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Chapter 1 : ONE: Melting Ice Queens
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CI made by the wonderful ailhsa@tda <3
ONE: MELTING ICE QUEENS
"I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU HUG ME ONE MORE TIME, ALICE, I WILL SHOVE YOUR FUCKING POTIONS ESSAY UP YOUR FUCKING ARSE."
Common knowledge declared that anyone 'unfortunate' enough to belong to the house of Hufflepuff had the short end of the stick. Dim, naive and, ironically enough, renowned for being eager little beavers, Hufflepuffs were at the bottom of the food chain - nothing more than poor souls to pity. Of course, common knowledge tended to wither away when it encountered the girls in the Hufflepuff Dormitory 2.6A.
"I'm just being nice," the hugger in question, one Alice Longbottom, pouted and lowered her arms. "Why won't you let me love you?"
"I don't care about how nice you want to be. Go and love a fucking cactus," the girl sitting next to her spat. "I hope it fucking hurts."
"It's just a hug."
"I don't like hugs. Or people. They sicken me."
From where she languished on the floor, another girl laughed. Tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear as she glanced up from her Transfiguration textbook, Nova said fondly, "Always a charmer, aren't you, Dahlia? But don't worry, I feel the same. People are irrelevant."
It was a motto the Hufflepuff had lived by since the start of her second year and had since proved to be worth its while. While most of Hogwarts sometimes scorned those who sported yellow trimmings on their robes, few dared to do the same with Nova Hale, whose deadly looks and natural bitch face warned of possible injuries if they overstepped their boundaries. Consequently, she was mostly left alone to mingle with the few people in the castle that she bothered with, usually away from the drama that dominated the gossip.
Alice was almost her opposite. "People can't be irrelevant, Nova," she chided. "I'm pretty sure it's prejudiced to say so."
"No one gives a fucking shit about prejudice," Dahlia said helpfully. "This is the Golden Age of the wizarding world. Prejudice doesn't exist." There was a note of sarcasm in her voice as she dropped back onto her bed with the ease of someone who did so often.
"I'm not prejudiced," Nova said.
"She's just a bitch," added Dahlia.
Returning to her book, the bitch in question made a noise of appreciation and flippantly raised a hand to express her agreement. The gesture made Alice roll her eyes.
"You're not a bitch. You're just. . . a little antisocial. If you were a bitch, I probably wouldn't be friends with you."
"Always a sweetheart, Alice. That's why you're my favourite."
Such interactions were common with the six girls of Dormitory 2.6A. They were the sort of people who should've clashed heads all the time, but their strong personalities had managed to find a state of harmony where the different personas could coexist comfortably. Brutal honesty was key to their friendship, a staple piece that meant that they rarely found themselves in a serious argument. Why sugarcoat words when they were supposed to be secure enough in their friendship to not take offence at harmless banter? It eradicated the bad habit of beating around the bush; it made life a lot easier.
Of course, the idea didn't sit well with everyone. First years in particular were always shocked when they first heard Dahlia screech something along the lines of "I DON'T GIVE A FUCKING SHIT ABOUT THAT, YOU FUCKING WANKER" to a perfectly harmless statement and her friends took it with nothing more than laughter and a response that would have their parents washing their mouths out with soap. But after a while, it was simply accepted; the girls of Dormitory 2.6A had established a strange but secure friendship. It was the same reason why no one had batted an eyelid when Nova had dragged her bed from Dormitory 2.2B to Dormitory 2.2A back in second year when she finally decided she "wasn't going to suffer in the presence of the rest of the brainless bitches in our year." It was now something of an annual ritual for her to be seen, wand in hand, directing a bed across the corridor on the first night back.
Nova looked up to see Alice give up on trying to hug Dahlia for the time being and content herself with fixing her bed instead. She was something of a neat freak and took great pleasure in a pristine environment. As she fluffed up her last pillow, she sighed happily.
"You have no idea how good that makes me feel," she said. "I cannot stand dirt, it makes me sick."
"Don't lie, Alice, you fancy the pants off Damien Nott." Nova smirked to annoy her for the hell of it.
"You're a tramp," she hissed in response, face scrunching up at the thought of the fourth year Slytherin. Though she made a point of not judging others, it was almost impossible not to do so with Nott - the lad was known throughout Hogwarts for his tendency to shower once a week and his determination to ignore the pleas of his friends to at least wear some cologne.
"Now, now, Longbottom," Dahlia chimed in. "It sounds to me like you're the one that's now discriminating. Just because Nott is the primitive type doesn't mean he doesn't have a heart."
"I hate you."
"Thanks, love," she drawled. "Made me day, that did."
The next fifteen minutes wore on in a similar fashion interspersed with moments of amiable silence. Alice used the time to loudly write a letter home to her mum while Dahlia stared at the canopy of her bed, waxing poetic about the food she intended to eat later on; Nova told them both to shut the fuck up since she was trying to memorise the principles of human transfiguration. She had a test on it later that day and she wasn't the type that accepted anything under 90%.
Eventually, lunch called their names and they abandoned their activities for the food that Dahlia had so lovingly described in excruciating detail. Sliding their robes back over their heads, they left the common room, muttering to each other about whether the others would be at the Great Hall yet, and soon found themselves entering the room itself. As it turned out, the other half of their group were already sat at their usual spot, their bags beside them on the benches to reserve the spaces.
"Is there any shepherd's pie?" Nova asked, pushing a bag off her seat. "Because Dahlia was going on and on about it in the dorm."
Her best friend, Reagan, playfully scowled and bent down to right her bag. She was about to nod in confirmation, but Dahlia had already caught sight of the desired dish and leapt forward with a triumphant cry.
"Shepherd's fucking pie," she crowed. Helping herself to a generous slice, she smugly dug into her lunch with the grace of an animal.
Nova scrunched her nose up in disdain. "You are so classy."
In response, Dahlia stretched her mouth into a sickeningly wide smile around the food in it. "I am, aren't I?"
She retched in disgust.
The group soon dissolved into their usual inane chatter, talking about anything and everything as they ate their food. Their conversation melted into the cacaphony that usually filled the Great Hall, one which settled into the background as a warm buzz, something to occupy their ears in the rare moments they were silent. Such instances were always few and far between since all six of them had something to say more often than not - whether it was a simple opinion they had (one that extended beyond Dahlia's delightful "Oh, if only I could find a fuck to give") or a recount of something that had occurred in one of their lessons.
Other than the brash Dahlia and the sweet Alice, their sextet also consisted of Reagan Davies, Nala Soyinka and Cassidy Greengrass. The latter was the black sheep in a family brimming with Slytherins; where they were prepared to step on throats to get their way, Cass took pride in achieving her goals by actually working for them. Reagan Davies seemed to be an unremarkable girl at first glance whose most defining feature was her short stature - she was rumoured to have an ancestor who was part elf - but she was fiercely loyal and had an impressive arsenal of sarcastic comments. Meanwhile, Nala was probably closest to Alice in her personality: loyal, somewhat naive and too dreamy for her own good.
Then, there was, of course, Nova. Her notoriously expressionless face actually broke out into a smile multiple times when with her friends despite the reputation that preceded her. Few knew that she was actually one of the more soft-hearted ones of the group, a bit of a closet romantic, even if she was the last person you'd expect to lose herself in an idle daydream about a boy in one of those snatches of serene silence they were now submerged in. . .
A boy like Albus Potter, for example.
Unaware that she was accidentally staring at him, she drifted through thoughts of his messy dark hair and blazing jade eyes and that delicious half-smile he reserved for whatever amused him. Albus Potter was just one of those boys that people fancied, even if they were Hufflepuff's Ice Queen. James Potter's messy manbun and sexy stubble may have had girls swooning left, right and centre, but Albus had a certain sharpness to him that had Nova's heart racing in the unmistakeable sign of a crush.
She had a fucking crush on Albus Potter.
So there she was: idly staring at no spot in particular as she recalled the way the veins in his arms had been so prominent earlier that day in History of Magic when she was suddenly snapped out of her day dream. She quickly twisted in her seat, but the damage was done: Albus Potter had just caught her looking at him. And he'd smiled.
Albus Potter had smiled at her.
She had been staring at him.
"Why the fuck are you blushing?" Dahlia cut into her thoughts with the sort of disgusted fascination people usually reserved for the likes of flesh-eating slugs or blast-ended skrewts when she spotted the blood creeping into Nova's cheeks.
"Blushing?" Nala exclaimed excitedly, throwing down her fork as she twisted around to scrutinise her. She began to wiggle her eyebrows suggestively. "Why are you blushing, Nova? Huh? Huhhh?"
Willing the furious heat in her cheeks to go away, she raised an eyebrow and calmly said, "I'm not blushing."
Apparently, her friends begged to differ.
"Er, yeah, you are," Nala scoffed.
"We all have eyes, Nova-"
"That looks like a blush to me!"
"Aw, how cute-"
"She's embarrassed and shy-"
"Fucking tell us-"
"NOVA FUCKING HALE IS-"
"A BLUSHER. BLUSH! BLUSH BLUSH BLUUUUUUSH."
"Shut the fuck up," she hissed as one of them hit a falsetto. Far from being daunted by her response, they only burst into laughter, causing her eyes to fall into slits. "You're all insufferable bastards, you know that, right?"
"We're only joking." Cassidy grinned.
"We're not joking," Dahlia immediately refuted.
When Nova did nothing but glare at them furiously, Alice and Reagan seemed to take pity on her. Clearing her throat loudly, Alice cut across the giggles of the three 'traitors' (as Nova now mentally dubbed them).
"Guys, let's leave her alone now. So, her cheeks were red. There's plenty of reasons for that."
"Yeah, I mean, it is pretty hot inside," Reagan agreed. Gesturing to Cass' rosy cheeks, she added, "Look at her. Her cheeks are so fucking red, you'd think she has sunburn."
"Well, that's not offensive."
"It's not my fault you look like someone's smacked you half the time." She shrugged with a wicked glint in her eyes.
Nova took the opportunity to divert the attention away from herself. "That's because she has been smacked most of the time - by angry ex-girlfriends avenging their dead relationships. You're such a homewrecker, Greengrass. Honestly."
By their sixth year, Cassidy had heard such teases a million times so she did nothing more than roll her eyes and pointedly shovel a forkful of food into her mouth.
"Always slagging it up, aren't you?" came Dahlia's drawl.
Reagan jumped in. "Oh, how I love our group. It's funny how we legit have the opposite ends of the spectrum here: Hufflepuff's slag-" She ever so kindly gestured Cassidy. "-and Hufflepuff's sweetheart." Here, she indicated Alice whose kind face broke out into a smile at the term.
Nala was not nearly as happy. "Why can't I be Hufflepuff's sweetheart? I'm nice to everyone!"
"Because you're Hufflepuff's arsehole."
"Whatever. I make a fantastic arsehole."
"No, you fucking don't. You're a hairy arsehole."
"Why the fuck are we talking about hairy arseholes?" Nova cut in half-exasperatedly. "We're at lunch for God's sake."
"Oh, I'm sorry." Dahlia pressed her right hand against her chest. "I forgot that we were having tea with the bloody Queen."
"The Ice Queen." Cass grinned wickedly.
To Nova's relief, her tactics had worked and the conversation fully moved away from her blushing and the reason behind it. Determined not to be caught again, she was very careful not to look in the direction of the Slytherin table or think about the fact that a certain member of its house had smiled at her until she was in the safety of her next lesson, away from the observant eyes of her friends.
But when the time came to get up, Reagan subtly elbowed her and gave her a look. A look that read don't think you've gotten away with this and she knew that, even if Dahlia wouldn't get a whiff of her crush on Albus Potter, her best friend would weasel it out of her by the end of the day.
When one thought about it, it really wasn't that hard to understand why, after five years of passing him in the castle with nothing more than her usual disinterest and occasional "sorry", Nova began to fancy Albus Potter a few weeks into her sixth year.
Even though there had been a post-war baby boom at the turn of the century, when classes were reduced to only those capable of studying the subjects at N.E.W.T standard, they still became rather small (with the usual exceptions of Charms, Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts). As such, both students and teachers took advantage of the situation to approach classwork on a more personal level and extra attention was given to the different needs of individuals. Lessons took on a more intimate nature; consequently, students acquainted themselves with each other far more than they usually would.
Luckily for Nova, she was now in four of the same classes as the youngest Potter boy: Charms, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes and History of Magic. At first, she had regarded him as she usually did, feeling nothing but the slightest twinge of shallow interest because he happened to be good looking. But then she began to notice the small things. Like the way he tugged on a strand of his hair whenever he was unsure about his answer to a question or the amused smile that played on his lips when his cousin answered a question in a particularly obnoxious manner or the way his laughter seemed to burst out of him, truly erupt out of his chest as if it came from the deepest crevices of it.
There was also the fact that he wore rather attractive glasses.
So that was how she began to fancy him. Somewhere between his I'm-trying-hard-to-look-bored attitude in Unit One of History of Magic (The Rise and Fall of You-Know-Who) and the snort of laughter that had escaped him that one day in Ancient Runes - much to Scorpius Malfoy's delight - Nova's heart had apparently decided it was high time that she developed a new crush since it had been so long since the disaster of her last one.
And now she was surreptitiously glancing at him through the corner of her eyes as she neared the end of the question sheet on the principles of human transfiguration.
She was acting like a helpless fangirl. Worse, she was acting like a 2.6B girl. Shuddering at the thought, she quickly skimmed over her answers, corrected some of her spelling mistakes - she recoiled in horror when she saw the incorrect "their/there/they're" in a sentence - and then headed to the teacher's desk when she was done.
"All okay?" Professor Reed whispered, accepting the parchment. When she nodded, he said, "Congratulations. You've just earned yourself an early end to the day. You too, Mr Potter." He directed this over her shoulder.
Nova tried not to whip her head around too quickly when she turned to look at him. The Slytherin stood a respectable distance behind her, a neutral expression on his face that seemed to soften slightly at her curious glance - or was she imagining that? As he brushed past her to hand his essay in, she dragged her eyes away and left the classroom immediately. No way in hell would she risk Reagan glancing up to find her best friend visibly drooling over Albus Potter and figuring out just why the hell she had blushed earlier on in less than a second. No, she'd have to plan her response in the dormitory while she had the free time. Perfect her speech so that she would sound casual and not be at risk of a huge vomit-inducing "AWWW".
Quickly, she walked to the common room, distractedly tapped out the password on the correct barrel and made a beeline for Dormitory 2.6A. Once there, she promptly took off her clothes and walked into the shower cubicle she and Reagan had claimed as theirs. Within seconds, a waterfall of warmth drenched her; she welcomed it, tipping her head forward, back vulnerable to the onslaught, allowed it to relax her muscles and wipe away her worries about the impending conversation. A turn of a knob resulted in an explosion of bubbles, the fresh scent of citrus.
After quite some time, she reluctantly exited, skin as shriveled as a prune and reached for one of the fresh towels that lined the big cabinet fitted into one of the walls. The sound of Alice's singing in the cubicle at the end alerted her to the fact that lessons were officially over. And that Reagan was waiting.
She didn't know what she was quite expecting when she hesitantly entered the dormitory - a grim-faced Reagan Davies sat cross-legged on her bed, idly twirling her wand as she stared Nova down, perhaps? But no, it was the usual scene: Dahlia collapsed on her bed, Cassidy casually flicking through her Arithmancy notes, Nala stroking Fat Ginger and Reagan in a state of undress.
Well, she wasn't always in a state of undress, but she wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary, either.
"Already revising your Arithmancy notes, Cass?" Nova asked as she approached her wardrobe, hoping to seem casual. Maybe if she ignored the elephant in the room, it would go away. If all else failed, she could Obliviate her. Or would that be breaking the Girl Code?
"Work now, play later," came the reply.
"Ooh, who are you going to play with?" Nala asked suggestively, her right eyebrow arched high.
Cass gave her the finger.
"Bet that's not even her Arithmancy notes," Reagan teased as she tilted her head and examined her bra in the mirror. "I bet it's a list of all the boys she's interested in. . . Does red look good on me?" She directed the abrupt question to Nova in particular, indicating the lace article.
Somewhat startled - she had been worrying about admitting her feelings some more - Nova looked up in bewilderment as she slid on her own bra set. "Sorry? Er - yeah, of course, it does."
"Are you sure?" she said skeptically. "Am I too pale for it?"
"You're fine." She rolled her eyes. "Red looks great on pale skin."
"Agreed," Nala piped up, lifting a hand from Fat Ginger's fur to gesture so. He purred impatiently at the lack of petting. "Red always looks better on white girls." Though her voice was still cheery, it still had Nova and Reagan exchange a significant look.
From where she was sprawled on the bed, Dahlia seemed to sense this because she said without hesitation, "Don't be so daft, Nala. You look great in red. If I liked people, I'd tap that."
As tasteful as always.
Nala smiled gratefully. Examining the supple stretch of dark skin on her raised arm, she said, "I never said I didn't look good in red. I just meant that I wouldn't suit that bra as well as Reagan does."
"I don't see why you wouldn't," the girl in question said. "I mean, you'd probably look better since I have a significant lack of boobs. I'm cursed to be a 32B my entire life." She splayed her fingers across her forehead dramatically.
"Mate, I'm so flat-chested that I don't wear a bra half the time."
And so began a conversation about the woes of being a female.
Even if it did encompass the better part of the hour, it didn't last too long. Cass and Alice joined in after the first caught a snatch of their self-pitying speeches and the second came out of the bathroom, fresh and clean and loving it. Halfway through it, Dahlia fell asleep since she claimed to need a nap before she became "Filch's fucking slave" in the detention she'd landed herself with when she swore about him while incorrectly assuming he was out of earshot. Reagan and Nova sat on one of the beds for the entirety of the chat until they realised that they were both half-undressed - Reagan hadn't yet pulled on her jumper and Nova still had her towel wrapped around her - at which point it was decided that it was high time to stop complaining.
Alice and Cassidy headed toward the common room, dragging along a sleepy and irritable Dahlia (there was almost no apparent change from the state she was usually in, except that she was slightly more volatile than normal) with them. Nala left soon afterwards, murmuring something about the library and then there was just the two best friends, alone at last.
"So," Nova ventured, "how did you find the Transfig assessment?"
"It was okay." Reagan shrugged. "I mean, considering I revised for it just last night, I think I did well."
Nova blinked. "You only revised for it last night? Seriously, Reagan? These are NEWTs, we can't just - wing it."
"It was only for this test," she said defensively. "I would've revised for it earlier, but then I remembered that I had Potions homework that I needed to do so I had to do that first and then Transfig after. And besides, it's okay. It's only the start of the year, after all. I've got until Christmas to get my act together."
A part of Nova wanted to remind her of how she'd said the same last year, had then delayed "getting her act together" until May and then had been disappointed with that A in Arithmancy. But she didn't. She wouldn't until it was getting serious again.
"Anyways, let's forget about that," Reagan said dismissively. "You know what I want to talk about."
"How it's predicted to rain tomorrow?"
"It's always predicted to rain in Scotland, idiot, and don't try to avoid this. I don't want to put you on the spot or anything, but. . . well, why were you blushing?"
"It was just a blush," Nova argued. "That doesn't mean anything."
"I know. But your guilty face does." When Nova gave her an incredulous look, she smirked. "I've been your best friend for over five years, babe. I know what you look like when you're guilty, even when you're trying to look emotionless."
"Expressionless," she corrected.
Reagan said nothing and stared at her expectantly.
Nova stared back at her.
For two minutes, it went on like that. Nova wondered what Reagan would do if she just got up and walked out. Probably let her do it and then swear at her later before somehow weaseling the information out of her. So really, she would only delay the inevitable. Buy herself a bit of time to - to do what, exactly? If Reagan was going to know, then Reagan was going to know. There was no use in trying to hide.
She ignored the fact that a part of her also wanted to just gush about her crush to someone.
"Fine," she sighed after the heavy silence. The one word caused Reagan to grin; Nova had cracked and she knew it. "Fine. I. . . I may have been blushing because - because, well, I might. . .have-"
"Spit it out!" she cried, dropping the air of patience now that it was apparent she had won. "Don't make me wait for this."
She blurted it out. "I fancy Albus Potter."
Reagan back-tracked. "Wait, sorry?" In the next second, however, it seemed to hit her. Mouth open, she practically squealed, "You have a crush on Albus Potter?! OH MY GOD."
Immediately, Nova flushed again. "Yeah. Just a small one."
"Albus Potter. Albus Potter. I thought you found James better looking."
At her curious look, Nova shrugged. "He's good looking, yeah, but I don't necessarily think he's better looking. I'm not into the lumberjack look anymore, you know?"
Jade green eyes and razor sharp cheekbones and a wiry figure was what now set her on fire. A studious look, a sudden half-laugh, a natural curiosity. Not broad, sloping shoulders and long hair, a heavier build and dark eyes. Not Gryffindors with barrels of confidence and loud personalities.
Reagan grinned at her. "I can't believe you finally fancy someone again."
"Me neither," she admitted, "which was why I didn't really want to tell you. I mean, it's only a small crush. I'm not interested in dating him or anything, but - it's still something, right?"
Of course, Reagan was nothing less than supportive. After assuring Nova repeatedly that even if she wasn't looking for a relationship, Albus Potter would be mad not to want one with her and that yes, he was good looking and Reagan wholeheartedly approved and that if they did get married, their children would be gorgeous and would have the coolest aunt in the whole world ("and no, I don't mean any of your sisters, Nova, I mean me"), they decided to go join the others in the common room.
As per usual, Alice and Cassidy had attached themselves to a lively bunch of people - the antithesis of Nova and Reagan, who both became withdrawn in large crowds, basically - but the two still sat down at the edge of the large group with polite smiles (or a nod in Nova's case). Someone else arrived a few minutes later, a seventh year with the name of Yves Lewis and a couple of Indian-style pizzas from the kitchens that nearly everyone dug into with relish (Alice offered a large slice to Cassidy who looked vaguely terrified at the prospect of devouring that much and declined) and then the evening dissolved into a series of long games of Exploding Snaps and Bullshit.
Following Dahlia's arrival and her first round, a couple of fifth years made a flimsy excuse to leave. There was a simple reason for this: her detention with Filch had been less than pleasant and she was happily taking her anger out in the game.
"BULLSHIT!" she roared, banging a fist on the table. She pointed an accusing finger at Alice. "I see right through you, Longbottom! Don't you try to pull the fucking wool over my eyes."
Alice merely smiled and flipped her card over. It was a Queen, just like she'd said it was. "What wool?"
Dahlia's face was murderous. "Fucking bitch."
Laughter spread throughout the group as she grudgingly snatched up the stack of cards and added it to her pile. The move now placed her well behind everyone else with little hope of losing all of her cards before someone else beat her to the chase.
"You really should be more trusting," Cass teased. "All this negativity doesn't get you anywhere."
"Oh, go and catch an STD, why don't you?"
"Dahlia!" Alice reprimanded in shock.
But all Cass and Dahlia did was shrug, seemingly the very picture of unfazed, and before long, it was forgotten in the excitement of everything else. Nova, however, had seen the hurt flash across Cass' soft features, as quick and as striking as lightning and just as uncommon. So uncommon that it played upon her mind when she went to bed that night, as did the rest of the events of the day.
All in all, it had been a bit of a strange day: she had confessed about her feelings for Albus, Cass had gotten offended by a simple throwaway comment from Dahlia and, though Nala did tend to slide in a comment or two about her appearance on the odd occasion, it wasn't often that she expressed her uncertainty on the topic in a transparent attempt to be casual. Was today just an 'off' day for all of them? Or were things slowly reaching some sort of breaking point that she couldn't quite sense? She couldn't help but wonder whether things weren't completely as they seemed, whether people were holding something back. . . just like she was about Albus. The thought of that unnerved her so much that she put it out of her head as quickly as it had entered it.
Everything was fine.
She was overthinking things, just like she always did. Just like she'd done with the confession of her feelings. She was worrying when it wasn't necessary, dramatising everything the way adults said teenagers did. And just like most teenagers with a crush tended to do, she stopped doing that in the most pleasant way possible: by rolling over onto her side and daydreaming about that crush instead until her fantasies drifted away and Albus Potter bled into her dreams.
For what was the point of reading into things that weren't there?
DISCLAIMER: Um. I don't think I made a reference to anything other than the card game Bullshit which I did not make. Oh yeah, and JKR made HP, but you already knew that. . . didn't you?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am doing what I swore I wouldn't do and starting a WIP when I already have Kiss My Lips. Fear not, that's still on, but I've reached a bit of a wall in CH15 (going to tackle that next) and this was written instead. It's largely inspired by my friends.
Basically, my friends and I recently had several long conversations about, well, us and the stuff that has happened to us and how it's made us become the people we are and I guess it really hit me how much has happened within one group of friends and I guess I wanted to show that some of it can happen through this fanfiction. Worry not, this will still be funny! (I hope). I want to do this accurately and life isn't all doom and gloom so there will be plenty of good moments.
Oh and if you're wondering about all of this 'Dormitory 2.6A' business, in this universe, the Hufflepuff dormitories are named to reflect the gender/area the occupants are (in), their year and which of the dormitories for that year. So 2 means it's on the right and is for the girls, 6 means that they're in sixth year and A means that it's the first dormitory for the sixth year girls.
Let me know what you think of this in the review box below <3
edit 14.01.16: formatting.
edit 24.02.16: ci added
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