honourbyname | Some AU-y type thing scene ... yes.

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Some AU-y type thing scene ... yes.

Albus' brother, James, has a girlfriend.

Like - an actual girlfriend: not the bird-girl he doesn't like, and not Cora.

This, to him, is the strangest concept of all - that Cora isn't James' girlfriend.

They practically spend all of their time joined at the hip; at least that's how Albus sees it. Which is probably why it seems a little strange to him to find Cora in his bedroom when he steps in.

"... erm. Hi, Cora."

[note: James is 18, Albus and Cora are 17 - both in their last years of school. James works in his uncle's shop for now, which is how he came to meet Gwen Copplestone.]

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"S'okay," she laughs, waving a hand dismissively. "You don't have to zip your lips or nothin'. Boy's busy. And I'll talk to my da' eventually."

She will.

Or her body language will give her away before she manages to work up the nerve.

Albus nods.

"Um. Right.

"Speaking of which ... um. Why aren't you downstairs with James and Gwen?"

"Cause I like my intestines on the inside."

She grins.

"I mean, only so much a girl can take before she's forced to start vomitin' up rainbows."

"- what?"

Albus starts to laugh.

"So - um. I take it you ... don't think terribly much of her, then?"

"Don't think I could think about her if I wanted to. Pretty sure the Boy uses it all up 'fore we even hit noon and nobody else even gets a chance."

Her eyes crinkle at the corners, smile crooked.

"Nah, she's nice. She really is. And pretty."

It's pretty much the most resigned list of compliments that have ever been given.

"Mmhmm."

Albus' laughter subsides.

"She is nice. And um. Pretty," he agrees. "She also graduated from Hogwarts a year before James did, and with honours too, I think. My parents seem to like her a lot, anyway."

Honours.

Her shoulders bristle briefly, up about her ears for a moment before relaxing in a stiff slide, and she lets out a (strange, inhuman) noise that could probably be categorized as something between a whine and a huff.

"And she's smart now, too?"

Albus watches her for a moment, but doesn't say anything about the way her actions speak much louder than her words.

He's known her for long enough to tell some of the signs. Obviously not as well as his older brother, but he's relatively well-versed too. (Or, he likes to think so, anyway.)

"Well," he says, "um. There are different sorts of smart, you know. And - um. You're still his best friend."

Oh, she knows. Definitely, totally knows. Honest. She's pretty much giving off tells like nobody's business, which is disappointing for someone who knows how to speak in them. Fluently.

It's like the abnormal person equivalent of failing English.

"There's only one kinda smart with honours, Albus," she quips, flopping onto her back with a noisy thump. "An' that don't mean nothin' when you got a mate."

Albus' expression is slightly wry, but still mostly sympathetic.

It quickly becomes something like curiousity as he sits up a little bit straighter, a frown on his face.

"Um. Could I ask you a question, Cora?"

She tilts her head just enough to be able to peer up at him without attempting to look through her own shoulder.

X-ray vision. Not one of her standard features.

"Yeah, 'course you can."

Albus has to gear himself up just a little bit before he can ask her what he wants to.

After all, it's really quite a personal question.

And may be just a little embarrassing too, depending on the answer.

(Besides, Albus hardly counts himself as even remotely good at any of this stuff.)

"Um. D'you ... fancy him? My brother."

She wriggles a bit, shoulders shifting against the carpeting and nose twitching briefly up on one side.

And then she thinks.

It's not a very long think. But she's of the opinion that it deserves some actual thinking to go into it. This whole response thing. Especially when it's so - It's all right there, as far as questions go.

"I ain't never really - I mean, before -" a breath, all short and laughter-colored. "Yeah. Guess so, a bit."

Direct deserves direct. You give back what you're given.

I knew it, Albus thinks.

He has enough good sense not to say it aloud, though. He wouldn't want to embarrass Cora, after all.

He likes Cora. A lot. And if he had his way, he'd absolutely want her and James to get together. (But matchmaking is absolutely not his purpose here! Honestly.)

He shifts a little too. The springs of his mattress give a quiet screech of protest. "You - um. Never told him though, yeah?"

The look she gives him is pure, undiluted disbelief at the fact that such a question was even posed. You don't just - just tell people things like that. Especially not your best friend.

It'd be kind of astronomically stupid.

An eyebrow quirks upward, "I ain't the kinda girl he takes out on dates."

Well, Albus never said he was particularly any good at this advice-thing. Or the relationship-thing.

Or the -

Well, anyway.

He leans forward a little.

"Why don't you think so?"

That's one of those things that make people act weird. You don't tell people things like that because the moment you do everything gets strange and uncomfortable and she's never really been all that good at ignoring that level of awkward tension.

Not to mention the fact that it's the sort of awkwardness that's really easily avoided. Just - keep your mouth shut. Easy as pie.

"First off?" her grin is back now, firmly in place. "I don't really find him impressive at all anymore. Bit of a fun-ruiner, that. I don't smell like flowers and I don't know the first thing about face-paint or how people make their hair look all pretty?"

She gestures vaguely, incidentally ruffling herself in the progress.

"Seriously. They use all these hot things and I'd prolly burn down the house before I made myself look any sorta nice. And - and I'm not new. I ain't hardly impressive anymore either."

"I'm sure my brother would still find you impressive if you told him," Albus says, hopping off his bed to sit next to Cora.

It's easier to talk down here.

"And - um. When you say you don't really find him impressive 'at all' anymore? What does that mean, exactly? So you ... don't really fancy him?"

Cora, in turn, deigns to heft herself up slightly to prop onto her elbows. Probably should show some level of commitment to the cause, as it were. Stop laying around on the floor like a cadaver.

"Didn't say that, just -"

She closes her eyes, forehead wrinkled and looking very much lost somewhere in the sentence structure.

"When you start. Start that kinda thing -" she briefly loses track of herself again here, huffing a breath out through her nose. "Y'kinda - You peacock. Show off. Y'make yourself all interestin'. It ain't that th- that James ain't interesting. He is. He just - We aren't new. We know already."

"Isn't that better?" Albus asks.

He frowns a little too, thoughtful.

"Um. I mean, from my experience ... things like that, you want to get comfortable with the other person. That's what makes it all work. You know it works or doesn't when you're at that level.

"And - um. Well, it just means you and James have already gotten there without the awkward bits before it. Right?"

"Who says it wouldn't make things weird?"

It might.

And she really doesn't want things to be weird. James is pretty much the focal point for her. Everything else is weird. She doesn't know if she could handle him being weird on her.

"And I think he likes the excitin' parts," she adds. "The beginnin' parts. Most of the girls? They tend t'get gone after those wear off."

Albus shrugs.

"Maybe that's - um. Because he can never get to that level of comfort he's looking for?"

Honestly, this is a little beyond Albus' expertise. But he will make a good and honest effort to be helpful.

"And you'll never really know unless you talked to him about it. It might get weird, yes, but ... honestly, it's James. He's never really weird about things."

Beat.

"Or maybe it's actually that he's weird about everything because he's just ... weird himself."

Albus grins a little.

Honestly?

This is going way above either of their pay grade. She can answer Albus, but the idea of talking to anybody else about it makes her feel jangly and vaguely swimmy in the head. It's not really all that nice.

"Or he could just be really nice about it an' do that thing where he wrecks my hair like m'still six."

She laughs, "But it's okay. Honest. And Gwen's pretty. And nice. And your mum likes her. It's good when your mum likes her!"

Albus' expression sobers a little.

He does like Gwen, he does.

But ...

He shrugs.

"I don't know," he says with a little bit of a sigh. "She just doesn't seem like ... the permanent sort, I suppose.

"You know?

"Like, I can't quite imagine calling her sister."

"Dunno. She might be. Been around for a little while, yeah?"

A little while longer than usual, at least.

"An' anyway, you don't have to," she chirps, shifting again to bump their shoulders together. "Y'can just call her Gwen. S'nice. All one syllable and everything."

Easy-peasy.

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