Falcon vs. Roo by ficexchange

Merry Christmas, Sarah (rubytuesday)!

Prelude to a Postlude : Intuition

"You're going to marry me, Victoire Weasley."

She looked over at him, idly wondering where exactly that declaration had come from. He stared back at her, grey eyes visible from between the blades of grass. There was a kind of passive certainty in his voice that she wasn't used to. It was alright, though. She was used to the unexpected when it came to him.

It sounded like the party had gotten out of control. Somewhere in the distance she heard a few shrieks. Probably Shreve or Lillie. The days were getting colder, the foliage turning from its usual green.

A red leaf fell from a nearby oak and landed on her chest. She plucked it off and propped her head on her hand.

"What makes you so sure?"

He absentmindedly picked up the red leaf and started twirling it between his fingers. His hair was his favorite turquoise. A beat passed before he shrugged.

"Just a feeling."

Part I : Identity

"Evan is a bloody arse."

Toire sucked on the end of her sugar quill, subtly trying to ignore Izzie, who had flung herself into the chair next to her. She had heard this too many times.

Izzie, who seemed to feel that she had not quite grasped the importance of the matter, abandoned her dramatic pretense and snatched the quill from Toire's hand.

"I mean, it's not as though he goes out of his way to do arse things," she went on, "it's more that he doesn't realize what he's doing is bloody annoying until I have to box his ears in nearly and tell him so." She began to suck on the sugar quill.

"Izzie," said Toire, "it's not that I'm not terribly concerned about whatever new misdemeanor Evander's guilty of, but d'you think you could just break up with the poor boy already?"

She looked shocked.

"Why on earth would I do that?"

"Because I'm fairly sure yours could qualify as an abusive relationship. You hardly give him room to breathe." She wrenched the sugar quill out of her friend's hands and cleaned it off with her wand.

Izzie tucked a black curl behind her ear and fixed Toire with that look she hated so much. "It's not abuse, it's love. All for his own good, really, something you would know nothing about."

Toire made a noncommittal sort of grunt and looked back down at her parchment. Izzie snatched the quill out of her hand once more and, clearly annoyed, said, "Who're you writing the novel to, anyway?"

"David."

"David Bloom?"

"Yes."

"As in David Bloom, the ruggedly handsome cousin of Georgie Chase-Lubitz you had a mad affair with last summer?"

She hit her with the sheet of parchment. "It was not a mad affair."

"What wasn't a mad affair?"

Teddy came strolling into the common room, landing the box he had been carrying right on Toire's letter. The contents inside shifted audibly.

"Your mum," Izzie shot back at him.

"See, that's where you're wrong," he said. "Little did you know I'm the product of a mad affair my mum had with her old schoolmate's brother. Think the bloke's name was Bill."

Toire biffed him across the head.

Teddy ducked. "Ether way, your American insults never cease to amaze me, Izzie."

"You're so full of rubbish," said Toire, albeit laughing. "Going to tell us what's in the box?"

A few moments and a mischievous smile later, he held two envelopes in his hands. "Victoire, Isabel," he said, handing each one to their respective recipients, "I would like to formally invite you to an animal party I'm throwing."

A beat passed.

The two girls looked at each other for a moment, then promptly burst out laughing.

"You – can't – be – serious," choked Izzie through gales of laughter, Toire didn't even attempt to speak.

"Of course I am," Teddy said, looking confused.

Toire finally gained a certain level of control over herself, saying, "Theodore Lupin, you are seventeen years old. You are not throwing an animal party."

"Yes I am," he said defiantly, "And it's not just me. There's the other seventh year boys, too – Sam and Charlie and Evan and Liam – "

"Bloody hell, no. Evan is not in on this genuinely immature plan."

"Like hell he isn't. He's going as a dragon."

"Isn't that a surprise," Izzie muttered, but Toire let out a snort of laughter. "You're dressing up?"

Teddy smiled happily and said, "Yes, as your favorite animal – I'm going to be a roo."

"A roo."

"Yes."

"And what exactly is that?"

"You know," he said, "they're big and brown, hop around Australia."

Izzie raised an eyebrow. "You mean a kangaroo?"

He shook his head and said, "No, they're definitely called roos. It says so in that mad Muggle storybook Rose carts about with her everywhere."

"You don't think, considering it's mad, that it might be a bit daft to trust everything it says?" asked Toire.

"I'll have you know it's a very reliable source. It talks about rabbits and poohs and tiggers and owls in it, as well."

Izzie fell out of her chair laughing. They stared at her.

Teddy gave Toire a knowing look and shook his head. "Mad, that one."

But she wasn't paying attention to either of them anymore.

He seized the letter from her hand and his eyes scanned over it.

"New flavor of the week?" he asked, although there was not much humor in his voice, "David BloomÉthe bloke sounds familiar."

"He's Georgie's cousin," she snapped, snatching it back, "And I'll thank you very much to respect my privacy. And not jump to conclusions. David and I are ancient history – a flash in the pan."

"What does that mean, anyway? Sounds pretty explicit to me."

"Shut up," she said with a wry smile, attempting to bring things back to a less awkward level, "I'm not the one throwing an animal party."

"An animal party?"

Kit had landed at the bottom of the stairs to the girl's dormitory, an unopened bottle of butterbeer in hand.

Teddy smiled again and said, "Exactly. The beginnings of what will become a long and glorious tradition here at Hogwarts. Just to kick off the year with some excitement."

"Who's invited?"

"Well," he said, "There's been some debate amongst the hosts, but we've decided it's only fair to invite all the houses. Sixth and seventh years only, of course."

"That sounds really good," said Kit, "Maybe I could trade an invitation for a butterbeer or something?"

"Keep your refreshment, fair Lady Katherine," he said, handing her an invitation with a flourish, "You seem to be the only person around here with any spirit for the occasion."

She looked over at her friends. Izzie was rolling her eyes, but then said, "Mind if I take you up on that offer? I'm parched."

Kit shrugged and passed her the butterbeer. "You drink that stuff too much."

"It's not like I'll get drunk off it," she shot back, nearly downing the whole thing in one gulp.

Toire and Kit stared at her with disgust. Teddy looked impressed. Izzie looked at the empty bottle and said, "Got anymore?"

"No." Kit said shortly and turned back to the other two, "So tell me about this party."

"You get to dress up as your favorite animal," Toire informed her satirically.

Teddy nodded, "I'm going to be a roo."

"Kangaroo," Izzie corrected him.

He ignored her.

Kit smiled broadly, "We get to dress up? Oh, now I'm really excited. What are you two going as?"

Izzie shrugged.

"Well, you're no fun," she said, jabbing her in the ribs, "Toire, what about you?"

She sighed and said, "I have no idea, really. I kind of stopped having favorite animals when I was around twelve."

"You've got to have some idea," Kit insisted, "Think about it. If you could be any animal in the world right this moment, what would it be?"

"Some type of bird, I suppose."

"An owl?"

"A hawk?"

"A pigeon?"

"Shut up, Izzie. No, owls and hawks are too common. Something more regal, I think. Like a falcon."

Teddy raised his eyebrow. "A falcon?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"WellÉI dunno. I just don't think of you as a falcon."

"What does that have to do with anything? I don't think of you as a kangaroo."

"A roo, Toire."

She ignored him. "But I'd need to figure out a costume for that. You don't suppose that fourth year Ellen Fitzwilliam would let me borrow those – "

"Don't go as a falcon."

Toire looked up.

"Sorry?"

Teddy was staring at her, biting his lip, as though trying to figure out the right words to explain something. "I don't think you should be a falcon. You should be something moreÉyou."

"Like what, a weasel?"

Kit kicked Izzie quiet.

Toire opened her mouth to speak, but he it didn't seem that he was done.

"I mean, falcons are cool and all, but they're a bit scary, actually. Not that you can't be scary when you want to be, mind you, it's just not your thing."

"What are you getting at, Teddy?"

He paused for a moment and then glanced over at Kit and Izzie.

"Nothing. Never mind."

Part II : Impasse

"Maybe it was Izzie."

Toire snorted.

"Are you serious? She's barely an A cup."

"TrueÉmaybe it was Ellie Convey, Raidey's little sister, you know? I heard a few of the third year boys talking about how big her boobs got over the summer and how she was practically popping out of hers – "

"Ugh. D'you think Dennis and Elliot used to talk about us like that?"

"Probably about you. There wouldn't have been much inspiration for conversation on my part."

"Why me?"

"Hello, veela."

"Right. Bloody hell, what if it's George O'Neill?"

"Merlin, not again," Kit groaned, "Remember my sports bra last year?"

"I try not to."

"I haven't worn it since. If he has yours, I promise to personally go out and buy you a knew one."

Toire laughed. "You know, that's why I keep you around. Come one, we have a confrontation to stage. I need it back for the party."

Grimacing, she pulled open a nearby tapestry and both girls ducked into the corridor it led to.

"Argh!"

"What the devil - ?"

They had walked straight into Evan and Izzie.

Evan was practically pinned against the wall, his arms crossed defensively across his chest and his white blonde hair in disarray. Izzie had frozen with her hands in the air, a sure sign of one of her infamous foul moods. Both were very red in the face, and Izzie was glowering, although Toire was sure it was through nothing either of them had done.

"Maybe we'd better go," Kit said softly, slightly apologetic, tugging on her sleeve.

"No, don't bother," Izzie snapped, shooting a death glare at Evan, "We're done. I'll be on my way."

She pushed her way past them and disappeared through the tapestry. Toire couldn't help but notice she looked a bit sick.

A rather awkward silence fell upon the corridor, broken after a moment.

"SoÉhow're the party preparations coming?"

"Don't, Toire," said Evan, evidently very tired.

She sighed and exchanged a knowing glance with Kit. Then she delved straight into it, "What did you do?"

A moment passed, and then, "She saw me talking to Lillie Duke. Convinced we're having some raging love affair now."

"And are you?"

He laughed hollowly. "Surprisingly, no. She's got an essay due on the Battle of Hogwarts and wanted to interview me."

"Because you were one of its celebrated heroes, of course," Kit put in, smiling.

"Don't be thick," Evan said, "Obviously since both my parents were there, not to mention Dad and all. Anyway, Izzie sees us laughing and storms over. You can imagine."

Toire sighed heavily. Izzie had been her first friend at Hogwarts and she loved her, but latelyÉwell, it was hard to know what was going on with her these days.

Part III: Interrogation

Toire shut the door quietly behind her and stood for a moment. The curtains around the furthest bed were drawn, but she knew Izzie couldn't be asleep. The usual mess of books and robes and Skiving Snackboxes she threw on the floor to make room for herself each night were conspicuously absent.

She looked around. It was lucky, really, that no one else was there. She couldn't imagine anything worse than for Shreve or Lourdes to walk in just then, and she and Kit had agreed it would be best if only one of them intervened.

"Izzie?"

A noncommittal grunt came from behind the curtain. Behind it, Izzie sat cross-legged on her bed, under the premise of reading the latest edition of Enchantment Weekly. Premise was the appropriate word here, as the magazine was only open to the table of contents, and Toire had it under good authority that Izzie had been up here alone for a good hour already, even if noises from the bathroom indicated she'd been sick some of the time. Besides, if that hadn't been indication enough, the mascara smudged under her eyes was a dead giveaway.

She sat down and looked at the picture of some good-looking couple she should probably remember the names of. Izzie eyed her suspiciously for a moment before flipping the cover shut.

"So this is it, then?"

"What?"

Toire shrugged and said, "You get lost in the problems of Brunhilda Whatsherface - "

"Romilda Vane - "

" - Instead of facing up to your own issues with Evan? Sorry if it seems harsh, but I'm not seeing much of that Gryffindor bravery here, Iz."

Izzie glared at her. "That's not any of your business."

"If you'd just open your eyes and look around, maybe you could see that you're making it my - "

"It's not. And don't pull any of that ÔYou can tell me anything' crap, because you don't know shit about me and Evan, and it's going to stay like that. Pretty soon there'll be nothing to tell anyway, they'll both be gone and I'll still be stuck here."

She stopped and drew a shaky breath before continuing. Toire was almost afraid to interrupt.

"I know what they'll all be saying about me. Cynical, muggleborn Izzie Freeman. The bitch who drove away the one person she ever really cared about with her hovering and sarcasm and bitterness and slut complexÉ"

She started laughing in a way that alarmed Toire more than anything she'd said.

"What's going on?"

"Don't act like you don't know," Izzie said softly, although there was venom dripping from every syllable. It wasn't venom towards her, though. Toire knew that much, because things were starting to make sense in an altogether alarming way. The butterbeer cravings, the mood swings, the missing bra, the number of times she'd been sick lately.

But surely notÉ

Toire looked at Izzie. A tear was running down her dark cheek.

"You're pregnant."

Part IV : Imitation

"So."

She stared at him, looking for any sign of reaction. His face was unreadable, but Toire could practically feel the blank shock emanating from him. Fortunately, he was usually the type to keep a cool head, and within moments she could very nearly see the rational mind taking over.

"So," Teddy said again. "What do we do now?"

"I don't think we can do anything," she said, biting her lip, "Izzie's in a bad way right now – I don't know what she'd do if I told Evan, since she's made it obvious she doesn't want anyone, especially him, to know. Frankly, I don't want to find out."

"I don't get it. Are you trying to get me to talk to him or something? You're better at that stuff than me."

"No," Toire said, shaking her head, "Didn't I just say there isn't really anything we can do? Except try to get her out of this hole she's dug for herself, that is. And even that you can't really help with. Officially, you don't know."

Teddy scratched the back of his head, ruffling his black hair.

"So why'd you tell me?"

She opened her mouth, fully intending to tell him exactly why. She drew a blank and closed it. Why had she told him? After a moment Toire noticed that he was looking amused and vaguely smug, which made her rather annoyed.

"I don't know," she said finally.

"You don't know."

"No, I don't."

After a moment, Teddy shrugged and said, "Fair enough." She smiled and turned to leave. "I don't suppose you do know why you expect me to just not tell Evan, though?"

Toire stopped and looked at him. "Because I asked you to."

"Because you asked me to."

"And I guess I trust you."

"You trust me."

"Do you have any idea how annoying that is?"

Teddy grinned at her and said, "Oh, but I think you secretly enjoy it."

"Right. And why would that be?" Toire asked flatly.

"Because you trust me enough to do things you ask me to when you don't even know what you're doing yourself, which logically leads me to the conclusion that you trust me more than you trust yourself, thereby trusting and enjoying the things I do to make me trustworthy, such as repeating everything you say."

A heavy silence descended upon the corridor.

"Or maybe," he said, "it's because you're so irresistible I just can't help myself."