~*Every Other Time*~
Chapter One: Bad Reputation
Dove: We're incorrigible. I so know. But… there are so many Quidditch players, most of them minor characters, and we know what to do with them so much better than… well… anyone, actually… Anyway, these two aren't nearly as cute as Roger and Cho… they make Roger and Cho's sulks look angelic on the best of days… yes, folks. We did it at last. Cassius Warrington and Su Li. Merlin have mercy on us. Someone must.
Thalia: All hail the snarkiness! All hail discord, devilishness and other manners of evil! This fic promises to be fun... and after all, Dove and I had to adopt a few more pet characters... you know this, don't you? *glomps Warrington* I hope you enjoy reading this as much as we do writing it!
Disclaimer: I can't say we own Harry Potter. In fact I'd say it owns us.
"I don't give a damn
'Bout my reputation
I've never been afraid of any deviation
An' I don't really care
If ya think I'm strange
I ain't gonna change
An' I'm never gonna care
'Bout my bad reputation…"
-Joan Jett, "Bad Reputation"
"Badge, shiny and pinned securely, check. Robes, clean and unwrinkled, check. Shoes, polished and unscuffed, check. Hair, clean and neat, check. Smirk, infuriating and smarmy, check." The mirror in Cassius Warrington's room had been charmed when the mirror-maker had been a bit tipsy, and had then sat in the shop, no one willing to buy it, because of how sarcastic it was.
But then, Cassius Warrington enjoyed sarcasm. His mother often remarked that the "bloody mirror" and her son were over-fond of mouthing back and forth to each other, and it was unbecoming.
Cassius... found it all very amusing.
He turned away from the mirror, all six-feet-two-inches of darkly handsome, smirking seventh year Slytherin Chaser, and sauntered out of the room, his entire bearing full of assurance and snarky good humour.
It was his final year at Hogwarts... and he had been named Head Boy.
Perhaps Dumbledore was having one of his madder moments... but whatever the case, he didn't care over-much.
It promised to be an interesting year.
With these thoughts in mind, he picked up his school list and a pinch of floo powder. "Diagon Alley!" he called out as he threw the sparkling powder into the fireplace.
"Enjoy yourself, you swarthy git!" the mirror called. Cassius sniggered as he stepped into the green fire and disappeared.
***
"Su-Yu! What have you done to yourself!?" That was the extent of Yan-Chun Li's English before she began jabbering at her daughter in rapid and highly hysterical Chinese, which was really not so different from any other day when Su got one of her infamous "ideas" into her head.
For her part, the minute girl stood and waited out her mother's sputtering before patting her very blonde hair, which had been very black (and in her opinion very boring) just that morning and saying with a carefree expression, "It suits me, don't you think?"
Her mother obviously didn't share this opinion.
As for Su, well, she wouldn't have dared something of the sort if her father was home; he didn't hold with half as much of her "nonsense" as her mother did, simply because the woman realized the hard truth that her daughter had been impossible to control since the tender age of eight. Fortunately, Su's father was not home often enough to hinder her in anything she really wanted to do, and her mother generally threw a fit and then gave up. "It's not charmed, it's bleached," she said. "You can not turn it back, and I like it." Her mother stared in horror at the cap of short hair framing her daughter's delicately proportioned Chinese face, obviously seeing her nightmares made flesh. She seemed to have run out of words.
"I'm going to buy my books today," Su said, choosing to ignore her parent's obvious rage. She'd have enough to deal with when her father got home. If he noticed. "Would you like to come with me, or may I just take the money?"
Yan-Chun glared. "I will not be seen with you looking like… that," she said darkly. "The money's where it's always been."
Su shrugged; she had expected nothing else, actually. "I'll be home for dinner," she said, walking into the living room to pull money from the magical safe behind her father's ancient and battered book of Confucian sayings. She poked her head back in the kitchen, ignored her mother's wince, repeated, "the hair is staying," and went to the fireplace, tossing floo powder into the flames and smoothing her cheerfully turquoise robes before calling out "Diagon Alley!" and stepping into the emerald-green flames with a bit of a smile on her face. Piece of cake, really.
***
Restrictions on working magic outside of school or no, Cassius Warrington blithely shrunk his books and other purchases into pocket-size as he walked out of Flourish and Blotts. He would be eighteen in a few months, he wasn't doing anything bad, and moreover, he had charmed the cashier into letting him borrow her wand to do it. No harm done whatsoever.
Tucking his significantly smaller and lighter school supplies into a pocket, he passed by Ollivander's Wand Shop, the Magical Menagerie and the Apothecary, and turned at a fork in the road. Walking down the slippery stone steps, he entered the darker, much-less-crowded and hushed world of Knockturn Alley.
The people who frequented this locale were generally of two categories: the sleazy, and the sinister. There were witches and wizards, warlocks and hags in rather ragged robes, their faces hardened and dirty, and there were also wealthy, dark-robed wizarding plutocrats who dabbled in (or sometimes actively practiced) the Dark Arts. Cassius Warrington, though strictly not of either group, blended in well enough as he strode confidently down the alleyway, evidently quite familiar with the surroundings and shops.
He stopped at a darkened little shop bearing the name of 'Draughts and Distillery', and, after throwing a sickle into the outstretched, grimy hand of a disheveled old crone crouched at the door, marched in.
Things were cheaper here if one knew where to look, after all. And he had every intention of buying a deluxe broomstick servicing kit later on...
A dozen ounces of crushed sunstone, two bezoars, six Antipodean Opaleye dragon eggshells, three rattlesnake fangs, a string of Jobberknoll feathers and a vial of bloodroot extract later, he strode out of the Knockturn Alley shop, blinked, and then stopped dead in his tracks.
Who... the devil... was that?
She was small, small enough to be a first or second year student, and he didn't recall seeing her before. He thought he would have remembered, otherwise. Her hair was very nearly as blonde as Malfoy's and cut just as short, but her face was much more reminiscent of Chang, that Ravenclaw Seeker. The tilted eyes certainly had never come with that hair. Curiously, it suited her. Her robes were a bright turquoise, causing for more than one odd look in her direction by the other patrons of Knockturn Alley. She was staring with unabashed interest into the dirty glass of the display of a shop whose sign was so covered with dirt he couldn't make it out. The things inside the display, though, gave him a fair idea of what sort of shop it was.
A curious sort of girl, certainly not the kind to frequent Knockturn or to shop here if she did, but she had parcels in her arms. Maybe she had bought them in Diagon Alley; he couldn't imagine her actually going into that shop and purchasing anything. As if to prove him wrong, she strode determinedly up the rickety steps. The man who had been leaning in the door caught on to her robes and leered at her in a way that reminded that not everyone in Knockturn Alley would care that they were preying on a kid. Some seemed to seek kids out, actually.
With a muttered curse and a snarl on his face, Warrington hurried over as quickly as he could. Crazy though she undoubtedly was, he couldn't let a kid be dragged off from under his nose. Maybe she had wandered off from her parents. That was how he found himself standing on the steps and grabbing the arm of the girl, who looked remarkably placid for someone who had been just about to be assaulted. He towered a good half a foot over the man, and at least twice that over the kid. "She's with me," he said coolly.
The man muttered, decided he didn't want to face the younger man's superior height, and skulked off. The girl, for her part, forcibly yanked her arm from his grip, smacked him rather hard upside the head with her wand (having to stand on her tiptoes and reach hard to do so), and said, "I was handling it."
Warrington shrugged what he hoped was nonchalantly and said dryly, "You can go with him, I suppose, but I'm better-looking and less likely to eat you for lunch."
"By whose standards?" she said, raising one eyebrow in question. "You may be cleaner, but I'd in no way call you handsome."
"How very sad, I'm just heartbroken at your censure," he replied in a mock-tragic voice, side-stepping another blow from the tiny girl. "But what the devil are you doing in a place like this, kid?" Crossing his arms, he peered down at her with eyebrows raised, smirking very slightly. "This isn't exactly the friendliest or safest of neighborhoods... and if it's not already apparent, some folk here might want to give you an unpleasant time." He paused, before continuing silkily, "And you wouldn't want that, would you?"
"Yes, so please stop bothering me," the girl rolled her dark eyes. "I'm just minding my own business. You should do the same, you know."
"Minding your own business?" He laughed openly at that. "And what sort of business would you have, poking about here on Knockturn Alley? It's not quite the sort of neighborhood the likes of you would inhabit."
"And how would you know that?" she retorted. He gave her a pointed look, then glanced at the other, shadowy figures skulking around the alley, and she sighed in a somewhat desolate manner. "I don't look scary enough, do I?"
Warrington snerked, "Indeed... work on a frightening Death Glare and perhaps wear darker clothing? In any case, it's probably best if you go and return to Diagon Alley or something; your parents will be worried sick." The last part was said somewhat mockingly, and the girl wrinkled her nose.
"Now, it's none of your business if what I do is none of my business because my business is not your business... so leave me to my business and attend to your own business!"
"Try to say that five times fast," Warrington said dryly, before schooling his face into a somewhat stern expression. "Now, for your own sake, it would be best if you returned to Diagon Alley." He did not ask her. After all, this was a simple enough request... and questions left room for argument. She could leave... or he could carry her out. It wasn't as if the inhabitants of Knockturn Alley would pay any mind to a man carrying off a young girl.
It would be his good deed of the... well, insert random long amount of time.
For her part, Su was rather angry, and faintly amused. She knew who he was, of course. She hadn't sat on the reserve bench for Ravenclaw for the past two years for nothing. Cassius Warrington, Slytherin Chaser, seventh year. And… there was the badge. Wince. Head Boy. That just figured. "I came by myself, and I can find my way out," she said. "Thanks just the same." Her sense of direction was hopeless, but she wasn't about to let this Slytherin idiot drag her by the hand like some little kid. She wished again she was taller. She wished for her Prefect badge. She wished… damn, that was a good smirk. Why couldn't she smirk like that? She could stand for an hour before the mirror and work on it, and on him it came naturally.
Stupid Slytherin.
Warrington shook his head slightly. "Which way's Diagon Alley?" he asked.
She barely kept herself from shrugging. Her sense of direction really was terrible. "That way," she said, pointing right. She thought it was that way.
Warrington chuckled, leaned over, picked her up like a sack of potatoes and headed left.
She might have struggled, but that would hardly be dignified, so she just seethed. "I am going to kill you," she informed him.
"Thanks for the kind thoughts," he said, obviously not the least bit concerned. "You might have done it in Knockturn, you know. Back where no one would see. Or care."
So, he thought he was saving her, did he? Su sighed and kept silent. She had told Padma and Mandy that she could get into Knockturn Alley, and get out again, without anyone the wiser. She had been going to buy a couple of skulls to present to them as proof. Not Lisa; Lisa would faint if she so much as saw a skull. The fifth year Ravenclaw girls were none of them the type to try it, except maybe Su. She was as bad as the Weasley twins, Lisa maintained. Su always said there was a very large difference: she did not get caught.
And this… was just humiliating.
She was a light little thing, and though she didn't struggle, he could make out the resentment in her voice when she sweetly informed him that she was going to kill him. However, it must be remembered that while other houses might feel threatened or offended by Death Threats, the Slytherin mentality was somewhat different. And so, as he should, he thanked her as graciously as he could, and continued carrying her out of Knockturn Alley.
Within minutes, he was striding back up the steps that led out of Knockturn, the girl still hanging half over his shoulder. A few people paused to stare, but Cassius Warrington merely gave them a sneer, and they passed on. Oh, it was good to be a Slytherin.
Having reached the busy, bustling part of Diagon Alley once again, he came to a stop in front of Gringotts and set the girl down on the ground. She glared up at him with as much menace as she could muster... but he just laughed.
"Cute, kid... but you're still not scaring me. Now, be good," he admonished, smirking down at her. Feeling benevolent, he reached down and gave her blonde head a light, jovial sort of pat, before turning on his heel and walking away without another word. A few moments later, he'd disappeared into Quality Quidditch Supplies.
Su stood in the middle of the throng of cheerfully conversing witches and wizards, for once struck perfectly speechless. The nerve of that… that… "Swarthy Slytherin git," she muttered under her breath. "If he thinks he's going to treat me like that…"
She stalked off, anyway, in what she thought was the direction of the public floo station. No one treated Su Li that way, and survived, anyway. People only made the mistake of considering her a cute and harmless kid once. The expression on her face certainly didn't lend itself well to the idea of the sweet little child Warrington had obviously considered her. People moved out of her way.
***
It was a gray and dreary sort of day when the Hogwarts express pulled out of King's Cross Station, full of children, some laughing, some not. There was a somber sort of mood among the Hufflepuffs in particular. In the compartment holding Cho Chang, Sarah Fawcett, Mandy Brocklehurst, Padma Patil, and Su Li, the atmosphere was certainly merry. Cho and Su both wore Prefect badges, and after the perfunctory jokes about overachieving Asians, the girls settled down with the all-important business of catching up their summers.
Cho had been to China, Sarah to America, and Padma to India. Mandy admitted ruefully that she had not left her sleepy village and had gathered eggs and milked cows, and Su shrugged and said she hadn't gone from London. "I did, however, go to Knockturn Alley last week," she said, with an air of great satisfaction.
This, naturally, prompted all sorts of questions as to her sanity, which she took as her due, only murmuring "thank you" once or twice. She did, however, pester Cho, the new Quidditch captain, on details on the Slytherin team, most particularly on Cassius Warrington.
This prompted more questions, including a laughing, "Why do you want to know, Su? The last time you grilled someone about a person, that person's life ended up hell in short order," from Padma.
"He's a Slytherin," Su said lightly. "Even if I was planning on tormenting him-none of you can prove I did that, by the way-why should you care?"
"They might say you're trying to sabotage Quidditch," Cho said with a laugh. "You are on the team this year."
"If there is no proof, the point remains moot," Su said, snuggling into her warm cloak with a perfectly angelic expression on her face and biting into a Peppermint Pasty.
"She positively gives me shivers when her face goes like that," was the contribution of Sarah Fawcett. "I never quite know which way I should run."
***
Meanwhile, in another compartment a short distance from that of the Ravenclaw girls, several members of the Slytherin Quidditch team sat, lounging around. Draco Malfoy, Cassius Warrington, Alexander Montague and Kevin Bole shared the compartment, the former two wearing their badges and watching the latter two engaging in a game of Exploding Snap. Draco had a rather sulky look on his pale face.
"What's the matter Malfoy?" Warrington asked his teammate in a genial manner. "Come on, you knew that Granger would be a Prefect. Please don't say you're still pouting over that. Save that face for your mother, will you?"
Malfoy muttered something about bloody reckless girls bumping into him during school shopping, and the Head Boy raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? You as well? Goodness, blondie really doesn't stop, does she?"
"What? What about me? I'm not a 'she'!" Malfoy snapped.
"I wasn't talking about you... surprising though that might be. I ran into a little blonde girl in Knockturn Alley when getting Potions ingredients. Are you saying that your 'little reckless girl' wasn't this one? Blimey, what are they feeding them these days?"
"Oh no..." Draco snapped, "I've no idea what little blonde girl you're talking about. I bumped into Ron Weasel's sister at Flourish and Blotts, and the bloody kid sneered at me when I called her 'Weaslette'." The Slytherin Seeker looked extremely put-out by this, and Warrington let out a snort of laughter.
"And this is 'reckless'... how?" Warrington sniggered. By now, the other two were listening quite avidly as well. Draco scowled, and muttered something incoherent under his breath.
"Pardon?"
"I said, she's a Weasley! She's not supposed to... to act like... a Slytherin!" Malfoy snarled, his face filled with aggravation and an almost wary look. The other occupants of the compartment burst into raucous laughter.
"Well then... this ought to be interesting," Montague sniggered, "She must have picked it up from you, Malfoy."
"Nothing of the sort! I've never looked at her!" Draco retorted, then abruptly changed the subject. "And who did you run into, Warrington? Blonde kid... do you know her?"
"Haven't the foggiest," Warrington said easily. "Rather small, Asian... except for the hair. Hates me now, since I made her leave Knockturn Alley without giving her much a say in the matter."
"Death threats?" Bole asked, smirking.
"Of course," Warrington grinned in a very cocky way.
"Congratulations, man."
"Why, thank you."
***
Upon arriving at the school, Cassius was pulled aside along with Angelina Johnson by a harried-looking Professor McGonagall, who was mumbling about seventh years, explosions, and never growing up. Johnson was scowling darkly. Warrington took this to mean the infamous Gryffindor Beaters and wisely didn't comment in front of the professor. He would have plenty of time to tease Johnson later, anyway. McGonagall sighed and handed over the list of Prefects as well as the schedule of Prefect meetings. "You have five minutes to be in the Great Hall," she said curtly, and swept off.
"Hermione," Johnson said with a look of immense satisfaction, studying the list. "She'll keep the rest in… oh dear." She sighed. "Unless she and Malfoy go for each other's throats at first opportunity."
"Malfoy was making noises about that," Warrington said unconcernedly.
"Great," Johnson said. "Just brilliant."
"I thought so," Warrington said. "Entertaining, anyway." She glared at him, and he unfurled his own list to study it. He already knew the Prefects for sixth year, of course, but the fifth years… well, he had known about Malfoy, and Granger was no shock. He thought he might know Finch-Fletchley, too; hadn't that been one of those attacked by the basilisk a few years ago? The Ravenclaw Prefect, though… "Li? Who's she?"
Johnson shrugged. "She's rather quiet; keeps to her house mostly. She was Quidditch reserves last year, though. Demure little Chinese girl."
"Ah," Warrington said confidently, striding into the Great Hall. "No problem then."