Welcome back winter once again
And put on your warm fuzzy sweater
Cause you'll feel much better when
The snowflakes fall
Gently to the ground
The temperature drops
And your shivers freeze all the rivers around
But I keep you warm…
-Owl City
“You what?”
“I can’t keep an eye on your tonight, I have detention,” Cedrella repeated. “So please don’t do anything immature or”“
“Cedrella, I appreciate it, but I don’t need you to babysit me every minute. And you know that’s not what I was talking about, anyway. Since when do you get detention? Father is going to kill you!”
Cedrella bit her lip. “You’ve had detention before, and you’re still alive.”
“Yes, but that was two years ago, and I wasn’t a prefect. Somehow I think it’s different,” Charis said. “Cedrella, what did you do? I can’t imagine you doing anything that would even get the teachers to take points from you, much less give you detention.”
“It was an accident, Charis. I sat down for a moment to rest after my patrol was over on Monday night and I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew it was one in the morning, and I was sitting in the Charms corridor. I tried to come back to the dungeons, but Pringle caught me. There was nothing I could do about it.”
Cedrella knew she sounded convincing, but she also knew that Charis was the person least likely to believe her lies. Sure enough, her sister was squinting suspiciously at her now. “You don’t know how odd it is to hear you making excuses,” she said.
“I’m not planning on making a habit of it,” Cedrella said. She took a bite of her potatoes and eggs, hiding her face from her sister. Nothing made her feel guiltier than deceiving Charis, especially since she was the one who was supposed to be setting a good example. If her sister only knew how many times, in the last year alone, that she had snuck out into the castle after hours! What would Charis think of her then?
“What are you going to have to do?”
“Shovel snow, Mr. Pringle said.”
Charis made a face. “That’s servant work. How disgraceful. He should have you do lines or something.”
“I think the point is for the detention to be useful, Charis, not to disgrace us. I don’t mind doing it, I am just worried about what Father will say.”
“Us?”
Cedrella winced inwardly. Charis was shrewder than she gave her credit for, sometimes. “I mean people who get detention. Rule-breakers.”
“Don’t put yourself in their category, Cedrella, it isn’t like you,” Charis said.
Cedrella smiled, covering up a second wince. “Listen to you, Charis. You’re right, of course. I’ve taught you well.” Compliments always distracted her sister.
Sure enough, Charis smiled back. “One would hope so, with you on my case every minute of the day. Tonight will be a nice break.” She paused, taking a big sip of pumpkin juice. “So what are we going to do about Father?”
“Don't slurp," Cedrella said automatically, and Charis made a face. "I’ll have to tell him I got detention, if he doesn’t write me first. I know Slughorn notifies parents of those kinds of things," she continued.
“Does he tell them what kind of work you are doing?”
“I don’t think so. I’ll assure Father it was just lines, of course, but”“
“Charis!” It was some of her sister’s friends, Mattie among them. “Are you coming to watch Lucifer’s practice before class?”
“Yes,” Charis said, jumping up immediately. “I’m sure you will think of something, Cedrella, you always do.” And then her friends had borne her away, and she was gone.
Cedrella finished her breakfast in silence, feeling guilty and, though she would never admit it to herself, a little lonely. She made a mental note to tell Charis it was rude to interrupt important conversations like that, even though she knew it really wasn’t her sister’s fault. In Charis’ eyes, Cedrella had all the answers. Of course, Cedrella thought as she headed for the library, nothing was farther from the truth.
**
Cedrella spent most of the day in the library, her study broken up only by Arithmancy at ten and a quick lunch. She was quite eager to get back to her research after the break, armed with Demtrius’ new information, and she spent several hours that morning searching through the dusty shelves for books of old legends and ancient Wizarding history from places like Egypt, Africa, and America. According to Septimus’ well-traveled brother, all of the native peoples in these places had legends about people who could speak to certain animals, and that still there were certain families who seemed to posses the talent. And so Cedrella had set out to identify them, trace their lineage, and hope that this led her somehow towards the reason for her own mysterious gift.
It was slow work, especially since family trees of Egyptian tribes were difficult to come by in a British Wizarding library. And Cedrella, sitting at a table with dozens of old histories, legends, and geneaologies spread across her library table, kept getting distracted. She was frustrated with her own mind. It was usually so focused, so calm, and so easy to compartmentalize. But now Cedrella felt like her thoughts were constantly being pulled in four directions at once”Septimus, her research, the concern and guilt she about for Charis, and what was proper and right”everything that used to matter so much to her and seemed to lose it’s hold a little more every day. And try as she might to quiet her thoughts, to focus on her reading, she was also afraid. Cedrella was afraid of what her father was going to do when he found out about her detention, but she was more afraid of the fact that she almost didn’t care. She was actually excited to spend two evenings alone with Septimus, in detention or no. And admitting that to herself was terrifying. How far was she going to let this go on? When she heard the distant bell ringing for six o’clock, Cedrella gathered up her books with a sense of relief. It was exhausting, struggling with herself all day like that, alone. She hurried out of the library to get some dinner before reporting to Pringle’s office at half past.
**
Septimus was already waiting outside the caretaker’s door when she got there, having given Charis another warning and getting a doubtful “well, behave yourself in detention then,” back. He grinned happily at her as she approached. “Why hello, Drell. How are things?”
“How can you be so cheerful about going to detention?” she demanded, folding her arms and leaning against the wall. She frowned to keep the smile off her face that was threatening at the mere sight of him.
“Oh, detention,” he said dismissively, waving a hand. “I’ve had my share of it. It’s not too bad. But this time you’ll be with me, so”“
Pringle’s office door opened, and Septimus fell silent as the caretaker glared at them both. “Wipe that smile off your face, Weasley, it’s not going to be an easy night. Follow me, both of you, and give me your wands.”
Septimus and Cedrella did so, and fell into step behind the caretaker as he stalked along the corridor, down a few flights of stairs, through the entrance hall, and down the front steps. As they passed to doors to the Great Hall, which was still full of students finishing dinner, Cedrella ducked her head and hung back, her heart beating rather hard at the idea of other students seeing her walking with Septimus. He grabbed her elbow as soon as they were out of sight of the doors. “What was that all about?”
“Nothing,” she lied, looking pointedly at Pringle’s back. We will have plenty of time to talk later, she thought. Although he should know what that was about. He knew their friendship had to be a secret.
Pringle led them all the way down the path to the gates flanked by the statues of the winged boars where the gamekeeper, a burly man called Pepper, was waiting for them with two large shovels. “I’ll come for them at midnight,” Pringle told him, looking around the dark, frozen grounds with a nasty grin. He glanced up at the stars. “Looks like some clouds are coming in, Weasley. Should be enough snow to keep you busy all week!” And with that, the caretaker turned and walked away, chuckling to himself.
“Nasty little bloke, eh?” said Pepper, the moment he was out of earshot. “What’s he got against you now, Septimus?”
“I just made an innocent comment about how much snow there’s been this winter, and he seems to have taken it personally,” Septimus protested, and Pepper grinned.
“Ah, there’s no reason to antagonize him, lad, he’s miserable enough already. Now,” he added, looking at Cedrella, “who’s yer friend? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in detention before.”
“This is Cedrella Black,” Septimus told him, before Cedrella could say anything. “It’s her first detention.”
Pepper raised his eyebrows. “That so? Well, I hope for yer sake it’s the last, though hangin’ around this lad pro’ly won’t help.” He cuffed Septimus on the shoulder affectionately.
Cedrella said nothing, she just nodded. She had never spoken to the gruff gamekeeper before”with his long sandy ponytail, his big dirty boots, and the fact that he often had some sort of dead animal slung over his shoulder, she had always thought he was unfit to associate with. But here he was, making fun of Pringle, and obviously very fond of Septimus, and he hadn’t even reacted to hearing that she was a Black. For some reason, she liked him almost immediately.
“All right,” Pepper was saying. “Well, for tonight you kids just try to shovel the path from here to the greenhouses. S’not too far, but Pringle’s the slowest shoveler I’ve ever met, he won’t know the diff’rence. Mind you make the edges nice and straight, he’ll have yer hides if you don’t.” He handed them the shovels and clapped them on the shoulders. “’Night.”
“Sir, aren’t you staying? Mr. Pringle said you were going to supervise the detention”“
“Just call me Pepper, Miz Black, ‘sir’ makes me feel old. And nah, Septimus here knows what to do, you’ll be fine. I’ve been at this school much longer than ol’ Pringle, I don’t care what he says.” He winked as he strode away, waving.
Cedrella turned to Septimus, who was waving back. “What was that all about?”
“I went to see him earlier today,” he told her, digging his shovel into the snow and leaning on it. “I used to be in detention every other week when my brothers were still at school, so Pepper and I got to be great friends. I just asked him if, this once, it would be all right if he gave me and my detention partner some time alone.”
Cedrella stared at him. “You had this all planned out, didn’t you? Getting caught, goading Pringle about shoveling snow, asking him to let me off”“
Septimus shrugged, laughing, Cedrella was sure, at the flummoxed look on her face. “I saw Pringle dragging you to his office last night, so I ran to the first place I knew for sure that a teacher would be. Dewitt has a third year Astronomy class on Mondays that he has to walk back to Gryffindor Tower, so I knew he wouldn’t be far. Oh, don’t look so scandalized,” he added. “Are you honestly saying you’d rather be out here alone? Besides, it was fun, I haven’t had a good Pringle-bashing adventure like this all year. I feel like my old self again.”
Cedrella wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, but she said, honestly, “I’m not so much scandalized as impressed, Sep. And honored, in a funny sort of way. No one has ever done something quite like… that…. for me.”
His smile was less teasing and more genuine now. Cedrella had never met anyone who smiled as much as Septimus did. “That’s quite a compliment, Drell, coming from you. Shall we get started?” He gestured at the snowy path.
“As long as you stop calling me ‘Drell,’” she retorted, and dug her shovel into the snow.
“Sorry,” Septimus said cheerfully, also scooping up a shovelful of snow and tossing it over his shoulder. “You haven’t given me a good enough reason to stop yet.”
“How does ‘I don’t like it’ sound?”
“Perfect, except that I’m almost positive it’s not true.”
“How many times have I told you”“
“Oh, I know you think you don’t like it,” Septimus interrupted. “But deep down, you really do.”
“What would you know about what I think deep down?” she asked sarcastically.
“A lot more than most people, I reckon,” Septimus said.
Cedrella frowned and leaned on her shovel, ending the lighthearted exchange. He was quite right, and that was more than a little troubling.
Septimus looked over at her curiously. “What is it?”
“Nothing, I just”well I… never mind. Let’s get this done.” She bent down and resumed her shoveling, throwing the snow a little more viscously that before.
Septimus sighed, and went back to his shovel as well. “Someday you’re going to tell me what’s really going on inside that head of yours, Drell.”
Cedrella did not reply, for this was exactly what she was afraid of. They worked quietly for a few minutes, no sound breaking the silence but the steady scrape of their shovels against the stone. It was a bitterly cold night, and Cedrella had dressed for it, wearing Septimus’ Christmas gift under her cloak, and wrapping up in a hat, scarf, and gloves in Slytherin colors. But as worked, she grew warm quickly”she wasn’t used to such hard physical labor like this, and her face was soon flushed and her arms aching. Eventually, Cedrella untied her scarf and laid it and her hat on the snow, breathing rather hard. Septimus looked over at her and grinned. “Hot?”
“At bit,” Cedrella admitted. “I don’t usually”well, I actually neverd do work like this. It’s quite tiring.”
Septimus laughed, but not unkindly. “Spoiled.”
“You could say that,” Cedrella said. “But it depends on your definition. My family is strict. Just because I don’t have to do chores doesn’t mean I have any freedom.”
“That’s a good point,” he conceded, his tone matching her serious mood immediately. “What do you do all the time, then?”
“Study,” Cedrella said. “And read. And care for Charis, and wrangle my parents, and go to endless parties and teas and things like that. Mostly I daydream.”
“About what?”
“Owls, and Hogwarts. Things I want to learn about. Sometimes the future.” And you, she added silently. These days, always you.
“What do you want to happen, in the future? Are you going to be a brilliant historian?” Septimus was leaning on his shovel again, looking at her intently.
“No,” Cedrella said, uncertainly. “No, I can’t”I mean, I don’t know what I want. I might not have much of a choice.” She looked away from his eyes. “Anyway, speaking of history, I’ve come up with a new plan for my research, thanks to your brother’s letter.”
Septimus looked like he didn’t want to let the previous subject drop, but after a moment he conceded and looked away from her, going back to his shovel. “Really? What is it?”
Cedrella launched into a description of the legends she was investigating, and the ways in which they did and didn’t line up with the history and geneaologies she had compiled so far. She forgot the previous troubling conversation and the aching of her shoulders as they talked, debating the likelihood of several of Cedrella’s current theories about lineage. Septimus was so very easy to talk to, and despite his troublemaking tendencies he was quite smart. She forgot the cold and the fact that she was in detention. She forgot her fears about her father and Charis. They laughed and teased one another, the discussion drifting from intellectual to serious to joking and back again effortlessly.
And then (and Cedrella was never quite sure how it happened) their shovels reached the greenhouses and Septimus threw a snowball at her and suddenly they were chasing one another about in the snow, flinging it at one another, slipping, sliding, and gasping. Cedrella was cold, and wet, and warm, and dirty, and her hair had come loose and was getting tangled and snowy, and her hands were numb from scooping up so many snowballs. At last, she collapsed against the wall of one of the greenhouses, utterly out of breath and yet still laughing. Septimus shook the snow of out his hair from her last, well-placed snowball, and dropped on the ground beside her. He was soaking wet and the smile on his face was bigger than Cedrella had ever seen.
“Who,” he gasped, “taught you how to throw snowballs? I never would have started that if I knew what I was in for!”
“Rubbish,” she retorted. “You have absolutely no sense”“ She stopped, laughing again as Septimus once more shook out his hair like a dog. “”Of self preservation. Stop it, you’re getting me wet!”
“Oh, don’t be silly, you’re already soaked. Really, tell me, where does this secret talent for snow battle come from?”
“I haven’t a clue, although I wouldn’t really call it a talent”if we were actually competing, you would have beat me quite soundly.”
“Well of course I would have, I’m a Weasley! I’ve been trained by my brothers and my father since I could walk, it’s a matter of family pride that we never loose a snowball fight.”
“What a legacy.”
“Exactly.” He cocked his head, still beaming at her.
They were seated very close together, and as their laughter died down Cedrella felt the air between them shift. Like it had last night in the Owlery, her pulse quickened once more, though for very different reasons than being out of breath. Cedrella had just opened her mouth to say something, anything, to make the feeling of hot, out of control energy go away when Septimus reached out and turned her head towards his with his wet hand, caressing her face.
And then he leaned forward and kissed her.
Soldiers by dominiqueweasley
Chapter Notes: Detention turns out to be more than Cedrella bargained for, but it lives up to someone else's hopes.