we are the defiant ones

“There’s always some sort of truth in gossip. After all, all those muggle magazines seem to do well for some reason.” Marlene laughed at her next thought, “Maybe being a secret society of wix does come in handy.” She tipped her glass in Cora’s direction, “Here’s to probably having to go to that wedding.” 

“Because people love hearing bad things about other people, probably, makes ‘em feel better,” she pointed out. Cora made a face at the thought of that wedding, lips puckered and brow furrowed. “You know, I bet if I can piss off the right people then the Bulstrode invitation will specifically say not your bratty daughter. Would it have to be a Malfoy or a Black, I wonder...” Thinking now, she raised her own glass, winking at Marlene, “Here’s to getting out of that wedding.”

Severus open his mouth to give his scything retort, but he found it stuck in his throat. Quickly snapping his mouth shut so he didn’t look like a gormless Hufflepuff, he narrowed his eyes and tried to see what she was playing at. 

“Believe me, there are far worst people out there than me,” if his experience in the Knights of Walpurgis was anything to go by. “And I do not play the victim! You Gryffindors can never understand anything other than black and white, imposing your own perceptions on others to make yourselves feel superior.” His voice went cold and quiet, as anger from another source began to flow through him. “You know the majority of those ‘assholes’ are in your house right? You have no idea-” 

He cut himself off as anger flashed within him. “No, no, no. We are not talking about this. It’s none of your business.” Unable to tolerate Bulstrode any longer, at least not on this topic, Severus lightly pushed the Gryffindor out of the way and began walking away.

“That depends entirely upon your definition of worse,” she retorted hotly, “and since mine is the apathetic cabrões who refuse to act for what they stand for. I don’t care about your morals and those so-called pacifists, so yes, Severus, you’re right up there with the worst of them.” Later, she’d wonder if this sounded like some kind of bizarre attempt at pushing him to do better, to be more active against his own victimisation.

For now, though, she turned, refusing to be subtle about watching him. “The majority of those who are assholes to you are in Gryffindor. I guarantee there are just as many pilas in Slytherin. And Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, all depending on the perceptions imposed.” Cora was perfectly happy to throw his own words after him, obviously peeved and doing nothing to hide it. 

His eyes narrowed at the sudden foreign word. He didn’t know what it meant, and she likely knew that, but he wasn’t going to give her the benefit. He felt an urge to cross his own arms in some form of defence, but kept them rigid at his sides.

“Despite common belief, I am not a sociopath and I do not brood,” he said, barely moving his lips. “You do not know me and I do not have to accommodate to whatever absurd image you have of me. I am free to do as I please without having to live to your expectations. If my actions made you uncomfortable, then I apologise. I was trying to… help. I’ll make sure not to make the same mistake in the future.” Even with his apology, his eyes consistently stayed strong and defiant as he challenged Cora. They only faltered at one thought, ‘what if she likes me?’. He knew nearly nothing about how others experienced love but he understood that it could make one extremely vulnerable to pain. He dismissed it almost immediately though; not knowing whether it was because he rather not think about it or because it was an insane idea.

Cora listened to him in silence, the extent of her disbelief somehow not showing on her face. When he was done, she was quiet for long enough that he might have thought she was dropping the subject. Perhaps he could even start to hope that she would leave him alone. But then, of course, she stepped closer, jabbed her finger at his chest.

Marly gave a small sigh that turned into a laugh as she listened. “There’s no lie about that.” The Hufflepuff had her fair share of rumors, “Rumors are bollucks. I don’t think there’s been a rumor this year so far that’s actually been true.” 

“Don’t I know it,” Cora chimed, smiling at Marlene. “I don’t know, most of them start off with something someone genuinely saw, just that they misinterpreted... For example, I’d absolutely believe those stories about the Black/Malfoy wedding already being planned. Or about one of the Lockhart siblings going grey.”

“Do you think you could maybe show it to me? I don’t recall any animagi portraits on my way here.” Tobian shrugged; was he starting to trust this girl, who totally could beat him up if he said something wrong? “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

“That’s because it’s further down the hall. Come on,” she ordered, striding towards the other end of the hall and ignoring his meek apology. The portrait itself wasn’t particularly interesting unless you stood there long enough to notice an animagus transforming, or, like Cora, asked the thing for directions one time, only to be subjected to a lengthy speech instead. “Eustace, McReady, Serah and Joseph. Four animagi from the twelth century, so on, so forth. If memory serves - bee, wolfhound, lion, horse.”

The subjects of the portrait eyed her in irritation. “Excuse you,” the one she had identified as Serah protested, “it’s lioness.”

“You take far too much pleasure in stripping the mystery from the reveal,” huffed McReady. Cora snorted.