with her self-respect as a Black. Andromeda privately thinks her sister is a prude, and wishes Bella would take more time reading on the family history and less honing her Duelling skills.)
Anyway, it soon degenerates from the boy's own stupidity at taking such a Gryffindorkish stance, to his "lack of proper wizarding pride, as a Mudblood." The four of them, Bella and Wilkes and Rodolphus and Avery, loudly proclaim the statement with the authority that comes with personal experience and single-mindedness.
Andromeda has been content in indulging them to their favourite pastime, that is, how non-purebloods are clearly beneath them, don't understand the finely tuned rules of wizardkind, and are less powerful anyway. She has known it was coming, and she's braced herself for another round of misplaced pureblooded pride.
As to herself, she doesn't see the point in repeating over and over again how non-purebloods are inferior in all manners, bemoaning at Dumbledore's folly, but she's been willing to let it pass without a single scathing comment. It's obvious to anyone with two thoughts in their head that non-purebloods are, by definition, not as good as a pureblood, though she finds it mildly amusing when she has to listen to people like Wilkes or Avery. You listen to them, you might think they're Blacks, the way they speak of befouled tradition and new blood upstarts! It isn't as if they have much tradition to begin with. But they're her friends, and she grants them their delusional moments. They aren't actively hurting anyone with it, after all. As long as they're only talking to themselves.
So Muggle-borns don't have a sense of history. Big deal, when so many purebloods are just as ignorant, among whom Bellatrix herself hasn't thought about questioning the French motto of the Black family. As for power, surely the Catchlove/Tonks disaster can't be dismissed that easily?
The Mudblood word is another matter entirely. She can't shake a shudder of distaste every time she hears the word. She has drawn the line, very early on: there would be no use of the loathed word in her presence. Oh, how tacky it is.
She snaps when they call Tonks a Mudblood. She reminds Bella that Mother and Father would not be pleased if they knew she uses the word freely, in a public place, without a modicum of shame. Besides, she adds, would they want Dumbledore to know about their talk? Does Slytherin need the publicity? And Bellatrix Black is a Prefect. She has a role in the school. Behave improperly, be rash, and have that power be taken from you. Do they want their famous Prefect stripped of her badge? Are they stupid? They look properly chastened. It's not often that Andromeda calls them so sharply on their behaviour.
There's a bit of an uncomfortable silence, until Rodolphus points out that it's getting dark, and maybe they should think about being back at Hogwarts in time for the feast.
When they make their way outside, a hand falls on Andromeda's shoulder and she's greeted by a deep male voice. Hi, you're Andromeda Black. She turns around to meet a tall boy with dark blond hair and broad shoulders under the blue pull-over Andromeda is eye-level with. She feels almost foolish at her surprise, because of course she knows him. He's surrounded by an aura of relaxed energy, and healthiness. And you're Brutus Scrimgeour. He replies with a smile tucked neatly at the corner of his mouth, and a nod. Everybody at school knows Brutus Scrimgeour, who's been commenting the Quidditch matches for two years now. Slytherin House is reasonably proud of him, and of course Professor Slughorn positively lavishes him with favours, especially now he's a post-O.W.L.s student.
Mind if I have a word? Andromeda's eyebrows raise, but it's an excuse to leave the gang and its uneasiness, and she'd be foolish to turn down an invitation to talk with Brutus Scrimgeour. Bella must be scowling, but even she knows that the Scrimgeours are a respectable family, at their level, and Brutus is an able wizard in his own right.
They've exchanged a few words before, in the Slytherin common room, may I borrow your quill, have you seen Lucius Malfoy, oops sorry, we won we won we won, but that's it. Andromeda is unsurprised that he knows her name. It doesn't occur to her that she might be.
Brutus' friend just left to go meet a girl, so they're alone at the table, and Andromeda is getting rather curious. She's seized by the blinding hope that he's a messenger from Slughorn, who'd have decided to allow her a Restricted Section pass and maybe even a few tips, because he's a Slytherin and he's a teacher so he must have more than an inkling of what there is to know, but Brutus promptly undeceives her. That was truly a thing of beauty you did, he says, sincerity echoing in his voice. I get enough of this Mudblood bullshit with Malfoy as it is. He grimaces. Don't remind me, she replies with a grimace of her own.
The same image, prim expression and puckered lips and blond hair, must have gone through both their minds, for they both snort, and get on in an enthralling discussion of how annoying Lucius Malfoy is.
Then they have to go to the castle – Halloween and everything – but they greet each other and they sometimes have the time to talk, about anything at all, and Andromeda finds his rattling about Quidditch annoying but still funny, and he accepts that she does things her way only, and that she doesn't care about what anyone say or think but her. He informs her than she really has a superiority complex, which confuses her but not so much that she doesn't get the gist of it, and she mocks his immaturity when he's out of breath and yells his commentary and jumps up and down when what he perceives to be a fine move is acted out on the field. It's nice, Andromeda thinks, to get on so well with someone who is older than her and is not part of Bella's social circle.
*
Why can't she let it go, he thinks in Ancient Runes. He grasps for straws. He has noticed that every time the teacher congratulates him on his translation, a phrase, a nuance he respected, she loudly demands the professor's attention, pointing out a mistake, giving her own translation, sometimes drawing an erudite parallel with other works. Ted doesn't even need to be awarded points for her to react.
She never does that in Herbology, is the main reason he doesn't get it. It's not as if she's a master scholar, after all. Well. Except in Runes, where she quotes and analyses enough theories to make Ted… well, a little annoyed with her and her know-it-all attitude. And when she was told, once, that she was, in fact, wrong, she froze in an attitude of offended dignity. Blacks are drama queens, but don't they have a sense of measure?
Ted concludes that it may have something to do with his bloodline, or lack thereof. Ancient Runes probably isn't meant to be known and practised by first-generation wizards.
Which may or may not explain the wicked grin that breaks on his face when he reads, in the letter containing the results to his end-of-the-year exams, that he's the first in every single class.
Up to and including Ancient Runes.
