GleeWarts Year 1; Chapter 6
Title: GleeWarts
Pairing: Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Rating: PG for the beginning and eventually M
Summary: So, this is my story of what would happen if the Glee characters had been born into the Hogwarts setting. There will be a cameo from a Harry Potter character throughout, whether or not there will be any other HP characters is still tbd.
A/N: I know it has been a while, but things got crazy. I went out of town to visit some family before the semester started, and when I'm with family I do a technology blackout.Then the semester started, and it took me a while to find my school and work balance. Then I had the bright idea to agree when asked to join my university's speech and debate team so there goes my weekends. Next thing I knew, it was midterms, and I hadn't updated in forever. So I started to write. And write. And write. Until I realized yesterday that I had more than enough to update. I get kind of caught up with things as you can tell, lol. So yeah, I'm really sorry. Good news is, I should have another update up by Friday. If not, it won't be until next week because I have a tournament this weekend. So yeah, I'm really sorry. Also, I may kind of have a surprise coming out some time soon for you guys, so be looking out for that. And, I think that's it. Enjoy!
Previous Chapter
1.6
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“The assignment is on the board,” Professor Sylvester instructed. “We are not going to move on from the herbicide potion until at least a quarter of you useless drones can produce a semi-decent one. I don't think I have ever seen such poor aptitude for potion making in my life…and to think, my own House is in here. It is just sad. I would cry if I hadn’t had my tear ducts removed years ago. No use for them." She pointed towards the board, "You may begin now. Leave your homework on your desk so I can examine it while you work.”
Santana’s fingers shuffled through her book bag before landing on her homework assignment and pulling it out, careful not to tear it. She placed the paper on her desk, running her hands over it to smooth out any wrinkles. Brittany tossed her assignment next to it, and Santana had to fight the urge to release it from its rumpled state.
Professor Sylvester inched closer to their table, and Santana sat up straighter. She made sure to add exactly three measurements of her crushed ingredients into the cauldron as the potion’s master neared so that her potion would bubble up at just the right time.
“Not enough lionfish spine. It's a herbicide potion, not fertilizer,” Professor Sylvester frowned.
The wand moving about her cauldron halted as Santana faltered, “Y-yes ma’am.”
Professor Sylvester picked up Brittany’s paper, her eyes skimming quickly. “Not bad, Pierce,” she nodded, placing the paper back down as a red C+ appeared on it.
“Awesome,” Brittany smiled.
Professor Sylvester flicked her wand towards Santana’s paper and a red C appeared.
“But-“ Santana began, her voice dropping off when Professor Sylvester turned to her with a provoking glare. “Y-you didn’t even look at it,” Santana managed, all too aware of her classmates’ eyes that were all trained on her.
“My apologies,” Professor Sylvester gave a sugary sweet smile that seemed nothing short of menacing on her face. She picked up the paper and read through it carefully before placing it back down and flicking her wand once more. The C remained, but now there stood a glaringly red minus mark next to it, “satisfied?”
“Yes ma’am,” Santana’s face flushed at the snickering of her peers.
“Don’t be embarrassed that you got a lower score than me,” Brittany soothed after the professor moved on to the next table. “I think I’m just Professor Sylvester’s favorite.”
Santana turned to her with a furrowed brow. There were so many things wrong with that statement, that she didn’t even know where to begin. Brittany gave her own homework one last proud smile before shoving it back into her bag.
“I’m not embarrassed by that,” Santana shook her head. “I’m glad you got a score you’re happy about. I just…my mum would flip if she heard about this. Her daughter getting a C- in Potions? Unthinkable.”
“Well, we did wait until the last minute to do it,” Brittany reminded.
“Yeah, but what happened to me having potential?”
“The bad thing about potential is that you have to live up to it.”
Santana looked down at her essay with a frown; she knew that Brittany was right. “I just thought I was her favorite,” she mumbled softly.
“No, I’m pretty sure that’s me,” Brittany nodded.
“Brittany, you are in Gryffindor,” Santana reminded.
“So?
“So she’s the head of Slytherin.”
“So?”
“So you can’t be her favorite, that is just not how things work.”
“Says who?”
“Says everybody,” Santana motioned around them.
“Well, maybe everybody’s wrong,” Brittany shrugged simply.
Santana stared at her, completely at a loss for a moment. She shook her head and turned back to her homework assignment.
“You know what you have to do next time, right?” Brittany quizzed as Santana put her homework back inside her book bag.
“Not question her grade, I know,” she sighed in defeat.
“What? No, you did the right thing. You stood up for yourself and what you believed you deserved.”
“Yeah, and look what it got me: and even lower grade. It was stupid.”
“It was brave,” Brittany corrected, blue eyes somehow sparkling even in the dull dungeon light, “especially since I know how scared of Professor Sylvester you are.”
“I’m not scared-“ Santana tried to argue.
Brittany just talked over her, “It took guts. I was proud of you.”
Santana’s eyebrows rose. Those weren’t exactly words she heard thrown around often, and she especially did not plan on hearing them for a long, long time after receiving that C minus on her assignment.
Brittany grinned, tapping Santana’s nose playfully before turning to her current assignment.
Her touch shook Santana out of her daze, and the brunette scrambled to catch up. “So…what do I have to do next time, then?”
“Live up to your potential.”
Santana looked at the potion ingredients before her. Once again, Brittany was right. If she wanted to be the professor’s favorite, then she had to surpass the unbelievably high bar her pedigree had set for her. Her eyes scanned the ingredients on the table, and she quickly set to work, correcting her potion according to her professor’s comment.
+++++
Santana approached the desk at the front of the room with her shoulders squared and her head held high. Professor Sylvester held her hand out with a frown. Santana handed her the vial of potion, and stood, waiting for a reaction. Professor Sylvester’s frown deepened as she eyed the potion.
“I would say it’s mediocre, but to do so would be a gross disservice to all the mediocre potions out there.”
Santana opened her mouth, her initial reflex to be to protest out of anger and pride, but her mother’s teachings rang clearly in her mind.
‘Don’t talk back to an adult, it is a sign of poor breeding.’
‘Never question a professor, it is a sign of great disrespect, and one that reflects poorly on the family.’
And finally, the gravest warning of all, ‘What Professor Sylvester says is the final word. If she says jump, you ask ‘how high?’. If she says to leap off of the top of the astronomy tower, you do it. Being in her favor, that is what is most important for you right now.’
Santana’s tongue froze, and her head turned, her eyes falling on Brittany as she stuck her tongue out in concentration over the puzzling potion before her.
‘It was brave.’
‘I was proud of you.’
“Well, if you have something to say, say it, Lopez. Do not just stand there with your mouth hanging open like the town lunatic. I don’t have all day, and you are drooling on my 15th Century desk that was custom made by sweatshop beavers from Italy…”
Santana snapped her mouth shut and turned back to the professor, eyes locking on the vial still in the sharp woman’s hand. She took a deep breath, “I’ll do better next time.” She felt a smile forming in satisfaction. She hadn’t talked back to Professor Sylvester, but she hadn’t completely backed down either.
“I hope so, next time we will start on antidotes, and I would hate to have to test yours on your dim-witted friend back there for effectiveness.”
The smile quickly fell from Santana’s face as she glanced back at Brittany once more.
Santana paced along the dungeons’ corridor as other students slowly trickled out of the Potions’ classroom. She couldn’t figure out what was taking Brittany so long; Santana had gone over the last couple of steps remaining in Brittany’s potion with her before walking up to turn in her own. The other girl should have been out by now.
Santana’s mind kept going back to Professor Sylvester’s threat, and she could not help but worry that the Head of Slytherin had decided that it wasn’t worth it to wait until the next class to see if she improved before testing her potion out on Brittany. The fact that it was a herbicide potion not meant for human consumption in the first place did not cross her mind as she wondered if Professor Sylvester had come to the conclusion that Santana just did not have it in her to improve at all, that it was not going to get better than what she had turned in.
A hand on her shoulder caused her to jump.
“You’re gonna wear the bottoms of your shoes out like that,” Brittany noted with a smile when she turned.
Santana stiffened against the urge to pull the girl into a tight hug right there in the crowd of mixed company of Gryffindor and Slytherin.
“We need to talk about this habit you seem to be acquiring of sneaking up on me.”
“I called your name, like, twice,” Brittany replied with a shrug.
They walked together down the corridor in silence, Santana’s thoughts staying behind them in the Potion’s classroom. She felt herself getting dizzy as they made their way up the winding staircase, and she had the feeling it was more from her spinning musings than it was from the spiraling structure. They made it to the top, through the archway, and Santana led them through the set of large double doors that led outside. She took a deep breath of air, soaking in the early fall rays, before they started to walk once more, this time with less purpose.
“You seem upset,” Brittany spoke softly, breaking their silence as she watched her out of the corner of her eyes.
“Somehow, I think I severely underestimated Professor Sylvester,” Santana admitted.
“I think she severely underestimated you,” Brittany replied thoughtfully, reaching into her bag to free the growing kitten from inside of it.
“Actually, I think she is starting to realize that she overestimated me.”
Brittany shook her head, “You didn’t see her face as she watched you walk out.”
“I think you were in that dungeon, inhaling potion fumes for too long,” Santana teased playfully as they caught sight of Mercedes walking with a small boy, both seemingly set on spending every second possible outside, basking in the good weather before Monday arrived and it was time, once again, to be stuffed inside the ancient classrooms, as well.
Brittany just chuckled at her teasing, blue eyes smiling knowingly. Mercedes seemed to notice them, too, because she had stopped her walk in order for them to catch up.
She shook her head as they approached, “How are you still alive?”
Santana’s face scrunched in confusion.
“When you talked back to Professor Sylvester, I was fully ready for her to blast you into smithereens and then use your grounds for one of her potions.”
“I think you are overreacting,” Santana rolled her eyes. Now that she had put some distance between herself and the Potion’s dungeon, she was beginning to feel her confidence returning.
“I’ve heard from several reliable sources that that’s her favorite way to deal with unruly students,” she insisted.
“I think you need to find better sources,” Santana snorted. “Brittany talks back to Professor Sylvester all the time, and she’s still alive.”
“You can’t put Brittany on the same level as everybody else.”
Santana stopped in her tracks and turned to Mercedes with narrowed eyes, wondering if she was one of the members of Gryffindor that had refused to allow Brittany into their Common Room after she had caused her fellow First Years to have an extensive homework assignment.
“And why not?”
“Because, once again, Santana,” Brittany cut in with a sigh, “I am Professor Sylvester’s favorite.
Mercedes raised a finger, her mouth opening as if to protest, but couldn’t seem to find the words.
“Plus, I’m kind of a badass,” Brittany added with a shrug.
Santana’s grin at the statement turned into a loud laugh at the look on Mercedes’ face.
They started to walk again, and Mercedes was finally able to vocalize her thoughts.
“I had just meant that Brittany doesn’t purposefully talk back. She just…questions a lot.”
“Some would say that’s even worse than talking back,” Santana noted.
“Some would say to question is the very purpose of a human mind,” Brittany countered.
A crease formed across her forehead as Santana took in her words.
“That was really kind of thoughtful, Brittany,” Mercedes’ voice came out shocked.
“There’s no ‘kind of’ about it,” Santana corrected.
“Then why the face?” Brittany questioned, raising a finger to smooth across the taller girl’s temple.
“Just trying to figure out how it fits in with everything else,” Santana admitted. The headache she had felt coming on halted under Brittany’s comforting touch. Brittany’s words had rang with an assured truth, but they very much went against what had woven its way through her very processes of thinking from lecture after lecture every day for the first eleven years of her life.
“Hey,” a voice of practiced softness interrupted her thoughts, and a hand on her upper arm dragged her back to the present as she was yanked to a halt.
Santana scowled at the hazel eyes staring back at her in anger, “Bloody hell, Fabray, what is your problem?”
“My problem? Quinn’s grip tightened on her arm when she tried to pull away. “What is your problem, Lopez? You cannot talk to Professor Sylvester like that. Have you gone mad? You are going to ruin everything!”
A tiny blonde stepped between them, forcing Quinn’s hand back to its owner’s side with a strong push and staring up at her fellow blonde with a glare.
“Brittany, we are in the middle of something,” Quinn sighed agitatedly.
“Yeah, and now I’m in the middle of it,” Brittany pointed out.
Santana couldn’t help but admire the way Brittany stood up even straighter as Quinn gave her one of the coldest looks Santana had ever seen.
“I do not know about where you are from, but where I'm from, people like you know their place and definitely know not to interrupt a conversation such as this.”
“And I don’t know about where you’re from, but where I’m from, people don’t treat their friends like rag dolls, and they certainly don’t talk to them like they are interior.”
Santana winced; Brittany had been doing so well until that last word.
“It’s okay, Brittany,” she cut in just before Quinn could pounce on the mistake and verbally rip her to shreds for it. “We were just talking.”
“That’s not what it looked like,” Brittany replied.
“Really, Santana?” Quinn laughed, catching her eyes over Brittany’s head. “This is the company you choose to keep now? No wonder you behaved like a proper heathen in Potions earlier.”
“You were the one that insisted on letting her stay in our compartment,” Santana reminded.
“Even the best of us make mistakes,” Quinn smirked.
Santana’s hands clenched at her sides, her voice coming out through clenched teeth, “I think Brittany’s right; you need to go.”
“I never said she had to go,” Brittany finally turned to face her. “I just wanted her to let go of you and change the way she was speaking to you. If she fixed that, then-“
“No, Britt,” Santana held Quinn’s eyes. “She needs to go. Now.”
Brittany nodded, able to see the way the muscles in her jaw jumped, even through the youthful roundness of her cheeks now that she was looking at her.
“Whatever,” Quinn replied, her eyes faltering. “You want to throw away everything your parents worked for by hanging out with people like this and acting like you did, far be it from me to try and talk some sense into you. Heaven knows you would never listen, anyway.”
Santana tensed, glaring even after Quinn had walked off with a flip of her hair.
“Come see, Lord Tubbington,” Brittany’s coos caused Santana to turn and watch as Mercedes handed back the kitten that had been transferred to her at some point to be kept from harm’s way. “I’m sorry you had to see me that way,” Brittany scratched behind his ear as she snuggled into his fur, kissing him softly. Her eyes met Santana’s, and she gave a shy smile.
Santana returned the smile, getting the feeling the apology wasn’t meant for just the kitten’s ears. She wanted to let her know that it was okay, that she understood the inability to control her anger, but she was far too aware of the other two sets of eyes on them. In a way, though, she was actually thankful for their presence, because she was sure she would have just struggled with the words if they hadn't been there.
“This is my kind of Friday,” the young boy with the perfectly combed hair and a voice that was high-pitched, even for pre-pubescent standards smiled next to Mercedes, his eyes dancing with excitement.
“Kurt Hummel, ladies and gentlemen,” Mercedes laughed.
++++
The four of them continued to wonder around aimlessly for the rest of the afternoon, conversing in small talk and jokes. Santana had learned that Mercedes was from London where her mother worked in the International Magical Office of Law at the Ministry and her father was a dentist. She also learned that Kurt lived alone with his father who owned a broom dealership in Denmark.
Santana readjusted the strap of her book bag across her shoulder and refrained from asking whether Mercedes’ father was a Muggle, as his occupation would suggest, or what had made Kurt’s mother abandon him and his father, despite her curiosity. She knew to do so in the midst of such congenial conversation would be rude and, not to mention, ill-advised, seeing as these were not only the people Brittany had to live and deal with on a day-to-day basis, but also the closest thing she had to friends in her own house. So, Santana made note of both questions and set them aside until a more opportune time. Whether that time would be for answers or power, she was unsure, and would probably remain unsure until she found out the lengths of the pair’s involvement in Gryffindor’s scheme to lock Brittany out of the one home she had for thousands of miles. Santana clenched her fists, willing her anger to subside as she reminded herself that this was not the proper time.
Brittany’s voice once again served as a distraction as the American offered her own history. Santana refocused on the conversation, learning that Brittany was from the southern part of a state called Arizona where her mother was a teacher and her father, the owner of a repair shop.
The small group settled on a spot somewhere between the castle and the practice pitch, enjoying the seclusion as most students had opted to head for the lake instead. Santana sat down, feeling three sets of eyes on her. She looked back in confusion.
“Um…” Santana searched for something to say, not all too familiar with the act of small talk. She and Quinn never bothered with it, and her mother had always insisted that children were better off seen than heard in the company of adults, so she was never allowed to participate in small talk when her parents had dinner guests over.
“So, Kurt…why did you come to Hogwarts? Isn’t Durmstrang closer?” Santana asked, smiling at her ability to keep her question polite.
“Well-“ Kurt giggled at her.
Santana felt her face heat up.
“My father had attended Durmstrang, and did not exactly agree with all of their principles; plus, let’s be real, I am far too pretty for that place,” he gave a broad smile, turning his face towards the sun, and Santana had to agree.
However, she still felt Mercedes and Brittany’s eyes on her, so she cleared her throat, “Um…Mercedes…”
“Girl, you are struggling,” Mercedes laughed.
Santana’s cheeks were now burning, and she was infinitely grateful for the dark tan summer had added to her naturally olive complexion.
“We’re waiting to hear about you,” she pointed out. “It’s your turn to give a little history.”
“Oh…” Santana was sure her face would spontaneously combust at any second as Kurt joined Mercedes in laughter. She turned to Brittany who was wearing a smile of understanding-after all, who knew better about misunderstanding conversations than she did-and delight at seeing this new side of the normally confident girl. Santana could feel a smile growing on her own visage, replacing the embarrassment. She couldn’t help but feel guilty, as if she had been caught doing something she oughtn’t, but somehow okay, if not thrilled, with the fact that it was Brittany who had done the catching.
“Well, I live with my parents in London where my father is both a healer in the magical world and a doctor in the Muggle one where he helps keep an eye on things for the Ministry. And then in the summer, I go visit my father’s family in Spain, where he is from,” Santana supplied.
“You know, your dads may know each other since they are both doctors in London,” Kurt said thoughtfully. “What did you say your dad’s name was, Santana?”
Santana bit back her initial urge to point out that her father was a real doctor, not a dentist, under the guise of politeness. The pause gave her a second to think about Kurt’s question and realize that it gave her the perfect opportunity to further spread word of her pedigree.
She sat up and straight and cleared her throat, “My father is Andrés Lopez, more properly known as Lord Lopez.”
“Lord Lopez…why do I know that name?” Kurt wondered out loud.
“He’s not God if that’s what you’re thinking,” Brittany offered.
“Yeah, even if my dad weren’t a doctor, I’m sure I still would’ve heard of Lord Lopez,” Mercedes laughed. “She was putting it mildly when she said he helps out in the Ministry. He’s probably the most influential person in the medical profession in either the Muggle world or the Magical one.”
“Oh my God,” Kurt gasped.
“No, I said he’s not God,” Brittany shook her head.
“Lord Lopez…Andrés Lopez is your dad,” Kurt stared at Santana wide-eyed. “That would make Lady Lopez your mom.”
“That’s generally how these things work, Kurt,” Mercedes supplied.
“Lady Lopez,” Kurt continued, unfazed by the interruptions, “less formally known as Evelyn Lopez.”
“Don’t let her hear you calling her that,” Santana smirked, knowing that Kurt was fixing to do all of her work for her by spilling the beans in front of the biggest gossiper of their year if not of the school.
“Formally known as Evelyn Black,” he finished.
“Bloody hell,” Mercedes whispered in awe. “Then that would make you…”
“She’s not Jesus,” Brittany insisted with a frown. “You two really should check your ears because I think you’re suffering from some hearing loss.”
“Lady Santana Lopez,” Mercedes concluded. “How did I not…”
“Oh,” Brittany rolled her eyes at the pair of them. “Shouldn’t that have been obvious since you two grew up in this feuding system thingy. I mean-“
Santana put a gentle hair on her arm, stilling her.
“The Lady Santana Lopez,” Kurt reverenced. “You’re the Lady Santana Lopez. How did I not recognize you?”
Brittany leaned in towards Santana to whisper, “I think all that hairspray he’s using is attracting the sun’s rays because he sounds baked. That’s what Al Gore says, anyway.”
Santana brushed her thumb back and forth across Brittany’s arm, quieting her once more.
“You’re practically royalty,” Kurt exhaled.
“That’s generally what the title ‘Lady’ means,” Santana shrugged, her expression the picture of nonchalance.
“I used to worship you when I was younger. Pictures of you as a baby and toddler were all over the papers. You were like the closest thing to a princess the Magical world had. But then, all of a sudden, it stopped.”
“I went to boarding school in the Muggle world,” Santana supplied.
“Now that is not something I would’ve expected. I mean, your mom’s a Black.”
“Hey!” Brittany cut in heatedly. “What does the color of her mom’s skin got to do with anything besides the amazing tan she is sporting?”
“No, Britt,” Santana quickly explained, the nickname rolling off her tongue as if she had been using it for years. “He was referring to my mother’s family, which is the Blacks.”
“I just meant that Blacks, that is to say, um, the family with the surname of Black,” Kurt tried to amend when a soft growl could be heard coming from Brittany’s direction. “They tend to be rather…unsympathetic towards Muggles, so the fact that her mom let her go to a Muggle school is pretty surprising.”
“It was the best school money could buy,” Santana responded.
“And with the Blacks, money trumps all,” Mercedes nodded.
Brittany gasped, “Now, I’d expect that kind of talk from Kurt, with his never-seen-the-light-of-day complexion-“
“Hey!” Kurt fussed, indignantly.
“-but you too, Mercedes?” Brittany asked in disbelief. “You know, maybe you should think about getting some professional help. That amount of self-hate can’t be healthy.”
“Britt,” Santana gave her arm a light squeeze to get the girl to turn and look at her. She held her blue eyes, making sure she had her focus before continuing. “They are not talking about the color of my mother’s skin. Before she had married my father, my mother’s last name was Black, with a capital ‘B’. You may not have heard of them on your side of things, but they are an extremely influential-“
“Read: wealthy,” Kurt fake whispered.
“-family over here. So when she married my father who had already made quite the name for himself as Lord Lopez, it was seen as kind of a big deal.”
“Kind of a big deal? Kind of? That’s like saying Dumbledore’s defeat of Grindelwald the Great was kind of a big deal. The wedding was on the cover of every wizarding magazine there was. I used to spend hours fawning over your mother’s dress."
“How? You weren’t even alive yet,” Mercedes pointed out.
“Princess!” Kurt reminded as he gestured towards Santana exasperatedly. “I remember the first picture I ever saw of her in a magazine. She was photographed out with her driver and nanny, and they were shopping. She had on this little yellow dress that was, of course, custom made, that went perfect with her bronzed, summer complexion and this white hat that was just to die for. I fell in love. I had to know everything about the girl that was always dressed in the most famous designers and came from one of the most talked about families at the time. I made my dad find every article and picture about her and her family. She was all over my walls.
Santana had kept hold of Brittany’s gaze through Kurt’s spiel on her much publicized childhood. That last time, she hadn’t meant to downplay her family in order to make Kurt react. For once, her reputation had been the furthest thing from her mind. The more Kurt went on and on about his childhood obsession with her, the more she realized just exactly why she was leery of letting Brittany in on who she was. It was more than girls following her around solely because of her title. It was the hurt, the confusion, the feeling of being used that came with hearing all of the lies being written about her and her family.
Santana had gone to one of the top Magic day cares in England. She thought she had been making friends there. But then, one day, stories started to appear, stories about her, in the paper, stories that weren’t true but were misconstrued by parents of other children at the daycare that only saw her briefly in passing, every now and then. Her parents immediately pulled her out and put her in Nanny’s full-time care with private tutors starting her on her lessons early. She was two and a half at the time.
Her mother, though, still insisted she socialize, so she had play dates with children of her parents’ friends, play dates where she spent most of the time playing quietly by herself in the corner because the other kids would always make fun of the way she talked because she wasn’t quite old enough to be completely aware of the difference between Spanish and English or when she was slipping back and forth between the two. That’s when the stories started coming out that Santana was a brat who thought she was too good to be playing with other kids of lesser status.
It was Santana’s first time sleeping over at a “friend’s” house that sent things over the edge, though. She had just turned four, and her mother insisted she go despite Santana’s protests and the fact that she had only spent one afternoon with the other girl, and that was at the Lopez Manor. However, the girl’s mother was the head of whichever wives’ group Lady Lopez had set her sights on at the time, so Santana had no choice in the matter. At the time, her father had been away for over two weeks at a business conference and was supposed to arrive the day before, but his plane had been delayed due to weather. His limo ended up pulling up just as Brad was putting Santana’s overnight bag into the trunk of the town car.
Santana immediately ran to her father, hugging him tightly, laughing as the scruffy beard he always let grow while away tickled her cheek. When Brad came with an apologetic look in his eyes to say the car was ready, Santana latched on tighter to her father’s neck, not yet ready to let him go after only just getting him back. Lady Lopez had to be called from where she was inspecting the night’s dinner because Lord Lopez, upon seeing his daughter so upset, wanted to know why they couldn’t just reschedule the sleepover for another night. Lady Lopez quickly admonished him for indulging her, and took Santana from him. She placed her in the back of the town car where Santana kicked and screamed long after the door was closed.
When they pulled up to the house, Brad retrieved her bag for her and walked her to the front door which was answered by a servant with kind eyes. Santana reluctantly let Brad pass her hand off to the servant who clasped it softly in her warm one. The tantrum she threw in the car had worn the fight out of her. The sound of the door closing behind her, barely even registered in her ears. She looked up at the woman next to her. Her green eyes looked back down at her with sympathy instead of the usual weariness that seemed to be reserved for her by most adults.
“What is your name?” Santana’s voice came out hoarse from all of her screaming during the car ride over.
The servant’s eyes grew in mild surprise, “Sarah.”
Santana nodded, holding on to Sarah’s hand tighter as she took in her surroundings. They were standing in a large foyer that led to an even larger mansion, if the glimpse Santana had caught when the car pulled down the long driveway was anything to go by. It wasn’t as large as her own home, of course, but she hadn’t been living in this house for the past four years, exploring every dark corner during marathon games of hide-and-seek with her nanny, in order to gain comfort in its girth. She took in a shaky breath, feeling as if the large, unfamiliar building was going to swallow her up at any second.
A young brunette girl about a year older than Santana came walking into the entryway. Santana recognized her from their last play date.
“Oh,” the girl wrinkled her nose when she caught sight of Santana. “You’re here.”
“Avery, Lady Santana Lopez is here for your sleepover. How about you show her up to your playroom? I will go bring her things to your room,” Sarah replied.
At the realization that Sarah was getting ready to leave, Santana gripped the woman’s hand with both of her own.
“Now Santana,” Sarah struggled against her surprisingly strong hold, “you need to let go, dear. Santana…”
Santana shook her head and held on with everything she had.
Sarah sighed, “Santana, let go. I have other things I need to be doing.”
And there it was: the weariness in her eyes. Santana let go of her hand as if she had been burned. She turned to Avery, swallowing the lump in her throat, feeling even smaller than before now that she was without a warm hand.
“What a baby,” Avery rolled her eyes. “Are you even going to speak?”
Santana opened her mouth, but stopped, shutting it tightly, knowing that when she was upset, her words had a tendency to bleed into Spanish.
Avery frowned at her, “Are you stupid or something?”
Santana felt her face heating up.
“Well, come on then, you. My mum said I have to be nice because your parents have a lot of money, so I’ll show you my toys like Sarah said. But you have to stay quiet when we walk down the hall because my daddy is working in his study.”
It was that, Avery’s mention of her father, which had sent Santana tumbling overboard. She crumpled to the floor, hot tears immediately pooling in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks.
“What the hell?” Avery questioned. “Hey…you cannot cry. My mum won’t get me a new dress tomorrow if I make you cry. Santana?”
But Santana did not respond. She just sat, curled up in a tight ball on the floor and cried.
“I am going to go get Sarah, okay? You wait right here.”
Avery hurried to get the servant. But when she returned and whispered kind words, Santana just cried harder, remembering how Sarah had tricked her.
Eventually, Sarah had to go get Lady Nott, but even she couldn’t get Santana to move or even stop crying, neither did the promise of food. At one point, she must have fallen asleep, because Santana woke to a set of arms lifting her up from the floor gently. She opened her eyes to find Brad looking down at her worriedly, not an ounce of weariness to be found. She snuggled into his lapel, finding comfort in his arms.
“Let’s get you home,” he said, carrying her out of the house and into the darkness of the night, towards the car.
“Mum’s going to be so mad,” Santana clung to him.
“I think she’s a bit preoccupied with her anger over her friend’s reception of you,” Brad noted.
“Is Daddy still awake?” she asked, knowing her father had the tendency to go to bed early on the days he came back from a long trip.
“He’s the one that sent for me to come get you when Lady Nott called.”
Santana smiled, allowing her eyes to close as exhaustion took over once more.
Two mornings later, a story had run that talked about how spoiled and poorly behaved Santana was and how her parents needed to do a better job at raising her. The story was picked up all over the wizard world and even in some of the Muggle publications, considering the big name of the source and the story’s leading characters.
It was then that Santana’s father decided to put an end to all of the play dates. And when he mentioned putting Santana in a Muggle primary boarding school, her mother did not protest, saying it was for the best that all of the poor gossip surrounding Santana be stopped and forgotten about before she enter Hogwarts. Talk around the Manor, though, was that she was furious at having been dragged into the gossip herself, and apparently the only thing keeping her from punishing Santana for her behavior was her father’s word forbidding it.
Santana drew in a shaky breath, determined to keep hold of Brittany’s gaze. She wasn’t sure what she was more afraid of: Brittany finding those old stories and believing them the truth and rejecting her friendship because of it, or the fact that Brittany could become like all of those parents, welcoming her and then turning to the papers with lies and gossip as soon as she grew tired of her.
But Brittany continued to stare back, her eyes open and warm. Santana wasn’t sure what she had been looking for. Hunger? Greed, maybe? But whatever it was, she did not find it. All she found was the same inviting look of comfort that had been present ever since they first met. If the news of Santana’s family had caused Brittany to change the way she viewed her, Santana couldn’t see it.
Brittany wriggled her nose playfully, and Santana giggled, her head falling as she finally relaxed. She looked back up at Brittany through dark lashed, and Brittany crossed her eyes, stick her tongue out in mock concentration as Kurt continued to ramble on about his past as a stalker.
Santana brought a hand up to stifle the loud laugh she felt bubbling up. When she looked back, Brittany’s eyes held a concern, her eyebrows raised in question. Santana nodded. She was okay.
+++
The four of them walked into the Great Hall for supper, finding it nearly full. Mercedes and Kurt turned to the right and Santana to the left. They all paused, momentarily realizing that they were no longer in their own little group, escaped from reality.
“You could, um…” Mercedes started to offer.
Santana scoffed, “Sit with Gryffindor? I wouldn’t be caught dead at that table of dweebs.”
Mercedes nodded, both of them knowing Santana was not going to return the offer and ask them to join her at the Slytherin table.
“Come on,” Kurt tugged on Mercedes’ arm. “I have to tell everybody that I just spent the entire afternoon with the Lady Santana Lopez. They’re going to flip.”
“Come on, Brittany,” Mercedes waved her over as they started to turn.
Santana wanted to smile. She wanted to be happy that Brittany had actually found friends in her own house…but she couldn’t even force up a fake one. Brittany had already said earlier during Potions that she’d be having dinner with her, but that was before she’d had other friends to sit with. Santana’s eyes fell when Brittany turned to her.
“Sorry,” Brittany apologized, and Santana’s shoulders fell as well. “But I already made plans with Santana to eat together. How about tomorrow?”
Mercedes nodded with a smile as Kurt dragged her away.
Brittany nudged Santana, getting her to look back up.
“You didn’t have to do that. You could have gone with them. I mean, I would understand, they’re in your house and everything.”
Brittany just shook her head and took Santana’s arm with a giggle. “Come on, silly.”
Once they were seated next to each other-initially, Santana had wanted to sit across from each other as she was taught, but Brittany sat next to her, saying it was easier to talk that way, which it was. With Brittany sitting on Santana’s right side, the two could sit closer than normal since both ate with their outer hands, making it easier to hear each other over the loud chatter of the full dining hall-and served, the seat on the bench across from them became occupied. Santana looked to find Quinn starting to serve her own plate. She could feel Brittany drawing in a deep breath.
“Quinn, I don’t think you should be sitting with us. I-“
“It’s okay, Britt,” Santana cut in softly as she met Quinn’s eye from across the table.
“Are you sure?” Brittany pressed.
“Yeah, she can sit with us,” Santana nodded.
Brittany looked at the pair of them curiously before turning back to her plate happily. Whether the happiness was from the food, or the fact they had all made up, Santana did not know.
Next Chapter
Pairing: Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Rating: PG for the beginning and eventually M
Summary: So, this is my story of what would happen if the Glee characters had been born into the Hogwarts setting. There will be a cameo from a Harry Potter character throughout, whether or not there will be any other HP characters is still tbd.
A/N: I know it has been a while, but things got crazy. I went out of town to visit some family before the semester started, and when I'm with family I do a technology blackout.Then the semester started, and it took me a while to find my school and work balance. Then I had the bright idea to agree when asked to join my university's speech and debate team so there goes my weekends. Next thing I knew, it was midterms, and I hadn't updated in forever. So I started to write. And write. And write. Until I realized yesterday that I had more than enough to update. I get kind of caught up with things as you can tell, lol. So yeah, I'm really sorry. Good news is, I should have another update up by Friday. If not, it won't be until next week because I have a tournament this weekend. So yeah, I'm really sorry. Also, I may kind of have a surprise coming out some time soon for you guys, so be looking out for that. And, I think that's it. Enjoy!
Previous Chapter
1.6
++++++
“The assignment is on the board,” Professor Sylvester instructed. “We are not going to move on from the herbicide potion until at least a quarter of you useless drones can produce a semi-decent one. I don't think I have ever seen such poor aptitude for potion making in my life…and to think, my own House is in here. It is just sad. I would cry if I hadn’t had my tear ducts removed years ago. No use for them." She pointed towards the board, "You may begin now. Leave your homework on your desk so I can examine it while you work.”
Santana’s fingers shuffled through her book bag before landing on her homework assignment and pulling it out, careful not to tear it. She placed the paper on her desk, running her hands over it to smooth out any wrinkles. Brittany tossed her assignment next to it, and Santana had to fight the urge to release it from its rumpled state.
Professor Sylvester inched closer to their table, and Santana sat up straighter. She made sure to add exactly three measurements of her crushed ingredients into the cauldron as the potion’s master neared so that her potion would bubble up at just the right time.
“Not enough lionfish spine. It's a herbicide potion, not fertilizer,” Professor Sylvester frowned.
The wand moving about her cauldron halted as Santana faltered, “Y-yes ma’am.”
Professor Sylvester picked up Brittany’s paper, her eyes skimming quickly. “Not bad, Pierce,” she nodded, placing the paper back down as a red C+ appeared on it.
“Awesome,” Brittany smiled.
Professor Sylvester flicked her wand towards Santana’s paper and a red C appeared.
“But-“ Santana began, her voice dropping off when Professor Sylvester turned to her with a provoking glare. “Y-you didn’t even look at it,” Santana managed, all too aware of her classmates’ eyes that were all trained on her.
“My apologies,” Professor Sylvester gave a sugary sweet smile that seemed nothing short of menacing on her face. She picked up the paper and read through it carefully before placing it back down and flicking her wand once more. The C remained, but now there stood a glaringly red minus mark next to it, “satisfied?”
“Yes ma’am,” Santana’s face flushed at the snickering of her peers.
“Don’t be embarrassed that you got a lower score than me,” Brittany soothed after the professor moved on to the next table. “I think I’m just Professor Sylvester’s favorite.”
Santana turned to her with a furrowed brow. There were so many things wrong with that statement, that she didn’t even know where to begin. Brittany gave her own homework one last proud smile before shoving it back into her bag.
“I’m not embarrassed by that,” Santana shook her head. “I’m glad you got a score you’re happy about. I just…my mum would flip if she heard about this. Her daughter getting a C- in Potions? Unthinkable.”
“Well, we did wait until the last minute to do it,” Brittany reminded.
“Yeah, but what happened to me having potential?”
“The bad thing about potential is that you have to live up to it.”
Santana looked down at her essay with a frown; she knew that Brittany was right. “I just thought I was her favorite,” she mumbled softly.
“No, I’m pretty sure that’s me,” Brittany nodded.
“Brittany, you are in Gryffindor,” Santana reminded.
“So?
“So she’s the head of Slytherin.”
“So?”
“So you can’t be her favorite, that is just not how things work.”
“Says who?”
“Says everybody,” Santana motioned around them.
“Well, maybe everybody’s wrong,” Brittany shrugged simply.
Santana stared at her, completely at a loss for a moment. She shook her head and turned back to her homework assignment.
“You know what you have to do next time, right?” Brittany quizzed as Santana put her homework back inside her book bag.
“Not question her grade, I know,” she sighed in defeat.
“What? No, you did the right thing. You stood up for yourself and what you believed you deserved.”
“Yeah, and look what it got me: and even lower grade. It was stupid.”
“It was brave,” Brittany corrected, blue eyes somehow sparkling even in the dull dungeon light, “especially since I know how scared of Professor Sylvester you are.”
“I’m not scared-“ Santana tried to argue.
Brittany just talked over her, “It took guts. I was proud of you.”
Santana’s eyebrows rose. Those weren’t exactly words she heard thrown around often, and she especially did not plan on hearing them for a long, long time after receiving that C minus on her assignment.
Brittany grinned, tapping Santana’s nose playfully before turning to her current assignment.
Her touch shook Santana out of her daze, and the brunette scrambled to catch up. “So…what do I have to do next time, then?”
“Live up to your potential.”
Santana looked at the potion ingredients before her. Once again, Brittany was right. If she wanted to be the professor’s favorite, then she had to surpass the unbelievably high bar her pedigree had set for her. Her eyes scanned the ingredients on the table, and she quickly set to work, correcting her potion according to her professor’s comment.
+++++
Santana approached the desk at the front of the room with her shoulders squared and her head held high. Professor Sylvester held her hand out with a frown. Santana handed her the vial of potion, and stood, waiting for a reaction. Professor Sylvester’s frown deepened as she eyed the potion.
“I would say it’s mediocre, but to do so would be a gross disservice to all the mediocre potions out there.”
Santana opened her mouth, her initial reflex to be to protest out of anger and pride, but her mother’s teachings rang clearly in her mind.
‘Don’t talk back to an adult, it is a sign of poor breeding.’
‘Never question a professor, it is a sign of great disrespect, and one that reflects poorly on the family.’
And finally, the gravest warning of all, ‘What Professor Sylvester says is the final word. If she says jump, you ask ‘how high?’. If she says to leap off of the top of the astronomy tower, you do it. Being in her favor, that is what is most important for you right now.’
Santana’s tongue froze, and her head turned, her eyes falling on Brittany as she stuck her tongue out in concentration over the puzzling potion before her.
‘It was brave.’
‘I was proud of you.’
“Well, if you have something to say, say it, Lopez. Do not just stand there with your mouth hanging open like the town lunatic. I don’t have all day, and you are drooling on my 15th Century desk that was custom made by sweatshop beavers from Italy…”
Santana snapped her mouth shut and turned back to the professor, eyes locking on the vial still in the sharp woman’s hand. She took a deep breath, “I’ll do better next time.” She felt a smile forming in satisfaction. She hadn’t talked back to Professor Sylvester, but she hadn’t completely backed down either.
“I hope so, next time we will start on antidotes, and I would hate to have to test yours on your dim-witted friend back there for effectiveness.”
The smile quickly fell from Santana’s face as she glanced back at Brittany once more.
Santana paced along the dungeons’ corridor as other students slowly trickled out of the Potions’ classroom. She couldn’t figure out what was taking Brittany so long; Santana had gone over the last couple of steps remaining in Brittany’s potion with her before walking up to turn in her own. The other girl should have been out by now.
Santana’s mind kept going back to Professor Sylvester’s threat, and she could not help but worry that the Head of Slytherin had decided that it wasn’t worth it to wait until the next class to see if she improved before testing her potion out on Brittany. The fact that it was a herbicide potion not meant for human consumption in the first place did not cross her mind as she wondered if Professor Sylvester had come to the conclusion that Santana just did not have it in her to improve at all, that it was not going to get better than what she had turned in.
A hand on her shoulder caused her to jump.
“You’re gonna wear the bottoms of your shoes out like that,” Brittany noted with a smile when she turned.
Santana stiffened against the urge to pull the girl into a tight hug right there in the crowd of mixed company of Gryffindor and Slytherin.
“We need to talk about this habit you seem to be acquiring of sneaking up on me.”
“I called your name, like, twice,” Brittany replied with a shrug.
They walked together down the corridor in silence, Santana’s thoughts staying behind them in the Potion’s classroom. She felt herself getting dizzy as they made their way up the winding staircase, and she had the feeling it was more from her spinning musings than it was from the spiraling structure. They made it to the top, through the archway, and Santana led them through the set of large double doors that led outside. She took a deep breath of air, soaking in the early fall rays, before they started to walk once more, this time with less purpose.
“You seem upset,” Brittany spoke softly, breaking their silence as she watched her out of the corner of her eyes.
“Somehow, I think I severely underestimated Professor Sylvester,” Santana admitted.
“I think she severely underestimated you,” Brittany replied thoughtfully, reaching into her bag to free the growing kitten from inside of it.
“Actually, I think she is starting to realize that she overestimated me.”
Brittany shook her head, “You didn’t see her face as she watched you walk out.”
“I think you were in that dungeon, inhaling potion fumes for too long,” Santana teased playfully as they caught sight of Mercedes walking with a small boy, both seemingly set on spending every second possible outside, basking in the good weather before Monday arrived and it was time, once again, to be stuffed inside the ancient classrooms, as well.
Brittany just chuckled at her teasing, blue eyes smiling knowingly. Mercedes seemed to notice them, too, because she had stopped her walk in order for them to catch up.
She shook her head as they approached, “How are you still alive?”
Santana’s face scrunched in confusion.
“When you talked back to Professor Sylvester, I was fully ready for her to blast you into smithereens and then use your grounds for one of her potions.”
“I think you are overreacting,” Santana rolled her eyes. Now that she had put some distance between herself and the Potion’s dungeon, she was beginning to feel her confidence returning.
“I’ve heard from several reliable sources that that’s her favorite way to deal with unruly students,” she insisted.
“I think you need to find better sources,” Santana snorted. “Brittany talks back to Professor Sylvester all the time, and she’s still alive.”
“You can’t put Brittany on the same level as everybody else.”
Santana stopped in her tracks and turned to Mercedes with narrowed eyes, wondering if she was one of the members of Gryffindor that had refused to allow Brittany into their Common Room after she had caused her fellow First Years to have an extensive homework assignment.
“And why not?”
“Because, once again, Santana,” Brittany cut in with a sigh, “I am Professor Sylvester’s favorite.
Mercedes raised a finger, her mouth opening as if to protest, but couldn’t seem to find the words.
“Plus, I’m kind of a badass,” Brittany added with a shrug.
Santana’s grin at the statement turned into a loud laugh at the look on Mercedes’ face.
They started to walk again, and Mercedes was finally able to vocalize her thoughts.
“I had just meant that Brittany doesn’t purposefully talk back. She just…questions a lot.”
“Some would say that’s even worse than talking back,” Santana noted.
“Some would say to question is the very purpose of a human mind,” Brittany countered.
A crease formed across her forehead as Santana took in her words.
“That was really kind of thoughtful, Brittany,” Mercedes’ voice came out shocked.
“There’s no ‘kind of’ about it,” Santana corrected.
“Then why the face?” Brittany questioned, raising a finger to smooth across the taller girl’s temple.
“Just trying to figure out how it fits in with everything else,” Santana admitted. The headache she had felt coming on halted under Brittany’s comforting touch. Brittany’s words had rang with an assured truth, but they very much went against what had woven its way through her very processes of thinking from lecture after lecture every day for the first eleven years of her life.
“Hey,” a voice of practiced softness interrupted her thoughts, and a hand on her upper arm dragged her back to the present as she was yanked to a halt.
Santana scowled at the hazel eyes staring back at her in anger, “Bloody hell, Fabray, what is your problem?”
“My problem? Quinn’s grip tightened on her arm when she tried to pull away. “What is your problem, Lopez? You cannot talk to Professor Sylvester like that. Have you gone mad? You are going to ruin everything!”
A tiny blonde stepped between them, forcing Quinn’s hand back to its owner’s side with a strong push and staring up at her fellow blonde with a glare.
“Brittany, we are in the middle of something,” Quinn sighed agitatedly.
“Yeah, and now I’m in the middle of it,” Brittany pointed out.
Santana couldn’t help but admire the way Brittany stood up even straighter as Quinn gave her one of the coldest looks Santana had ever seen.
“I do not know about where you are from, but where I'm from, people like you know their place and definitely know not to interrupt a conversation such as this.”
“And I don’t know about where you’re from, but where I’m from, people don’t treat their friends like rag dolls, and they certainly don’t talk to them like they are interior.”
Santana winced; Brittany had been doing so well until that last word.
“It’s okay, Brittany,” she cut in just before Quinn could pounce on the mistake and verbally rip her to shreds for it. “We were just talking.”
“That’s not what it looked like,” Brittany replied.
“Really, Santana?” Quinn laughed, catching her eyes over Brittany’s head. “This is the company you choose to keep now? No wonder you behaved like a proper heathen in Potions earlier.”
“You were the one that insisted on letting her stay in our compartment,” Santana reminded.
“Even the best of us make mistakes,” Quinn smirked.
Santana’s hands clenched at her sides, her voice coming out through clenched teeth, “I think Brittany’s right; you need to go.”
“I never said she had to go,” Brittany finally turned to face her. “I just wanted her to let go of you and change the way she was speaking to you. If she fixed that, then-“
“No, Britt,” Santana held Quinn’s eyes. “She needs to go. Now.”
Brittany nodded, able to see the way the muscles in her jaw jumped, even through the youthful roundness of her cheeks now that she was looking at her.
“Whatever,” Quinn replied, her eyes faltering. “You want to throw away everything your parents worked for by hanging out with people like this and acting like you did, far be it from me to try and talk some sense into you. Heaven knows you would never listen, anyway.”
Santana tensed, glaring even after Quinn had walked off with a flip of her hair.
“Come see, Lord Tubbington,” Brittany’s coos caused Santana to turn and watch as Mercedes handed back the kitten that had been transferred to her at some point to be kept from harm’s way. “I’m sorry you had to see me that way,” Brittany scratched behind his ear as she snuggled into his fur, kissing him softly. Her eyes met Santana’s, and she gave a shy smile.
Santana returned the smile, getting the feeling the apology wasn’t meant for just the kitten’s ears. She wanted to let her know that it was okay, that she understood the inability to control her anger, but she was far too aware of the other two sets of eyes on them. In a way, though, she was actually thankful for their presence, because she was sure she would have just struggled with the words if they hadn't been there.
“This is my kind of Friday,” the young boy with the perfectly combed hair and a voice that was high-pitched, even for pre-pubescent standards smiled next to Mercedes, his eyes dancing with excitement.
“Kurt Hummel, ladies and gentlemen,” Mercedes laughed.
++++
The four of them continued to wonder around aimlessly for the rest of the afternoon, conversing in small talk and jokes. Santana had learned that Mercedes was from London where her mother worked in the International Magical Office of Law at the Ministry and her father was a dentist. She also learned that Kurt lived alone with his father who owned a broom dealership in Denmark.
Santana readjusted the strap of her book bag across her shoulder and refrained from asking whether Mercedes’ father was a Muggle, as his occupation would suggest, or what had made Kurt’s mother abandon him and his father, despite her curiosity. She knew to do so in the midst of such congenial conversation would be rude and, not to mention, ill-advised, seeing as these were not only the people Brittany had to live and deal with on a day-to-day basis, but also the closest thing she had to friends in her own house. So, Santana made note of both questions and set them aside until a more opportune time. Whether that time would be for answers or power, she was unsure, and would probably remain unsure until she found out the lengths of the pair’s involvement in Gryffindor’s scheme to lock Brittany out of the one home she had for thousands of miles. Santana clenched her fists, willing her anger to subside as she reminded herself that this was not the proper time.
Brittany’s voice once again served as a distraction as the American offered her own history. Santana refocused on the conversation, learning that Brittany was from the southern part of a state called Arizona where her mother was a teacher and her father, the owner of a repair shop.
The small group settled on a spot somewhere between the castle and the practice pitch, enjoying the seclusion as most students had opted to head for the lake instead. Santana sat down, feeling three sets of eyes on her. She looked back in confusion.
“Um…” Santana searched for something to say, not all too familiar with the act of small talk. She and Quinn never bothered with it, and her mother had always insisted that children were better off seen than heard in the company of adults, so she was never allowed to participate in small talk when her parents had dinner guests over.
“So, Kurt…why did you come to Hogwarts? Isn’t Durmstrang closer?” Santana asked, smiling at her ability to keep her question polite.
“Well-“ Kurt giggled at her.
Santana felt her face heat up.
“My father had attended Durmstrang, and did not exactly agree with all of their principles; plus, let’s be real, I am far too pretty for that place,” he gave a broad smile, turning his face towards the sun, and Santana had to agree.
However, she still felt Mercedes and Brittany’s eyes on her, so she cleared her throat, “Um…Mercedes…”
“Girl, you are struggling,” Mercedes laughed.
Santana’s cheeks were now burning, and she was infinitely grateful for the dark tan summer had added to her naturally olive complexion.
“We’re waiting to hear about you,” she pointed out. “It’s your turn to give a little history.”
“Oh…” Santana was sure her face would spontaneously combust at any second as Kurt joined Mercedes in laughter. She turned to Brittany who was wearing a smile of understanding-after all, who knew better about misunderstanding conversations than she did-and delight at seeing this new side of the normally confident girl. Santana could feel a smile growing on her own visage, replacing the embarrassment. She couldn’t help but feel guilty, as if she had been caught doing something she oughtn’t, but somehow okay, if not thrilled, with the fact that it was Brittany who had done the catching.
“Well, I live with my parents in London where my father is both a healer in the magical world and a doctor in the Muggle one where he helps keep an eye on things for the Ministry. And then in the summer, I go visit my father’s family in Spain, where he is from,” Santana supplied.
“You know, your dads may know each other since they are both doctors in London,” Kurt said thoughtfully. “What did you say your dad’s name was, Santana?”
Santana bit back her initial urge to point out that her father was a real doctor, not a dentist, under the guise of politeness. The pause gave her a second to think about Kurt’s question and realize that it gave her the perfect opportunity to further spread word of her pedigree.
She sat up and straight and cleared her throat, “My father is Andrés Lopez, more properly known as Lord Lopez.”
“Lord Lopez…why do I know that name?” Kurt wondered out loud.
“He’s not God if that’s what you’re thinking,” Brittany offered.
“Yeah, even if my dad weren’t a doctor, I’m sure I still would’ve heard of Lord Lopez,” Mercedes laughed. “She was putting it mildly when she said he helps out in the Ministry. He’s probably the most influential person in the medical profession in either the Muggle world or the Magical one.”
“Oh my God,” Kurt gasped.
“No, I said he’s not God,” Brittany shook her head.
“Lord Lopez…Andrés Lopez is your dad,” Kurt stared at Santana wide-eyed. “That would make Lady Lopez your mom.”
“That’s generally how these things work, Kurt,” Mercedes supplied.
“Lady Lopez,” Kurt continued, unfazed by the interruptions, “less formally known as Evelyn Lopez.”
“Don’t let her hear you calling her that,” Santana smirked, knowing that Kurt was fixing to do all of her work for her by spilling the beans in front of the biggest gossiper of their year if not of the school.
“Formally known as Evelyn Black,” he finished.
“Bloody hell,” Mercedes whispered in awe. “Then that would make you…”
“She’s not Jesus,” Brittany insisted with a frown. “You two really should check your ears because I think you’re suffering from some hearing loss.”
“Lady Santana Lopez,” Mercedes concluded. “How did I not…”
“Oh,” Brittany rolled her eyes at the pair of them. “Shouldn’t that have been obvious since you two grew up in this feuding system thingy. I mean-“
Santana put a gentle hair on her arm, stilling her.
“The Lady Santana Lopez,” Kurt reverenced. “You’re the Lady Santana Lopez. How did I not recognize you?”
Brittany leaned in towards Santana to whisper, “I think all that hairspray he’s using is attracting the sun’s rays because he sounds baked. That’s what Al Gore says, anyway.”
Santana brushed her thumb back and forth across Brittany’s arm, quieting her once more.
“You’re practically royalty,” Kurt exhaled.
“That’s generally what the title ‘Lady’ means,” Santana shrugged, her expression the picture of nonchalance.
“I used to worship you when I was younger. Pictures of you as a baby and toddler were all over the papers. You were like the closest thing to a princess the Magical world had. But then, all of a sudden, it stopped.”
“I went to boarding school in the Muggle world,” Santana supplied.
“Now that is not something I would’ve expected. I mean, your mom’s a Black.”
“Hey!” Brittany cut in heatedly. “What does the color of her mom’s skin got to do with anything besides the amazing tan she is sporting?”
“No, Britt,” Santana quickly explained, the nickname rolling off her tongue as if she had been using it for years. “He was referring to my mother’s family, which is the Blacks.”
“I just meant that Blacks, that is to say, um, the family with the surname of Black,” Kurt tried to amend when a soft growl could be heard coming from Brittany’s direction. “They tend to be rather…unsympathetic towards Muggles, so the fact that her mom let her go to a Muggle school is pretty surprising.”
“It was the best school money could buy,” Santana responded.
“And with the Blacks, money trumps all,” Mercedes nodded.
Brittany gasped, “Now, I’d expect that kind of talk from Kurt, with his never-seen-the-light-of-day complexion-“
“Hey!” Kurt fussed, indignantly.
“-but you too, Mercedes?” Brittany asked in disbelief. “You know, maybe you should think about getting some professional help. That amount of self-hate can’t be healthy.”
“Britt,” Santana gave her arm a light squeeze to get the girl to turn and look at her. She held her blue eyes, making sure she had her focus before continuing. “They are not talking about the color of my mother’s skin. Before she had married my father, my mother’s last name was Black, with a capital ‘B’. You may not have heard of them on your side of things, but they are an extremely influential-“
“Read: wealthy,” Kurt fake whispered.
“-family over here. So when she married my father who had already made quite the name for himself as Lord Lopez, it was seen as kind of a big deal.”
“Kind of a big deal? Kind of? That’s like saying Dumbledore’s defeat of Grindelwald the Great was kind of a big deal. The wedding was on the cover of every wizarding magazine there was. I used to spend hours fawning over your mother’s dress."
“How? You weren’t even alive yet,” Mercedes pointed out.
“Princess!” Kurt reminded as he gestured towards Santana exasperatedly. “I remember the first picture I ever saw of her in a magazine. She was photographed out with her driver and nanny, and they were shopping. She had on this little yellow dress that was, of course, custom made, that went perfect with her bronzed, summer complexion and this white hat that was just to die for. I fell in love. I had to know everything about the girl that was always dressed in the most famous designers and came from one of the most talked about families at the time. I made my dad find every article and picture about her and her family. She was all over my walls.
Santana had kept hold of Brittany’s gaze through Kurt’s spiel on her much publicized childhood. That last time, she hadn’t meant to downplay her family in order to make Kurt react. For once, her reputation had been the furthest thing from her mind. The more Kurt went on and on about his childhood obsession with her, the more she realized just exactly why she was leery of letting Brittany in on who she was. It was more than girls following her around solely because of her title. It was the hurt, the confusion, the feeling of being used that came with hearing all of the lies being written about her and her family.
Santana had gone to one of the top Magic day cares in England. She thought she had been making friends there. But then, one day, stories started to appear, stories about her, in the paper, stories that weren’t true but were misconstrued by parents of other children at the daycare that only saw her briefly in passing, every now and then. Her parents immediately pulled her out and put her in Nanny’s full-time care with private tutors starting her on her lessons early. She was two and a half at the time.
Her mother, though, still insisted she socialize, so she had play dates with children of her parents’ friends, play dates where she spent most of the time playing quietly by herself in the corner because the other kids would always make fun of the way she talked because she wasn’t quite old enough to be completely aware of the difference between Spanish and English or when she was slipping back and forth between the two. That’s when the stories started coming out that Santana was a brat who thought she was too good to be playing with other kids of lesser status.
It was Santana’s first time sleeping over at a “friend’s” house that sent things over the edge, though. She had just turned four, and her mother insisted she go despite Santana’s protests and the fact that she had only spent one afternoon with the other girl, and that was at the Lopez Manor. However, the girl’s mother was the head of whichever wives’ group Lady Lopez had set her sights on at the time, so Santana had no choice in the matter. At the time, her father had been away for over two weeks at a business conference and was supposed to arrive the day before, but his plane had been delayed due to weather. His limo ended up pulling up just as Brad was putting Santana’s overnight bag into the trunk of the town car.
Santana immediately ran to her father, hugging him tightly, laughing as the scruffy beard he always let grow while away tickled her cheek. When Brad came with an apologetic look in his eyes to say the car was ready, Santana latched on tighter to her father’s neck, not yet ready to let him go after only just getting him back. Lady Lopez had to be called from where she was inspecting the night’s dinner because Lord Lopez, upon seeing his daughter so upset, wanted to know why they couldn’t just reschedule the sleepover for another night. Lady Lopez quickly admonished him for indulging her, and took Santana from him. She placed her in the back of the town car where Santana kicked and screamed long after the door was closed.
When they pulled up to the house, Brad retrieved her bag for her and walked her to the front door which was answered by a servant with kind eyes. Santana reluctantly let Brad pass her hand off to the servant who clasped it softly in her warm one. The tantrum she threw in the car had worn the fight out of her. The sound of the door closing behind her, barely even registered in her ears. She looked up at the woman next to her. Her green eyes looked back down at her with sympathy instead of the usual weariness that seemed to be reserved for her by most adults.
“What is your name?” Santana’s voice came out hoarse from all of her screaming during the car ride over.
The servant’s eyes grew in mild surprise, “Sarah.”
Santana nodded, holding on to Sarah’s hand tighter as she took in her surroundings. They were standing in a large foyer that led to an even larger mansion, if the glimpse Santana had caught when the car pulled down the long driveway was anything to go by. It wasn’t as large as her own home, of course, but she hadn’t been living in this house for the past four years, exploring every dark corner during marathon games of hide-and-seek with her nanny, in order to gain comfort in its girth. She took in a shaky breath, feeling as if the large, unfamiliar building was going to swallow her up at any second.
A young brunette girl about a year older than Santana came walking into the entryway. Santana recognized her from their last play date.
“Oh,” the girl wrinkled her nose when she caught sight of Santana. “You’re here.”
“Avery, Lady Santana Lopez is here for your sleepover. How about you show her up to your playroom? I will go bring her things to your room,” Sarah replied.
At the realization that Sarah was getting ready to leave, Santana gripped the woman’s hand with both of her own.
“Now Santana,” Sarah struggled against her surprisingly strong hold, “you need to let go, dear. Santana…”
Santana shook her head and held on with everything she had.
Sarah sighed, “Santana, let go. I have other things I need to be doing.”
And there it was: the weariness in her eyes. Santana let go of her hand as if she had been burned. She turned to Avery, swallowing the lump in her throat, feeling even smaller than before now that she was without a warm hand.
“What a baby,” Avery rolled her eyes. “Are you even going to speak?”
Santana opened her mouth, but stopped, shutting it tightly, knowing that when she was upset, her words had a tendency to bleed into Spanish.
Avery frowned at her, “Are you stupid or something?”
Santana felt her face heating up.
“Well, come on then, you. My mum said I have to be nice because your parents have a lot of money, so I’ll show you my toys like Sarah said. But you have to stay quiet when we walk down the hall because my daddy is working in his study.”
It was that, Avery’s mention of her father, which had sent Santana tumbling overboard. She crumpled to the floor, hot tears immediately pooling in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks.
“What the hell?” Avery questioned. “Hey…you cannot cry. My mum won’t get me a new dress tomorrow if I make you cry. Santana?”
But Santana did not respond. She just sat, curled up in a tight ball on the floor and cried.
“I am going to go get Sarah, okay? You wait right here.”
Avery hurried to get the servant. But when she returned and whispered kind words, Santana just cried harder, remembering how Sarah had tricked her.
Eventually, Sarah had to go get Lady Nott, but even she couldn’t get Santana to move or even stop crying, neither did the promise of food. At one point, she must have fallen asleep, because Santana woke to a set of arms lifting her up from the floor gently. She opened her eyes to find Brad looking down at her worriedly, not an ounce of weariness to be found. She snuggled into his lapel, finding comfort in his arms.
“Let’s get you home,” he said, carrying her out of the house and into the darkness of the night, towards the car.
“Mum’s going to be so mad,” Santana clung to him.
“I think she’s a bit preoccupied with her anger over her friend’s reception of you,” Brad noted.
“Is Daddy still awake?” she asked, knowing her father had the tendency to go to bed early on the days he came back from a long trip.
“He’s the one that sent for me to come get you when Lady Nott called.”
Santana smiled, allowing her eyes to close as exhaustion took over once more.
Two mornings later, a story had run that talked about how spoiled and poorly behaved Santana was and how her parents needed to do a better job at raising her. The story was picked up all over the wizard world and even in some of the Muggle publications, considering the big name of the source and the story’s leading characters.
It was then that Santana’s father decided to put an end to all of the play dates. And when he mentioned putting Santana in a Muggle primary boarding school, her mother did not protest, saying it was for the best that all of the poor gossip surrounding Santana be stopped and forgotten about before she enter Hogwarts. Talk around the Manor, though, was that she was furious at having been dragged into the gossip herself, and apparently the only thing keeping her from punishing Santana for her behavior was her father’s word forbidding it.
Santana drew in a shaky breath, determined to keep hold of Brittany’s gaze. She wasn’t sure what she was more afraid of: Brittany finding those old stories and believing them the truth and rejecting her friendship because of it, or the fact that Brittany could become like all of those parents, welcoming her and then turning to the papers with lies and gossip as soon as she grew tired of her.
But Brittany continued to stare back, her eyes open and warm. Santana wasn’t sure what she had been looking for. Hunger? Greed, maybe? But whatever it was, she did not find it. All she found was the same inviting look of comfort that had been present ever since they first met. If the news of Santana’s family had caused Brittany to change the way she viewed her, Santana couldn’t see it.
Brittany wriggled her nose playfully, and Santana giggled, her head falling as she finally relaxed. She looked back up at Brittany through dark lashed, and Brittany crossed her eyes, stick her tongue out in mock concentration as Kurt continued to ramble on about his past as a stalker.
Santana brought a hand up to stifle the loud laugh she felt bubbling up. When she looked back, Brittany’s eyes held a concern, her eyebrows raised in question. Santana nodded. She was okay.
+++
The four of them walked into the Great Hall for supper, finding it nearly full. Mercedes and Kurt turned to the right and Santana to the left. They all paused, momentarily realizing that they were no longer in their own little group, escaped from reality.
“You could, um…” Mercedes started to offer.
Santana scoffed, “Sit with Gryffindor? I wouldn’t be caught dead at that table of dweebs.”
Mercedes nodded, both of them knowing Santana was not going to return the offer and ask them to join her at the Slytherin table.
“Come on,” Kurt tugged on Mercedes’ arm. “I have to tell everybody that I just spent the entire afternoon with the Lady Santana Lopez. They’re going to flip.”
“Come on, Brittany,” Mercedes waved her over as they started to turn.
Santana wanted to smile. She wanted to be happy that Brittany had actually found friends in her own house…but she couldn’t even force up a fake one. Brittany had already said earlier during Potions that she’d be having dinner with her, but that was before she’d had other friends to sit with. Santana’s eyes fell when Brittany turned to her.
“Sorry,” Brittany apologized, and Santana’s shoulders fell as well. “But I already made plans with Santana to eat together. How about tomorrow?”
Mercedes nodded with a smile as Kurt dragged her away.
Brittany nudged Santana, getting her to look back up.
“You didn’t have to do that. You could have gone with them. I mean, I would understand, they’re in your house and everything.”
Brittany just shook her head and took Santana’s arm with a giggle. “Come on, silly.”
Once they were seated next to each other-initially, Santana had wanted to sit across from each other as she was taught, but Brittany sat next to her, saying it was easier to talk that way, which it was. With Brittany sitting on Santana’s right side, the two could sit closer than normal since both ate with their outer hands, making it easier to hear each other over the loud chatter of the full dining hall-and served, the seat on the bench across from them became occupied. Santana looked to find Quinn starting to serve her own plate. She could feel Brittany drawing in a deep breath.
“Quinn, I don’t think you should be sitting with us. I-“
“It’s okay, Britt,” Santana cut in softly as she met Quinn’s eye from across the table.
“Are you sure?” Brittany pressed.
“Yeah, she can sit with us,” Santana nodded.
Brittany looked at the pair of them curiously before turning back to her plate happily. Whether the happiness was from the food, or the fact they had all made up, Santana did not know.
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