Either/Or

Chapter 3: A Common Denominator

"Marcus Flint."

The name itself sent shivers down Arienne's spine. Not the tingling kind of shiver. It was more like the acid-against-skin type, really. It took Arienne a lot of patience (which she wasn't aware that she had) not to spit it out.

Marcus Flint, the bane of every sane girl's existence, stopped in front of Arienne at a rude proximity with three of his friends (Arienne acidly assumed that they were his only friends) not far behind him. She took a quick step back to put some much-needed space between them, but she immediately saw the error in her ways.

She could see him better this way.

"Arienne, Arienne, Arienne..." Marcus repeated her name over and over again and for an agonizing moment, Arienne almost hated her name. "I shall be desolate without you to grace my days."

The words in themselves were sweet, but disgusting and unmistakable leer at her chest made her palm itch to slap him.

"What do you want?" She asked testily. Arienne had very little patience, but she always felt that when she dealt with Marcus like she would a seven-year-old, she found it just a bit more tolerable.

It wasn't the first time this had happened, and Arienne considered herself to be quite the expert on how to deal with idiotic, no-brain pathetics. But from the corner of her eye she could see her brother, Cedric and a couple of other fellow Ravenclaws slowly noticing the "conversation." If she could just get this over with, blood shed wouldn't have to be an option.

But all hopes were dashed when Marcus spoke again in a low voice, designed so that only Arienne could hear what he was about to say. "I want you on your back and me on top of you."

Arienne heard a gasp from beside. Apparently, Cho had also heard what the "charming" Mr. Flint had to say. Unfortunately, that just seemed to fuel the man even more.

"I like your boots, by the way," he said in an awful sneer. It was obvious that he enjoyed in her discomfiture. "It makes your arse look tighter."

"I think that they'd look better shoved up your own arse," Arienne snapped her answer. She knew that she shouldn't have done that. But really...

Enough is enough.

She was about to walk away when Marcus clucked his tongue at her. "Come, come now Arienne... I don't think-"

"You're perfectly, right," Arienne interrupted with a beaming smile that made everyone look at her suspiciously. "You don't think. You, Marcus Flint, have about as much brains as a quaffle. Now if you'll excuse me..."

She made a move to side-step him but the Slytherin quidditch captain was too quick for her.

"What is it going to take for you to stop?" The annoyance dripped from every word that came out of her mouth. If only Flint would cooperate just a little. When hell freezes over, was the immediate thought. She could goad him a bit more, but the clenched fists of her "rescuers" made her think twice. The last thing she bloody needed was a school massacre over her.

Marcus gave her a smug look before delivering his pronouncement. "I won't stop. And I'm not going to stop until you... are... mine."

"I'm not an object and I don't belong to anyone." Then with as much venom as she could muster, Arienne added. "So... fuck... off."

Hah! Take that, she thought triumphantly. Never cross a Ravenclaw in verbal sparing unless you want to come out with the wounds.

The only thing she could think of to cap everything off perfectly would be a dramatic exit. And this was as good a time as any.

Arienne quickly turned on her heel only to collide into something black... something hard... and definitely very, very broad.

Fate really had it in for Arienne Jocelyn Davies. She muttered a curse as she peeled herself off the one and only...

"Oliver!" Arienne almost cringed at the breathless way she had said her name. She couldn't bring herself to look at him. That would be too painful. Instead, she stared at his chest (he had definitely grown--taller--over the years) like it was the most fascinating thing in the whole wide world. Well, now that she thought about it...

What the hell was happening to her? Hadn't she made a vow to completely forget that Oliver Wood had ever existed in her life? Think of something else, for Merlin's sake! Think of anything... think of the sky!

Oliver tilted his head, willing Arienne to look up. It felt like an eternity since he had last seen her and so far it was as if he was putting together a jigsaw puzzle--only to be completed with just one look from her. To be able to see his reflection in her eyes... to know with just one look that even though they were now world's apart--they were still the best of friends.

But from the looks of it, it didn't appear like she was going to be looking up any time soon. And he knew why, Oliver heard the little "conversation" between Arienne and his least favorite person (even beating Professor Snape--and that's saying a lot) who was standing in front of him, with his only-a-mother-could-love face glaring at him. The look on his face was as clear as day.

Hands off.

"Flint," Oliver said with a curt nod. Out of their own accord, his hands balled into fists and followed by an overwhelming need to give the guy an early Christmas present a big, black, circle around his left eye.

"Wood."

Even without witnessing the exchange, Arienne could sense the tension growing between the two mortal enemies. Slowly, she tilted her head a small degree until she found herself staring at his chin. It was the same, strong, old chin that she remembered, except now there was the tiniest hint of stubble.

For a moment, Arienne wondered what it would be like should she run her fingertips along the firm line of his jaw. She shook her head suddenly, inadvertently drawing attention to herself.

The sky, the sky, the sky...

It wasn't working... and she had to look up sometime, right? Taking a deep breath, Arienne made her decision.

Oliver look down the moment he felt her move and suddenly, Oliver found himself--staring at himself. His reflection in deep pools of blue...

"Hey..."

Arienne could only stare.

Then she smiled.

She couldn't help it. Oliver had always been like that ever since she could remember. Always grasping for words... She had always found that to be endearing. And still did. Damn the way things never change.

"Hey," she answered back at him. "So... what's up?"

Oliver had to wince. She just had to remind him of... what a neglectful friend he had been since... they last talked. But in spite of that, it somewhat buoyed him a bit, knowing that after everything, they could still be friends.

"Nothing much," he answered, a smile now on his face. "I was sitting over there a while ago when I saw you." At this he turned his gaze at the still-glaring Marcus Flint. "You were looking decidedly lacking in any intelligent conversation, I figured I could offer you some."

Wow, Arienne thought. Maybe he didn't grasp for words as much as he did before. Oliver Wood had definitely become smoother over the years. Arienne was sorry she missed seeing it happen.

"Why thank you, Mr. Wood." Arienne turned around and gave the other quidditch captain (three guess which one... you'll probably get it) a pointed look. "How very perceptive of you."

The ice-cold blast that she received from Marcus Flint before he left, finally gave Arienne the kind of shivers that his name alone couldn't. But that didn't stop her from feeling relieved that he had finally left. He had been unusually persistent this time around, and though she didn't want to admit then... she had been a little worried.

Arienne smiled up at Oliver over their shared triumph. It took exactly five seconds before she felt her face begin to crumble.

Her predicament (if one could call it that) was laughable really. Who would have thought that the girl who considered quidditch as the biggest waste of time would just so happen to be related to two Hogwarts quidditch captains, harassed by another and in love with the last. Wait... was in love, rather...

She could feel it all over again. Her heart was beating so fast she could hear it echoing through in her ears. Dear Merlin, was he gorgeous.

Turn around and never look back...

But her traitorous feet wouldn't move and her mind went blank. Running away was definitely not an option anymore. What was then?

Just don't say a word... not a single word...

"So, how have you been?" Oliver asked, his perfect face the epitome of polite curiosity.

Not one word...

"Good... fine... perfectly fine. Well, not really perfectly fine--just--good. Yeah... perfectly fine..." Arienne had to bite her tongue... half in prevention from further rambling and half in punishment for the damage already done.

Easier said than done. Obviously.

Oliver raised his eyebrows in wonder. Something was bothering her, but with Flint gone, he could hardly guess. She was nervous and flustered about something, yet continued to smile up at him. This made him feel a bit guilty (along with so many other things, it now seemed). They had always been able to read everything about each other and now, he couldn't read a single thing about her at all. As far as he could tell, Arienne was preoccupied with something. What that something was--he had no idea.

Now, wasn't that helpful?

Arienne almost flinched when, for a moment, she saw concern flash across Oliver's face. Though she had thought it to be impossible, her heart began to beat even faster. And as if that wasn't enough, it had started to ache.

It's happening all over again, Arienne thought desperately. We haven't spoken in so long and yet here I am. Falling already...

But I won't!

Her brain had shouted the three words with such conviction that she was almost amazed that the others hadn't heard it as well. But she needed that conviction. She needed that strength. Because if she fell for him now--he'd just break her later. And Arienne didn't want to hate him ever.

Fortunately, this was just one conversation. In a little while, she would be on her way to spending the Christmas holidays with her mother and little sister (as Roger was going to stay over with their cousin Cedric and his family). Then maybe, she could forget. Forget that any of this had ever happened, forget that they ever had this conversation, forget that she had seen him smile, seen him look at her with concern...

But Oliver was still looking at her now. And Arienne was more than aware that she could melt at any moment. She had to do something... to protect herself.

Apathy, she thought suddenly. The opposite of love is not hate, but apathy.

To not feel anything... the idea sounded heavenly to her. Just do everything impersonally. Right.

"So..." Oliver ventured uncertainly.

Arienne smiled at him brightly. "Seriously, Oliver. After all these years, I think that we can cut the small talk, don't you?" Arienne found it odd that Oliver could be so smooth one minute and be so--Oliver--the next. "Time has changed you, though. You've grown bigger."

Bigger? Arienne could feel her face heating up.

"Taller," she hastily amended, her voice a pitiful squeak.

Oliver smiled knowingly. "I can say the same about you... the girl who thought that she was going to remain five feet tall her whole entire life."

"It's the heels," she answered with mock gravity, as if she were confessing an awful sin. "But I did grow more than the hoped-for couple of inches, thank you very much for noticing."

"Yeah?" Oliver's smile broadened and there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I heard just recently that your heels do more than just make you look taller..."

"Bastard!" Arienne shouted, a grin on her face. Before she realized what she was doing--the deed was already done. The horrified look on her face only made Oliver laugh out loud.

She had whacked him on the arm.

Now this was the Arienne that he remembered. The jokes, the arm whacking and her big, bright smile showing off the teeth she always used to complain about (they were no longer slightly crooked like they used to be and Oliver missed them somewhat)... just the way he remembered it.

Suddenly, standing in front of Arienne's aghast face, Oliver felt something weird. Something like... contentment. He felt like he could just spend the rest of his life staring at her. Well, not the rest of his life... there were, of course, other things. Like, erm, quidditch! Right, quidditch. The greatest sport in the world...

"That's going to leave a mark, you know."

Oliver snapped out of his daze and turned around to face Arienne's brother, Roger. They had never become as close as Oliver and Arienne had been, but they were friends, nonetheless. "Your sister has the strength of an ox."

"Try ten!" Roger joked as he stood beside his sister who, at the moment, was probably looking around for a noose to tie around his neck. "By the way, how's Harry? He took quite a tumble during your last game."

Oliver sobered at that. "Yeah, he's all right now. A bit depressed about what happened, you know."

"Well, it isn't his fault," Arienne said, coming to the defense of someone she hardly even knew. Okay, fine, everyone knew Harry Potter. But, that was obviously beside the point. "It was those stupid dementors. I'd rather have Sirius Black after me than any of those...things." The word "things" was said with such disgust that the boys had to hide their smiles.

"Harry Potter," Cho mused. "He sort of reminds me of my little cousin. I'm thinking it's because of the messy hair."

She and Arienne shared a smile. That was certainly a head full of hair, Harry Potter had.

"I'm still offering a rematch if you're interested, Wood."

Arienne felt like a mum when pride flushed through her. Cedric was always the type to always think about other people either than himself.

Oliver shook his head good-naturedly and replied. "I said it before and I'll say it again, Hufflepuff won fair and square, Cedric." He grinned sheepishly then. "But I won't deny that I thought that we should have won anyway."

Quidditch. Again. Arienne rolled her eyes. "I don't care who wins. It's a game, is all... just a game."

Arienne was a firm believer that one could and should learn something new everyday. For example, from the appalled looks that she was receiving, one thing was obvious. Never get between a man and his sport. Actually, it was something she knew from before but nevertheless, needed constant reminder of.

"Well, so long as Slytherin doesn't win, right?" She tried to sound cheerful, but saying Slytherin left her mouth with a bitter taste.

Arienne noticed a frown on Oliver's smooth forehead. "You and Marcus Flint. Is there something going on between the two of you?"

But before she could even think of what to say, her brother took the liberty of answering for her. "No way," Roger exclaimed, blatantly scoffing at the idea. "He's a bloody pain in the arse who doesn't understand simple words like 'no' and 'go away'."

Oliver looked at Arienne questioningly, and she fought the urge to look away. That was the truth... somewhat...

"If he bothers again," he said, his voice firm. "You should tell me." Cedric and Roger immediately nodded their heads in agreement.

Arienne rolled her eyes. "I can take care of myself, you know. I am no damsel in distress... no matter what you try to convince yourselves."

At that precise moment, an image came to mind that made her smile. Oliver Wood, her knight in shining armor, horse and all. But without warning the vision suddenly changed and Arienne was no longer smiling. Oliver Wood, Hogwarts quidditch captain in his quidditch robes, broom and all. Quidditch, to Arienne, was the most bitter-tasting word of all.

Oliver, who was unaware to all this, was about to insist on his help again when Cho suddenly spoke up.

"The carriages are here."

Sure enough, there they were, hundreds upon hundreds of carriages upon carriages moving towards them, smoothly gliding over snow and ice. It was little time before the carriages stopped in front of Hogwarts and students scrambled for seats.

"Please line up in an orderly fashion! Don't rush! There are seats for everyone! Six people per carriage!"

The group shared a small smile. Percy "Head Boy" Weasley to the Rescue. Unfortunately, for all his organizing tactics, no one seemed to be listening to a single word Percy was bellowing. Some students were frantically searching for seats, while some (Slytherins, Arienne was quick to notice) were pushing and shoving the first years just for some laughs.

Arienne felt a small tap on her back and turned around. "Oh, Penny, I thought that you were with Percy."

Penelope Clearwater, one of her closest friends smiled at her. Her cheeks were flushed as if she had run a great distance. "Well, I was," she admitted slowly, as she gasped for breath--more evidence that she had in fact ran. "But then Percy shooed me away. He said that he could do it all himself."

"Do what? Make a fool of himself?"

"Yes, he had always been capable of doing such."

Oliver was always in awe of the Weasley twins' timing. Wherever there was joke to be had, they were there. Especially if the joke was about Percy.

Penny blushed. "Well, it did seem a bit pointless for both of us to be screaming ourselves hoarse. Especially if no one's listening."

Fred shot her a sympathetic look. "It's only Percy who's making it seem pointless."

"The two of you are really hard on Percy, you know that?" Odd that her voice lacked force when she said those words.

"Hard on Percy?" George looked like he could hardly believe his ears. "No one's harder on Percy than Percy himself."

"Yeah, he's real hard," Fred gave his twin a decidedly malicious wink. "Especially in the mornings, when he's just-"

Before he could say another word, Roger and Cedric immediately greeted them and Cedric introduced Cho to them. Oliver was quick to notice that Fred and George were a tad aloof when it came to Cedric. Yup, it was going to take some time for the Gryffindor team get over that defeat. But Cedric was a sport and he understood.

"I'm not sure if you've met," Oliver found himself saying. "Arienne these two proverbial troublemakers are Fred and George Weasley. Boys, this is Arienne Davies, Roger's older sister and my friend..."

"And the love of your life." George helpfully supplied. "The keeper of the key to your heart and soul... the one that makes you forget how to tie your shoes and breathe through your nose..."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Most likely to strangle you if you don't shut up?"

"I'm certain that Arienne can take a joke or two." Fred tilted his head towards Oliver. "It's this guy that doesn't have any sense of humor. Hardly ever laughs, him..."

"I only laugh when the joke's funny."

George widened his eyes in disbelief and suddenly grabbed a handful of his shirt that as if there he felt some pain in his heart. It was inevitable that Fred joined in the "action."

"Ouch, Wood!" George gasped. "You really know how to hurt a guy..."

Ignore them," Oliver suggested as the twins slowly crumpled on the cold ground and began to shake. "Never trust anyone who can't decide if they should die of a heart attack or an epileptic seizure... especially, if they're just pretending."

Arienne wasn't so sure. She had always watched the twins from afar and laughed at their well-known and much-anticipated antics. "They can't be that bad..." she replied, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

At that the twins jumped up and Fred turned to face Arienne. "Bad? Dear madam, we are angelic!"

It took all of Oliver's control not to laugh out loud. Angels. His foot.

But Arienne didn't bother holding anything back. "Angels?" she gasped between giggles that made the others grin. Arienne's laughter had always been infectious. "I am more likely to be a professional quidditch player than the two of you are at being angels."

"Ah, a quidditch-hater, are we?" George stated as he looked from Oliver to Arienne. Interesting...

Arienne sighed. "I don't hate the sport... I just don't care for quidditch." As much as that was the half-truth, she wished that she could say the same about their team captain. Perhaps, with a little time, she could. She quickly added, "I'm not about to make signs that say 'Down with Quidditch' or 'Stuff the Snitch' and start a picket line in the pitch. For your information, I happen to watch quidditch matches."

"How come I've never seen you?" The wonder of obvious in Oliver's voice and Arienne had to keep herself from rolling her eyes.

As if it were a day meant for eye-rolling, Fred rolled his. "Really, Wood. Do you know how oblivious you are to other things when you're playing quidditch? Snape could be dancing in circles around you naked except for a Gryffindor tie and you wouldn't even notice."

"I don't think I'd want to," Oliver answered flatly.

"Well, I know for a fact that she watches all the Ravenclaw matches," Penelope waded in for the defense of her friend. That and she was aware that everyone needed something else on their minds aside from Snape... uh...

Arienne nodded in full agreement. "Besides," she said in a sly voice, going in for the kill. "They're the only matches worth watching."

And for the first time since the moment they were born, Fred And George Weasley were rendered speechless. Oliver knew that he was going to remember the twin looks on their faces for as long as he lived.

George was the first to recover. He looked at Arienne with unhidden admiration. "Wow, I didn't even see that coming."

Fred let out a big grin. "I'll tell you what, Ari... May I call you Ari?"

"No."

"I'll tell you what Arienne," Fred repeated, unfazed. "How about we make a small wager?"

"Wager?" Arienne couldn't conceal the interest in her voice. "What kind of wager are we talking about?"

"As you may know a certain match between your house, Ravenclaw and our house, Gryffindor, a little after the Christmas holidays. The bet is, for whichever house wins, the loser, either you or the two of us, will have to do whatever the winner says."

Arienne couldn't help but be a little worried of the mischievous glint in his eyes. But that didn't stop adventurous side of her from agreeing. But not before she made her conditions. "Before I agree on anything, we're going to have to make a few rules." She stated, ignoring the warning looks that her friends and brother were giving her.

"Leave it to a Ravenclaw to take all the fun out of it and set the rules," George sighed. "Fine, come out with them, then."

"When you mean whatever, we do not mean the following," She lifted her hand and started ticking them off one by one. "Nothing lewd, nothing malicious, nothing that will involve death--immediate or otherwise--nothing that involves getting anyone else besides us into trouble and even then, nothing that involves us getting expelled and last but not the least nothing that involves me having to fly above fifty feet."

"Deal," the twins said in unison.

Handshakes were then made to seal the bargain in front of an audience of gaping mouths.

"Are you insane?" Oliver and Roger said at the same time.

Arienne shrugged her shoulders and the motion made her long, curly hair bounce. "Probably. But just a little." Then she added in what she hoped was a comforting voice, "Nothing to be calling St. Mungo's about."

"I think there's no harm," Penny put in. "Arienne made some very good stipulations on her part."

Oliver sighed in exasperation. "I know these two," he said, rudely pointing his finger at the twins who were presently engaged in rapid conversation. "They can find loopholes in anything. Who knows what they can make you do."

Arienne smiled. "I'm surprised at the two of you," she shook her head, biting on her lower lip to stop from laughing. "Both of you are so sure that I'm going to lose. That would mean that you, Oliver, are confident that you're going to win. And you, Roger, are certain that you're going to lose..."

Roger shook his head in denial. "It isn't that. It's just that..."

"Oh, so now you think that Oliver's going to lose?"

Oliver smiled. He knew what Arienne was doing. "Stop trying to change the topic," he scolded her lightly, then relented. "However, there doesn't seem to be anything that we can do about it."

Just when Arienne was about to nod in accord to what Oliver said, someone behind her shouted.

"Oi, Davies!"

She and Roger turned around at the same time. Samuel Thompson, a Ravenclaw seventh year and a chaser for the house team, was jogging towards them with his girlfriend Katarina John, who was also a fellow Ravenclaw.

While Kat, Penny, Cho and Arienne shared a smile, Sam turned to Roger. "We already have a carriage. Do the two of you want to come with us?" He offered graciously. "You, too, Cho and Ced."

Roger nodded immediately as did Cedric and Cho. "Of course, thanks for asking," he replied, then turned to his sister, waiting for her acceptance.

Should she accept? Arienne pretended to be preoccupied with one of her curls. There were two possibilities that she knew of. First, she could go with Kat and Sam and the others, say goodbye to Oliver and go back to trying to pretend that he didn't exist. On the other hand, if she didn't accept, Oliver would undoubtedly offer to ride with her--wherever that would be--then as soon as they reached Hogsmeade Station, she'd bid farewell to Oliver and begin trying to pretend that he didn't exist from there.

Choices, choices, choices.

Mentally, she clasped her hands together and began fervently praying. A sign, she thought. Just give me any sign and I'll be eternally grateful for the rest of my life.

And just to prove that God did, in fact, have a sense of humor--he sent Marlena Saunders.

"Did I just hear someone say that they had room in their carriage?"

Arienne almost laughed out loud at the vicious stare that her brother was giving her, his dark brown eyes, leveling on her. And she knew exactly why. Marlena to Roger was like carbon dioxide to man. Always there though not needed--and lethal in large doses. She was like the black-as-charcoal stuff on at the bottom of the pan that no matter how hard you try to scrub it off--it just won't budge. And the list of analogies had no end. Of course they only applied to Roger... or some other unsuspecting male.

Arienne wasn't sure if that was true, actually. She found Marlena tolerable and useful for some things... like naming colors such as plum and spells to make your eyes the same color as your clothes, and summer holiday stories about this fling and that (although yet to be proven true). She was what her mother would call a "smart cookie." She got what she wanted. However she had yet to get what Roger referred to as "clutches" on her brother.

"Er... yeah," Kat said slowly, as if still debating upon whether or not to tell her. She shot a worried look at Roger before she added, "I think we have some room in our carriage--that is if Arienne says that she's coming along with us."

It took about a split second before Arienne felt twin looks of pleading from both Roger and Marlena. It was a difficult decision. Face the wrath of her beloved brother or... what was there to regret in not spending a few more moments with Oliver?

"You can come with us Marlena, if you are so inclined."

Arienne couldn't stop herself from staring at Oliver. He probably thought that he was doing her brother a favor by offering Marlena a ride on whichever conveyance he was going to take. But Oliver was doing her no favor.

None at all, she thought as she watched Marlena take in everything about Oliver. There was an almost calculating way in how she was eyeing him. Her eyes narrowed as she started from the top and worked her way down. She could see her listing all his pros and cons. It was unbearable. She would rather see about a thousand naked women dancing in front Oliver than see the way Marlena was intently gazing at him.

Well... provided they were ugly women...

Impersonal. How in the world was she supposed to keep everything impersonal? An hour had hardly gone by and her she was, wishing that some other person didn't exist. Right, impersonal...

Roger was sure that his sister wasn't aware that she had turned a peculiar shade of violet. She had probably stopped breathing while he wasn't looking. And although he couldn't quite see it, he was sure it was there--a tinge of green. He wasn't stupid. And he wasn't blind either. His sister might be stupid. And Oliver was definitely stupid and blind.

He sighed to himself. It is a far, far better thing...

"Marlena," He said through gritted teeth that threatened to give way under the intense pressure. Then he forced the words out, one by one. "Why don't you join us?"

Arienne sucked in air like a snake swallowed an egg, little by little. She hadn't even known that she had held her breath in. "What?" she asked. She hadn't meant to sound so disbelieving, but she really couldn't believe it.

Roger turned to his sister. A far better thing, he reminded himself patiently. "Why don't you go with Oliver instead and Marlena can stay with us? When you think about it, you're more comfortable with Oliver than Marlena is..."

And as if today were not only a day of eye-rolling but also of great irony, Marlena shook her head. "I wouldn't dream of coming between two siblings," she said declining Roger's invitation, to the shock of everyone--or at least everyone who knew. "I'll be just fine if I stay with Oliver here."

Arienne didn't know what to do. Roger had provided for the perfect excuse. It didn't look like she wanted to be with Oliver, but that it just so happened that they had to be together. But now Marlena wasn't proving to be very useful. And there was nothing Arienne could do about it. She couldn't fight it out with the girl, because that would only arouse suspicion. She should have just turned away! After giving herself a mental kick, she turned to Oliver. She was going to have to say her farewell now.

"Oh, so you're coming with us, Marlena?" Penelope suddenly said. "I just assumed that Oliver would be riding with Percy and me."

"Oh, of course. With you and your boyfriend..."

"And the twins." Penelope nodded her head towards the pair of red heads that were bobbing up and down--planning the downfall of Arienne, no doubt.

Marlena paled. "The twins?"

"Right, the twins," Penelope replied with deceptive innocence. "You know, the Weasley twins?"

Arienne almost smiled. She had never thought of using The Weasley twins as a threat to Marlena, but now that she thought about it, it was perfect. Never in a million years could she imagine Marlena Saunders sharing anything with the Weasley twins. No, not ultra-dame, super-poised Marlena...

Penelope looked directly at her, then. With a subtle inclination of her head towards Oliver, Arienne understood what she was saying without having to ask out loud.

You're going to have do some bean spilling later... And you owe me one.

"Maybe I shall go with you Roger," she said, brushing back her golden hair off her forehead with her regal hand. "After all, we are close."

Arienne watched her brother swallow hard. "Oh, Roger," she said before launching herself into his arms. "I love you so much!" She hadn't expected him to say anything back to her. Younger brothers never did, but today was a day of ironies.

"I love you, too." He whispered. "And be happy."

Arienne looked at him oddly. What was that supposed to mean? She was happy enough... right? "I might not see you in the train," she told him. "You already have my gift, right?"

Roger nodded. He and the rest of their group were walking away, and she felt Penelope tug on her sleeve.

"Tell mum Merry Christmas for me, all right?" Roger requested over his shoulder.

"Yes!"

Arienne turned around to find Oliver looking down at her. "Isn't your brother spending Christmas with you?"

"No," she answered, shaking her head a little sadly. "He's staying with Cedric over the holidays. Mum's on some sort of tour... for her new book, you know. I'm going to catch up with her and Alionna then we're going to spend our Christmas together."

They had started walking side by side when Oliver spoke again. "So you won't be spending Christmas at home either?"

"Nope. We're spending it in Altenaia."

Oliver stopped in his tracks. "You, too?"