Thanks to Sarah/TheCursedQuill for beta reading this, and to Neil/Northumbrian for answering endless questions about all things British (including names). Thanks also to Natalie/hestiajones for random help here and there. :)


Had she not been so bored, Kenley would not have agreed to go along. It was almost the end of July, and the return to Hogwarts for her seventh year still felt like an age away. She usually enjoyed her time at home on holiday, but with her mum traveling so much and Brian around all the time now… well, she’d simply run out of things to do. She’d finished every book on the suggested summer reading list and quite a few more. She’d helped her mum with several household projects, done some sketching, and even seen a few Muggle pictures at the cinema. Mostly, she had passed the last two months taking pictures; she usually kept to their small neighborhood, taking photographs of flowers and children and neighbors, whatever was around, trying to capture that elusive moment or expression that would tell a story in one look.

But it all seemed dull to her this morning; she lacked any enthusiasm for roaming the same streets or reading the same books. She couldn’t help thinking that if her Muggle father could see her now, he would say she’d gotten up on the wrong side of the bed; he would probably be right. But her father had not seen her in a very long time. He lived in America, which was more than fine with Kenley, as she preferred never to see him at all. With her mother, Elizabeth Allen (now Weston), however, it was an entirely different story. The two had always been extremely close, having lived alone in their cottage since Kenley was three years old, right after the divorce. They’d had their problems, of course, mostly dealing with the repercussions of their time with Kenley’s father and his continuing occasional presence in their lives… but their life had mostly been a happy one, if a bit on the quiet side.

Then a couple of years ago, Elizabeth met Brian at a Ministry fundraiser, and the two had begun dating. Kenley had been at Hogwarts, of course, but her mother had kept her informed about their relationship through letters. It had been a strange thing for Kenley to watch her mother fall in love. She’d always imagined it would be the other way around�”that Kenley would be the one to bring a boy around for her mother to meet, then arrange for frequent family time so everyone could get to know each other properly… but her mum had been the one to meet the boy, not Kenley. She couldn’t protest the relationship�”Brian made her mother blissfully happy, and she seemed to do so for him as well. He was a good man, a Healer who specialized in treating children. He had a little office in Diagon Alley, but spent at least half of his time working at St. Mungo’s. He used to have a little flat in London, but gave it up when he married Elizabeth, whom he always called Libby, six months ago. Now they all lived here together in the cottage.

Kenley was happy for her mum and wouldn’t dream of denying her even a moment of the happiness that had come as a result of her marriage to Brian, but she also missed the days when it had only been the two of them at home. Brian was not her father, after all, and it was sometimes awkward, especially at times like these, when her mother was away.

She was lying on her bed studying the fat wooden cross beams stretching across her ceiling. She rested flat on her back--her chin-length curls hanging down toward the quilt like a nearly-black curtain around her head. Her brown eyes traced the lines, and she wondered if those beams were actually supporting the structure or if they were only there for aesthetic purposes.

There was a knock at her bedroom door.

“Come in.”

Brian opened the door but did not venture too far into his stepdaughter’s domain. “Hi.” He kept a hand on the doorknob, fighting nerves. “Big plans for the day?”

She rolled her eyes in response, but managed a small smile eventually.

“I’ve got to go into the office, after all.” He paused, then took a breath and continued. “I thought if you wanted to get out of the house… you’ve never been there, but it’s not far from the Leaky Cauldron. You could wander around, bring your camera…”

Her heart quickened; she’d never had the opportunity to shoot much in Diagon Alley, or�”even more tempting�”on the other side of the Cauldron.

“I understand if you’d rather not though,” he added quickly.

“No,” she said, sitting up. “Actually, thanks… I could use a change of scenery.”

“Good.” He grinned with surprised pleasure, and she noticed his eyes getting all crinkly the way they sometimes do. “I hear staring at ceilings can get a bit tiresome."

When he was gone, she slipped on her shoes and checked her camera bag. Brian had probably expected her to turn him down; they had never actually been anywhere together without her mother, though not for his lack of trying. So far, Brian had invited her to dinner twice, to a play that he and her mum were attending together, and to an informal game of Quidditch some of his colleagues were playing. Kenley had always managed to wiggle her way out of going. He had married her mother, after all, not signed up to become her new dad. She would be of age in two months anyway; the last thing she wanted was for Brian to feel responsible for her. She actually thought it rather lucky for her mum that Brian had wanted to marry her even though she had a teenage daughter tagging along.

This adventure would be good though. She simply had to get out of the house, and she could explore while he was busy working. They wouldn’t even have to be together that much. She felt almost excited about going with him.

Half an hour later, she was standing with Brian in a very small office above an apothecary’s store. There were three rooms: a waiting area with chairs, his own crammed office containing little more than his chair and desk, and a very clean, small room with a raised table where a child might lay down for an examination.

“Do you have your wand?” he wanted to know.

Kenley sighed and made a show of waving it around.

“All right, but I had to ask, didn’t I?”

“I can’t use magic outside school anyway.”

“I know, but you can and you will if you absolutely need to, won’t you?” He looked her over, briefly having second thoughts. The wizarding world was not as dangerous these days, but Brian had not fully recovered from the time of war. He still tended toward caution, particularly when thinking of Libby or Kenley. “Stay away from Knockturn Alley, all right?”

She rolled her eyes. “Spoken like a true Gryffindor,” she said with more sarcasm than she had intended. He looked up from his papers and she saw the hurt move across his face. She was instantly remorseful, so much so that she had to look away… out the window, anywhere but in his big blue eyes. She fought daily against anything that might encourage intimacy between herself and Brian, and yet, seeing his face like that, she realized she could not bear the guilt of having hurt someone who seemed to always be so very good… to her mother, even to Kenley. He had invited her to come along, hadn’t he? And why wouldn’t he be concerned? He was, technically speaking, responsible for her when her mother was away.

His voice was quiet, but firm. “That is not… what I meant.”

“I know,” she admitted feebly. She had a tendency to create distance between Brian and herself, but she had not meant to do it in such an obvious, hurtful way. She should not have brought up the subject of house animosity. “I’m sorry.”

He looked back at his paperwork. “Why don’t we meet for lunch in the Cauldron at noon?”

She flinched, imagining the two of them sharing a small table in the Cauldron trying to make conversation. The potential awkwardness was overwhelming, but she would worry about it when the time came. She almost didn’t ask the next question, as he would likely never know what she did when she was on her own, but something compelled her. “Do you have any objection to me taking some pictures on the, uh… other side of the Cauldron?”

He looked up and studied her. “No. But if you’re late for lunch, I’ll have the Aurors out looking for you."

Walking through the Cauldron and stepping out into the bright sunlight of Muggle London, Kenley was still thinking about Brian’s protective attitude. Honestly, he had sounded almost… fatherly back in his office. Normally that kind of thing would really anger her�”and it did make her defensive, she realized�”but there was something about Brian that made it nearly impossible to be angry with him. He was gentle, but in a strong way. She hated to acknowledge it as a positive attribute, but he really was a kind of Gryffindor poster boy. Though she had never had occasion to see it, she believed Brian would prove loyal and brave if push ever came to shove. Kenley was glad for it�”after everything her mother had gone through with her dad, she deserved to have a man who could give her love and stability. But it didn’t feel like such a comfortable thing when Brian turned those same eyes on Kenley. Sometimes when he looked at her, it seemed that he really saw her, that he really knew her. And yet, how could he? They didn’t talk much other than the mundane chit-chat of family life. How did he manage to look at her that way? How did he seem to connect with her when no one but her own mum had ever really known her at all? It was unsettling. As she walked along the pavement, she had to admit that sometimes Brian got to her in places she thought had long ago been hardened by dashed expectations and broken promises. She didn’t know how to trust, and yet, he seemed like someone who might be worthy of an attempt…

She shook off her pensive thoughts as she began to notice brilliant subject matter popping up everywhere before her eyes. Two boys and a girl played jacks at the entrance to an alley… a box of geraniums bloomed just outside the door to a little bookshop… interesting shapes emerged from the architecture of a tall building… There was almost too much to take in, and she turned her full attention to her camera and lenses.

More than an hour later, she was on her knees between two shopfronts perfecting a close-up shot of a 20p piece half-buried in the gravel, when her concentration was broken by an amused voice.

“Kenley Allen?”

She identified him immediately, even without looking. Not only had she been hearing that voice regularly for six years now in various classes at Hogwarts, but the memory of an unfortunate shared detention only four months ago was still fresh in her mind.

She stood and faced the brown-haired wizard before her. The impulse to reach up and straighten his ever-lopsided glasses once and for all was almost irresistible, but she managed to keep her hands on the camera hanging around her neck.

“James Potter.” His grin was infectious, and she had to try hard not to return it.

“It’s crazy how we keep meeting up in the most unexpected places,” he said.

She cocked her head. “Am I to believe detention is unexpected for you?”

“That is so unfair,” he pouted, pretending offense. He was clearly enjoying himself. “I haven’t been in detention all that much, for your information... more than you have. I’m guessing that was your first time.”

“So what if it was?” She would not give him the satisfaction of an answer, especially since he was right.

“Tsk, tsk,” he said, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “And to think, they probably give out awards to Slytherins who make it all seven years without a detention. You were so close.”

Kenley bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning at his joke. She should have been offended, but she couldn’t deny the truth in his remark. Most of her housemates had served detention far more than Potter and all his cousins put together. She was one of only a handful in her house that had kept their noses clean, and only recently had earned her first reprimand for hexing a housemate who had been bullying a second year. She had been fortunate that Professor Longbottom had been the one to stumble upon the incident; she would have likely received much worse from another professor. He knew her well, as she was the best Herbology student in their year, and he seemed to understand something of what really had happened even though Kenley had refused to snitch on any of the students involved. An evening repotting Mandrakes was mild detention, to be sure, especially for someone who loved the greenhouse as much as Kenley did.

“Do be careful not to strain the muscles in your face, Miss Allen. Would it be so awful to laugh at one of my jokes?”

“I only laugh when I hear something amusing, Potter. Sorry to disappoint you.”

He laughed again and it caused the smallest smile to squirm its way onto her face.

James Potter had always been funny. He had this easy way of talking and joking that made everyone around him feel at ease. This, coupled with his skill on the Quidditch pitch, was at the heart of his popularity, but Kenley knew him to be much less adored among the Slytherin population. More than twenty years had passed since the war, but some things trickled down. Some attitudes were slow to change. In her opinion, Gryffindor-Slytherin relations would likely always be strained, at the very least.

“You should smile more often,” he told her. “It suits you.”

“Doesn’t smiling suit everyone?”

“Some more than others, I think.” He still wore that grin, and yet, there was something semi-serious in his face, too. She felt almost complimented by his words. What a strange day this was turning out to be: an outing with her stepfather, and an almost-pleasant conversation with James Potter on a London pavement. “What were you doing down there on the ground?” he asked.

“Someone dropped some money.”

“You need money?”

She laughed. “I was taking a picture of it.”

He looked at her curiously, as if remembering something. “You take a lot of pictures.”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

He grinned and ignored her comment, then looked up at the sky. “At least you’ve got a nice day for it. All this sunshine is just not normal, is it?”

“Actually, an overcast day would have been better.”

He studied her. “I see you prefer the glass half-empty.”

“No... an overcast day provides better light for taking pictures.” She gestured to the sun. “This is too bright�”it casts harsh shadows.”

“Oh.”

She marveled at him. How was it that he was always so free and easy with absolutely everyone? He hardly knew her, after all, and yet here he was talking and laughing with her as if they’d been friends for years. She was never that way except with her mum, and she felt suddenly vulnerable at having been so casual with a person who had more reason to feel animosity toward her than anything else. She should have been more guarded. She would be, from now on.

He seemed to have run out of questions, but only kept looking at her and grinning that grin in her direction.

Finally she could stand the silence no longer. “So what are you doing in Muggle London?” She mentally kicked herself for prolonging the conversation; she definitely did not care at all what he was doing here.

“I like to wander around before lunch sometimes. I’m working for my uncles in Diagon Alley this summer.”

She nodded, easily imagining him stocking shelves or greeting customers in the Happiest Store on Earth.

“What about you? Most people would think your presence among the Muggles more a mystery than mine.”

There was a beat of silence, and everything changed inside it.

She saw him react almost as soon as he’d said it, regretting his choice of words. But it was too late. Her smile vanished in an instant and she flashed him a hard look. “I don’t give a damn what anybody thinks.” He was trying to think of what to say, and she rejoiced in his discomfort. It was ironic: weren’t Gryffindors supposed to be so open-minded, especially these days? “You’re right though, Potter,” she spat. “You heard an old hat speak one word about me six years ago, so it only follows that you would understand everything there is to know about what I think of Muggles.”

He looked stricken, but recovered quickly. “You’re so defensive,” he snapped. “You’re impossible to have a conversation with.”

“Pity,” she said under her breath as she sat down on the curb and began to disassemble her camera.

She felt his eyes boring into her head as he stood rooted to his spot. Why didn’t he leave? When she could bear it no longer, she finally looked up at him; the sun was so bright she had to shield her eyes with one hand. “Run along now. I don’t want you to miss lunch on my account.”

“Actually, I’m quite free.”

Was he trying to wind her up? He was absolutely infuriating. Then he did the unthinkable: he sat down next to her on the curb and began to play with a pebble on the edge of the street.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was soft, and he sounded sincere. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

She didn’t respond. He might be sorry, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d said it in the first place.

“You’re the one who brought up Muggles,” he said casually.

“I was just making conversation!”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay…”

She dropped her eyes back to her lap, where she resumed carefully putting the pieces of her camera into the protective case.

He sighed loudly. “So you’re not going to forgive me? You’re going to keep on with that chip on your shoulder?”

She zipped the case in one swift motion and turned her head to face him. “I don’t believe for one second that you care whether I forgive you or not. We’re not friends, Potter.” There was a change in his expression, but she did not try to make sense of it; it was so much easier to let her anger take the lead. “But there is something I think you should know.” Her eyes bore into his, and she enunciated every syllable. “Slytherin is not code for prejudiced.” She held his gaze. “Now why don’t you go back home and write that about a hundred times until it starts to get into that thick head of yours?”

He held his own under her withering stare, grinning at her for the hundredth time in fifteen minutes. “I have nothing against Slytherins.”

She only shook her head, too frustrated to comment. She had seen him row with half the Slytherins in their year, not to mention the fact that her housemates were more likely than your average Hufflepuff to fall victim to one of James’ and his cousin Fred’s occasional detention-earning pranks.

He seemed to know what she was thinking. “My past behavior has been based on them being a bunch of bullies, not on personal bias against your house. Besides, you don’t seem particularly close to any of them. Why do you care?”

“I don’t!” But she knew her expression had faltered, and worse, that he had seen. His own face softened and he looked at her with something almost like concern. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “They aren’t my friends,” she said, as if in conclusion to everything else.

He looked at her with a question in his eyes, not daring to speak it. But they both knew what he had been about to ask, and the words hung awkwardly between them in the silence.

Who are your friends?

She stood up suddenly; this was over. “I’ve got to go,” she said, her eyes anywhere but on his face.

He stood up, too, ignoring her comment. “Why are you in Slytherin anyway?”

She might have been furious, but the way he asked, as if he genuinely did not get it… well, she couldn’t hide the flash of vulnerability that moved across her face before she looked away, down the alley. “Ask the hat, Potter,” she finally said in a casual voice. “Let me know if you find out anything, won’t you?” There was a brief, awkward silence, and then she turned to walk back toward the Cauldron.

She had only taken a few steps when she heard him call after her. “We should be, you know!”

She had no idea what he was talking about, and she didn’t care. Just keep walking, she told herself. But her body was turning back to face him; her mouth was forming words without her permission. “We should be what, Potter?”

He stood then and dropped his hands into his pockets, an easy smile on his face. “Friends,” he called back to her.

She studied him, hardly believing he was serious. Then the strangest thing happened: a fuzzy lump lodged itself in the back of Kenley’s throat and tears began to scratch at the back of her eyes. She never cried. It had probably been two years�”longer than that since she’d done so in front of anyone else. She’d be damned if she was going to cry right now in front of James Potter. At least ten biting remarks occurred to her for a response, but she somehow couldn’t choose one. His face told her he was serious, and yet the idea was comical. He was a naïve fool if he thought it possible; his last name was Potter, and hers might as well be Slytherin.

She cleared her throat loudly to dispel the lump and tried for a relaxed smile. “That doesn’t seem very likely, does it?” He revealed nothing in his face, and she was glad for it. The best thing now would be to get away and pretend this whole thing had never happened. “See you at school, Potter.” She turned then and began to walk away, feeling the heat of his eyes on her back.


~~~~~~~~~~~


Lunch with Brian was not as uncomfortable as it could have been. Kenley decided he must have prepared several subjects in advance that they might easily be able to discuss without a lot of painful silences and awkward glances around the room. He talked about his work a bit, mentioning a couple of specific children he was looking after at St. Mungo’s. Kenley found herself more interested in this than she might have expected, as his passion for his work�”and children in general�”was contagious. He asked about her morning; she did not mention running into James, but did tell him about the various shots she managed to get and how nice it was to just wander around and watch people. They spoke of her mum’s return and how much they both missed her, then commented on the weather and the food... and they managed to pass the time rather easily.

The only strange bit for Kenley was due�”not to her step-dad’s presence�”but to the presence of James Potter across the restaurant eating lunch with what had to be a Weasley, judging by the hair. They were out of Brian’s line of sight, so Kenley had to be very subtle whenever she dared to steal a glance in that direction. James caught her eye right away and winked, causing her to blush first, then roll her eyes dramatically; fortunately, Brian had been looking at his plate. At another point, she saw him balancing the rounded inside of a spoon on his nose while holding his hands out to the side, grinning at her all the while. The Weasley who was with him was older, probably an uncle, and seemed to be enjoying the entertainment, which only encouraged James further. Every time she saw them talking, she worried that James was saying awful things about her to his relative. Then she would kick herself for minding him talking about her at all. Certainly, she did not care in the slightest what James Potter said about her or anyone else.

She repeatedly had to force her attention back to the conversation with Brian until finally, it was time to leave. They were nearly to the door when Brian paused and turned, a great smile growing on his face. To her astonishment and horror, he took her arm and led her straight to James’s table.

“Bill?” He was as excited as Kenley had ever seen him.

The red-haired man with James burst out laughing and rose to hug Brian, happily slapping him on the back. “Brian Weston! What are you doing here? God, it’s been forever… I haven’t seen you since…”

“Just after the war,” Brian finished. “How are you? How is your wife?” Brian turned to Kenley and said conspiratorially, “This bloke married a Veela, believe it or not!” Both men laughed at this. “We gave him hell over that.”

“Part-Veela,” Bill laughed good-naturedly, and Kenley wondered that his badly-scarred face hardly seemed so when he smiled like that. “Fleur’s wonderful, and we have three children: two girls and boy. They’re hardly children anymore though.” He shook his head. “What about you? We lost touch…”

“I trained to be a Healer. I work at St. Mungo’s now, and I have a little office in the Alley here. Are you still at the bank?”

“Yes�”here, though. I like being a little nearer to home. Did you never marry?”

Brian grinned wide. “Six months ago… I wish she were here so you could meet her. Her name is Libby, and she was certainly worth the wait. Forgive me… this is her daughter, Kenley. Libby’s out of town this week,” he explained, turning to Kenley. “This is my old school friend, Bill Weasley.”

Bill extended his hand and shook Kenley’s, saying how nice it was to meet her. She smiled and nodded but said nothing, avoiding the eyes she could feel burning holes into her face from the table. By the time this conversation was over, James would know more about her family life than anyone else at school.

“Where are my manners?” Bill apologized. “This is my nephew, James Potter. He’s working in the shop with my brothers this summer.”

“Potter,” Brian repeated slowly, extending his hand to James. “A lot of time has passed, but I still have a great deal of respect for your father.” James nodded his appreciation, and Kenley realized he must get this reaction all the time when he was introduced. He didn’t seem bothered though; he seemed proud, in the best sense. “Are you at Hogwarts?”

“Yes,” James said, clearly happy for his opportunity. Kenley bit the inside of her lip, dreading what was coming next. “I’m in my seventh year.”

Brian turned to Kenley. “You know each other then?”

Kenley smiled nervously, finally nodding. “Yes.” She met James’ eyes. “Nice to see you, James.”

His smile took over his entire face. “You, too, Kenley,” he said in a knowing tone.

Riveting as it all was, Kenley only wished the floor might open and swallow her whole. What awkward, polite conversation they were making. Friends, indeed… as she had told him before, it did not seem likely.

There a brief pause and then Brian was making plans to get together with his old friend, perhaps with their wives to properly catch up and get reacquainted. Kenley shuffled her feet and stared at the floor. None too soon for her taste, they were walking away. Kenley heard Bill ask James, “Aren’t you two friends?” before she slipped out the door into the sunshine with Brian. She was glad to be away from them. She did not want to see the look on James’ face or be within the sound of his voice when he offered the explanation she knew would be forthcoming: “She’s in Slytherin.”


~~~~~~~~~~


Three days later, Kenley was reading a book at her desk when her mum came in and dropped a letter across the pages. “An owl I didn’t recognize just delivered this for you.”

“Really?” She never received owls unless it was something official from Hogwarts.

“Were you expecting something?”

Kenley shook her head as Elizabeth, suppressing her obvious curiosity, slipped out of the room. Once she was alone, Kenley fingered the letters of her name on the front�”hand-written in small print�”then opened the letter. It did not take long to see what it was all about, and as she flipped it over to scan the back, the corners of her mouth began to twitch.



Dear Kenley,

Slytherin is not code for prejudiced. Slytherin is not code for prejudiced.
Slytherin is not code for prejudiced. Slytherin is not code for prejudiced.
Slytherin is not code for prejudiced. Slytherin is not code for prejudiced.
Slytherin is not code for prejudiced. Slytherin is not code for prejudiced.



The line was repeated for the entire length of the parchment and nearly to the bottom of the back as well. At the very end it was signed…


Humble and repentant,
James Potter



Her twitching mouth grew into a grin and, finally, genuine laughter, as she imagined James writing this over and over again. Why had he done it? Was he flirting, or did he really want to be friends? Perhaps he was messing her around? There was no way to know for sure, but something told her his motives were harmless; probably it was simply meant to be in good fun. Maybe he was growing bored with his summer holiday as well, and needed a bit of entertainment.

Friends with James Potter, she mused as she tacked the letter up on the wall above her desk. What a mad idea. And yet, she had to admit that she would never lack for a good laugh with James around. With this thought, and one more glance at his too-small printed lines, she returned to her book with a smile on her face.