three custard cream company

✨

       THE THURSDAY BEFORE THE SATURDAY arrives and Mia finishes work at half-three, since she was supposed to leave at two, nice and early, but instead had to help out for another hour and a half. The boy Mia likes sat there the whole time, which she thinks was sweet, at he offered to walk her home. Mia conjured up an awful excuse about how her grandma doesn't like visitors, since she's living with her grandma at the moment, so instead they go into the park five minutes away from Grimmauld Place, where there's an ice cream van. Mia loves ice cream... She means, Aria loves ice cream. Merlin. She keeps on forgetting she's going by her middle name, out in the muggle world.

       The boy's called Alfie, and he's in the school year above her. Apparently he got some sort of bursary to attend a fancy private school because he's super smart, but his parents don't have that much money. Mia thinks he's sweet. He reads a lot and he's got the curliest brown hair, and he wants to be a vet, and like, help people. And their animals. Mia loves animals. Care of Magical Creatures is her favourite subject.

       ... But, here's the problem. Mia thinks he's really nice, that he's really sweet, that he's good-looking and all of that. But, honestly? Mia doesn't know how interested she actually is... Like, she knows she's going to have to break things off before school starts, it's not like it can go anywhere...

       It's weird, though. Mia feels weird without a boyfriend. To Mia, going out with someone isn't so much hand-holding, kissing, all that — to Mia, going out with someone is, this cute boy can take my mind off of things. There's no harm in that. All Mia's doing is spending her time and care into someone who deserves it, in opinion.

       She ends up getting back to Grimmauld Place around half-four, and Emilia greets Mia in the foyer, brows furrowed, arms crossed, worried sick. "Where were you?" asks Emilia. She steps forwards, opening her arms and pulling Mia into a hug. Mia feels bad for making her mum worry — honestly, Mia didn't even think that her being two hours' late would be any sort of worry.

       "Oh, uh, I finished work late," says Mia. She feels her mum nod her head, as she holds onto her, still. Mia pulls apart from her mum, and she runs her hands through her hair. "Sorry, Mum, I should've realised..."

       "It's fine," says Emilia, and she places her hands on Mia's head, moving her closer to kiss her forehead. "As long as you're safe, that's the important thing."

       Mia forces herself to smile. She says that she wants to have a shower, because she feels dirty from work, and her mum nods, and laughs and says she agrees. Mia doesn't know how her mum does it, sometimes. Emilia was forced into helping the Death Eaters, and yet she's able to laugh about Mia smelling from work? Mia wishes she had the same sort of positivity... She used to, which is the sad thing about this. Mia went from cheerful to this. Living in a constant state of misery.

       "You're back late," says Fred, when Mia walks up the stairs, to the floor they're sharing. He and George are sitting next to the banisters with those God-awful ears in their hands, wearing stripey t-shirts — not the same one, but still, horizontal stripes. Gross.

       Mia frowns at them. "I was with my boyfriend, sue me."

       George raises an eyebrow. "You've got a boyfriend?"

       "Yeah?" she says, and she stops walking, standing next to them on the landing. If anything it's a nice thing, Mia looking down at the two of them, because normally it's a nightmare for her to look up at them. Mia isn't even short, she's normal height, but the two fuckin' beanstalks next to her make things so difficult when she has to tilt her head at a ninety degree angle to even speak to them.

       "Isn't it..." says George, with a look on his face, as if he's judging her because of this. Mia might kill him. She knows what he's going to say. Isn't it a little soon?

       Because he's referring to this: the fact that Mia's best friend was also her boyfriend and, oh yeah, he died, two months ago. Mia, shockingly, has not forgotten such a thing. Take one look at the boy she's dating, and you'll see, uh, yeah, Mia is definitely not over Cedric.

       Mia feels as if time's frozen in place. Isn't it a little soon? Maybe it is a little soon. But this time last year she started feeling butterflies in stomach for her best friend, and she thought that that would be it. That when they started dating, they'd be together forever. Mia felt as if she living amongst the stars, she was so fucking happy, she felt as if this was it — Mia had realised her feelings for Cedric and Cedric had realised the same, and they'd be together until the very end. Both of their ends. When they were old with children and grandchildren and a dog they walk through the countryside or the city or wherever they'd end up, she didn't know where, but she knew it would be them two, together. Forever.

       But it's not.

       Instead, Cedric's dead. And Mia is standing here, in a house that used to be swanky but now it's falling apart, with two idiots she doesn't like because of their issue with her dead best friend. Everything is wrong, because he isn't here.

       Mia looks at George. She grits her teeth together. Do not burst into tears, Emilia, I swear to fucking Merlin if you dare—

       "Piss off," she says to him, and she slams her bedroom door behind her. The faint glow of an Imperturbable Charm covers the door, coating it with a golden glow, and she sits on the floor, brings her knees to her chest, and cries.

       There's no better way to describe it. Waterworks aren't bursting out of her eyes, and neither are waterfalls, nor floods, nor whatever other way Valley of the Dolls glamorises this suffering shit. There are no metaphors, no pieces of imagery to cover the reality of it all. The fact that Mia couldn't let herself cry until her magic had stopped anyone from hearing. The fact that Mia couldn't even get to the bed to cry into her pillow, but instead she sat down, in the middle of the carpet, no material comfort to help her. The fact that Mia cried so much that her eyes stung, so badly that she had to scrub her makeup off with her eyes closed, because she couldn't pry them open enough without it fucking hurting.

       And because of that she ends up sitting down in the bathroom, back pushed against the bath, her bum fucking freezing because of the tiles. The bottom of her nose hurts from the amount of snot coming out of her nostrils. Her entire face looks rubbed raw, and her cheeks are uncomfortably wet. She squeezes her eyes shut, because she keeps on thinking, I just want him back. She knows he can't come back forever. But she wishes she could see him, one last time. Just for a minute, just to say goodbye, just to give him one last hug. That's all she wants. To hug Cedric one more time. She doesn't care if he can't live past that, if he goes back to the graveyard to rot. But she longs for one more minute. Is that so much to ask?

       One more minute. One more minute.

       It doesn't even have to be a minute. Maybe just thirty, twenty, ten seconds. Just enough for him to see him, one last time, and to hug him.

       She misses him.

       So fucking much.

✨

       EVERYTHING'S FINE, WHEN THE SATURDAY rolls around. Mia recognises that she got very upset, but that's bound to happen. Mia recognises that, sometimes, when you're grieving your best friend, you find yourself in the ugliest positions known to man. Grief isn't pretty. Crying isn't pretty. All of these things are ugly and fuck with your features and, really, there is nothing attractive in being so overwhelmed with sadness that you can't even fall on your bed to cry. Nor is curling up in a ball in your bathroom. Whoever thinks crying is pretty needs a slap.

       She knows some people suit it better, the red eyes, the wet eyes, but Mia still thinks everyone's ugly when they're crying. Even Briar Crouch, who in Mia's eyes is very pretty, doesn't look pretty when she cries... Well. Maybe Briar Crouch does, but that's because she's perfect, and whatever. But that's different. Normal people look ugly when they cry. Living princesses made out of Barbie plastic aren't human. And Briar's one of them.

       Not that Mia dislikes Briar, or anything. Mia likes Briar. But Mia also understands that no real human being is a Briar Crouch. She has no fucking clue how Fred Weasley, of all people, managed to pull Briar Crouch... Well. Mia's heard that thing about super pretty girls with super ugly boyfriends. Could be that.

       So. Anyway.

       Mia gets ready. She has a shower, washes her hair, brushes her teeth, all of that. She spends twenty minutes doing her makeup, mostly consisting of coppery eyeshadow and jet-black mascara, and then she stands up, and looks at her wardrobe.

       The room came with an old wardrobe, and Mia's been using it since she arrived. She thinks her grandmother left a couple of coats in there, and her grandfather had done, too, three equally disgusting dress robes that are too big, too long, and too lacey in the wrong places. Mia loves lace, don't get her wrong, if Mia could walk around in a lace bra she would, but she knows there is a difference between good laciness and bad laciness. Good laciness involves: lacey bras, lacey camis that a modern milkmaid would wear. Bad laciness involves: too much lace jutting out a collar, making it a high-necked catastrophe, or, like another of the coats has, lace sticking out of too-long sleeves, but the lace clashes terribly with the rest of the coat.

       But, anyway, Mia picks out her outfit — a black lace tank, and a black mini skirt. She doesn't know why, but she thinks all of the black makes it go... Especially when Mia gets her dad's old leather jacket — it was an heirloom before he was pissing her off, OK, now she's attached to it — and her black leather boots. She looks at her outfit in the mirror and thinks, nice one, M!

       Mia walks down the stairs, to say goodbye to her parents. She bought Briar a card earlier in the week, so she carries that in her bag, along with her Vaseline and lipstick. And a nail file. You never know when your nails are gonna catch.

       "You look nice," says Sirius, when Mia walks into the kitchen, where he had been speaking to Remus.

       Mia smiles weakly. "Thanks."

       Sirius notices the jacket she's wearing. "Isn't that mine—?"

       Mia shrugs. "You were in prison, so you weren't using it..."

       Emilia walks into the room, and pulls Mia into a hug. "You look beautiful, my baby!" she says, and she kisses Mia's cheek. Mia rolls her eyes, and untangles herself from her mother. "Are you going now, then?"

       "Fred and George said they wanted to go early," says Mia. She knows she doesn't sound impressed, nor pleased by this. She can't even sneak off when she gets there, because it'll be them and Briar that are there. And that'll be it. Mia can't wait. "So... Yeah."

       "OK, well, have fun," says Emilia with a small smile. Mia can tell she's trying her hardest to stay positive, to at least make Mia think that's everything's fine. Mia remembers when she was like that, and she misses it, so much. She feels like her entire personality did a one-eighty, the second she was told Cedric was going to die... She misses being happy. She misses waking up and not feeling pissed off.

       "If you need anything, let Briar know," says Remus, and Mia nods.

       Mia says goodbye to her parents, when she hears Fred and George's voices from upstairs, on the ground floor. She walks up the stairs, from the kitchen in the basement to the hallway on the ground floor, where the two are being looked over by their mother. Mrs Weasley puts a wet thumb to George's cheek, to clean it, and Mia struggles to keep a straight face. George's cheeks go red.

       "Mia, dear," says Mrs Weasley, turning around. "You look pretty! Doesn't she look pretty, boys?" And she glances back to Fred and George, who look mortified, and nod very slowly, and Mia guesses she's missing out on their mother's harsh glare. Mia feels very uncomfortable. Mrs Weasley turns back around. "Well, have fun... I'll wait up for you."

       Fred begins, "You don't have to, Mum..."

       Mrs Weasley frowns. "I am your mother, and I am going to."

       Well. Mia thinks Mrs Weasley's got a point.

        Mrs Weasley leaves the room, to back downstairs to help out with dinner again. Mia and George exchange a look, neither of them particularly happy with the fact that they've got to hold hands, again. Fred grumbles.

       "I can't believe she doesn't trust us!" he says.

      "You can literally Apparate back there, if you wanna sleep with Briar so badly," says Mia, rolling her eyes. Oh, and get this — George snorts. Mia thinks she's stepped into another reality.

       They Apparate into a kitchen, of a house in the countryside.

       "Hi, Mia," says Briar. "I hope these two haven't been that bad."

       Mia forces a smile — you don't understand how stupid they are, you've gotten used to it — and she digs the birthday card out from her bag. "Um, thanks for inviting me," she says, and she gives the envelope to Briar. "Happy birthday..."

       "Thanks," says Briar, with a smile.

       Mia looks around. Briar's put an array of bottles out on the side, along with cups and all of that. There's cupcakes, too, and crisps, and salsa. The whole kitchen looks nice, though; Mia remembers Briar telling Cedric that her dad took the house when his parents died, and that's why it's a nice house, despite her dad never managing to hold a job, which Mia thinks is sad. She feels bad for Remus Lupin. All of his friends were gone and he couldn't even get a job. At least Emilia could support her and Mia after everything happened.

       "Oh!" says Briar, noticing that Mia's looking around. "Um, you can help yourself to drinks, if you'd like! There's pretty much everything — literally, everything from Firewhiskey to vodka."

       "I love vodka," says Mia, and she actually smiles this time. "I'm practically Russian."

       Mia's been to a few parties, namely ones in the school holidays the year before last. Cedric had one before the World Cup, which Mia went to... Mia remembers she had one of her first kisses at that party. She finds that incredibly funny. This time last year, her feelings for Cedric were blooming but she didn't want to fuck things up with her best friend, so she focused on her crush on someone else...

       God, Mia prays that he doesn't show up.

       That'll be it. Mia would rather die than see that piece of shit.

       Mia pours cranberry juice and vodka into a cup, and within five minutes the whole thing's gone. People are turning up now, and Fred and Briar have walked off, and George is standing next to Mia, looking a little... wary. Which makes no sense. Mia's a lightweight, sure, but he doesn't know that.

       "Why didn't you invite your new boyfriend, then?" says George.

       Mia rolls her eyes. "He's a muggle."

       "Oh, wow," says George, sounding surprised.

       "What?" says Mia.

        "I just didn't think­ you'd go out with a muggle," says George.

       Mia glances at him, frowning. "OK, you supremacist?"

       A familiar face walks up to them. Mia feels like putting her head in the oven, because why has her only communication with Hogwarts, these past few weeks, been through Gryffindors? But, she supposes that Archie Potter, Harry's brother in her year, is a lot less annoying than the others. He looks a lot like Harry, only with a sharper jawline and no glasses... And a shit-eating grin that hasn't left his face since they got to Hogwarts, aged eleven.

       "Hey," says Archie with a grin. "I would've visited Grimmauld Place, but..."

       Mia raises an eyebrow. "It's a grim old place?"

       Archie nods. "Well, yeah."

       Archie and George do one of those strange handshakes that apparently all boys can do, and they start to talk about Quidditch, something Mia was only interested in when Cedric spoke to her about it. 

       She looks around, and she sees her ex-boyfriend — the one before Cedric — standing on the other side of the kitchen. Mia can't help but pull a face, and take George's distraction as her opportunity to slip out of the room, weaving between two girls in the year above, and a group of Beauxbatons students.

       And then, she realises George is following her.

       "What are you doing?" he says.

       "I'm trying to avoid someone," says Mia, stopping to look back at him. She starts to walk again, leaving the kitchen, and finding her way into the hallway. "You can go? I won't tell your mum you didn't babysit me, the whole time. I'm a big girl. I can tie my own shoes, and everything." She rolls her eyes.

       "No, my mum would find out. And, you know what, if this party decides whether or not my mum will be on board with Wheezes, I'm gonna do anything I can to make that happen."

       George is following her still. Mia finishes her third cup of vodka and cranberry.

       "So who were you going out with?" he asks.

       "What's it got to do with you?" she says.

       George shrugs. "It might help if I knew who you were—"

       Mia glares at him. "I'm not telling you," she tells him. "Why would I tell you, anyway? We aren't friends."

       "I'm aware of that?" says George, as if annoyed she thought he thought that. "Like I'd want to be friends with you."

       "Oh, low-blow, Weasley," says Mia, sarcastically. She rolls her eyes. Again. Her eyes might just roll out of their sockets. "I'm so hurt. I can't believe that George Weasley doesn't want to be my friend!"

       George glares at her. "Piss off."

       Mia glares back, having to tilt her head up to look at him.

       "Fuckin' fight me," she says back.

       And then someone whistles.

       Mia steps backwards, crossing her arms, as Lee Jordan grins at the two of them. He gives George a wink, as he turns to Mia. "Emilia Black!" he says, looking too cheerful for Mia's liking.

       She frowns at him. "It's Mia," she mutters, and she walks away. She needs another drink... Or maybe five. She'll see.

✨

       IT'S TWENTY PAST ELEVEN WHEN MIA sits down on the stairs, dizzy and seething. It's been two hours since she lost George, thank God, and since then, the conversations have been riveting. It's all Cedric this and Cedric that. Mia loves her best friend, she really does, but she doesn't want to talk about him. Not now. Not when she spent the entire night, two days ago, having the ugliest cry of her entire life. And, like, Mia didn't have a dad until two years ago — and she found out he had been on school grounds after he left. Believe her, Mia has had a lot of ugly cries over her lifetime, but nothing tops two nights ago. Because it wasn't just grief, oh, no. It was Mia's pathetic pleas to get him back. Nothing can top that, because you have got to be a properly sad and pathetic piece of grieving shit to be begging like she was. She wishes she could forget it.

       No Doubt is playing and Mia feels a little better. She runs her fingers through her hair. She's dizzy and she knows she's drunk, because everything feels so much worse, right now. She almost cried a couple minutes ago, in front of everyone. Mia hates crying in front of people, but she was this close to sobbing into a stranger's arms. Mia's an emotional drunk. She used to be an affectionate drunk, but she has no one to be affectionate towards, because the person that got her drunken hugs is dead. So instead she feels even worse than usual.

       Mia decides she wants to be out of the way, so she sits further up the stairs, where she can't be seen. She puts her head in her hands, wanting to go home, wanting to cry in the comfort of her bed, but she feels someone sit down next to her, their leg brushing against hers.

       She glances to her side. George looks unimpressed.

       Mia can feel tears in her eyes. She looks ahead, away from him, as she shakes her head. "Don't fucking try me, Weasley, I'm not in the mood," she says. And she starts to cry. Of course she starts to cry. This is fucking ridiculous. She can't believe he's seeing her cry again. This is embarrassing.

       "Um."

       Mia wipes the tears from her cheeks, and stands up. "I'm fine."

       George stands up, too. "I don't think you are."

       Mia glares at him. She walks up the stairs, so at least if she cries again no one will see, and she turns back to George, to play along. "Oh yeah, actually, I think there's something wrong,  now that I think about it."

       "Really?"

       "Yeah!" says Mia, and the feigned innocence turns back into a scowl. "A stupid little ginger keeps on trailing after me! Will you just piss off? My best friend's dead, my dad acts like Harry's more important than me, my mum was forced into the Death Eaters, the list doesn't end — so I am terribly sorry if me wanting to drink makes things difficult for you, because wow, I sure don't know what that's like!"

       George frowns at her, and then he says, "No."

       Mia raises an eyebrow. "No?"

       "No," says George.

       Mia's too drunk for this.

       "No..." she begins. "... To what?"

       "You feel like shit? Right, well, sit," says George. He points to the top step of the stairs. Mia's scowling still. He sounds pissed off, too, which is making her feel defensive. "I'll listen. But there's no way drinking will solve a single thing, same goes for going out with someone else."

       "Well not with that attitude," she grumbles.

       George rolls his eyes. "You're such a pain in the arse."

       Mia crosses her arms. "You are the pain in my arse, Weasley."

       There's a pause. Mia sits down, and this is absolutely not because he said he'd listen to her. Maybe she wants to sit down. She is struggling to walk in a straight line, mind you, and arguably, it's safer for her to sit down, rather than linger around the top of a flight of stairs, which she could fall down.

       She sits on the landing, not the stairs, like he gestured to. In Mia's mind this is a different thing, entirely. Mia's back's pushed against the banister, a knobbly chunk of wood pressing against her spine. It's not exactly comfortable, but whatever.

       "So," says Mia, looking at George. He's leaning against the wall, almost opposite her. "What?"

       George tilts his head down, quirking an eyebrow. "Talk?"

       Mia rolls her eyes, and she rests the back of her head against the banister. She ends up closing her eyes to feel less dizzy. "You're gonna have to be more specific."

       "Fine," says George. "Uh... Your dad."

       "My dad?" says Mia, and she opens her eyes, and she sits forwards. Her posture goes from a slouch to upright, her brows knit together like she's about to argue her dad, right now. "Right, well, everything's just shit, isn't it? I never knew him. I don't remember anything about him before he was taken. Mum says that I used to cling to him, and that during old Order meetings he'd have me on his lap, but I don't remember that. All I knew growing up is that my dad loved me and that he didn't actually kill his friends."

       George frowns. He ends up sitting opposite her. His eyes narrow slightly, as if he's confused, and Mia ignores it completely. Maybe she wants to complain to someone. If it has to be a soulless ginger, then so be it. She's too drunk to care.

       "But, then what? He escapes, and I'm here like, this is great, I can see him. But then it's Harry that gets the attention. My dad is the first person to escape from Azkaban and he doesn't even check on me. My dad..." says Mia. She wants to rub her eyes, but come on, she's drunk, not stupid, she isn't ruining her makeup. "And now he's trying to make things fine but they're not, they never will be... He's my dad but he's never been here. And it's not his fault, but also — he left us that night and he never came back. He made that choice when he went after Peter. He knew exactly what was gonna happen — and I'm expected to be OK with this?"

       George looks confused still. Like he's thinking about something. Mia doesn't know why. She doesn't even know if that's what this expression on his God-awful ginger face means, because she doesn't even know him. But, to Mia, he looks as if he's confused.

       "I just hate it," says Mia, and she sighs. "I wished he was around but looking back, thinking about it now, I can't stand it. He knew. He did."

       Mia closes her eyes for a minute, mostly to force back the tears gathering, mostly because she feels tired. Being angry all of the time is hard work. Snape must be exhausted.

       "Now tell me about your mum," says Mia, turning back to George. "Why on earth will she only approve of your custard cream company if you're nice to me?"

       If George looked confused a minute ago, he looks even more confused now. His brows furrow and he looks at her as if waiting for her to go, ah, no, I don't actually care, but she looks at him, and she raises an eyebrow, as if to say, well?

       So it's his turn to grumble.

       "Because she thinks we're wasting our time. She wants us to work at the Ministry. But we don't want to do that, and we've got some good ideas, a good business plan — she just doesn't believe in us! But she said that if we look out for you then she might consider it..."

       Mia frowns. "So she does believe in you."

       George looks dumbfounded. "What?"

       "What you just said," says Mia. She leans forwards, and she shrugs her shoulders. "That means she does believe in you, she just wants you to do something first."

       George shakes his head. "I don't think—"

       Mia rolls her eyes — she's almost there, her eyeballs are this close to rolling onto the carpet — and she gives him a look. Mia reads people well. She likes to think it's because her own emotions are, well, uncontrollable. Maybe it's a side-effect of being her mother's daughter. Her mother, who's career has been successful largely due to her being able to spot when children look the slightest bit upset, in ways that normal people don't pick up... Or maybe it's both.

       "Keep on babysitting me, then," says Mia. "I'm just saying. You wouldn't need to babysit me, because your mum's cool with you and Fred having this business. You're just too stubborn to realise." She sits backwards, her spine pressing against the wooden beam, and she frowns up at the ceiling. "Are you gonna put me to bed, too? Tuck me in? Sit with me until I fall asleep?"

       "I don't think my mum's saying it because she already thinks it's a good idea," says George, and he speaks slower. Mia, fortunately, cannot see her face, nor his body, and therefore she doesn't know the rest of the unspoken language. But, from the slowed speech she figures he's thinking, no, you don't get it. It would be on-brand. "She's saying it because she doesn't, but she wants us to think that she does. For hope, and stuff."

       "I disagree," says Mia.

       "I know my mum," says George.

       Mia looks at him, sitting forwards again. "But I'm part Salvatore. I can sniff manipulation out."

       George gives her a look. Narrowed eyes and everything. "Right."

       "See?" she says, gesturing with her hands. "You're so convinced of it, you're not even listening when I say it's not true..." She pauses. "It's pathetic. Couldn't expect anything less than you, though, Weasley."

       "I have a name?"

       "Yeah, and another name has the same face as you," says Mia. "No point in trying."

       "You said my name at school?"

       Mia ignores this completely. "I can only tell who's who when Briar's here — that's because Fred will be holding her, in some way, and you won't," she tells him. "If this wasn't Briar's party I would've wondered which one you are."

       George looks at her, with an expression that, to Mia, reads as, that's bullshit?

       Mia keeps on going with it, though.

       "You could be, I dunno, Richard, for all I know."

       George raises his eyebrows. "Richard?"

       Mia nods, and she begins to smirk. "Dick for short."

       George — get this — laughs. "'Course."

       "Maybe you are Dick," says Mia, and she starts to giggle, because apparently Drunk Mia cannot keep a straight face, leading up to an insult. "Maybe... you are... a dick."

       George looks like he wants to be annoyed, but he's too humoured to contain all of his snickering. "Piss off," he says.

       "You can't," says Mia with a grin, and she stands up. "I mean, you're the one that wants to have his own business." She brushes down her skirt, which has ridden up slightly whilst sitting down. George has stood up as well. She had been planning to ditch him again. Jesus fucking Christ, what's she supposed to do now? "Actually, you know what? If you get, like, super rich, then obviously you're indebted to me for starting the whole business."

       George crosses his arms. "Oh, really?"

       "The ancient and most noble house of Black might have equated to me, but that doesn't mean the ancient practice of killing rich husbands went out the window," says Mia, and when George seems to realise what she meant, she lets out a laugh, and walks down the stairs before he can catch up to her. Fuckin' prick.

hi yeah so i've got a list of mia's boyfriends and like,,,,,, u are gonna SCREAM when u find out the one before cedric hahahahahahahahaha it's acc really funny

also hi yes hello archie won't be in clueless but mia!!!! needs a FRIEND!!!!! so mia n archie aka best friends 4ever aka james n sirius??? 2.0???? hmmm????

anyways i hope you enjoyed, and let me know what you thought!!