hey princess / in a contest / you're the queen and you own the rest / someday we're gonna take the crown

Hey, Princess / Allstar Weekend

•

Their feud is legendary.

Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase have been fighting ever since they were tiny first-years on the Hogwarts Express, and Percy accidentally bumped into Annabeth, knocking her newly-bought schoolbooks to floor. It was an accident, Percy always insists—but it was the action that started The Feud.

As soon as they learned how to use their wands, it isn't unexpected to find one or both of them in the hospital wing at least once a week, suffering from the after-effects of a Jelly-legs curse or a tongue-tying jinx. Every professor knows that unless they wanted their class interrupted every five minutes by a rising argument between the two, Annabeth and Percy have to be the only students with assigned seating (opposite sides of the room; Percy always on the right, Annabeth on the left.)

It honestly isn't surprising, either—Annabeth Chase is the pureblood golden girl of the Slytherin, becoming the youngest prefect in a hundred years in her fourth year. Teachers adore her, purebloods and muggleborns of all ages worship the ground she walks on, and a quick flash of her perfect white smile can destroy boys and girls alike.

She's the popular girl, the beautiful one, the brightest witch of her year (and maybe, adults whisper, her generation). She walks down the hall, her long, tan legs carrying her confidently on the marble tiles, and people stop and whisper or stare as she passes. She always looks perfect, too—head held high, grey eyes flashing confidently, like she knows she practically controls the school. Her grey skirt swishes as she walks, the top buttons of her white Oxford are undone—devastating every boy and girl within a dozen-foot-radius—and her green and silver tie hangs rakish around her neck, long golden curls usually swinging in a high ponytail. She's a chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch team, and her grades are the highest in the school; everyone knows that she could get any job she wants, when she graduates.

There isn't a student or teacher in the school who doesn't know her name. Her father is the famous chief editor of The Daily Prophet, her mother the Minister for Magic herself, and their daughter has been in the spotlight of the magical world as long as she's been alive. People expect her to become the Minister for Magic someday, taking after her mother. Annabeth Chase has had everything in her life handed to her on a golden platter.

Percy Jackson, on the other hand, is just as popular—but in every different way imaginable. He's a muggleborn, his father long gone, his mother a hard-working seamstress. He's tall, confident, muscular from his years as a seeker on the Gryffindor team; goes through a girl a week, could have anyone in the school if he chose. He doesn't care much for the actual academics, instead working on his Quidditch skills, but somehow he still manages to get the Head Boy badge in his seventh year. The professors adore him, just as much as Annabeth; he's effortlessly charming, can talk himself out of anything.

Just like Annabeth, every student in the school knows his name.

Of course, it only makes sense for the two most popular, most brilliant and most well-known students to absolutely, positively despise each other from day one.

He causes her curls to tangle into a bird's nest for an entire week; she responds by making his shoelaces tie themselves together at random times throughout the day. She hangs him up by his feet, dangling from a chandelier as Peeves shrieks with laughter; he levitates her schoolbooks to the giant squid. He tosses a curse at her in the halls, and the soles of her shoes split as her toenails grow unfathomably long; she twists her wrist effortlessly, and he burps slugs for a week.

They never address each other specifically; in fact, in all the four years of their feud, no one has ever heard them call each other by their first names. If anything, it's a cocky nod and a "Chase," passing her in the hallway, or a haughty glare and a "Jackson," as she saunters by, swinging her hips.

So it's a surprise for everyone, Percy the most, when on September 1st of their fifth year, Annabeth comes up to him with her Slytherin prefect badge shining brightly on her chest. "Hello, Percy. How was your summer?"

Percy blinks; all the people around them suddenly still their conversations, just as stunned as he is. "I'm—sorry?"

Annabeth's grey eyes widen sweetly. "How was your summer, Percy?" she repeats.

For once in his life, for the first time since he met Annabeth Chase, Percy is at a loss for words. "Um. It was fine?" he answers, shrugging.

Annabeth smiles. "Brilliant." She spins around lightly, her long curls swinging out behind her. "Congratulations on being the Gryffindor prefect!" she calls over her shoulder as she turns around, her friends scuttling after her and sending fearful looks back at Percy.

He doesn't blame them. He's a little scared, too.

Later, on the train when all the prefects and the Heads meet, it doesn't end. Annabeth is perfectly cordial to him, which is surprising considering the fact that the last time they were in the same vicinity (on the Hogwarts Express, on the way home for the summer holidays), she had turned his hair bright green, and he had retaliated by charming the pumpkin pasties from the trolley to bombard her fresh linen shirt.

(They were both sent howlers from Headmaster Chiron, after he had heard; neither one had particularly cared.)

Now, though, no one else seems to know what Annabeth's doing any more than Percy does, but by the end of the meeting, he thinks he's figured it out.

"You're just being decent to me because we're both prefects, and we have to work together for the next year, am I right?" he calls, following her footsteps as she walks briskly down the hall after the prefects' meeting.

Annabeth stops and turns around, facing him. "I'm going to have to put up with you quite often," she says, shrugging her shoulders innocently. "I decided it would be mutually beneficial if we at least… try to get along."

Percy huffs out a bitter laugh. "More like your pureblood arse finally realized that just because I'm a muggleborn doesn't mean I'm useless," he spits out, and, okay, it isn't the first time he's hinted at the bitterness he feels—because Annabeth is quite literally the posterchild for the perfect witch of the Magical world, and he couldn't be farther from it—but it's probably the most direct he's ever been about it.

It's a little frightening, though, as soon as the words spill out—she's never reacted to any of his barbs over the many years and fights, not like this; her cheeks are splotchy with red, and the rest of her face is deathly pale as she clenches her fists.

Annabeth steps closer to him; she's tall, but he's taller, and her eyes flash as she looks up at him. "You think—you seriously think that's what this was about?" she asks, and Percy falters; her voice sounds like she's trying to be cutting, trying to hold up the impeccable mask, but it's shaking with anger and shock and Percy's never been more confused in his life.

"Well, that's what you Slytherins do, right?" he asks, trying for casual. "Hate anyone who doesn't have the privilege or blood status that you do, who doesn't have parents who basically control the magical world—"

She looks like she's about to cry, and in all of the four years he's known her Percy has never known Annabeth Chase to cry. Not once.

"You—Gryffindors," she spits out, before she turns on her heel and storms down the hall, disappearing into the car where he knows her friends are.

Percy just shakes his head. The school year hasn't even begun, and he already thinks it's going to be one hell of a ride.

•

Of course, as the Gryffindor prefect, Percy has to help the other prefects and Heads gather the first years and bring them to Hagrid, who waits with a large grin and a hearty, "Hello!" to all the tiny, timid eleven-year-olds.

He runs into Annabeth, who's changed into her robes and uniform, not a curl in her high ponytail out of place as she herds the smaller children gently. For once, he actually stops to look at her—she's gentle and kind with the little kids, drying tears, comforting them, breaking up fights—and he realizes that in all the four previous years, he's never known that she could be anything other than haughty, proud, cold, vicious.

"What are you staring at?" his best friend, Jason, asks; he's the Ravenclaw prefect, and his wire-rimmed glasses slide down his nose as he raises his eyebrows at Percy.

Percy quickly averts his eyes. "Nothing," he fibs, quickly pointing a first year in the right direction. "Nothing at all."

The ride to the castle is uneventful; Percy shares a carriage with Jason and the other members of their party—Grover, a Hufflepuff, and Leo, who's Ravenclaw. Despite their different houses, they've all been friends since first year.

Back during their very first ride to school, Jason and Percy bonded on the Hogwarts Express, when Jason managed to snag Percy's trunk from where Annabeth had levitated it after he knocked her books to the ground. Then came Leo, who caught their attention when his miniature pet dragon, Festus, caught the rug on fire. During their first feast, the three boys had noticed Grover being bullied by a few other boys for his limp, and, well—all four of them managing to get detention within fifteen minutes of arriving at the castle is the kind of thing that creates lasting friendships.

They've been inseparable since, especially when their pranks in first year began earning them the name Marauders—and although Percy's the most well-known of their group, from his ongoing feud with Annabeth Chase, all four of them are infamously popular throughout the school.

In the cramped little carriage, they're all chortling over a something stupid that Jason said when Leo changes the subject abruptly. "What I want to know," he begins, gesturing grandly at Percy, "is why Annabeth Chase, your arch-nemesis, was talking to you earlier. I also want to know how both of you are still in one piece, currently."

Percy, who's been brooding in the corner, still pondering the earlier, befuddling events of the day, looks up and scowls. "It—it was nothing, Leo," he says, still remembering the way Annabeth—no, Chase, he corrects himself inwardly—had looked when he talked to her earlier. "Just forget it."

The carriage falls uncomfortably silent, and Percy doesn't look up, but he knows his friends are probably exchanging slightly worried and confused glances. For four years, Percy has been intent on his rivalry with Annabeth Chase, and he knows how befuddled they must be now.

He's befuddled, okay. The whole day has been crap, so far, and he's not sure it's going to get any better.

Thankfully, he's saved from any questions as the carriage pulls up to the castle, and they all hop out. Percy is relieved as the subject of Chase's conversation with him earlier is dropped, and he almost forgets about it until—

"What the hell," he yelps, as his entire face suddenly explodes with a burst of pain. "McLean—"

Annabeth Chase's best friend, Piper McLean, stands before him, a furious expression on her face and her wand still sparking from the stinging hex she just landed on Percy's nose. "That's for being a jerk, earlier," she announces, looking pleased with herself.

Honestly, if this day gets any more confusing—he thinks before saying, "It's none of your concern, McLean."

"Oh, yes it is!" she shouts back, her small form practically bristling with anger. Her wand is an inch from Percy's nose, and he considers pushing it away, but he knows from experience that McLean is one of the best duelers in the school. He honestly probably wouldn't stand a chance. She continues, "Your stupid feud with her is one thing, but today you went too far, Jackson."

There's definitely a crowd gathering around them now, whispers hissing in Percy's ears. He sees his friends, huddled in a worried group as they watch the exchange, and he's about to answer McLean when—

"Piper, what the hell is going on?" Chase demands, striding up. The crowd parts around her, people whispering in awe; every year, Percy forgets how much of a celebrity she is in the magical world, and every year on September 1st he remembers.

McLean turns to her best friend, her short, dark hair flying as she spins around, her wand still aimed at Percy's face. He gulps. "I was just telling Jackson here not to mess with you again," she says sweetly.

Chase lowers her voice. "Piper, it's okay," she murmurs. "Really, I'm fine." She turns to Percy, and there's a certain coldness in her eyes, that—while being vaguely familiar from their countless fights in the past—seems more drained, more tired, than the normal ice. "Come here, Jackson," she says wearily, pulling out her wand.

Percy eyes her warily, clutching his throbbing nose. "What… what are you doing?"

She huffs impatiently, grabbing his hand from his face and ignoring his squeal of protest. "Healing you," she says, brusque, and there's another explosion of pain before the agony suddenly ceases completely.

Chase puts her wand away and touches her friend's arm. "Come on, Piper," she says, and Percy feels like he should say something—maybe thank you?—but she turns away, and he berates himself even for the thought of saying thank you to the girl who has been his arch-enemy since the minute they met.

McLean presses her lips together, but reluctantly lowers her wand. "I'm warning you, Jackson," she says, one more time, before allowing Chase to pull her away.

"Nothing else to see here!" Chase yells, and the crowd dissipates, scattering as though they were under the Imperious curse. Percy honestly doesn't blame them.

He goes to find his own friends, and they survey him warily. "What was that, Percy?" Grover asks hesitantly.

Percy shakes his head wearily as they head to the Great Hall for the welcome feast. "I have absolutely no idea."

"Annabeth healing you, though?" Leo pipes up, ignoring Percy's warning look. "All she's ever done before is the opposite."

"Percy kind of brings it upon himself, though," Jason puts in. Percy glares at him, and he shrugs apologetically. "Sorry, but it's true. You've put each other in the hospital wing in only your first year more times than I can count."

"Yeah, but that's always by dueling," Percy mutters as the four of them find a cluster of empty seats at the Gryffindor table. The professors have long since stopped trying to make them each sit at their house tables; none of them ever actually obey. "This—honestly, this whole day has been weird, okay?"

The other boys nod in agreement.

In only a few more minutes, all the students have gathered in the hall and are sitting at their tables; thousands of voices chatter brightly, creating a comforting din that reminds Percy of home, because—Hogwarts is his home, has been his home since the first glimpse of the castle that he got in the boats in his first year.

At least, until Annabeth's boat had accidentally collided with his, and both boats had tipped, spilling half a dozen kids into the water.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Percy catches a glimpse of Chase's blond curls, from where she sits at the Ravenclaw table with McLean and some of her other friends. He feels a surge of surprise; he always assumed she sat at the Slytherin table, but then again he's never really paid attention. They got into fights in the halls, in the classrooms, on the way to class or after getting stuck on a moving staircase. Never in the Great Hall, and never has he noticed that she sat at other house tables, just like him.

After all the first-years have been sorted and Headmaster Chiron's speech, the Marauders begin to head towards their separate dorms. Percy whistles on his way to the Gryffindor dorms when a familiar, yet unexpected blonde steps in front of him, hands on her slim waist.

"Chase," he says, surprised, before adding a mocking tone to his voice. "Aren't you afraid of getting lost, so far from your Slytherin hideout?"

She tilts her chin up a notch. "Jackson," she says haughtily. "I just came to remind you that we have a prefect's meeting tomorrow morning at eight."

Percy rolls his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. "I know, Chase. You don't have to remind me constantly. Just because you don't think I'm going to take being a prefect seriously doesn't mean I won't, okay? I'm going to do this job, whether or not you think I'm worthy of it."

Normally, they'd have their wands out by now, curses and jinxes flying, but instead Annabeth just twists her hands together, and her voice is smaller than he's ever heard it. "I know," she says meekly. "I—Percy, I never said you were going to be a bad prefect. In fact, I think you'll be a good one."

That takes him by complete surprise, and he's about to retort when he thinks back and realizes that she hasn't; in the prefect meeting on the train, she addressed him cordially, listened to him as he talked, and he honestly can't remember if he paid her the same courtesy or not.

He had expected that she was going to doubt him, to make him feel inferior, to tell him he wouldn't be a good prefect or wouldn't take the job seriously, and instead, here she's telling him she thinks he's going to be a good one?

"Uh, thanks," he responds, rubbing the back of his neck. "You too?"

She smiles tightly. "I also wanted to say—I'm sorry about earlier, okay? I just—I want you to know that while we've been fighting all these years, it's just because you're an arse—" he snorts, "and I promise, it has nothing to do with that fact that you're muggleborn, okay?" She looks up at him, her eyes deceptively innocent. "I don't—I don't care about blood status. It shouldn't even be an issue, and I never thought that you thought that I hated you because of it."

Percy is completely stunned, because yes, that's exactly what he's thought, all these years. Her mum, while not being outright about it, has definitely made veiled comments in the past about the importance of blood purity, and he's always just assumed Annabeth took after the same conservative, traditional views of her mother.

"Okay," he manages finally, still blinking in surprise. "Um. Okay."

She flashes a bright smile at him, and Percy realizes two very important things in the space of a millisecond: one, it's the first time she's ever purposely smiled at him, and two—

He can see why she has the entire school under her spell, because that smile is mesmerizing.

"That's all I wanted you to know," she says, and her smile is shy as she ducks her head, but Percy can't take his eyes off it, and he's pretty sure he's grinning at her, too, and then—

"Percy! I thought I'd never find you," Jason pants, running up the stairs. "I was going to remind you about the prefect meeting tomorrow, and—" his gaze falls on Annabeth, and his mouth falls open. "Annabeth? What are you doing here?"

Her smile gone, Annabeth nods tightly. "I'll be seeing you both tomorrow," she says stiffly, and while it's normal, it's familiar, it's completely different than the Annabeth he just saw, the side of her that he's never seen before. "Good night," she adds courteously, spinning on her heel and marching briskly down the hallway.

"What the hell was that," Jason breathes, both boys watching her go. "Annabeth Chase, talking to you without both of you ending up in the hospital wing? For the second time today?"

Percy shrugs, feeling a bewildering mix of confusion and warmth spreading through his body. "I still have no idea."

•

so here we are with a new story. it's been over two years since i started writing this thing and i decided okay, it's literally quarantine, i have no excuse not to post. i'll probably be updating once or twice a week, depending on my schedule. thankfully a good portion of the story is finished so there won't be any months or years between updates if i lose motivation x)

massive thanks to aisling who has literally been with me on this story every step of the way. i adore you and appreciate you so so much. yes you will be getting a shoutout every chapter bc you deserve it.

anyway! hope y'all enjoyed please leave a review if you have any thoughts or yknow just leave a review i like reviews

wm