Chapter 7: Chapter Seven

(I have some news about a RWBY project I planned to release post-Aegis or post-Serpent, depending on what finished first. However, thanks to recent events, that project has been cancelled in its entirety. I’m speaking of the abhorrent  treatment that Rooster Teeth is responsible for towards their employees. Kdin Jenzen, voice of May Marigold from RWBY, spent a decade there and gave a rundown of her experience, and I was utterly enraged at what I read. I have been a huge fan of RWBY for many years, and I’m sickened to think I gave Rooster Teeth my time, energy and money, only to find out that they’re utterly reprehensible. I’ll link Kdin’s words here for anyone interested.

 

sorry to go off on a rant about this, but it really winds me up. Anyway, on with the chapter.)

 

 

The dreadful silence stretches on, the deserted Common room empty but for the three of us. The only sound that disturbs the awful quiet is the gentle crackle of the fireplace, the low hiss of ash shifting in the grate.

Harry and Ron look at each other, and then back at me. I flinch, and look down at my slippers.  A hand lands on my shoulder, and a frowning Ron asks, “Has someone been giving you grief about this? Want me to punch ‘em? I bet it’s Malfoy!” Harry nods, a weirdly aggressive look on his face. I shake my head waving my hands in panic.

“N-No, no-one’s found out about… well, ME… yet! I just… wanted you to know so you didn’t think I was… keeping secrets from you. You’re… well, you’re my friends, so…”

Suddenly, I’m caught up in a massive hug between the two boys. Harry smiles. “It’s okay to be yourself, if you want to be. Just… tell us if we do something wrong, okay?”

I sniffle as Ron grins, patting me on the back. “So… if I’m right about this… you’re actually a girl? So that means that your name isn’t that really long one? Do you have a girl name?”

I gasp, and then nod frantically. “I do. It’s Maxine. Maxine Victoria…” relaxing, I sit back. “I’d, um… appreciate it if you guys could keep this between us? If my family found out, they’d probably pack me off to Durmstrang or somewhere horrible like that, or just lock me up forever… they’re dyed-in-the-wool Slytherins, each and every one.”

 

Ron winces, and Harry’s eyes widen. “You aren’t kidding, that sounds like a total nightmare…”  Ron mutters, and I sigh. “Yes, it made for a very… very difficult childhood…”

Harry gives me a look that screams of understanding. I smile at the pair, and slowly pry myself out of their platonic embrace. “Let me go and get Hermione’s present for me, I’ll be right back!”

Scampering out of the Common room, I find the specific spot that Hermione and I have been using as a sort of dead-drop. Behind a large vase, I pull a small, age-faded painting open, revealing a small gap in the wall that must be almost as old as Hogwarts itself. Nestled in that secret little nook, is a small, wrapped package, a small note propped up against it.

Picking it up, I flip it open and read.

“Dear Maxine,

Merry Christmas! I had these delivered a little while ago, I hope you like them! I’m certain that you’ll get plenty of use out of them! I DO hope you’ve managed to at least talk to the boys about your situation. If they aren’t exactly… receptive, I’m pretty sure I can think of something to keep them from blabbing! Anyway, please enjoy your break, and I’ll see you in the New Year!

With season’s warmest wishes,

Hermione Granger.”

 

I smile and tuck the note into my robes, squirrelling it away in an inner pocket. Reaching behind the painting again, I remove the package and tuck the painting back flush with the wall. Carefully worming my way out from behind the giant vase, I make my way back down to rejoin the boys. They look at me expectantly, Ron’s mouth bulging with more toffee as he tries in vain to unstick his jaws.

Setting the small, beautifully-wrapped gift on the low table, I carefully unwrap it. Inside, my eyes widening at the sight, is a quartet of small bottles of clear glass. Each bottle contains a different coloured…

“Nail polish!” I gasp, my lips curving into a smile, picking up one of the small bottles. There’s some lipstick as well, and a pack of Kirby grips, a bottle of acetone, and some cotton pads for removing it. As I splay my left hand out on the paper, I open up the bottle of dark purple nail polish, ignoring the sky blue, red, and green for now. With careful, slow strokes, I deftly work the brush over my left index fingernail, replacing the pale surface with a royal sheen.

Harry and Ron stare, enraptured, watching as I painstakingly ply my brush, nail after nail lacquered in beautiful, deep lavender. Once both hands are finished and the bottle’s capped, I lightly blow on my fingers, drying my nails faster than air alone.

 Ron chuckles, “Maxine, you’re seriously smiling, you know that? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look that happy!” I feel my face heat up, and clear my throat, slipping into a higher register than I’ve been forcing myself to use. “Th-thank you, Ron…”

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I blink in shock as Harry almost chokes on a bite of peanut brittle, while Ron falls off the couch backwards, landing in a heap.  Bounding up again, he stares at me. “Whoa… you sound almost exactly like Hermione!”

Harry nods, wide-eyed behind his glasses, as he frees his jaws from the sticky trap within his mouth. “Yeah, it’s really hard to tell the difference! How’d you do that??”

I rub the back of my neck, before undoing my braided topknot and letting my long, ash-blonde hair flow free, combing my fingers through it as I answer. “Well, I’ve been practicing whenever I had privacy. It’s called ‘voice training’, and it helps me feel more like me than when I use my actual voice. Now I know you guys are cool with… well… me, I’d prefer to use this voice from now, when we aren’t in public.”

I open the pack of Kirby clips, sliding a few of them into my long hair, before producing a ribbon from inside my robes and tying my hair in a loose ponytail. It still reaches my waist, but it’s more feminine and unconstrained than the stupid war-plait my father requires me to wear unless I want to lose all my progress on growing it out…

When I look up, Ron’s staring at me, and Harry nudges him. “Ron, knock it off, you’re going to make her annoyed,” he says, easily using the correct pronouns without any hesitation. I swallow a lump in my throat.  I have friends, who actually accept me for who I am! This is the happiest day of my life!

 

 

A short while later, and the two boys and I head down towards the Great Hall, the scent of Christmas dinner rising to meet us. Even after the amount of sweets that he’d put away, Ron’s face practically lights up at the delightful fragrances wafting up, enticing other groups of students from the three Houses to leave their Common-rooms and make their way to the same destination.  

Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, and a few Gryffindors who’d been outside in the snow, clearly having been engaged in magical ice-based warfare, judging by the trails of meltwater and muddy footprints left behind. That grotty old git with the cat, Argus Filch, will no doubt have an apoplectic fit, but apparently no-one else cares right now, the thought of food, warmth, and cheer too much to resist.

As we enter the Great Hall, the sounds of music and chatter fill the air, only one table dominating the centre length of the hall, set with plates and goblets, crackers at each place. Ron and Harry flank me as we take seats at the end of the table. I make sure to keep my hands tucked inside the sleeves of my robes. Angelina Johnson sits opposite me, smiling.

“Merry Christmas, Max. I hope you got some great presents!”

I nod, cracking a little smile. “Actually, yes. I got a little something that I’m really happy about.”

She smiles, and leans in, holding her cracker. “Does it have anything to do with your pretty nails?” she whispers, and I drop my fork. Angelina’s smile widens.  “Hey, it’s cute. You look nice!”

I slowly pick my fork back up, trying not to blush. “Th-thank you…”  I grab the other end of Angelina’s cracker, pulling it with her until it explodes like a cannon, a full-sized, frilly bonnet flopping to the tabletop. She picks it up and jams it on her head with a cheerful grin. “Now yours!”

From up at the teachers’ table, Professors Dumbledore and Flitwick are toasting, with Hagrid raising his own tankard, his booming laughter joining the joyous din. Professor McGonagall is sipping daintily from what looks like a glass of sherry, a small grin on her face as she watches the students.

I pick my cracker up, as Ron and Harry lean back to pull their crackers with each other.  Reaching out, I wait for Angelina to grab the end and tug. Another volley of explosions, clouds of coloured smoke erupting all around, and a top hat almost lands in my roast potatoes. Catching it, I pass it to Ron, who grins and exchanges it for his, a cute red newsboy cap, which I immediately don, tugging it into position and adjusting my ponytail. A small, wispy-blonde Ravenclaw girl looks over and smiles dazedly, before returning to her food.

The feast switches from savoury to sweet, as dessert comes forth, appearing on platters and in bowls, replacing the remnants of parsnips and gravy. Christmas pudding, cake, cheeses, candied fruits, and all sorts of stuff to round off a meal. Over the clinking of spoons and bowls, Angelina leans in again. “Why don’t you guys come join us outside for a bit? We’re going to have a snowball-fight rematch with the other Houses! C’mon, we won’t go too hard on you!”

After Christmas dinner, Angelina, Ron, Harry, myself, and a bunch of other students escape out into the grounds to find a good spot for the second snowball fight of the day, with the blonde Ravenclaw girl joining in. it takes a little hunting, but we find the perfect space for our sport.

A wide, relatively-level patch of unbroken snowfall, deep and thick. Angelina grins, shouting, “For the newcomers, this is a no-magic snowball fight. If you’re caught using magic, you’re out! Let’s have a good, fair fight! Free-for-all this time, no teams! GO!”

 

We all scatter, diving into snowdrifts and behind clumped, scrubby bushes, quickly packing snow into projectiles. While the fight begins, I take the time to make an extra batch of snowballs, not wanting to run out mid-battle. Peering around the edge of the snowbank I’d dove into as soon as the match started, I take careful aim and blat one of Malfoy’s cronies, not sure which since they’re both identically mean, in the jaw with a well-placed hit. He staggers a little, flinging his own snowball wildly, pasting a Hufflepuff who’d chosen her moment rather poorly.

As the pair start arguing, I duck back into the snowbank, lying still, waiting for the sound of anyone approaching, or anything unusual, to reach me. Silence apart from the continuous impacts of snow and cries of victory.

Peeking out of the other side of the snowdrift, I spot Ron taking aim at a Ravenclaw boy. He hasn’t spotted the blonde girl from the same House lining up her own shot. With careful shimmying, I scoot a little closer, getting into her line of sight and aiming her way. She re-evaluates her targets, before switching focus to me.

Ron takes his chance, and I fire as well, my snowball whisking through the air to impact the Ravenclaw girls’, both exploding into power in mid-air as the Ravenclaw boy takes a hit to the stomach, courtesy of the redhead. 

She eyes me curiously, before firing the second snowball she’d hidden in her other hand. It arcs through the grey sky, narrowly missing and causing a ‘blargh!’ from a Slytherin who’d thought to take me out from behind. I flash a quick grin, as she ducks down.

The ‘battle’ rages on until the clouds darken, fat, fluffy snowflakes drifting to the ground, as everyone traipses back towards the castle, where warmth and hot chocolate await, with roaring fires and dry clothes to end the evening.

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