I know, I know. It's been awhile (again), but it's just so lovely outside and there is a lake that won't jump in itself. Also, I've been distracted by some new ideas.

On a side note – I've changed both of my fics to M rating. Not because I necessarily believe they should be M, but just to be on the safe.

Also, Learning Curve – I'm working on it. I told someone by the end of the week and I'm trying to hold myself to that.

Reviewers: djyxa, , lalalalee, R3dN0te, Steph81, YourMeafIsMine, goshtperfect, Zulu, crazyconversations, maudsfeather – thank you so much for the reviews. It really does mean a lot whenever I get one. You're all lovely. Please do let me know what you think.

Naomi's perspective. And as always, thanks for reading.

I do not own Skins or Harry Potter, or anything else quite so magical.

Chapter XV:

..

..

There was nothing quite like having the common room to yourself. The wintery peace and quiet in it of itself was worth staying at Hogwarts for the holiday. Naomi appreciated everyone else's absence as she turned the page of her book. She was doing a bit of light reading, Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms, figuring it couldn't hurt to start brushing up on Ancient Runes for her O.W.L.s and it was more of a pleasure read anyway.

She heard the entrance to the boys' dormitory open and let out a sigh, so much for peace. But the volume of the room stayed quiet. Naomi did her best to ignore whoever had entered hoping they were off to the meal when she heard them settle into the seat opposite her by the fire.

Her eyes darted to and from her book to see a sixth year boy opening a book of his own. She was bothered that he chose to sit so close to her, with the whole of the common room open. She had to remind herself she was nearest the fire. In the winter the castle had an old chill to it, the kind that crept up on your note-taking finger tips in class. Sometimes Naomi wondered if the castle whispered its secrets in cold chilly breathes. She tucked her hand into the sleeve of her jumper. Her attention back to her book, she recited "partnership" in her head as she read over the symbol of ehwas.

"Much better when it's empty innit?"

Naomi looked up; she was about twenty pages further into her book from when he first sat down.

They were the only two in the room. "Yeah, much," she replied when he looked at her expectantly. He gave a solidary nod and returned to his book.

"Have you read it?" Naomi asked after her noticing him gaze at the book in her hand again.

"What?" he asked, "Oh, yes, I found it quite interesting." He added turning the page of his own.

This was how her morning continued, a good pace through her book punctuated by a random harmless comment or small conversation here or there. He wasn't particularly persistent for her attention or distinctly chatty enough for her to be annoyed with him. He seemed to desire the same as her: a quiet space.

"I just think there should be more regulated hours, so things can get done properly," he continued.

"You should mention it to Tony," Naomi said, her book closed in her lap. "It's not a bad idea, especially with Fifth and Seventh years having so much to study for, what with O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s and all."

"Makin' friends are we?" Naomi heard from behind her.

She rolls her eyes as Cook come into view.

"Problem?" the bloke asked, sitting a bit straighter in his chair.

"None," Cook shook his head in usual disinterested fashion, "Have fun with that lot, Naomikins, sure you'll have a right laugh," he laughed to himself as if he'd just shared an inside joke, and a brilliant one at that.

"What are you talking about?" She couldn't tell if he was being belligerent because he was drunk or just because he was an ass.

"Him an his mates, I've been to one of their little parties before, big ol' sausagefest where they wank off bout bein' Slytherin." He made a hand gesture. "Grand innit? You can all be best Slytherin buddies."

"Fuck off Cook," Naomi rolled her eyes. She could smell the fire whiskey on him and he was acting like a jealous twat.

He saluted her with another two-pump wrist action at the waist and sauntered off. Though she caught the challenge of a glare he shot at the boy by the fire as he went.

..

..

They were wasting the little precious time that was winter holiday and they both knew it. Being equally stubborn their tiff had turned into a waiting game where neither was big enough to be the first to say when, so they both suffered.

Naomi grumbled to herself as she walked down the corridor. A lone first year ambled by her toward the feast. She had left the grand Christmas Eve feast early not in the mood to deal with jolly people, Christmas music, or a boisterously festive Cook. He must have gotten the house elves to show him where the alcohol was down in the kitchens. Who was she kidding? This was Cook, the house elves had probably thrown themselves over each other to be the first to show him.

She was annoyed with him, she was annoyed that he didn't understand how stressed she felt. She knew he thought she wasn't putting any effort in, that she was moving on and leaving him behind. She hadn't meant to drift off a bit over the term but it had happened. It hurt him, she knew that too.

He was all blunt truth and fake bravado, but only if you caught him in the right lighting. Lately he was just being obnoxious. Naomi knew it's what he did to show he didn't care, that he didn't give a fuck. She also knew it was a load of bollocks.

He purposely pissed her of because in many ways he was still like a child. He would lash out when he felt neglected, when he needed attention, he seeked it out in the wrong ways. He preferred negative attention to none.

Another moment in the Great hall with Cook's voice carrying over all the others in carols and Naomi perpetually looking over to where the Gryffindor table should be, she thought it would do her head in. So she had left early.

"Ms. Campbell, a word?" Naomi paused her movements down the hallway. She had been so lost in her own thoughts she had failed to notice Professor Saar approach her.

"Yes, Professor?" Naomi said with the slight shake of her head, as if in an attempt to dislodge the loose thoughts in her mind and set them straight.

"I didn't catch you before the end of the term but I have had a word with Professor Nodweller, and you're set to have detention with him later this term."

"What?" Naomi attention snapped to present. "For what?"

"That little…incident toward the end of last term."

"You're not serious?" Naomi gaped; he had taken points from her, but detention too? It was unjust.

"Serious as a wrong sip and the absence of a bezoar."

Naomi buried her face in her hands digging the heels of her palms into her eyes. This was the worst fucking dream and all she wanted was to wake up.

"Professor, I wasn't being insolent," Naomi implored, removing her hands from her face. "Couldn't you talk to him?"

"It is not in my power to tell a fellow head of house what they can and cannot give detention for, despite what I think of it." She gave Naomi an appraising look. "But, I did speak with him and he was quite adamant about your punishment. I was however able to sway him to push back your detention. His original intention was to hold it during finals."

"During exams?" Naomi was appalled. She also knew instantly that she would have skipped it.

"Obviously he agreed to change it. I do not know when yet, but as soon as Professor Nodweller has selected a time and place I will let you know."

"Yes, Professor." Naomi said, a gloom taking camp in her voice.

"Oh, and Ms. Campbell," Professor Saar added. "There seems to be a growing case of first years getting stuck in suits of armour. Mind keeping an eye out for me as to the root cause of this?"

"Of course, Professor" Naomi nodded, one of two names immediate popping to mind.

"Good," Professor Saar nodded curtly, "Well, happy Christmas Eve."

"Happy Christmas Eve to you too, Professor." This was turning out to be the worst Christmas ever.

..

..

Naomi generally didn't mind that there were no windows in the common room they were underground after all. Besides, her and Cook had their spot on the south tower if she fancied some fresh air. Only in the winter, when there was snow to be watched did she miss them. Winter was also the only time she would ever admit to herself she missed The Leaky Cauldron. Growing up she would always curl up with a cuppa and just watch the snow. There was a therapeutic calm to it.

Naomi took a tentative sip from her steaming cup of tea. Watching snow in the early morning was one of her favourite parts of winter. The day as quiet as each flake falling from the sky.

She had perfected it in her fourth year. She had bewitched a patch of wall to appear as a giant window, mimicking the weather outside much like the Great Hall's ceiling did the sky. This year she hadn't found much time for it with all the homework, O.W.L. preparations, Quidditch practices, and prefect duties.

Cup still in hands, eyes looking at the snow without seeing it she imagined all the places she could discover with that map over holiday, without classes and duties and heaps of homework, running around the castle with Emily. No, she reminded herself, out of site out of mind. That's what it was going to be like; once the holiday began she had told herself. Everything would be simple again with some space. Maybe if she told herself that enough it would come true. She watched the snow again.

Two things happened simultaneously. The mug disappeared from her hands and a wrapped parcel fell into her lap with a soft thud.

"Figured I'd find ya here," Cook said coming round into view. He made a face after taking a sip of her tea. "Would it kill ya to put a bit o' honey in it? I swear…every time. I don't know how you drink the stuff black."

"And yet every time you still drink my tea, full knowledge."

"I always hope."

Naomi laughed. She stopped when she realized it was the first time she had all holiday.

"Well, let's just get this over with yeah?" Cook stated plopping down on the sofa next to her. They would just forget if they let themselves, that they were cross with one another.

"Happy Christmas to you too," Naomi rolled her eyes taking out the wrapped gift she had tucked to the side of the cushion.

He grinned as she handed him his present. Cook, being the eternal five year old that he was, he put it to his ear and went to shake it.

"DON'T!" Naomi burst out suddenly reaching forward for it.

Cook froze mid-action. Slowly, delicately, he withdrew the parcel away from his face and gently placed it on the low table in front of them. He looked from Naomi to the present and back again with a burning curiosity.

"Oh go on, open in," Naomi rolled her eyes.

He grinned and grabbed for it again.

" – Carefully," she stressed.

He slowed his movements and with one last curious glance at the blonde to his right he tore the wrapping away.

He stared at what he held in his hands hard.

"Blondie…" he began in awe, "no fookin' way, no fookin' way!"

Naomi just watched him with a smile on her face.

"But…where did you get this?

"…I thought they discontinued it…"

"They had."

He just shook his head in awe looking between the gift and Naomi. It was Weasley Wizard Wheezes Darkening Powder, limited edition. Since discontinued.

"Now don't go getting yourself fucking killed," she gave him a warning glance, "or worse, expelled." It didn't take much to set it off.

He gave her a look.

"And if you get caught with that…" she warned, "you did not get it from me."

"Get caught?" he scoffed. "I'll fookin' disappear if I'm bout to get caught." He shook his head. "Anyone stoopid enuff to get caught with darkening powder, deserves to get caught. An is unworthy."

Reverentially, he placed the gift down on the coffee table in front of them. His fingers lingered a moment over the marketing on the back of the package:

In a bind? Make them blind.

About to be caught? Disappear on the spot.

Can't see a way out? A dash of powder should help out.

"Open yours," he said eagerly, after another moments glace at his newly opened gift.

She gave him a look before reaching for the solid gift in her lap.

She ripped the edge of the paper and took out a jar filled with tiny bits of leaves.

"Cook…please do not tell me –"

"Don't be stoopid," he guffawed, "Like I'd spent that much on you. Imagine how many galleons a whole bloody jar of leaf would be?"

She gave him a look that was half apologetic half still skeptical as she undid the jar. She inhaled.

Instantly she was transported to her childhood, to cozy winter days and breezy summer nights. It smelt of bar stools, loud laughter, and rosehips; it smelt of home.

"Cook…" she didn't know what to say. It was her mum's tea. He'd gotten her mum's tea for her.

"You're always bangin' on bout how fookin' great it is," he shrugged, "Sent her a owl, bit of a cop' gift really."

It was probably the most thoughtful gift she'd ever received.

"Cook," she sighed, breathing in the comforting smell again. This was the closest she would come to saying sorry. This was her saying sorry. It was their conversations with few words that held the most truth, that they learned the most about each other. It was in the words they did not say that spoke volumes. What a sigh or a bow of the head translated to the other. That in essence was the beauty of their relationship. That they truly did know each other and each other's language, words only ever being the surface of what someone says. They lived in each other's context, were read in each other's idiosyncrasies.

They had been avoiding each other. Mainly because they were both still cross and they were both stubborn to a fault. But also because if they were to say something to each other it would be the truth, and neither of them were sure they were ready for that.

"Oh don't start that now," he waved her off. "Don't go an ruin a perfectly good Christmas morning."

"I'm serious," she said turning to face him properly. "I'll try an sort my time out better."

He waved her off as if he hadn't been cross with her for the past few weeks. This was the most they'd talked to each other since the holiday started, even before, since that weekend of the Quidditch game.

"Want to go see if the giant squid has broken through the ice?" Cook asked with all the enthusiasm of a child.

Naomi pulled a face.

"Oh come on," Cook whined, "You know you'll enjoy it."

She didn't look convinced.

"And if it has, I'll try and toss some Christmas wreafes around its tentacles."

"And why would tormenting that poor old squid entice me to go?"

"Because it'd be good practice for the Charms O. practical?" he tried, "Get some Wingardium Leviosa practice in."

She narrowed her eyes slightly. He knew her too well.

"Yeah, alright."

He threw her his infamous grin.

"Let me just grab my badge first, yeah?" She had forgotten to take it off the robes she'd worn the night before.

His face fell. "You and that stupid fookin' prefect badge," he grumbled.

"Will you give it up about me being a prefect?" she turned on him, exasperated. They had sorted things, but they hadn't. "What would you have me do Cook, quit?"

He knew her too well to ever ask her that.

"You could've just turned it down," he said instead.

"Could I have?" she asked curiously, "Do you really think so?"

They exchanged an appraising look.

"Well none o' this would be happenin' if ya did."

"You really think I could though?" she asked again.

He shrugged.

She stared at him, "When have you ever been able to resist a challenge?"

He said nothing, remaining as silent as the stones that built the walls around them.

"We're Slytherins, we don't back down from a challenge," she went on, "We face it head on…or, wait til the challenge isn't looking and pop it off then."

Cook's mouth twitched up.

She took that as a sign of encouragement.

"Get top marks? Done it," She ticked off. "Make the Quidditch team, done it. Win the house cup, done it. Get prefect…you really think I wouldn't? Same hours, more lessons, more responsibilities, see if you can make top marks then – I had to. Had to at least try." She explained. "Quidditch Captain? Hopefully next year. Head Girl? You know I'm going to have to try for that too." she implored him to see. "That's after winning Quidditch cup on my list, mind you."

She saw that twitch turn further up.

"It's a challenge Cook," she stressed, "how could I resist that?"

His sigh was heavy; heavy with the weight of things he wouldn't say.

The silence stretched between them.

"I bet you couldn't lift that sofa there."

His head snapped back to her. "Fook you I couldn't," he said standing up. He bent down to get a good grip on it before stopping himself a moment later. With a begrudgingly rueful look he slumped back down into his seat next to her.

"Soo you ever going to ride that giant squid or what?" she threw at him, hoping to reel him back in.

His eyes narrowed slightly then he was up from the couch in a flash.

..

..

"Merlin's saggy bollocks, Blondie," Cook grumbled. "How in bloody hell are you up so early? I swear you get up with the sun."

"Could ask you the same," Naomi retorted.

Cook threw his infamous grin back at her, "Haven't gone just yet."

Naomi just shook her head at her best mate. She could smell the fire whiskey from where she sat.

"Well I'm off for a kip, see you at breakfast, and by breakfast I mean tea," he grinned waggling his eyebrows as he patted his stomach and walked off in his usual swagger toward the boy's dormitory.

Truth was there was a reason she was always up at this hour in the morning: a lifetime of conditioning. There were very few rules in the Campbell household, one in fact. Naomi could do as she pleased, come and go on her want, but she had to be up by ten o'clock every morning. Sounds ridiculous as a rule in general, let alone the sole rule of a household, but there it was.

Gina didn't care what time Naomi came home but she had to be out of bed by ten otherwise it would be a waste of the day, and that, Gina could not stand for. Countless times her mum would come banging on her door at precisely ten, the fact Naomi hadn't rolled in just hours before was irrelevant. Naomi rolled her eyes at the thought.

She put her book down on the otherwise empty table in the empty common room. Not many Slytherins stayed for winter holiday. She stared up at the green hewed lights as her mind wandered.

She shook her head in an attempt to rid herself of her thoughts. With nothing better to do she decided to head down to breakfast making a mental note to nick Cook a few pieces of toast for his impending hangover and empty stomach. They were alright, both making a bit more of an effort.

She did the same in the dining hall as she done countless times before, using her book as a shield from conversation she nibbled on her toast and stared at the words in front of her. Due to the small number of students staying over there was only one long table to comingle at, the rest tucked away. She had set up camp at the end of a bench. Her eyes lingered on the tables leant against the wall. Again her mind wandered. She watched the owls swoop in and do their lap of the hall before she resumed to ignore them. None of it would be for her.

She leaned back as something suddenly fell onto her book causing it to knock into her cup of juice. Quick reflexes saved her book from an impending swim. After placing the cup a safe distance away she laid the book on the table, staring at the envelope now resting on it. It simply said N in a neat bubbly scrawl. A hesitant hand reached out for it, fingers flexing and retracting in indecisiveness. Eventually she gave in and with a sigh slid a finger delicately underneath its seal.

She began to pull the paper out of the envelope before stopping abruptly. She looked around the hall; no one seemed to be paying her any mind. Regardless, she pushed the paper back into its envelope before shoving it into the spine of her book. She snapped her book shut as she stood and grabbing a few pieces of toast as an afterthought, she left.

She knew. She just somehow always knew. Naomi would never want to admit it, but she had been thinking of Emily more and more as the holiday went on. She hadn't realized how used to seeing Emily she had become. How much she had invaded her space and mind. As if on cue, as her thoughts returned once again to the petite redhead and that she did indeed miss her, a letter dropped from the sky. It was one letter but Naomi knew the handwriting instantly. A person's handwriting was like their voice, uniquely their own. Emily had written her. She wasn't sure if she was more excited or apprehensive about the safely tucked away letter as she walked back to the Slytherin common room, but her pace quickened either way.

She had been so looking forward to the holiday. Somehow, it had turned into an exceeding long one. She closed the door to her empty dormitory and let the silence wash over her as she sunk into her mattress. After another indecisive look, she carefully opened the letter.

Her emotions hit her like a tide. It was gradual at first. A comment here, a punctuation there. It built. When Emily mentioned a boy she was still as a crest. When it was followed by a cheeky comment about her own cynicism rubbing off on her, she rolled. Tumbled in it. It wasn't until she reread it, past the aftermath of a P.S. I miss you, that she felt the rip. It was subtle and slow and unyielding. It was as a hand that would never let go, always pulling you forward.

She put the letter down. Looked away. Her hand still on the parchment, as though she thought (if only for a moment) that she might drown.

She awoke much later in darkness, curled up around the letter. Her candle had burnt out and the smoke long disappeared. She was grateful no one else in her dormitory had stayed for holiday.

Even then, much later, she felt it, which way she didn't know, just that she was being pulled; in or out didn't seem to make much difference. She hid the letter in her nightstand.

..

..

The new term was starting soon and Naomi was unprecedentedly happy that the holiday was ending. She always enjoyed silence, but found the one that followed her this past break too loud. She was looking forward to chatter filled halls and busy schedules. It was a landmark moment for the antisocial Naomi Campbell.

"Ms. Campbell, a moment."

Naomi stopped her movements toward the common room and turned to Professor Saar who had come from that direction. Cook followed suit.

"Wait what's going on?" Cook asked.

"I've got detention."

"What?" Cook said, hurt. "Without me? I though you'd been too busy, you running around with someone else?" he said it like a jealous lover would. Naomi rolled her eyes.

"No, you pounce," she breathed, "Day of the Quidditch match…when we had that tiff…" she added cautiously. They had just gotten back to good. "I ran into Nodweller after you left, had a um…colourful conversation…I walked away. He decided that warranted detention for insolence."

"What?" Cook said flabbergasted. "I've done loads way worse with out so much as a slap on the wrist."

He gave Professor Saar the worst innocent smile as her stern face pressed further together

"Professor Nodweller has informed me that your detention is set for Thursday evening at seven o'clock."

Naomi processed the information. "But that's…but Professor, I have Quidditch practice then."

"I am well aware of the Slytherin Quidditch schedule Miss Campbell, I daresay this means you will try to stay out of detention hear on out, you are after all a Prefect and it does not reflect well upon Slytherin when the house members we hold up as role models are the ones in detention, no matter how warranted or not it may be. Am I understood?"

"Yes, professor."

"Good," Professor Saar said with a curt nod. "Now, Mr. Cook, would you care to elaborate on some of these not so much as a slap on the wrist incidents? I am sure I can help sort them out."

"Ahh no, Professor, it's quite alright," Cook backpedaled "bit boring of a story, really. We'll just…" he pointed off down the dungeon corridor, "pop off down to the common room, maybe get in a bit o' studying before going to bed early like the respectable young Slytherins that we are."

"That's what I thought," said Professor Saar with something that almost resembled a faint smile.

"Come on, you," Naomi said grabbing Cook by the arm and leading him down the hallway.

Students would be arriving soon. Emily would be arriving soon. And there was those peculiar reoccurrences of first years getting stuck in suits of armour she had to ask Cook about.