House Colors
They were the polar opposites of the Ravenclaw House. Even decided this, right after he'd decided that Braig was a twat and that this year, like all the other years, was going to be spent holed up in a corner of the library with his nose in his book until his proclaimed arch-nemesis (Braig's proclamation, not his) gave up and left him alone.
Even didn't even understand why Braig had been sorted into Ravenclaw at all. He passed all his classes, at least, but more than once Even had caught sight of Braig leaning over his best friend Dilan's chair and begging to let him copy his homework. Dilan must be sympathetic, somewhere in there, or Braig probably would've failed out already. So Even thought.
It's the sixth year and it's supposed to be better, having less classes with more content and he'd assumed, incorrectly as it turned out, that he would still be classed in his age range. Surely the seventh-year NEWT students had different things to learn?
Apparently not. Braig was in his NEWT-level astronomy class.
Thus, the realization that this year would be hell, and all in the first five seconds of walking into the classroom.
Because after those five seconds, Braig saw him, and his face lit up (in glee, he's sadistic, this was going to be awful) and he bounded over. "Even!"
Even's face shut off like a door slamming shut. "What."
"Thank god you're here."
So you can copy my notes, too?
"Finally, there's going to be someone intelligent in the class."
Wait. What?
If he saw the dazed look on Even's face, Braig didn't comment, just flashed another grin and grabbed the books out of Even's hands (like he was trying to be helpful - or - or maybe - maybe he was trying to be helpful) and towed him over to a pair of desks by the window. "Here, sit here. You can see the board and when the Professor's being dull, which is, you know, always, you can stare out the window."
Even fell into his seat and felt a little bit like his entire world had been turned on its axis.
"It moves pretty slow for a NEWT class, but it's better than Charms, god, I wanted to shoot myself. So easy."
Oh yes, he thought faintly. This year was going to be hell. He was going to have to re-learn everything he'd ever taken for granted, it was going to be so different but maybe, if he let himself believe, it might turn out to be wonderful.
+
Braig leaned over the back of Dilan's chair. "Dilaaan," he whined. "Let me copy your homework."
Dilan snorted loudly. "Right. That's a no."
"Come on, you're almost done!"
"And have me destroy your bloody perfect track record?" He rolled his eyes at his best friend, who danced around to perch on the arm of the chair. "I'm not that stupid, I'd have to put up with your bitching."
"It's too much effort to do it myself." But he was looking down at Dilan's careful notations, his eyes quick and calculating as always. "You dropped a decimal, there."
"Fuck off!"
"If you let me copy your homework I promise I'll fix all your stupid mistakes!"
"Get out!" Dilan whacked Braig's shoulder with the textbook, and Braig laughed. He loved his friend, truly he did, but there was a time and a place to be a know-it-all and this wasn't one of them. "Go bother someone else. Or do the homework yourself."
"Thinking about it," he said, but his eyes were faraway - he was staring up at the boys' staircase, and Dilan knew what that meant. He wasn't thinking about his homework at all.