#5

Force of habit made the witch want to stop at the Gryffindor table. It was with a start that she realised that was exactly what it was – force of habit. She blinked and continued walking, trying to convince herself that there was nothing in it. But of course, there was. There had to be, didn’t there? She had not left everything behind in England like she had hoped. In Scotland, the very walls that encased them reminded her of her father and his friends. In absence of her brother, she was both Brown and Finnigan – the sum of two war heroes.

As she settled in her chair, she felt the force of that realisation and she found herself wondering if Baldric ever felt it sometimes – though, of course, the legacy he had to live up to was far greater than hers given that Oliver had gone on to become, first, the best Quidditch player in Britain and then, second, the greatest coach that Puddlemore United had ever had. Her father had been the best Auror in his division by a long mile. Her mother had done much in their field, too. And she was, well, Melissa. It wasn’t even her name. It was her great-grandmother’s.

What on earth could she do to stand in the sun of her own accord?

Shaking herself a little bit, Melissa came back into the room, emerging from her thoughts. She sighed softly and glanced over at Baldric who offered her a warm smile. His eyes were soft, his body reclined comfortably. She glanced at his goblet which looked as though it had been recently topped off. Flicking her eyes about she saw a hearty amount of wine for the teachers to indulge in. She wondered if someone else had come from Beauxbatons, although she saw the students weren’t being given any. Baldric seemed content enough – as though he’d sleep well that night.

“Hungry, Professor Wood?” She asked coyly, her eyes flicking to Keiran as he moved to get the attention of the students.

“Famished, lass,” the Highlander replied with a chuckle, reaching for his goblet once more.

She dropped her hands into her lap and turned to listen to what Keiran had to say. As he spoke, she felt heat rush to her cheeks and she looked down, wondering where his words were coming from. He’d given no indication that he thought that of her and it hurt a smidgen to consider that perhaps he was just saying it for the sake of encouraging the students to behave. She pushed that thought away and lifted her head, offering the sea of faces a small, shy smile. She felt that, possibly, she’d feel a little bit more confident once she had them down to about thirty at a time. The entire school was a bit too much all in one go. A smile was enough for now – she was just glad Theodore didn’t ask her to say anything. She was sure she might’ve fainted.

The applause that rattled through the hall nearly did that for her. She opened her mouth, shock parting her lips with a little ‘oh’ and she smiled again, trying to find somewhere to look. In the end she inclined her head in thanks, keeping her eyes fixed on the dinner plate before her. She thanked the stars above when the applause finally died down. Theodore got to his feet and declared that dinner was ready and, just as it always did, the spread appeared before their very eyes, delighting the first years and, also, the Divination professor who had forgotten the rush of warmth that came with the arrival of dinner.

Baldric jumped straight in, beating the Care of Magical Creatures professor to the large bowl of sweet potato mash. He dumped an enormous dollop of the stuff onto his plate and Melissa blinked, wondering what on earth was possessing him to want that much. Ah, she thought, probably the wine. He grinned at her and held out the spoon in offering but she shook her head, declining softly before letting her eyes sweep across the table in search of something to start with. She had never been very good at this – although when she was a teenager she filled her boots. She often stole some dessert to eat later in her room. Beauxbatons had taken her out of such a routine – not that she was eager to start again.

“The winters up here are long, Finnigan,” Theodore called from the other side of Keiran while in the midst of tipping a kale, spinach and cabbage mixture onto his plate. “Better start eating up, love. You’ll never make decent pickings for the wolves, otherwise!”

Melissa pouted a little and lifted her hands up onto the table, still entirely flummoxed as to where she was supposed to begin. The boys had no trouble, it seemed. In the end, she decided to go for propriety first and picked up the carafe of wine. She decided to bypass Baldric – he needed to sober up anyway – and turned to Keiran.

“Are you much of a wine drinker?” She asked with a small smile, holding up the carafe a little, showing her intent to pour it for him. “Uh, thank you, by the way. For the words … you didn’t have to say that so … thank you.”

Once drinks had been poured, Melissa turned back to the food dilemma. She didn’t really want to fatten herself up for any wolves but she doubted that Theodore would stop side-eyeing her interestedly until she hurried up and picked something. She went for the fish and was delighted to find that it was sea bass. She got herself a couple of fillets and then found out some green beans, asparagus and finally indulged in some sweet potato mash to placate Baldric.

“At, um. At Beauxbatons we had a set menu,” she offered conversationally, not really to anyone in particular.

Theodore hummed in agreement, swallowing his mouthful with a slug of wine. “We’ve got a cousin, mate, who went to Beauxbatons.” So they were related. He had at least directed that at Kieran. “Mind you, they also went to Durmstrang, too, that lot.”

“I went on exchange there,” Millie chipped in happily. “During my degree, that is. They were a bit iffy about—”

“Blood,” Theodore and Baldric deduced at once, mirroring each other. They grinned despite themselves and Melissa found herself laughing at them.

“Yes, how did you know?” She asked, inclining her head curiously as she began to cut up the fish.

“Because a nice little half-blood like yourself, of good Irish stock no less, with pride, I’d wager, that matches half your family, has no business trying to educate yourself in a hell hole like that,” Theodore replied simply.

“How could you tell I was…” She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Just because it’s Finnigan doesn’t mean—”

“That’s two questions you’re asking there, lass.” Baldric teased.

“Half-Blood because it’s on your file. Irish because it’s also on your file. However, that little nugget of information gives itself away. An hour with him,” he poked his cousin in the shoulder with a grin, “and that pretty French lilt melts away to what is … Cork, I believe?”

“You’re in the wrong profession if you can guess that,” Millie laughed, picking up her goblet.

“He’s just a nosy beggar – don’t mind him. It’s also probably on your file that you’re from Cork originally. Sligo boy, that one. House Rookwood of Sligo – born and bred.” Baldric chuckled.

“I thought that was where you were from!” Millie exclaimed, grinning back at Theodore who fixed her with a cheeky smirk.

“Did you get Kegs pegged down as easily?” He asked.

Millie turned to look at the Transfiguration professor and frowned playfully before leaning back in her chair, as though to have a really good look at him. It was for her own pleasure as much as for the game. He was really terribly handsome. It wasn’t quite fair.

“Definitely south,” she decided. “Where exactly?”

"I've been known to partake," Keiran replied, bemused by the conversation around him enough to loosen up. He just prayed that neither of his teaching counterparts would comment on it. "But you're wrong. I'm not the kind of man who says something he doesn't mean."

He glanced away as he finished the sentence, trying to remind himself to be more careful. His speech had, of course, been more apology than anything else - unless one counted the whole intimidate-the-children thing, which you should, reader. But he hadn't taken her seriously, and something told him that not doing so would be wrong of him. He didn't expect forgiveness, or for her to understand what his intention had been. He wasn't asking for that. He wasn't asking for anything at all, really. He just hated the way he could feel guilt licking at his spine whenever he looked at her.

Giving that welcome speech had done a great deal to dispel it, and for that he was very grateful.

When Theodore turned to him and mentioned a mutual relative, Keiran had to laugh. "The poor ones, out of what must be hundreds at this point. Poor sods." Turning to look at Melissa, he clarified, "The Durmstrang lot, obviously. Although I must admit that I feel a bit bad for the boys that end up at Beauxbatons. They always get such a gutting from colleagues after they leave. Too feminine of a name, perhaps."

When it turned to birthplace, Keiran wasn't the least bit surprised. It seemed to be a very British endeavor, that guessing game, but it did go on across the whole of the United Kingdom, he'd found. It was a matter of pride, somehow, and had always amused him more when he could watch others attempt it. Thus he kept quiet until Melissa turned to try and suppose his own origins.

Lifting his eyebrows, he merely looked at her as she attempted to sum him up. They had been doing a lot of that lately. Although his face appeared fairly passive, there was a smile of sorts behind his eyes that he was certain she couldn't miss.

Perhaps he was amused that she took his nickname without question, equating the two parts. Or perhaps he was the only one left. Either way, his point about nicknames had been proven to be truthful, even if he couldn't point it out to her.

"Galway," he supplied after a moment. "Bit more... middle than south, that. But," he added, leaning towards her and offering a cheeky grin, "we can say I'm from Killarney if that saves your ego. Mum's from Sligo as well, of course," He went on, turning to gesture in Theodore's direction. "She's the tie there, between the pair of us. Dad's from Crosshaven, if you'll believe it. So I've picked up a fair bit of your south from him."

Glancing Theodore's way again, Keiran had to laugh. "Mum refuses to believe I've got any of the southern pull, though. Proves her wrong, I suppose. Guess it doesn't help that I call her Mum rather than Mam, either. But Scotland'll do that to you. Neither of us," he explained to Melissa, finding that looking between the pair of them was really doing a number on his neck, "really left after we landed at Hogwarts, did we? Except for university."

With that, he leaned back in his chair, happy to eat and glance to either side rather than trying to turn back and forth. Realistically, he had never been so chatty at a meal, except perhaps quietly to either Bae or Theo. Now it was a strange sense of being at home that he wasn't used to. Keiran knew full well that they were nowhere near his familial home, but there was something bizarrely comforting about this set of three sitting to either side of him.

"So long as you two don't start bickering about Rovers versus Cork City, I won't have to tell you to piss off about it."

A funny, almost fuzzy feeling settled deep in the witch’s stomach. He meant it. She had no idea what to make of that None of the words that had, at times so heatedly, passed between them during their hour together indicated that he thought that of her. She averted her gaze, her cheeks colouring once more as she reached for his goblet. For both of them she pored an etiquette amount, although she had no intention of entirely finishing hers. The men either side of them could apparently drink to sink the island(s) they lived on. The last thing she truly wanted was to be hung-over on her first day, although she had always been a better student teacher at Beauxbatons after a night on the lash – which happened frequently when Alice was still in Paris. She needed to make a good impression, though. Even if she was finally relaxing, she still didn’t want to give Theodore a good reason to shove her bags into her arms, plop the cat on her head and send her home.

Speaking of the cat – Lucius Malfoy decided, in that moment, to make himself known. He had been absent since she had landed in Hogsmeade, never having liked Portkey travel. His mistresses shared his sentiments. She hadn’t been too concerned as wandering off was something of his passtime but thinking of her cat had made her wonder where he had gotten to. He hopped up from under the table, straight onto her lap, and yowled loudly at her as though to question where on earth she had been, rather than him.

Millie smiled indulgently at the animal and drew him closer to her, her ringed fingers immediately beginning to comb lightly through his fur – to his obvious delight if the purring was indicative of anything. Baldric looked on bemused, remembering the cat and, moreover, remembering its name. He gave a soft chuckle and turned to the woman on the other side of him, the Herbology professor, who had commented something about monkshood pickings that month. Apparently they were responsible, in lieu of a potions professor, for the lycanthropic students that they had in their midst. Baldric had abandoned the wine for such a serious subject, his brows low over his eyes, his lips moving quickly. It was something he cared very much about, Millie deduced.

Lucius Malfoy yowled again and Millie looked down to find his flat face pointed straight at hers, his beady eyes fixed up at her. She raised an eyebrow and she was sure that, if he could, he would have lifted his paw and pointed straight at his mouth. She shook her head at him. There was nothing at the table for him to eat and he could think again if he thought he was going to be indulged in such a way. She leaned down and clicked her fingers at the floor in encouragement of the cat moving but Lucius plonked himself down all the more resolutely on her lap. She sighed and brought her hands back to his fur, turning her attention to Keiran as he began to speak.

She caught the look, sure enough, and smiled despite herself. Picking up her goblet, she took a sip of her wine as he reasoned out her suspicions. She told herself she was close with her estimate, though she did laugh when he endeavoured to spare her ego.

“That does save it, thank you,” she quipped back, unconsciously leaning towards him. “My aunt’s from there so … snap.”

She felt a little twinge of sadness when he spoke of Hogwarts and how the Highlands had changed them. Theodore nodded, chuckling into his goblet. He had picked up more than his fair share of Baldric’s – and his fellow countrymen’s – turn of phrase over the years, they both had. Millie, not so much. But then, that said, you couldn’t quite breed the East London out of the girl.

“I’m actually a West Ham fan,” she conceded with a laugh, cutting up some of the fish. “My …” She licked her lips as that familiar twisting feeling of dread reeled off inside of her. “My dad,” she got out rather smoothly, much to her delight and surprise. “He was a massive fan. It didn’t rub off on my brother so much but he used to take me along to home games and then every couple of months he’d take me to an away day. My cousins are the Cork City fans.”

“Bloody hell,” Baldric re-joined the conversation happily. “Forgot you were a Hammers fan. I do distinctly remember one weekend in our third year when you were monumentally pissed that you couldn’t go home for a game. I thought the tower was going to fall down!”

Millie felt the heat of embarrassment rise in her face and she laughed a little, gesturing to Baldric as though to say that she had taken after her father, she was as much an out-of-control football fan as he was. Theodore shook his head amusedly.

“Beauxbatons didn’t convert you to PSG, then?” He teased.

“Bore off,” Millie retorted before she could help herself, wrinkling her nose at him. “Like I’d support that bunch of primadonnas.”

“Careful, lass,” Baldric leaned over, a grin lighting up his face. “That’s a Man City fan you’re talking to.”

“No!” She exclaimed, surprise lighting up her face prettily in the candlelight. “You’re joking!”

“Guilty as charged – although I come from a more respectful club from that region,” he commented with a wry look in Keiran’s direction. “You don’t walk alone, mate. Remember that.”

“Hey now,” Baldric jumped in to Keiran’s defence, “don’t be mocking a man’s club, now.”

“You mocked mine!” Theo shot back.

“Children!” Millie laughed. “At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter because everyone knows that the Hammers are better.”

The Scot and the Irishman’s scoffs couldn’t have been louder.

Lucius Malfoy, clearly bored with proceedings and the continued lack of food, got to his feet and hopped over into Keiran’s lap. Millie set down her cutlery immediately, an apologetic look filling her features.

“I’m so sorry—Lucius get off!”

“Lucius?” The cousins’ voices cut in disbelievingly.

“Old Death Eaters amused teenage me,” Millie explained, waving her hand through the air dismissively. “Lucius Malfoy Finnigan move.”

The cat gave a whine and then lifted up his bum before resolutely plonking himself down in Keiran’s lap. His look stated clearly: I’m staying.

“Oh,” she deflated a little. “I guess you’ve made a friend, Hayes. I hope you don’t mind.”

"Oh, we are proud, aren't we Theodore? Pride in battle, if not in themselves. Seriously," he went on, turning to Melissa again, "this one has more pride in him than the entire team combined. Don't forget that; you might regret it. Proper does him in on nights out."

Rolling his eyes at Millie's claim about West Ham, he had to take a moment to stand up for his club of choice. "At least Liverpool has history and pride that isn't ruined every time the club loses a match! Fickle fans we are not. Well, unless there's a particularly stupid signing, but we can't help that, now can we?"

Just then, an almost literal ball of fluff descended on Keiran's legs and he blinked down at it in some weird combination of fear and amusement. Of course, the cat's name was not to be left alone. "You call him Lucius every time you speak to him? No wonder he's in a rubbish mood. Could've picked something a bit shorter, professor."

Ah, there was the jab. Keiran was waiting for his own pride to walk up and pop him in the face, and it had finally made a return. The formal, as he had said, would be his go-to for quite some time. Particularly considering she chose to use his last name rather than the one he had given her. But perhaps he was just waiting to hear her say it and that was part of what irked him. He decided not to wonder too much about that.

"You're lucky," he told the cat, "that I'm not allergic."

Regardless, the hand closer to Theodore came down to offer a gentle scratch between the ears, curious as to whether or not the cat actually liked him or if the poor thing was trying to guilt his mistress into feeding him.

"Once you've finished, perhaps it would be wise for me to show you the way back and let you prepare dinner for, um, Lucius-" he shot her a funny look out of the corner of his eye, "so he'll stop being so upset with you."

He nearly mentioned the map again, but as he hadn't made a big deal of it to his colleagues, he supposed it would be better to keep it to himself. He hadn't exactly been using it for its original purposes, anyway. Peter might have, though. Keiran wasn't sure if he thought his brother mischievous enough, but the possibility was there.

"I'll see if I can't help you understand the layout of the grounds, as well," he added in place of mentioning what he supposed could rightfully be termed an 'artifact.' "I daresay you'll want to at least try to get some sleep before lessons tomorrow, if nothing else."

Dinner filled student and teacher alike with the overwhelming need to sleep. Though the evening was yet young, Millie was already beginning to feel her new bed calling to her. She knew that she still needed to sort through her things and adjust the colour scheme to her liking but she supposed that if she rose early enough she could get in a morning run and be back in time to while away her time with that before breakfast and before classes began for the day. Speaking of, she needed to figure out her lesson plans too. Memories of that turned her right off her pudding, much to her dismay. The cat looked at her, as though to ask if he could eat the rest. She left him to it.

The students began to wander back to their rooms and soon enough the staff did so, too. The Heads of Houses wandered off to address their wards and the rest of the professors returned to the dormitories. Millie fell into step with the Care of Magical Creatures professor and spoke amicably about a handful of topics before they all parted ways. She let herself into her dormitory, Adela complaining bitterly that she was woken by her new lodger. Millie had laughed but she couldn’t help but feel a little bit bad about it.

The witch set about unpacking. Soon enough, all of her things had new homes and the room looked more like her own. Once she was done, she changed the colours, settling the colour scheme to sea blue hues. It was then that she settled to work out what she was going to do for her lessons the following day. She was working on it diligently when her eyelids started to droop. They got heavier and heavier and heavier and then …

The witch woke with a start, stirred by the sunshine pouring in through the windows. Groaning, she wriggled over the bed and pulled on her glasses to look at the clock. Seven o’clock. That was fine. Good. Better, even. She got up and trudged into the bathroom, divesting herself of the robes she had fallen asleep in. After a piping hot shower, she dried her skin and her hair with a few spells. She sat took a few moments to rub coconut moisturiser into her skin and smiled as the smell invaded her senses. Thereafter, the witch set about finding her robes for the day.

She settled on a set of form-fitting emerald green robes that showed off many of her assets – although she hadn’t picked them for that. Hardly. They were made of a silky soft material that was effortlessly comfortable. With its beautiful embroidery and the way it seemed to sparkle in the light, it proved to be her favourite robes. She poked curls into her hair and left it loose before leaving her room, retracing that familiar path down to the kitchens where she retrieved two blueberry breakfast muffins from the House Elves.

Wandering back up to the staff dormitories, Millie stopped outside of Keiran’s door, rather than her own. She smiled at the centaur that moved into view and he raised her smile of his own.

“Is Professor Hayes in?” She asked gently, holding up the muffin. “I brought breakfast. Sort of.”

After releasing Lucius so he could devour what was left for him, Keiran leaned around Theodore to speak to their Charms professor. She explained that she needed approval for one of her projects so Keiran excused himself to head to the other side of the table to look over her idea, and spent the better half of an hour with his palms pressed onto the top of the table as he read or gesturing to certain bits and pieces. Now and then, he would glance towards Millie, trying to determine if she was impatient or trying to get his attention.

The last time he looked up, she had disappeared, cat and all. A strange flash of hurt took his features and his chest for a minute, but he supposed it couldn't be helped when a fellow teacher had asked for his help. Melissa had never been pointed about her desire for it; Theodore had just sort of slapped them both with the match. So he turned back to his colleague and spent the rest of the hour slowing down at investing more of his attention on her suggestions. In the end, he determined that it was fantastic, but needed to involve a few more students to make it worthwhile. He only hoped she didn't pitch it to Theodore; he didn't need to be paired up with Melissa. Knowing the headmaster, there was no one else he would get. Even if he would prefer Baldric's lot.

It would be better for everyone - okay, mostly for him - if she just decided to partner up with the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for it. That would be great.

So he left before he could find out what she decided to do about it, heading up to the professor's commons. Millie wasn't in sight, which didn't really surprise him at that point. Keiran stayed up, however, discussing the first couple of weeks with their keeper of keys. It was a miracle, really, that she had anything to say about it. The woman was charming, to be sure, but seemed slightly incompetent. Keiran wasn't sure he minded, though, considering things sort of worked themselves out in the end.

By the time he fell asleep, he had almost forgotten that Melissa had disappeared on him. Almost.

The next morning, Keiran woke in a better mood than he had the day before, and finally found time to write to Avery about her news. He was about to send it off when he was interrupted. Marcellio charged into the portrait frame in front of him, informing him that a blonde woman was outside. He, as ever, was friendly but concise, and said nothing else until Keiran asked which one.

"The new one. The one that's wearing green today."

His eyebrows rose and pulled together, clearly not believing that an ex-Gryffindor would so easily trade sides. But then he remembered that she wasn't only a Gryffindor. She was also fairly French, and they did a great deal of wiggling about, didn't they? At any rate, he told Marcellio to open the door for her, and a moment later the portrait swung inwards.

"Well, Professor Finnigan," he said without looking her way. Instead, he released the latch on his window and let his owl fly off with the letter. "I see you didn't disappear completely."

Spinning around to face her, he pulled up short when he caught sight of her. Green, indeed.

Stepping over the threshold into the Transfiguration professor’s room, Millie let her eyes sweep about. A room told a lot about a person. She was certainly approving of what she saw – especially the professor himself at the window. She felt a smile tug at her lips and she stepped forward, coming to stand just behind him.

“Good morning to you too, professor,” she commented wryly. “I brought a little bit of breakfast. And, well, an apology for wandering off last night. I got distracted by Professor Honeysuckle. I hope you’re not too unhappy with me for it?” She raised her eyebrows temptingly and held out the muffin for him to take.

After he took it, Millie pealed back the case of hers. She picked a bit off and brought it to her lips. Smiling a little at him, Millie turned and perched herself down on the corner of his table.

“Ready for this morning?” She asked, her lips turning into a grimace. “Theodore will appreciate your estimation of how … err, good or bad or … whatever I am. Teaching-wise.”

“Did you sleep well, by the way?” She picked off another bit of the muffin. “Did you hear the wind? Theo wasn’t kidding when he said the winters were going to be long. Feels like it’s already begun.”

Oh god, Millie … are you really talking about the weather?

She smirked a little and took a proper bite of the muffin. The taste of blueberries swept over her tongue and she hummed happily, chewing away.

“So what’s it like looking after an entire house?”

As thoroughly tempted as he was to give her a once-over, that was hardly appropriate. But when he looked down at her hand, it wasn't his fault if he happened to notice other things as well. Taking the muffin from her, he couldn't help the uncertain expression on his features.

"I can overlook it," he replied, lifting a shoulder as he pulled back the wrapper and lifted the muffin to his mouth the take a bite. Watching over the top of it, his eyes followed her when she lifted herself onto his desk.

Of course, and Keiran knew she wouldn't have realized it, Melissa hit directly upon the thing he wasn't looking forward to that day. He didn't like to get involved past a certain point. And that point, in this case, was when it came to the content of her lessons. If the students passed, what did it matter to him? Besides, he could be of very little help when it came down to things. He knew the concepts better than anyone would expect him to, but none of it worked for him.

"Yeah, the weather's the bloody weather, what of it?" He asked sharply, lifting an eyebrow. He didn't see what the purpose of small talk was when they had important things to worry about, such as her first day of lessons. Was she really that frightened that she wanted to avoid the topic? "I slept fine once I got in," he tacked on, feeling a bit bad about snapping at her.

She had asked another question, though, which was much safer of a subject. Once he had griped at her, though, he wasn't sure his answering it would help him any. But he forged ahead regardless.

"It really isn't that different," he mused aloud, fiddling with the little muffin cup where it hung from its contents. "The only real change is that judgement becomes much more important. It's one thing to take points away. Assigning detentions, determining what a student will find punishment but not enough to rebel and behave that much worse... that's where the difficulty comes in," he said, doing his best to explain. He wasn't sure the words were coming out correctly at all, though.

“Are you going to berate me for every other thing I say?” Her brows shot up towards her forehead pointedly as her irritation flared. She looked down again and shook her head, pulling the muffin casing down a bit more. An apology was bouncing on her tongue, rolling about in her mouth, but she had no desire to give voice to it. That didn’t stop her from releasing it, though. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to … well.” She gestured vaguely, hoping that sufficed but couldn’t quite lift her gaze from the muffin in her occupied hand. Embarrassment, she was certain, was already making itself quite apparent in her cheeks.

She was half tempted to make some sort of excuse and high-tail it out of there. She glanced down at her nails, painted a soft pink colour. They could have done with a touch-up. She could have declared she needed to do that before classes begun. If Keiran was at all observant though, he would pick out the lie – in fact, he’d pick out the lie regardless of what line she fed him. She had to stand there and ride it out. She chanced a glance up just as he began to speak again and she felt her heart unclench as he answered her question from before.

The witch nodded curtly, hoping it came off as thoughtful instead. She picked at the muffin and tried to gather some of her temper back in. She pushed herself off of the table and drew herself up to her full height – although it still didn’t come close to his. She had often thought herself a rather tall woman but the men of Hogwarts seemed to be almost freakish in their height. Or perhaps her friends were quite short. One way or another, there was definitely something in the Highland water.

“Well, it certainly sounds as though you’ve got your hands full.” And now he had her to be getting along with, too. “I’ll leave you to it. I suppose I’ll speak to you later today.”

With that, the witch removed herself from his room as quickly as was seemly. She returned to her own, abandoning the muffin briefly, and fetched her bag. Then, she was tasked with finding her way up to her classroom. With students roving about on the staircases, it was a little bit tricky but she arrived at her classroom in plenty of time, allowing her to set up shop for her third years.

A flick of her wand lit the candles under the stands and she turned her magic in the direction of the teapots sat inside a cupboard off to the side. They sailed off of the shelves and settled on the grates. Inside, water began boiling and Millie brought out packets of tea and cups which found places on all of the tables her students would inhabit. She had thirty third years. A great turnout, really.

Millie rooted around in her bag closer to the time that they were due to arrive and she drew out some biscuits which she distributed around the class, also. She supposed that it was better to start as she meant to go on. And that was with biscuits. She also found a lemon drizzle cake, too. It was lurking at the bottom. One she had bought the day before but had forgotten about. It was in good knick. That she thought she’d wait to send out, though.

At eight-thirty, Millie hopped up the steps to the door and opened it up, finding her students lurking apprehensively outside. She smiled widely, greeting them brightly, and stepped back to let them come inside. They hurried past, the majority of them, but some of the braver ones – indeed, Gryffindors – said good morning to her. It was a greeting she returned wholeheartedly. Keiran entered last and she gave him a small, almost reluctant, smile before bringing the door to behind him.

“Alright – did everyone have a good breakfast?” She asked generally as she moved through the aisle towards the front of the room.

The Gryffindors didn’t disappoint her, announcing loudly that they had thoroughly enjoyed themselves that morning with a fry-up. Millie smirked a little and informed them she was glad for it before checking with the students at large that they were all alright that morning. She swept her eyes interestedly around the class, paying particular attention to the quiet ones and, most of all, to the sheepish ones. She earmarked them, making note to pay them a bit of attention during the hour.

“I’m Professor Finnigan. Within this classroom and during my office hours, you’re welcome to call me Melissa. Outside of class, normal protocol resumes. While I am also your teacher, I’d like you to mind the fact that I am also your colleague. I stand to learn as much from you all as I hope you will learn from me. In this room, we are all students of Divination. So, just so I can get a bit better acquainted with you – let’s whip round and you can tell me your names.”

The students did as they were bid and Millie found herself concentrating more in those few moments than she would for the entirety of her lesson. She was determined to get them on the first go. She doubted it would be the case but she was determined to make each student feel as though she had taken them on board as an entity – one that was important to her. No one, she wanted to show, would fly under her radar. Once they were finished, she thanked them.

“Did anyone do their summer reading?” She asked, leaning back against her desk, her hands falling down either side of her. Blank faces greeted her. She laughed a little, unable to quite help herself. The students visibly relaxed, sagging in a wave, seemingly all at once. She tried to keep the smirk from her face but in truth couldn’t help herself. She pushed her hands down against the wood and hopped up to sit on the top of her desk, swinging her legs idly back and forth.

“Okay, so, we’re going to ease into this with a little bit of fun. It’s one of those rare times that Divining magic is actually a little bit silly as well as useful. And who doesn’t like a tea party?” Her smirk turned into a happy smile. “If you’d like to pick your teas, pop the leaves into the bottom of whichever cup strikes your fancy. The water isn’t quite ready yet, though.”

The students began to move forward and the clinking of porcelain and the fumbling of boxes rose into the air with the fluttering of light chatter. Millie chanced a look in Keiran’s direction before refocusing herself on the students, not giving herself the chance to observe his expression and begin to worry over it. The students, to their credit, were efficient even if there was some squabbling going on with the Gryffindors.

Pushing off of the desk, Millie swept over and knelt down at their table, plucking the box of tea out of the midst of the argument. They quietened down immediately, shrinking into their seats with abashed looks on their faces. She turned the box over and hummed thoughtfully.

“I rather like peppermint, too,” she informed them as she rose back up. She held out the box, first, to the one who had been nearly without any and he smiled, pulling out a pinch of leaves. “Your choice of tea,” she lifted her voice for the benefit of the entire class as she held out the box to the next belligerent, “says a lot about how you’re feeling going into this process.”

She set the box down and picked up a cup and plucked a box of passionflower tea from the table. After dropping two pinches into her cup she set the box down again and tapped her knuckles against the teapot to check the water was warm enough. Satisfied, Millie poured a healthy amount of water over her leaves. The students instinctively began to follow suit.

“The type of tea doesn’t change your future. Once you’ve drunk your tea, the leaves in the bottom will be the same whether you’ve had oolong or lemon. The reasons you have for choosing the teas you have will have an impact on how you interpret the leaves, though. We are never looking into the future in a pure way. When visiting on our own paths or those of our friends’, we are bringing bits of ourselves. Our hopes, dreams, our feelings, our worries. It dominates our reading of the future.”

“Does that mean that what we see might be wrong?” Caleb, a Hufflepuff with a slightly worried disposition, piped up.

“Not necessarily,” Millie smiled slyly. “These are strengths, not just weaknesses so long as we do not let them rule us. This is something that bears out for your other subjects, too. Defence Against the Dark Arts, for example. Have any of you had the pleasure of meeting a Boggart yet?”

The students shuddered and Millie brought her lips together softly. She had known that they had. Chatting to that particular professor had led them to discuss that particular lesson. The current crop of third years had done well but many of them had not been able to summon the amusement to change the Boggart, leading to the professor’s intervention on more occasions than he would have liked.

“Lottie,” Millie addressed a Slytherin girl near the front of the class who had shrunk down into her seat, her face white with shame, at the mention of the creature. Her eyes grew almost begging when Millie said her name, urging the professor not to call on her – to call on anyone else. The titters from the others sat around her told Millie all she knew – this was one of them.

“When you faced the Boggart, did you cast the Riddikulus charm correctly first time?” The girl shook her head, sitting up a little, her eyes falling to her hands in her lap. “Look at me,” Millie coaxed. The girl did as bid. “What did you feel when it was your turn, when it was you who had to face it next?”

“Scared.” She mumbled, reluctantly meeting the professor’s gaze. One of the Gryffindors snickered and Millie’s eyes flicked sharply over to the table where the boys were sat.

“Thomas tell me,” she spoke, folding her arms over her chest, absently noting the way some of the other students leaned forward in anticipation of his rebuke. “Did you not feel scared, facing your Boggart? For the benefit of the class, do tell us what it was.”

“Professor—” His face had grown ashen. “I’d really rather not. It was horrible.”

“Curious, isn’t it,” she observed airily, glancing at the other boys, “that when it is one of your own, a fellow so-called lionheart, you keep your amusement to yourselves? Thomas did you cast the Riddikulus charm properly first time? Did any of you?”

They shook their heads sheepishly. As irritated as the witch was, she couldn’t claim not to be surprised. Gryffindors, for all of their arrogant, foolish wand waving did not do well in the face of the reflection of themselves. Being confronted with their worst fears was different for them than for the other houses. Oftentimes, it revealed to much about them, things that for bravado’s sake they wanted to keep to themselves. She was the same. Had been, at any rate.

“No one is wrong and no one failed for not being able to do so,” she addressed the whole class now. “You each felt fear walking into that moment. The difference between a successfully cast charm and not is what you do with that fear. You must acknowledge it, allow yourself to feel it, yes, but do not let it rule you. As with this, you each understand how you feel now, while the tea is steeping. I, for one, am nervous. Hence passionfruit. Isla is feeling a bit under the weather – hence the ginger.”

The girl opened her mouth in shock and her friends grinned at her, surprise lighting up their faces.

“When you read your tea leaves, or look to cast a spell, you need to remember that our magic is tied to our feelings. We can never be wholly in control of them but they are our strength as well as our handicap. Lottie. Thomas. You felt fear. The rest of you. You all felt fear, knowing what you would see when the Boggart came to you. You can’t control whether or not you feel it but what you can control is how it affects you and how you use it. In order to do that, we all have to be very honest with ourselves. You have to say yes, I’m nervous or I’m not feeling too well or I’m scared but I am not going to let that keep me from doing what I need to do. Let it be your strength, let it fuel your power. Let it allow you to cast your spells, do not let it be a barrier to your achievements.”

She smiled a little and glanced down at her tea. “Alright, mine is ready. I expect yours is, too. Drink up, lovelies. Then get out your textbooks and let’s see what your future holds, hm? Oh! And don’t forget the biscuits!”

The students dissolved into chatter and Millie picked up her cup. Well practised, she swallowed the sweet tasting liquid in a few glugs. Licking her lips, she brought the cup down and turned it a little in interest. A cross and a sun. She clucked her tongue thoughtfully against the roof of her mouth and set the cup down before sweeping over to Thomas’s table.

“I’m going to need you all to apologise to Lottie,” she told them, crouching down so that she was more or less level with them.

“But professor she’s a Slytherin!” Benjamin hissed, horrified, seemingly, by the idea.

“And right now you’re all a particularly poor showing from the house of Godric Gryffindor,” she bit back. “You are no different from anyone in this room and certainly no better by the virtue of the crest you wear on your robes. A particularly famous Gryffindor said that we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. He was not talking about our house when he said it, either. He was talking about all witches and wizards. Just by being Slytherin, she does not deserve to have you laugh at her. Neither would she if she was a Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or one of your own. She is well within her rights to feel fear. Just as you are. What you do not have the right to do is demonise her for it when she made no move to do so to you. Think about the way you treat people. Reflect on the fact that one of our values is chivalry. Do you understand, boys?”

“We’re sorry, professor.” Luke said earnestly.

“I’m not the one you should be apologising to,” she reminded him gently, reaching to pat him on the shoulder. “But we’ll let it go. Just mind you all make peace with her, and indeed anyone else you have not treated respectfully. In the meantime, though, what have we got in the bottom of these cups?”

She whisked around the class, paying attention to the students she’d thought would need just a little bit more time. Everyone seemed to grasp it, to her delight. What she was seeing in the bottom of the cups, though, began to concern her. After the third club she saw lurking in the bottom amidst other symbols, ones the students thankfully paid more attention to, Millie brought her hand around the cup in question, letting her fingers briefly graze against the Hufflepuff’s. She knew she knew better. She knew she did. But she couldn’t help herself. She let her shields flutter down and invited in the future.

The Hogwarts Express. Water. Screaming. Spells. The green of the Killing Curse.

“Melissa?” Sophie, who was sat across from where Millie was crouched, peering into Poppy’s mug, looked almost worried.

The witch gasped and lifted her head. “I … well.” She glanced down. “I am rather jealous of the dog that appears to be in your future,” she handed the cup back to Poppy, glad that was there in amongst it as well as the club. “What breed, do you know?”

“Well…my mum likes Labradors,” she grinned.

“I’ve always wanted a Labradoodle,” Millie smiled back.

The class ended almost too soon and Millie sent them off with extra biscuits and a few slices of the lemon drizzle cake. The Hufflepuffs in particular seemed to enjoy that.

“Melissa?” Lottie’s light voice tinkled at her ears and Millie turned.

“Yes, Lottie?”

“What … what was the Boggart that you saw?”

“When I was your age it was the disappointment of my friends, my family, the people I respected. They turned their backs on me, leaving me all alone.” Millie admitted readily enough, cutting a bit of cake for the girl.

“And… what is it now?” Lottie asked, accepting it with a grateful smile.

“I expect it would be them dead,” Millie admitted, surprising herself with how level her voice was. “But we can find out, if you like?”

“What do you mean?” The girl’s brows rose.

“I don’t think the professor will be covering Boggarts again in a practical setting but you still need to cast the charm, at least once, so that you know you can do it. If you’d like, I wouldn’t be opposed to commandeering the Boggart for such purposes. I will attempt to lead by example in regards to the fear factor,” her eyes sparkled with mirth.

“Could… could other people come?” Lottie asked. “I know Helen didn’t cast it.”

“I will barter with the Defence professor and between us we can set up a time that’s best for you all and then anyone who would like to come is welcome. How does that sound?”

“That’s great, thank you!” Lottie grinned. “What are we doing next lesson?”

“A bit of mirror viewing, I think. I want us to stay in the vein of getting to know our strengths and our weaknesses. This is a tricky subject. It requires a lot of honesty.”

Lottie nodded. “Is there anything I should read?”

“Chapter twenty, I believe, will help you out but I shouldn’t worry too much about theory just yet. We need to get a feel for the magic, first. Once you can all tap into that, then we can worry about the finer points and hone our skills. So, read it by all means but don’t pay it too much mind. If you like, I’d rather you practised a bit more than anything else.”

Lottie nodded eagerly and grinned, pleased for the direction.

“Now, I believe there are some sheepish young men out there who have something to say to you,” Millie smirked. “And I believe they’ll be escorting you to Charms if anything I said got through their thick skulls.”

The girl laughed and nodded, wishing the professor a good rest of her day before hurrying out of the room. There were no raised voices, much to Millie’s delight, and retreating footsteps told her that the boys had listened. Satisfied, Millie looked to Keiran whom, in truth, she had forgotten about.

“There’s some cake left.”

Keiran knew the instant his presence was registered. He knew, because when he sank down into an extra chair in the back of the room, a couple of Hufflepuffs who had been intended to sit at the nearby table changed direction completely the minute they saw him and he crossed his arms over his chest. There was nowhere left, though, as he had come in at the last minute. The girls reluctantly sat, tossing him looks now and then until Melissa started the lesson and drew their attention away.

Thank Merlin.

As much as he did not want to be sitting there in that classroom, Keiran was not going to sit there for an hour zoning out. He hated wasting time, and this was Theodore's fault. So Theo was going to receive a very thorough report about how Melissa Finnigan's class went that day.

He didn't anticipate the students' decisions to respond so easily to her questions, even the easy initial one. There was a different presence about her when she was teaching - at least to the one that he had seen the previous day. He was man enough to admit that it was partly his fault, the stuff that happened yesterday. And that morning was entirely on him, he knew that. Something about her had turned him to stone, but one thing he could not admit to himself was the reason why she was capable of doing so.

I would wager you know what that reason is, though, reader.

He flipped open his journal, having resorted to his Muggle resources for the day. They were much more convenient to carry, really. His first note? Surprisingly Friendly. And then a bit about how the students actually spoke up before she introduced herself. Taking notes went on for some time - up until Melissa addressed Lottie, one of his house's students.

One of his darkest glares was directed at the students who laughed at the girl. She had never been one that Keiran noticed much, but as far as he could tell, the poor thing had never had much of a chance.

From then on, his notes were more or less forgotten until Melissa set the students to their tea and he feared she would look his way and find him actually paying attention. To be fair, she made the topic engaging. He didn't want to tell her so, but it was the truth. The problem with this, of course, was that Keiran Hayes knew more about Divination than he let on, but he had never managed to succeed in any area of it. Because it sounded so mad that anything he may or may not have seen was immediately disregarded.

It was too metaphysical. Too imaginary and off the wall. It was impossible for someone like him to believe that it really happened. Although he had read up on hydromancy, the idea that he had seen what he thought he had that day in class was absurd. He hadn't taken Divination the following year, and since then had avoided it fully.

To this day, Keiran reminded himself, it hadn't happened. Obviously, he had been trying to hard, had just tricked himself. To this day, he wouldn't even let himself consider the image again.

He looked up just in time to catch Melissa's odd reaction to one of the girls' teacups. Narrowing his eyes, Keiran made a mental note to try and work her into explaining that expression. She moved on, though, and he pushed it to the back of his mind.

It wasn't until the end of class that he put down his pen and allowed himself to stop pretending he wasn't listening. He closed his journal and was about to get up when he saw Lottie going up to Melissa, obviously eager for future lessons. Keiran tilted his head to the side, watching the exchange. He was rather proud of her, really, and caught her attention as she made to exit the room.

Giving her a proud smile and a nod, he knew that he'd want to have a chat with her after class, later. He didn't always pay enough attention to the students who were quieter, and it was a none-too-subtle reminder that he ought to check in more often.

He was still watching the door when Melissa walked towards him. Keiran was quite sure that the woman hadn't glanced his way once during the lesson, which he took as a good thing, really. He wasn't sure what she would expect him to say, but he had time before his first lecture of the day, so he would stay and see if this conversation would go any better than the previous ones they had attempted to have. Dinner hadn't been that bad, actually. As far as conversations between the two of them went, anyway.

Leaning back in his chair as she spoke, he let the left side of his mouth draw up into a half-smile. "You aren't going to make me drink tea, as well, are you?" He asked, hoping she wouldn't make the request. Not half because he didn't like the stuff.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Keiran tacked on another question. "Have the Hogwarts students lived up to Theo's claims, then?"