chapter six... THE MEET CUTE/CAT

(FT. BETELGEUSE)

   TRUTH BE TOLD, EVE expected this.

   By this, Eve means the staring coming from the whole population boarded onto the Hogwarts Express. Of course Lorelei had told her to buckle up and expect it; for a different reason though, something crude about how short her skirt was or another. Lorelei is Lorelei and Eve will be told whenever she looks too much of something and today, it seems her cousin was intent on making sure Eve was aware she was too tall for a skirt this mini. Noted. If anything, Eve felt more invincible. They could look away, they'd never get close enough to touch. Still, you would think she was Winona Ryder the way people were leering at her—not that the majority of these people would know Winona of course. The analogy is there, whatever. The faces of realization when the staring goes on for a second too long hits in rapid succession.

      The fear? OK. The silence. Better. Then the immediate hesitation and mission of looking anywhere but Eve. The last thing pisses her off the most because she might just be wearing her best outfit of the whole year and nobody can even appreciate it.

Then, an angel.

"Nice skirt, witch."

Eve whirls around at that, and is met with a familiar sight.

Anyone would see a girl about her age and height with chocolate curls, a heart-shaped face and bright eyes. Totally gorgeous. They would also note that this girl was as well dressed as Eve — and that was seriously saying something. While Eve herself wore a black mini skirt, this girl wore a red one with a green top similar to her own. Black knee-high boots where Eve had red. Total unplanned, universe curated happenstance. It made them, standing beside each other, look really put together and chic.

"JORDANA!"

"EVE!"

The hug of a girls reunion was something more sacred than a lipstick titled black cherry or the way cold air smells during autumn. Jordana Salt-Warbeck and Eve Peregrine were birds of a feather. Reunited at last. Her cousin Jaime briefly forgotten in their flurry of an embrace.

      (Eve hadn't divulged this part of her life just yet...)

It was a very sacred part.

      When Eve was young, Saul had decided Beauxbatons was the place for her. No one there knew too much about the House of Black or Marcela's infamy and the baby daughter she'd abandoned. It would be a fresh start for his kid; no Charmspeaker allegations or the pressure of maintaining a purer than pure lineage. Eve settled into it well for three years but Beauxbatons for all its privileges, would've been oh-so-dreadful if Eve had not had a forever love, a soulmate, someone to get her through the perfumed prissy populace that littered the Parisian halls.

One of the many classes Eve was in had been Fashion Workshop — an elective little Eve shared with a young Jordana. She had knew a little about what it was to yearn for a low-profile schooling, being the daughter of a French wizarding Jeweler: Gaspard-Noé Salt and legendary singer Celestina Warbeck. The dream of owning their own line of clothing (their world was seriously lacking in sustainable witch/wizard wear that wasn't totally hideous) had halted when Eve was kicked out of Beauxbatons but all summer, owls flew between Wales and Ireland, all with varying designs of a dream two little witches had thrown back into motion...

"Warbeck! My best, most special girl, Merlin, it's you, it's really you," Eve was near tears, so full of emotion at seeing her best friend that she could melt. "You're really here and not some silly figment of my heart, lad?"

Jordana held her close. "It's really me, pet."

"Pinch me — don't actually but you get me."

"I get you."

"You thought I'd let you go off to these fucking vultures without me?"

Eve gave a shy, weak smile, "Well I wasn't going to expect you to leave on my account. You love Beauxbatons. For all it was worth, we loved it... remember the breakfast smoothies and the water fountain opera and the fashion shows in the halls every block switch?" Her best friend nods wistfully. Eve sighs, "All of it taken and it was my own fault."

"We've been through this, Eve, pet — it was not."

"Using my magic the way I did—"

       "Eve—"

      "I should've minded my words."

"That's not how I see it," Jordana cut off, pulling back to hold her at arms length. "I wasn't going to stay there without you. It was a place I loved because you were there." The girls smile widely, tearing up at one another. "Plus, we all know how Mathilde Lark was treated, Eve. It was horrid. Every single day. No one was going to help her. Until you did..."

      Eve breathes in, "You make me sound so noble."

     "It's in your blood, isn't it?" Jordana winks.

      "Among worser things..."

      "No more self-deprecation—new rule for the year."

"I've only done it the once!"

Eve looks around then, seeing that they were still in the middle of the aisle on the train. Jaime was patiently waiting a few paces away, giving her a big grand smile like he expected this to happen. She'd have no doubt they'd been sharing owls about her wellbeing all this time... "So was this grand surprise the reason why I couldn't see you all summer? Owls aren't near enough. The suffering I endured, Miss Warbeck-Salt, is too fucking much to describe. And how'd you convince your Mum to let you transfer—?"

Jordana grins at her, "Schematics, pet. Hogwarts is closer to Wales. I gave Mummy the speech of a lifetime, I should've had an Oscar award waiting for me at my finish. She gave in when she realized I'll be near for her to embarrass."

"Oh, Jor, I'm too much trouble for you."

"You're pretty worth it, though."

"Not at all..."

  "I'll say she's more than worth it, no, Jaime?" Jordana turns to Eve's cousin with a smirk. "It'll be good for the Slytherin lot to get some excitement with the two new girls headed their way this year."

Eve's eyes widened.

"I'd say the very same, Jordy," Jaime chirps.

"And you're in Slytherin, too?!"

Jordana stood taller, "Green was always our color."

Eve hugs her again.

Heaven.

⭑

RAIN CAME DOWN hard whilst on the Hogwarts Express, the gloom making it hard to see if Hedwig was nearby with a reply from Sirius. Harry felt the phantom ache of his scar hurting all over again and knew that school, while it was his sweet escape, held its own danger no matter how fond he was of the place. He would reply to his Godfather, and soon, he'd decided — any dread or doubt of his scar pain would fall away once Hedwig was back. Harry didn't want to think about the possibility of his owl being captured and his letter intercepted... that was too sickening a thought to even entertain. Stretching his legs, he leaned his head back as he sat in the seat of the compartment he was sharing with Hermione and Ron. Ron was sweeping through a muggle magazine Harry had brought him (one of bikers and bikini models) while Hermione held back her disgust and kept away from him. She wasn't seated like Ron and he, but rather half in and out of the compartment as she chatted with Ginny and Pavarti Patil who were both in the one right beside them.

      Suddenly there's a loud meow.

      Harry looks down.

A cat was looking up at him.

      "No way," says Ron, laughing.

      Hermione hums, not looking back in to the compartment as she still talked with Pavarti and Ginny, "What's amused you now, Ron? Did you finally see a topless page?"

      "No," He sniped back.

       "Poor you..."

       "I meant — there's two Crookshanks."

        Hermione looks back in, "What—?"

      The new cat at their feet looked very little like Hermione's feral companion. Still, it was a very fluffy cat; its fur was so light grey it looked nearly lilac and a bow tie was around his neck in a bracelet. A very gentlemanly cat apparently. It greets Crookshanks almost like an old friend. They chitter and nudge each other excitedly — Crookshanks was an excellent judge of character, if the year before was any indication, so Harry immediately smiled at the sight of the feline that entered their compartment. Trustworthy enough.

       "Crookshanks found a boyfriend it seems," says Hermione delightedly, bending down to pet the new cat. "Hi there? Are you lost—Ooh look— wait. He has a collar that's this charming little bow tie how cute..." Her face lit up as she reads it aloud to them, "Betelgeuse, are you? How handsome of a star you are..."

        "Betelgeuse?" asks Ron, frowning.

         The cat meowed as if to confirm.

        "I think that means don't wear it out," says Harry.

        Ron laughs, "Come off it. I only meant what kinda wonky name is Betelgeuse—?"

        "It's the name of a star, Ron — obviously, his owner has some fondness for the constellations," Hermione gives him a pointed look. "You'd know that if paid any attention in Astronomy..."

        Ron rolls his eyes, "There's too bloody much going on in the night up there to remember all their names!"

        "It's in the Orion constellation," Hermione supplies knowingly, "Tenth largest star in the sky... I wonder who he belongs—aww, Harry, look at that he likes you!"

          The cat, Betelgeuse, was currently sprawled upon Harry's lap, purring so loud he sounded like the engine of a motorcycle. Harry petted the large cat, making him even more comfortable. He cherished Hedwig but she was far too prickly on a good day for him to dote on her this way. This cat was just far better tempered than Crookshanks ever was, too. Harry figured it was alright to let the little guy stay here until whoever he belonged to came looking for him.

          "I've never seen him before," says Hermione.

          "Me either," Ron agrees, "He's big enough, too, that I don't think I'd miss him... Him and Crookshanks are a match made in cat-food-buffet heaven." Harry laughs at that.

          "Hey!" Hermione flares.

          "What? C'mon they're both huge—"

          "Do not fat shame the cats, Ronald."

          "I'm just saying!"

         "He doesn't belong to anyone in our year," Harry cuts in before they can start bickering more. "Ron's right. We would've seen him before, especially Crookshanks... I'm sure she might've had some help last year." He says to his friends pointedly. "Two cats against one rat?"

           Ron grins, "Especially these monsters — no chance!" 

Hermione huffs. She pushes her curls from her face, just to press a kiss to Crookshanks, who occupied her seat like he owns it. "I'm going to go ask Ginny if she knows who Betelgeuse belongs to," She says to them. "Be back..."

         Harry nods at that, letting his friend go about her little side quest. Ron was seemingly done with the whole cat situation and took up the seat in front of him; he began polishing off his Krum action figure whilst Harry grabbed Quidditch magazine, cautious not to disturb the now sleeping Persian cat on his lap. He was only a few pages in when he hears a gasp from his girl best friend. 

          Before Hermione came back in completely, she stayed right at the door stiff as a board. Her brown eyes widen like she's seen something, "Merlin it can't be..." She looks to the two of them. "I read about it — but I didn't actually think—Dumbledore actually did let her come after all..."

         "What're you on about?" asks Ron, standing up.

"Well come look," says Hermione.

         Harry frowns, but goes to stand as well. He scoops up Betelgeuse in his arms to hold him. The cat was more than comfortable and situated himself in a more relaxed position. Harry smiles. Like Crookshanks, Betelgeuse was a very good cat.

         Hermione urges them, "Be subtle about it..."

          "Says the girl whisper-yelling," Harry snorts.

          "Hush."

        Once all three of them are standing, semi subtle, Harry can make out the scene in front of him. He sees one of his friends, a Hufflepuff named Jaime Black, before anything — he's smiling and chatting away with a girl that Harry has never seen before. They're walking down the aisle in their direction and Harry is able to get a clearer view.

The girl is tall, nearly as tall as Jaime and that was saying something because the bloke was seventeen and towering. Harry can only see legs at first with shiny red leather boots and a skirt that definitely has him struggling to look somewhere else... Beyond the skirt and the legs and the very bouncy way her hair was moving — she finally faced Harry's way, and he was not surprised that her face was just as pretty, if not prettier, as the rest of her...

Because she was, very pretty.

Harry was already convincing himself that had he traveled the world and seen every girl he probably wouldn't feel like his stomach landed on his feet. For some reason, his hands were sweaty which he didn't want to bother the cat in his arms. Thoughts of seeing Cho Chang earlier flooded back into his memory — suddenly Harry felt severely grimy. A real right royal prick. He couldn't totally dismiss the way the older girl made him feel all of last year when it felt like his world had imploded. He liked Cho. That can't change so quick. No matter how ridiculously pretty this girl was...

         Because it was, ridiculous, that is.

         She was too pretty.

         "Bloody hell," says Ron, under his breath.

        "That's Caoimhe Black," says Hermione, her voice barely above a whisper. "She was in the Daily Prophet a lot this summer. Article after article..."

        "What for? Best arse in London—ouch!"

        Hermione whacks him.

But silently, Harry had to agree.

        Silently.

       "No, Ronald, you scrote. Because everyone knows she's related to Sirius—" That makes Harry's eyes wide. His godfather Sirius? There wasn't many of them. It had to be. Hermione continues, "Her mum was his elder sister, Marcela Black... See, she was a follower of You Know Who. They say she had a ton of husbands but they all died horribly for some reason or another..." Harry has heard all sorts of rumors about the House of Black since Sirius escaped Azkaban. About his Death Eater elder sister and her strange case of being a reoccurring widow. "Apparently Marcela and Caoimhe are Charmspeakers. It runs in her family, it said. You can get anyone to do anything when you're one. The Prophet also said she got expelled from Beauxbatons for an incident — they didn't say what it was but they ... Erm..."

        "They what, Hermione?" asks Harry, curious.

         "It was sorta implied she was expelled because she used her ability on some students..." Hermione winces a little.

          Ron snorts. "How bad can that be?"

         "Ron, it's basically an Unforgivable—"

"Well — she at least say sorry?"

Harry stifles a laugh.

Hermione glares at them, "Stop. Someone from her family, a long time ago, used Charmspeak to make the Killing Curse," She nods at the wide eyes both boys have, "Then others helped to make the other two Unforgivables. Make sense, since just saying the words are an instant death sentence for someone. Stop looking so confused, Merlin, neither of you ever think to pick up a bloody book—?"

      Harry only saw the girl get closer as she walked in their direction. Betelgeuse was apparently grossed out by his sweaty hands because the cat leaped from his arms and ran off towards Jaime and the mystery girl.

"Beetz, my love!"

The cat jumped into Caoimhe Black's arms.

        Oh, Harry realized quickly, Betelgeuse was her cat.

"There he is, see—" Jaime says, smiling. "Jordana was right. The monster was just settling into his surroundings."

"I nearly got a heart attack, Jameson..."

"Oh, ease up, poppet — he was fine, just curious."

"I know you're excited," Caoimhe says to her cat, looking serious as she did, "But you can't go running off like that, sweet mister — there are other cats here, too, you might give them a fright or start a cat rumble or something..." Her words are chiding but she kisses the furry thing repeatedly.

         Hermione nearly pulled Ron and him back in the compartment before the heard the nasty drawl of a familiar voice somewhere near them. Harry shut his eyes in exasperation. Draco Malfoy was sneering about Hogwarts and Dumbledore, spewing his fathers vitriol to Crabbe and Goyle like a parrot mimicking words he was told to say. He was going on and on about how Mr Malfoy wanted to send him to study over in Durmstrang—the Bulgarian wizarding school, Hermione offered to him—but his mother wouldn't go for it.

Malfoy came out of his compartment then.

His eyes narrowed in distaste at the sight of Jaime and Caoimhe Black walking his way. Harry could already hear the sneer of his words, "Well — my eyes don't deceive me, do they? Caoimhe Black. I thought Nott was off his potions when he told me who'd be attending our school..."

         "Um, hello to you, too?" Caoimhe blinks.

Draco huffs, "Thought you'd sound more French..."

  Scowling as she sets her animal down, "You'll have to excuse mine in a second—"

"Eve," Jaime Black calls his cousin, making Ron and Hermione both raise their brows at the different name he calls her, "You know all about our git of a cousin, dear auntie Cissy's joy — Draco, you must remember Eve as well...? It's been a while since we've all seen one another. In such close quarters."

        "Oh to forget," says Draco, in distaste.

         Caoimhe clasps her hands together, "Ditto..."

         Jaime smiles snidely, if only to egg on the already reddening face of the tosser before them, "You ought to be grateful, Malfoy. Eve is going to become the saving grace Slytherin House has sorely needed for a while."

         Harry hears a mental record scratch.

Slytherin? Her?

He frowns. No way...

"Not bloody likely," Draco laughs cruelly.

         Caoimhe Black grabs her wand from her boot. Harry blinks at the action. She taps herself and just like magic would allow, shows everyone a brief picture of her in uniform — silver and green tie for all to know what Jaime Black said was the truth. Everyone blinks at the revelation and already whispers crowd around them from the students who sneak a peek out of their own compartments. Harry was realizing this scene was quickly turning into a spectacle. Especially since Draco is visibly upset by the girls display and his expressions turned darker.

         "Toad got your tongue cousin of mine?" says Caoimhe.

         "The hat clearly made a mistake."

         She simply hums. "Aw, Draco. You'd like to believe that, wouldn't you?"

           Malfoy reddens, "It would never—"

          "The hat can't have made a mistake," says Hermione, making their trio known. Everyone turns to them. Jaime Black grins wide at the sight and Hermione flushes. "The Sorting Hat sees within a person and determines that which makes the most appropriate choice. It's been semi-sentient for hundreds of years. It's never been wrong—"

         "How dare you interrupt me, Mudblood."

          Everyone takes an intake of air.

Hermione reddens with offense.

Before Harry and Ron can take their wands out—

          "Here I thought this was a classy place," Caoimhe points her wand at Malfoy before anyone else can, setting her cat down who stayed loyally by her feet. She's got intense fury in her eyes that look out of place on her sweet features. "Say you're sorry to her." She looks at Hermione and gives her a friendly smile. "Don't accept it though. He's not sorry. I just want to hear him say it..."

           "As if I'd ever apologize to a Mudblood—"

            SMACK!

            Effortlessly, Caoimhe Black slapped Malfoy.

            Everyone stood still.

           The sound of people rushing back into their compartments was heard, likely afraid of whatever outcome was to begin. Harry stayed put though; he had never wanted to laugh so badly in his life as he leaned on his compartment door. His shoulders shook as he held it in. Ron and he shared a look that told him his best friend felt the same, just as they did when Hermione had smacked Draco the year before during Buckbeaks trial. It was finally going to be a really good year, Harry felt.

          "I don't like that word," says Caoimhe.

"You dare—"

"Don't ever use it."

"But, you... you dare—you struck me in front of—I'll have to tell my father—I won't stand for—"

"Tell him what a great backhand I have, too. "

           The git looks enraged, "I see. Defending the lesser trash like the rest of them. Typical. I simply stated what she is, Caoimhe and besides," Draco sneers at her and her cousin, his cheek still beet red, "If I were to call out FREAK none of you would know whom I'm referring to...!"

          "Don't refer to us at all," says Jaime, holding his cousin back from going at him again. "You never have anything worth our time to say anyway." He whispers something in Caoimhe's ear that has her lowering her wand. She puts it back in her boot. "C'mon poppet — let's go get changed. Jordana must be waiting as well. I think our cousin here knows the deal about this year, don't you?"

          Draco scowls, "And what might that mean, Black?"

           Caoimhe smiles, standing straighter. "It means a new regime, cousin. Out with the ancient, in with the new." She reaches out to pat his cheeks. He flinched at the motion, and she smiles wider. "Turrah..."

"You disappoint me, Black."

Draco looks at them. Then at Harry's smiling face.

         "Piss off, Potter," he mutters.
 
          Malfoy storms off, back to his compartment.

"And it's PEREGRINE!" Caoimhe calls after him. She turns to her cousin and the trio, smiled weakly at all of them. She nervously moves her hair behind her ears. "Hi. So. How did I do, in terms of first impressions?" There's a little laugh coming from Jaime Black. She goes on, "Well I know made an impression — it's on Draco's cheek. But I'm not at all violent though," She assures quickly, "We've got history him and I. He stole my cake slice as a child at my grandmothers house — I never forgot or forgave..."

          "Cake?" asks Harry, dully.

          Caoimhe turns to him.

           He stiffens at being the sole focus of her attention. She only smiles which does nothing for the sake of his heartbeat. "Would it be a nobler cause if I said it was a really good cake?"

         Harry hoped his face wasn't as red as Malfoy's.

         "I would say so," He said.

Ron grins wide, "Well, we're impressed new girl..."

         "Very," says Hermione, going further out of the compartment and into the aisle to hear better. She looked enthused at being defended. "I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger. This is Ron Weasley—" Ron just waves slowly, "And that's Harry Potter, yes, but don't acknowledge him, he'll get a bigger ego if you do—" Harry shoots his best friend a flare. Ron snickers. Caoimhe laughs a little with her cousin. "We're Fourth Years this year. And you? You're new, well of course you are, we've never seen you and it's Peregrine, you just said? I thought I read—but Jaime said Eve as well? Is that short of Caoimhe? Since it has the Eve sound in there right?"

           "Well — yes, that's right," says Eve, smiling. Hermione looks pleased at being correct. "I know that's what they wrote, calling me Caoimhe, which is my name but no one calls me that. No one. Except Gran. But — it's just Eve Peregrine."

         Eve Peregrine, Harry says the name in his head.

         "Forgive me then," says Hermione.

        "It's not important..."

         "No, it's your name — it should be."

         "You're too sweet," Eve is grinning as she tells her, "But really, I'm just glad someone doesn't believe else that article anyway. I was worried for a bit... I'm really not dicey or dangerous or whatever they reported."

         "So you didn't get kicked out of Beauxbatons?" asks Ron.

         Hermione makes a sound that could almost be mistaken for a shrill yelp. Harry snaps his head to shoot a look at his best friend. Ron, wide-eyed, shrugs innocently. Eve glances to her cousin. Jaime finds his shoes very interesting all of a sudden. She only straightens, albeit nervously.

          "No, well, see that part is true..."

          "...Then you're also not a Charmspeaker?"

          Eve laughs weakly, dragging it out, "You know, I've been told I have a way with words but..."          

"Her word is God," says Jaime. "Let's leave it at that!"

           With a soft raise of her brows, Eve finally glances over to all of them, most especially to Harry who she notes is staring her the longest. He notices how her smile makes two deep dimples appear in her cheeks, even as she talks. A very, very, sweet sight. "It's nice to meet the lot of you," Eve greets them gently, voice soft. "Finally."

            Jaime tells them, "I've given Eve the rundown of the Hogwarts lot."

            Hermione beams. Eve goes on, looking at them with big, bright brown eyes. "He did. I've heard about you all from time to time." Her dimples bloom again. "All my cousins tell me you're mint, and if they say so, then it is—"

         "I'M HARRY," exclaims Harry.

         Everyone looks at him, surprised.

         Eve just giggles.

Harry let's out a nervous laugh. "...Hi, to you. Hello. It's good to mint you — meet — not the mint part. But I'm sure you are though, very minty and all—!" He hears Ron stifle a laugh behind him. Eve just smiles more so he guesses he hasn't made a total mess of this whole conversation just yet but his mouth just keeps going. "I just mean — it's nice to, um, meet you it's mint that we're ... all meeting you ... I'm Harry Potter."

          "Yes," says Eve, smiling all nice and warm at him, "I think you mentioned that."

Harry thinks he'd be happy to see a Dementor now.

          "Nice, mate," Ron snickers behind him.

           Hermione nudges their friend.

"We should go," Jaime tells his cousin. He was obvious he helping Harry out but he was still grateful to the older boy more than ever now, "Get changed. Relax a bit before we arrive at school..." Eve in turn, nods at this, waving to them.

"I'll be seeing you," She tells them brightly.

           They watch her walk off arm in arm with her cousin, Betelgeuse in tow, matching his owners walk that Ron and Harry followed with unfailing eyes—

        Hermione smacked them both back into their senses.

  Harry had the decency to look caught.

He cleared his throat, trying to get out an apology to his girl best friend whilst Ron went straight to hurling curses under his breath about how much his head hurt. Hermione rolls her eyes, turning back to go into their compartment, muttering snidely, "Boys."

hewoooo!!!!! surprise!!!!! so bad i know but here . i do believe physical violence is warranted for a racial slur equivalent... fck around and find out wizard style if you will