layla 'double betrayla' fairbourne (boundless) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-01-01 00:01:00 |
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2006. “GRYFFINDOR!” the Sorting Hat thundered, and the students seated at a table dressed in red and gold added to the cacophony. With overwhelming excitement, and little grace, Layla Fairbourne, all of eleven years old, bolted from the stool the second McGonagall lifted the hat from her head. Nearly stumbling over her own robes, she scampered towards the table and sat down in a whirlwind. This was the best, Layla thought! Gryffindor was clearly the superior house, and she couldn’t wait to tell Liam and Natalie about it, and tell them how they had to be Gryffindors, too! In her elation she missed two girls being sorted into Slytherin (enemies) — Fawley and Flint — and barely drew her attention back to the front of the Great Hall in time for ‘Goldstein, Mary’ to be called up. Professor McGonagall needed her ears checked because Francine had very clearly told her that her name was Francine and not Mary, but she hadn't corrected it or said it again with the right name. And then, because the Hat had taken no time at all in choosing her house — Gryffindor, obviously — she'd been ushered off the stage without a chance to remind McGonagall again. It was all very rude! She was still grumbling about it as she sat down at the table. She turned to the girl next to her. "That was very rude," she informed her without telling her what exactly was rude. “What was rude?” Layla questioned, half-yelling over all the cheering with her excitement undiminished. It was her first dorm-mate! That, of course, was something very special. “I’m Layla!” Just in case the other girl wasn’t paying attention thirty seconds earlier, apparently. "McGonagall," Francine said, glaring at the person in question for a quick second before turning her attention back on the girl — Layla. "Hi! I'm just Francine." “She looks like she’s no fun.” Her brow furled in McGonagall’s direction in a display of camaraderie with M — Francine. That passed quickly, her excitement unabated, and so she turned her attention back to her friend (because of course they would be friends). “Francine is a cool name! It’s much better than Mary!” She nodded sagely. “This is going to be the best year ever!” She swung her arms to pull Francine into a hug, and only succeeded in knocking over a giant pitcher of pumpkin juice. Those nearby yelped and threw glares. The hug surprised Francine and she ended up awkwardly patting Layla on the back until it was over. "Do you really think so?" she asked. "I wasn't really looking forward to it." Oblivious to how awkward things were, Layla pulled back and continued nonetheless. “Yeah, it’s Hogwarts!” She paused, looking at Francine with concern. “Why aren’t you?” "I don't know," Francine shrugged. "It's just Hogwarts. My brother makes it sound so boring." Daniel made everything sound boring. “Oh,” Layla answered before she was distracted at another shout as someone — a future nemesis — into Slytherin. With a glare as any good Gryffindor would, her attention refocused. “I just have little siblings so I’m the first here. Doesn’t it seem fun though?” Then, a thought struck her. “Is he a Ravenclaw? Dad says Ravenclaws make everything sound about studying.” The answer was a dramatic eyeroll and her hand slamming onto the table. It was lost in the rush of the Sorting, but their neighbors sent Francine a glare that she ignored. "Yes. He doesn't know how to have ANY fun at all." Layla also rolled her eyes and tutted. “That’s silly. We’re going to have so much more fun. We’re Gryffindors, not nerds.” Francine couldn't argue with that. She nodded excitedly and smiled big. "That's so true! Danny's just been doing this ALL wrong." “Exactly!” Layla exclaimed. “He should have just gotten to be a Gryffindor. He’ll be jealous about how much fun we’re having.” "Oh, he would be terrible in Gryffindor," Francine said knowledgeably. "He'd just look at us disapprovingly. I'm so glad I'm not a Ravenclaw." Layla winced. “Can you imagine? Like, would we be asking the prefects about homework right now?” Francine looked horrified at the thought. "Can we please not talk about homework until at least a week from now?" “Two weeks. Or a month! Let’s go with a month.” "The longer we can go without mentioning it, the better," she confirmed. "I'd much rather eat." “That is a much better plan,” Layla agreed as she reached for a dinner roll. 2006. After what was clearly a four-hour torture session disguised as "Potions," Francine thought the the first breath of fresh non-Potions air she breathed was the best air she'd ever experienced. Dropping her bag onto the floor and stopping in the middle of the hallway, much to the annoyance of her classmates who found themselves having to maneuver their way around her, she opened her arms wide as if to embrace the air itself. "Freedom!" she said with relief. "I never want to go back in there." Rather than hurry Francine along, Layla stopped dead centre as well and threw up her hands. “Oh my Merlin that class is so bad!” She rolled her shoulders and made a grimace. Not only was the room disgusting, so were the people they shared it with. “Do you think the smell is potions or is it Snape?” “That’s totally disrespectful and going to get you detention,” came the shrill, haughty voice of Fausta Fawley from somewhere behind them. She was flanked by one of her cronies, Delphinia Flint. “Oh shove it up your arse and sod off,” Layla snapped, irritated. “Fausta, please find better taste,” Francine added, along with an eye roll. “You know Snape is the worst choice of Professor to have a CRUSH on.” Fausta grew red. “I don’t know anything—” Francine snickered. “—Like that! I know that you’re insulting a Professor and you’ll find out the consequences of that soon!” Francine’s face contorted into a mocking expression. “Oh, WILL I? I’m SOOOOOO scared.” Layla laughed loudly at her friend’s antics even as Flint squeaked her defiance at the insinuation that Fausta and Snape were destined to be. Unperturbed, Layla nudged Francine’s arm with her elbow. “I’m not scared, all I know is Fausta and Snape, sitting in a tree...” Immediately, Francine picked it up, her voice rising in volume as she continued taunting her. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” By the time she finished the word, Fausta had pulled out her wand. “You’re disgusting, Mary Francine!” she shouted, knowing that what Francine hated the most was her first name. “I’m not the one who wants to marry GROSS Professor Snape!” Francine shot back, pulling her own wand out to match Fausta. Layla’s wand was out in a flash as she stepped forward, keeping it trained on Flint who’d drawn hers, too. “Just hex her already you know she’s going to do it as soon as you turn your back!” Layla egged on, totally helpful. "I know what you're trying to do and it's not going to work on me, Layla!" Fausta said hotly, her wand moving between the two of them. “Yeah it is because you’re dumb,” Layla snapped, earning her another angry squeak from Flint. Francine rolled her eyes and was about to say something before an alarmed voice joined the fray. "What is going on?" Professor Flitwick squeaked as he pushed through the circle that had grown since the start of the argument. Immediately, Francine turned to the professor and gave him her best innocent eyes. "I have no idea, Professor! Fausta just turned her wand on us while we were leaving class!" Nodding rapidly, Layla pointed -- with her wand in hand -- to Fausta, and then over to Delphinia. “And then Flint joined in!” “That’s not true, Professor!” Delphinia interjected, her face as red as a tomato. “Gryffindors are all liars!” “Wands away, everyone!” Flitwick said, still sounding jovial despite the obvious command. As proof that she was a good student who listened to her professors and would never, ever lie to one, Francine pocketed her wand and turned apologetically to Fausta and Delphinia. "I don't know what I did, but I'm so sorry," she said sweetly. "I know we haven't always —" "You're such a FRAUD, Goldstein!" Fausta shrieked, lunging towards Francine for a second before Flitwick suspended her from going further. "Miss Fawley," he reprimanded, "please see me in my office! As for the rest of you, I beg you to consider what you have in common more than what separates you! You should be friends, not enemies!" He waited for Fausta to move before he did, and Fausta, unable to refuse the directive, stomped ahead, glaring at Francine and Layla as she did so. Francine kept her nice smile on until Flitwick turned the corner and then she immediately dropped it. "Well, it was lovely talking to you, Delphinia! We have to get to lunch!" Layla, who had been playing along with Francine’s act (Francine was so good at this sort of thing!) passably well, followed suit and dropped her smile when Professor Flitwick vanished. “Next time you draw your wand on me it’ll be your last, Flint!” she said, pulling herself up to her full height and trying to sound as intimidating as she could. But even despite the display nothing could stop her from linking arms with Francine and laughing with her about the whole thing as they went to get food and forget about stupid Potions. 2007. Layla was theoretically supposed to be resting, but everyone knew there’d be no chance of that. Not now, not after what had just transpired in the last day. After spending the last few hours clinging to her brother as life slowly ebbed away from him only yesterday. Her younger sister was with her grandparents, her parents themselves had retreated into their own grief, and Layla was left to her own devices after summarily shouting down the suggestion that she go anywhere else but be at home right now. The emotion had been so overwhelming she wasn’t even sure what she was doing right now, or how long she’d spent in Liam’s room, or what she was ever going to do live life without him. It cut deep, and so wrought was she with everything it simply bubbled over and left her in a haze. She was only vaguely aware she’d grabbed a handful of floo powder, and it was anyone’s guess why she remembered at precisely this moment she was supposed to be at Francine’s later that day. But here she was, choking back another bout of sobs and tears as she shouted “Goldsteins!” and tossed the powder into the flames. “Mum!” Francine called, her eyes bright when she noticed the Floo working. “Layla’s here!” She set her book aside (she had really only been reading it so that her mum could see that she was very busy and couldn’t help her clean) and waited impatiently for Layla to step through the fireplace. But Francine’s friend made no move to traverse the Floo itself. “I can’t come over,” Layla announced, and then sniffled lamely despite all her attempts to be a tough adult. “Something really bad’s happened and I—” she seemed to lose her train of thought, looked off to the side, and then shuddered. “What? Why?” She stepped closer to the Floo, as if peering through it could give her all the answers she needed. “What happened? Did you get in trouble? Did you break something?” “Yes, but that’s not—” Layla answered, struggling to come up for the words or how to explain this. Despite screaming about it earlier until her throat was hoarse somehow admitting it here would only make it real. “It’s Liam,” she said, more firm. Gryffindors forward, there was no sense hiding it. “We were out and something happened with muggles and then we were at Mungo’s and and—” she choked on her words. Going to Mungo’s was never good news. Francine knew because she was always having to visit them for the various scrapes she got into (and that time Danny needed his appendix taken out), but Layla looked and sounded so distraught she knew it wasn’t just a broken ankle. With trepidation in her voice, she asked, “Is he okay?” There was a poignant silence hanging in the air as Layla came to terms with it. “No. He’s gone.” She couldn’t bring herself to say dead in the end. With that admission came a flurry of words with unbridled emotion. “I didn’t know what to do! I don’t know what to do now! And I… I…” she shook her head. “Can you come over?” she asked, changing course wildly. Maybe she just needed someone’s shoulder to sob on. “What do you mean g—” Francine abruptly stopped herself before she finished her sentence, both realizing what it meant and not willing to say it because of that same realization. But she nodded immediately, scrambling up from the floor and looking around quickly. “I just need to tell Mum first, hold on —” With that, she sped off to find her, in the hallway. It was a rushed story, but her mum got the basics, smoothed down Francine’s hair, and kissed her on the forehead. She told her to tell Layla that if there was anything they could do for her family, all she needed to do was ask. Francine nodded and sped back to the Floo. “Okay, I’m on my way!” She grabbed a handful of Floo powder and stepped through the fireplace, intent on her destination. When she arrived, she immediately gathered Layla into a hug. Wrapping her arms around Francine and clinging to her like her life depended on it, Layla buried her face into her friend’s shoulder and let out a muffled sob. “Thanks for coming,” Layla murmured after a few moments of merely being held. She didn’t forget her manners at this point in time. Then, Layla pulled her face free of Francine and tried to act like her world hadn’t ended. 2012. She was home free. Layla smirked to herself as she rounded the last corner. The Fat Lady’s portrait hung in the distance, and Gryffindor Tower was sanctuary. It was fairly, but it all had been worth it. The Slytherin quidditch team practicing tomorrow wouldn’t know what hit them when they entered the locker rooms near the pitch. “What are you doing, Layla?” The Gryffindor froze, wincing, and then turned on her heel and beamed at prefect Fausta Fawley. “Hey, Fausta. Fancy seeing you here up by Gryffindor Tower.” “As a prefect I have to patrol in case students are out of their dorms after curfew,” Fausta said, striding forward to where Layla was standing. She looked suspicious. “I’m aware how that works, yeah.” Layla was wracking her mind for a valid excuse. "If you were aware of that, then you wouldn't be so surprised by it," Fausta countered haughtily. "What are you hiding?" Layla’s patience rapidly waned. “I’m only surprised because you were lurking around Gryffindor when you could be anywhere else. Do you have a crush on the Fat Lady now? That’s up from Snape, I’ll give you that.” She leaned against the wall, arms folded across her chest. Casual. "I'm sorry you're projecting," the other girl said, crossing her arms in a parallel power move. "But my route takes me by here and it's just your luck that I'm catching you from doing whatever it is you were doing!" Snorting derisively in defiance -- not willing to give Fausta an inch of power -- Layla shrugged her shoulders without moving. “Sure, Jan.” She made an exaggerated gesture by craning her neck to peer down the hallway. “I don’t see anything, so I guess I did nothing.” Fausta ignored her words. "I'm taking you to McGonagall. She'll see that I'm —" "Wrong as usual?" Francine's sharp voice cut in, seemingly out of nowhere. In truth, she had been lurking for the past minute, having stumbled upon her best friend and her enemy, and had waited for the best opportunity to wittily interrupt. Thankfully, Fausta had provided that. "Stop harassing innocent students and get back to work." And although it didn't need adjusting, Francine made sure the Head Girl badge that sat on her was aimed right at Fausta. Fausta's eyes were drawn to the badge before they flickered back up to Francine. "Oh goody," she proclaimed, "the Head Girl's here just in time to bail you out of trouble." “Thank you, Francine,” Layla said, shooting her friend a relieved look. “I’m glad someone here can spot people being unfair.” Of course she may as well lay it on thick now that she had a chance. Directing her attention back to Fausta, Layla shrugged. “Maybe you should stop being jealous you’re not Head Girl, Fausta. You didn’t have a chance compared to her anyway.” "As if! She only got made Head Girl out of… pity or something!" Francine stepped closer with a dangerous smile on her face. "Fausta, do you like being a Prefect?" Confused, Fausta nodded. "Then you shouldn't antagonize the people who can unmake you a Prefect," Francine said. "It's REALLY rude to disrespect your Head Girl, you know. I've half a mind to report you to Dumbledore!" Layla snickered. The colour had drained from Fausta’s face. “You can’t do that,” she protested. “You’re abusing your power to get your friend out of trouble and Professor Dumbledore would know that too.” The Slytherin glared at Layla, and then at Francine although her resolve seemed to weaken. The threat had her second guessing. This was the best part about Francine's new position. She loved being able to issue threats and have people believe them no matter how unlikely — of course she couldn't take Fausta's badge from her — because being Head Girl meant that she could do anything she wanted. It was awesome. "I'm doing no such thing. Layla hasn't done anything wrong and if you don't stop this nonsense this instant, you'll have to do double rounds next week. You've wasted so much time out of your patrol right now. Is this how you spend ALL your patrols?" "Of course it's not," she snapped. "I'm a responsible, not corrupt Prefect. I swear to Merlin, if—" "I'm taking Callista off her Wednesday shift next week and assigning it to you," Francine declared without fanfare. She shot Fausta a smug look. "Don't test my patience, Fausta." Fausta protested, but she ignored it. She could take it up with the professors and Francine was certain that she could talk her way out of it. Nudging Layla along, she kept her laughter contained until they turned the corner. "Did you see how red her face got?" It was all Layla could to keep herself from peeing herself laughing during the altercation, but she’d managed -- somehow -- and now that they were in the clear she broke down into earnest laughter. “Merlin, I love you. She’s so pissed.” Francine grinned widely. "I love you too! And I know. It's perfect." She beamed down at her badge and adjusted it again. "I'm so glad I'm Head Girl." “You were brilliant.” Layla pulled her friend into a brief hug. “Someone had to keep people like Fausta in line. You’re the best Head Girl the school has ever had.” Then, however, she remembered. “Oh, right. Let’s get back to our dorm so I can tell you what I was doing.” "Okay, but then I have to practice my plausible deniability face. If they question me, I'll have to pretend I know nothing." |