Mind Your Own Business
Entering the Great Hall was just as impactful as usual.
Victoria knew that this was intentional architectural design. You entered those massive doors, and suddenly the very stones in the wall were tricking your brain into thinking you were entering this grand, amazing palace. That you couldn’t disturb a single thing - that you must be humble before this sign of unprecedented splendour.
Fuck that.
She found her seat at the Slytherin table. One of her hands came to rest on the tabletop - and her nails began to roll.
Cli-cli-cli-clack.
Cli-cli-cli-clack.
After a long moment - Nathan came to sit next to her.
“Prescott,” she acknowledged, her rolls stopping. She sat as still as a statue.
“Chase,” he allowed, turning and giving her a look brimming with emotion.
(She still remembered when he had just been the overly-emotional, arrogant playboy.)
“Where are the new kids?” he said, leaning over to toy with a fork. Unlike her, Nathan seemed incapable of standing still - his fingers would tap and his knees would bounce whenever he wasn’t busy. Sometimes, Victoria thought that the only reason he was still sane was because classes provided him so many other things to focus on.
“Not here yet, Nathan,” she said, turning so that he couldn’t see her roll her eyes. Now that the introductions were over, they could refer to each other in a less formal fashion.
This was what it was like, on the very top of the social circles.
“...Right. I knew that already, didn’t I?” he muttered, staring into the surface of a spoon.
“Yes.”
His hands alternated rapidly between digging into themselves, knuckles white with tension, and sprawled loosely on the table, shaking slightly.
Her eyes wandered over the tables.
“You’re shaking, Nathan,” she muttered, making sure her lips didn’t move too much.
Nathan went tense. “...Really? I - I took my potions-”
“Then take another,” she hissed, whipping to him. She couldn’t have Prescott ruining her reputation with his damned jumpiness.
“Right. Yeah, yeah, right,” he bit, a little bit of old bitterness stirring in his eyes as he dug a flask out of his robes.
Her and Nathan were best friends.
He slugged the potion back in a single motion - and a deep-seated shudder ran through his body.
And he went still.
“...Tastes like rotten eggs…” he muttered, tapping his thumb against his fist.
“Cry me a river,” she said, propping her elbow on the table and resting her head against her hand.
“Y’know,” he hissed, knuckles turning white as his hand clenched. “One of these days, I’m gonna fuckin’ own you. Maybe you should show some respect.”
A little bit of the old bitterness touched the bottom of her stomach - along with a spark of disgust.
“Maybe you should watch what you say in public, Nathan,” she said, raising a cool eyebrow at him. “People will think we hate each other.”
He snorted. There was no humour in it. “Yeah, like nobody thinks that alrea-”
“You know what to do and what not to do, Nathan,” she said, giving him a glare full of old tiredness. “I shouldn’t have to keep telling you.”
“...I hate this fucking place.”
“They would’ve gobbled you up at Durmstrang,” she said, leaning her head against her hand again. “People wouldn’t have respected you if you went to Beauxbatons. And you know how many muggle-loving politicians there are overrunning Ilvermorny. You would’ve been surrounded by mudbloods. Hogwarts was the only option.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t hate it,” he said.
“It does mean you should be a little more quiet about it at the public table,” she said carefully, picking a piece of lint off her robes.
“Not like anyone’s listening…”
“Someone’s always listening, Nathan.”
Something young shimmered in his eyes, for a moment. “Well, gee, thanks Mom. That sure is comforting.”
Vic gave him a flat look. “Hilarious.”
“...When do the shits get here? I wanna eat,” he said, tapping one of his feet.
“That makes two of us,” she muttered, before saying aloud; “They’ll get here when they get here, Nathan. Have some patience.”
“You’re so fucking helpful, you know that?”
“I live to serve.”
He glanced at her - and his eyes glittered in that young way again. “Phrasing.”
“What about it? You’re the one always harping on about how we’re going to be married.”
“...Yeah.”
She raised an eyebrow - and fell under the urge to smirk at him. “What’s wrong? Don’t you love me?”
“Hilarious,” he said, in an impression of her that was a little better than it had any right to be.
Her eyes wandered.
The table she ended up staring at was Hufflepuff.
Students milling about. Leaning over each other. Talking. Laughing.
Something odd opened up in her gut.
Luckily, it was replaced by disgust when she saw the little cross-house brigade.
They were short two members. She supposed the blondes had gone off on their own - with the rest of their yearmates.
Well, no, there was still one blonde left. She was the only one with an actual Hufflepuff tie; sandwiched between the Gryffindor - little mousy brunette with a smattering of freckles, so obviously a mudblood - and…
Scott.
Scott was the only one worth remembering. Scott was the kind of opponent that Victoria really hated. Scott…
Well, the biggest problem was that Scott could match her blow for blow in a contest of wits.
...No. No, that wasn’t the biggest problem. The biggest problem was that she was a blood traitor. Victoria had no idea how she still had her family name - her parents would’ve disowned her years ago, if she’d made friends with Hufflepuffs. Much less mudbloods.
The light glinted off Scott’s glasses.
Victoria’s stomach turned.
The worst thing was that Scott could’ve been a wonderful ally. Victoria would’ve relished the chance to have open discussions with someone who understood the importance of hiding themselves from the world, and was smart enough to do it properly.
Instead, Scott was her enemy.
Her hand curled up slightly. It didn’t clench - Chases didn’t clench their hands - but it did… curl.
She saw Brooke’s lips move.
She’d been taught to read lips - so she could just barely make out,
I think Victoria Chase is staring at you, Kate.
The Hufflepuff - Kate? - blinked, and whipped towards her.
She averted her eyes.
The second she saw the girl - Kate, apparently - turn back to Brooke, she risked looking over again.
Brooke turned to her the moment she did, and mouthed,
Mind your own business for a change.
Her stomach turned.
Her cheeks burned as she turned away.
“...Are you blushing?”
Her face screwed up - and her voice came out as a quiet, fierce snarl when she whipped to Nathan.
“No.”
Nathan didn’t respond.
The doors opened.
She turned to the entranceway - and instantly grasped on the subject change.
“Let’s just watch the Sorting and eat.”
Nathan - still - didn’t respond. His hand gripped a piece of silverware.
They watched the Sorting in silence.