GleeWarts Year 1; Chapter 8
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: So, there is, in fact, an HP character cameo in this chapter. Funnily enough, it is not the one I mentioned in the summary, bc I totally forgot about him when writing the summary, so that will make it two HP character cameos. Anyways, hope y'all enjoy!
Previous Chapter
“On my own, pretending he’s beside me…”
Santana’s ears perked up at the sound of a polished voice singing as the Slytherin First Years set up their telescopes in preparation for the evening’s astronomy lesson. It was clean, a bit too clean for Santana’s taste-she always preferred her music to have a little something behind it-but good nonetheless.
Really good, she noted to herself as the song picked up. None of the Slytherins bothered to say anything about the vocal intrusion since the owner of the voice had talent and the song was rather soothing as it floated through the dark night. Santana, herself, was content to let the song finish without interruption until,
“I love him, and everyday I’m pretending…no, that’s not right,” a grating voice corrected herself.
Santana winced, and Quinn stiffened as they realized the same thing at the same time: the talented, carefully trained voiced belonged to Rachel.
“How?” Santana questioned as Rachel picked up the song again, this time with the correct lyric.
“I love him, but every day I am learning, all my life, I’ve only been pretending…”
“It is not possible for that voice to be coming out of her,” Quinn shook her head in disbelief.
“A world that’s full of happiness that I have never known!” Rachel’s voice reached the peak of its crescendo.
“Would you shut up?” Santana snapped as she turned around to face Rachel who was on the opposite side of the flat tower top. “This isn’t one of those stupid Muggle Idol shows. People are trying to concentrate.”
“S-Sorry,” she stuttered in reply. “I was only practicing. You see, glee club auditions are coming up next week, and the acoustics up here are unparalleled. I was just-“
“No one cares about your stupid glee club auditions,” Quinn cut her off. “Glee club is and always will be a place for losers like you to find safety in numbers. That’s it.”
The class of Slytherins laughed.
“Now, if you would kindly shut up like Santana told you to so the rest of us can get back to concentrating on getting ready for class-class, you know, a place where we learn something useful in order to ensure that we become a contributing part of society and not some hobo sitting on the corner, singing for her supper-then your face will forever be grateful.”
“My f-face?”
“Yes, your face. Santana, here, does not like repeating herself, especially to commoners like you who should be respecting our titles. So, if you do not want your nose to be five times too large for your face instead of its normal three, I suggest you heed her warning and shut up.”
Santana flexed her grip on her wand, and Rachel’s face paled.
“Okay, sorry, I’ll shut up like you asked. Sorry, Santana,” she apologized.
Quinn cleared her throat.
“I mean, Lady Santana Lopez,” she quickly amended.
Santana waved her off with a sigh, as if she couldn’t even be bothered with her apologies and turned back to her telescope, the class’s snickering behind her.
“Nicely played,” Quinn noted in a hushed voice.
“Well, you threw me under the bus a bit, so I worked with what I had on short notice,” Santana replied, her voice equally quiet.
“Oh come on, out of the two of us, which do you think people are more likely to believe will fly off the handle and become violent?”
“Me,” Santana admitted. “But that’s only because-“
“Because that’s the picture you have painted for them. I am the bark, you are the bite. That’s what they see, that’s what we will give them.”
“It’s not the truth,” Santana argued. “In fact, it is damn near the opposite of it.”
Sure, she was known to have a short temper and a pretty nasty left hook for someone her size at her old school, but it was extremely rare for her to actually use it. Normally, her words alone were enough to strike fear and, eventually, compliance into her enemies. It was Quinn, though, with her soft voice and cold eyes, that was known for breaking a girl’s jaw just because she had refused to address her by her proper title.
“So?” Quinn cocked an eyebrow. “Since when do you care about the truth? Especially when it gets in the way of our running this place?”
“And what about when some Muggle-born bumps into you in the hall, and you get the itch to reply with a black eye?”
“Please, if there is one thing I know about, it is control.”
“Yeah, when it comes to other people, but when it comes to yourself? Not so much.”
Quinn opened her mouth to retort, but the door swung widely beside them as the First Year Gryffindors walked out into the open air, and the conversation was dropped.
Santana froze momentarily when she saw Brittany walking towards her with Mercedes right behind her, being reminded how, besides her strange intrusion on their Transfiguration class the day before and their shared Potions class-which she didn’t count since the other girl had barely spoken three words during both classes, her mind clearly miles away-she had not seen the girl since their meal together after watching the Quidditch match the previous week. Brittany smiled at her brightly, clearly unaware of the near two mile trek around the Great Lake or the walk dangerously close to the edges of the Forbidden Forest she had made the evening before in search for her to no avail.
“Hey guys,” she spoke, Mercedes smiling along with her in greeting.
“Hey,” Quinn replied shortly, still unable to look at either of them without her eyes falling to their ties longingly.
“Hey Brit…” Santana began as they started to set up their telescopes as well. “Where have you been? I feel like you fell off the grid the past few days.”
“I haven’t fallen,” Brittany shook her head, pulling back her robes to reveal her knees. “See? Not a single scrape. I don’t know why everybody’s making such a big deal out of it, though.”
Santana’s eyebrows knitted in confusion, but she shook it off, realizing that she was becoming side-tracked, which she was finding was more often the case than not when talking with Brittany.
“Where have you been, though?”
“At Hogwarts,” she replied, nose scrunching. “Where have you been?”
Santana started to reply that she had been looking for her, but she noticed Mercedes watching the pair of them, listening closely, as if waiting to jump into the conversation at any moment if so warranted.
“I just…you haven’t even eaten with us since last week,” Santana caught her bottom lip between her teeth before it fell into a pout.
“I know, but they’ve been asking me to eat at the Gryffindor table.”
“Now I need to make reservations to eat with you or something?” she frowned.
Mercedes stepped closer as Brittany’s mouth fell into a pout of its own.
“You know I like eating with you, but they’ve been asking, and I didn’t want to be rude. I mean, they’re…”
“Your House,” Santana nodded. “I get it.”
Brittany’s eyes fell as she kicked the ground, “I miss hanging out with you, if that counts for anything.”
It did. It counted for a lot, but Santana was not about to admit that with Quinn standing right beside her and a dozen or so other members of Slytherin and Gryffindor around them. “Come eat with us for lunch tomorrow, then.”
“I can’t,” Brittany admitted regretfully.
“Dinner?”
Brittany shook her head.
“Whatever, Brittany. Come find us whenever you can fit us into your buzzing social schedule again.”
“No, Santana, it’s not that-“ Brittany reached out for her as she turned back to her telescope.
Santana rounded on her, her lingering agitation with Rachel and Quinn spilling over, “You know, I think it’s great that you have all these friends now, I do. I just didn’t think you would forget about all the crap they did to you at the start of the term, or about the fact that we were the ones that helped you out. I stuck my neck out for you,” Santana’s voice lowered as it came out through clenched teeth. “If you only knew…if you knew how much trouble I could get into, not just with my House, but with my family-“
Quinn placed a heavy hand on her shoulder to stop her from going any further.
Santana sighed, shaking her head, “You would not be so eager to forget.”
“Santana I haven’t forgotten,” Brittany insisted, tears swimming across her eyes as she shrugged off Mercedes’ grip on her own arm. “I just-“
“I think you need to back off, Santana,” Mercedes cut her off.
“How about you stay out of it, and let the two of them work it out for themselves?” Quinn countered.
“How about you listen to your own advice?” Mercedes gave a pointed look to her hand on Santana’s shoulder.
“Some things are bigger than this,” Quinn replied, her normally gentle voice gravelly with a warning, not just for Mercedes but Santana as well. “I was just reminding Santana of that.”
“And I was just reminding Santana that not everyone is sacred of her and willing to take her shit.”
“Enough!” Brittany’s voice rose over the arguing, causing several nearby heads to turn their way. “Enough,” she repeated, quieter this time, tears leaving visible trails down her cheeks.
Santana clenched her hands into fists in order to prevent herself from reaching out and brushing her tears away as she found herself driven to do.
“This has nothing to do with either of you,” Brittany informed, her voice shaky, but her tone form. “So, if you will excuse us…”
Santana allowed Brittany to take her hand and pull her away until they were granted as much privacy as they could be allotted while surrounded by their classmates.
“Santana, I’m sorry. I really am. I tried finding you so we could hang out, but I couldn’t, and I’ve just been so busy. And no, before you start on your craziness, I have not forgotten you. How could I? You saved my life.”
“That’s true,” Santana allowed with a small nod.
“And you’re right. You were there for me when nobody else was, and that is something I will never forget nor will I ever want to. I feel like…” she sighed, struggling with the words.
“Like what, Britt?” Santana coaxed, her voice much gentler now as she watched Brittany trying her best to express herself.
“Like I failed you,” she sniffed back more tears. “But Santana, you have to know that, yeah, I’ve been eating with the Gryffindors, and yeah, I’m having fun with them, but the whole time I’m thinking of how much more fun I would be having if I were eating with you.”
“You haven’t failed me, Britt,” Santana shook her head.
“But I have,” she insisted. “I told you that I was going to teach you how to be a friend, and I have been doing a crappy job of that the past few days. But I promise, I’m going to do better.”
“You haven’t failed me, Britt,” Santana repeated, this time in realization
“Yes, I did, but look, Saturday I am all yours. It’s gonna be a Brittany and Santana day.”
“No, Britt, you haven’t. Listen to me. You are showing me this very second how to be a friend,” Santana said. “You think Quinn and I ever take the time like this to talk about our problems? We just ignore each other until the anger subsides enough to be in the same room together again.”
“But that’s what y’all have to do.”
Santana’s eyes turned curious, “Why do you say that?”
“Because if you didn’t, then y’all wouldn’t have anyone to sit with or hangout with. The tough, popular girl image doesn’t work too well when you are all by yourself.”
“How is it that you understand me better than I do sometimes?”
“Because I pay attention,” she shrugged, a gentle smile on her face as they walked back to their stations.
“One more lesson that you’re teaching me in friendship,” Santana nodded, making her smile grow. “And Saturday sounds good, by the way.”
“Awesome,” Brittany grinned.
+++gw+++
Brittany ended up staying true to her word and spent all day Saturday with Santana, goofing off and even working on some homework. Santana came up with the plan of Brittany eating with the Gryffindors for lunch and with the Slytherins for dinner. Breakfast was left to the blonde since she was normally so hungry in the mornings that she just sat at whichever table she got to first, even if it were Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff.
And after that weekend, Santana started paying better attention to Brittany. She noticed how Brittany was now making a concerted effort to go out of her way and make sure that they spent time together, no matter how many times she fell asleep in the middle of a conversation-Brittany would always fuss at Santana afterwards for allowing her to doze off, but Santana would just shrug it off, all too conscious of the dark circles under the smaller girl’s drooping eye lids. She also took in the way Brittany’s nose collected more and more freckles the more afternoons they spent outside under the sun. She became well aware of the sadness in her eyes every time she answered a question in Astronomy and the class laughed at her and Professor Castle scolded her-for her part, Professor Sylvester seemed unusually patient when it came to Brittany’s answers and questions, giving sarcastic replies at times, sure, but never degrading her for speaking her mind like the other professors had begun doing. She even noticed the spark of excitement in Brittany’s eyes outside the classroom that had been present ever since their first encounter remained, though it seemed to start to dim ever so slightly.
It was that dimness that found them in the Owlery one afternoon, Santana bringing treats to Blaine and Brittany walking beneath the rows of owls, making sure to pet each and every one that was within reach. Santana had a theory about the hint of darkness that plagues Brittany’s excitement-as for what was causing the excitement itself, she had no clue-and figured that bringing Brittany here, to the Owlery, was a good way to broach the topic.
“This is the one I use when writing to my parents,” Brittany noted.
Santana turned to find Brittany standing before a Common Barn Owl that resembled dozens of others surrounding them. Santana didn’t bother asking how she could tell him apart, instead smiling at the window that had just been opened.
“So, have you heard back from them yet?” Santana asked, trying to keep her voice light and curious. “Your parents, I mean.”
“Yep,” Brittany’s entire face lit up as she dug through her robes to produce a folded piece of paper.
Santana took it from her extended hand with a raised eyebrow.
“You can read it,” Brittany assured before turning to coo at a tiny Scops Owl.
Santana carefully opened the letter, her eyebrows knitting together at the sparse few lines of writing decorating the paper.
Brittany,
We are happy to hear you arrived safely and are enjoying your time at your new “school”. Things are going great over here. In accordance to your questions, your father says to tell you that the shop is doing well and is very busy.
Love,
Mom and Dad
P.S. We are happy to have received all of your letters, but we wonder if there is any way you can send them through some other method? Owls are not particularly common in our neighborhood.
Santana looked up from the letter with a frown, “Britt? How many letters have you written them?”
“Once a week,” Brittany replied from where she had managed to hoist herself up onto one of the long shelves circling the large room and sat amongst the owls and their nests.
Santana would have smiled at her new position if not for her upcoming question, “And this is the only letter they have written you back?”
“Things are busy,” Brittany shrugged, smiling as the owl whose feathers she was scratching practically purred beneath her touch. “Running your own shop is very time consummating.”
“And your mom teaches?”
“At the university,” Brittany nodded, a look of pride on her face.
“And they’ve only written you once?” Santana struggled to keep the anger out of her voice.
“My family’s not like yours, Santana,” Brittany replied calmly. “There isn’t a whole lot of money to be made in a repair shop or in teaching. They have to work long hours just to make ends meet.”
“And my father doesn’t work long hours?”
“Of course he does. From what I hear, your father is an extremely hard working man.”
Santana nodded at the insinuation, “My mother.”
“Not every family is lucky enough to have a stay at home parent to be there for them at a moment’s notice,” Brittany shrugged.
Santana’s chest tightened painfully. “My mother may not work, but she is anything but a stay at home parent,” her voice came out strained, causing Brittany to jump down from her perch.
She landed nimbly on her feet and approached her cautiously, “Santana, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it as a bad thing. I just meant that your mother has more time to write than mine.”
Santana nodded. Brittany was right, her mother did have a lot of time to write; she often received biweekly letters from her. But the insinuation that just because she had the time, meant that she should be some sort of supportive parent that was always there for her, caused her stomach to turn sickeningly at the realization that it was an assumption based on a logical truth. She was an only child, and her mother did not work, so she should have been there for her.
But no, instead, she dumped Santana off on a nanny and eventually a boarding school. It had gotten to the point where she didn’t even look for her mother’s face at her vocal recitals or her primary school graduation because in their lives, it wouldn’t have made sense. Nanny and Brad had made it to every recital, always waiting with flowers from her father who was away at work. When she would get home, her mother would instruct the cooks to prepare Santana’s favorite meal and tell Brad and Nanny to take Santana out the following day to buy a new dress to celebrate her performance. For her primary school graduation, it was only Brad waiting for her in the audience with a bouquet of roses and a small black box. The box contained a white gold necklace whose two sides were connected to a simple word written in white gold script: believe. The ‘b’ was covered in tiny diamonds, making it sparkle magnificently
Brad explained that he and Nanny had been saving up for it for nearly two years. Santana had instantly crumpled against his lapel in tears. It had been six months since her nanny’s death, and the wound was still raw. The large diamond earrings her mother had given her that evening at dinner she wore only once, but that necklace had yet to be removed after Brad placed it on her with her teary-eyed request as they walked to the town car after her graduation ceremony was complete.
“Santana?”
A warm hand on her arm brought her back to the present.
“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Brittany asked when her eyes refocused on their surroundings.
Santana shook her head, “Don’t apologize. You’re right; my mom does have a lot of free time. I guess, I just never realized that that meant she should have been spending that time with me.”
Brittany’s face fell, “I am so sorry, Santana. I was just trying to explain. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Azure eyes began swimming in such sadness that Santana found herself wanting to apologize as well.
“No,” Santana stated firmly. “No, Britt, this is in no way your fault.
“I didn’t want to make you sad,” her bottom lip pouted.
“You didn’t,” she insisted. “It is my mother’s bloody fault that I am upset, not yours. I promise.”
Brittany gave a tenuous smile, “You sure?”
“Positive,” Santana nodded. “If anything, I am grateful.”
“Grateful?” she asked in disbelief.
“You have this way of making me see truths that I’d never see otherwise.”
“I just try to be honest,” Brittany shrugged bashfully.
Santana placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly until blue met brown, “Promise you will always be honest with me.”
Another thing she had come to realize-one she had already begun to previously suspect-while paying close attention to Brittany during their times together was that a lot of her misspoken words and unusual theories and confused meanings came from not just a struggle with word comprehension, but also a lack of focus. All it took was the tickle of grass beneath her legs as they lounged about under their tree for Brittany’s imagination to be off on some wild adventure, leaving her barely half listening to what was being said. Santana’s way of combating this when she had something important to say was really quite simple. She would hold the other girl’s gaze, making sure she was completely focused on her before speaking. Often, she would even go a step further and touch her somehow, whether it be holding her shoulder or grazing her wrist in order to help ground the imaginative girl to her in that moment just to be sure that she was completely present. Then, after she had made sure Brittany had not only heard, but understood, she would let go of the strong hold their eyes shared, and allow the blonde to go back to half-listening while the other half of her brain went to places only Brittany could dream up.
“I promise,” Brittany replied, her gaze holding onto their connection just as firmly.
Santana smiled and nodded before turning back to give Blaine one last treat. She didn’t press the issue of Brittany’s family anymore, despite the burning issue of Brittany acknowledging the fact that Lord Lopez was an extremely busy man, and yet he had already found the time to send Santana three letters since the school year had started. She realized that Brittany believed her parents were doing all they could, and she didn’t want to ruin that for her.
“Ready to go?” she asked, dusting the remnants of owl treats from her hands.
“Yep,” Brittany nodded before giving the owls a collective good-bye. There were a few hoots in reply, making a wide grin dance across her face.
“Can we come back soon and visit them?” Brittany asked hopefully as they descended down the stairs that led away from the Owlery. “I really like it there.”
“Sure, Britt,” Santana smiled at her squeal of excitement. “So what do you want to do for the rest of the afternoon?”
Brittany gave her a sadness plagued look of guilt.
“You have other plans,” Santana nodded, choosing to look straight ahead rather than at the girl beside her.
“I thought I had mentioned that earlier,” Brittany swore.
“No, you did,” Santana assured, recalling her words from that morning. “I guess I just got…caught up.”
“Want to walk with me?” Brittany offered.
“No, it’s okay. I promised Quinn I would meet up with her,” Santana came up with a quick excuse to not make it seem like she was too dependent on the shorter girl.
Brittany nodded, though she didn’t seem entirely convinced. But instead of pushing it, she reached out and put a gentle hand on her arm, holding her gaze.
Santana couldn’t help but smile, realizing what she was doing as she stared into eyes that were returning to their normal aquamarine state after having left behind their conversation in the Owlery. They were still cloudier than normal, though, and Santana felt her own sense of guilt over having made Brittany feel guilty for having prior commitments, something she promised herself she would work on.
“Promise me we will never be too busy to get ‘caught up’ with each other.”
Santana nodded, sensing both the apology and the sincerity in her words, “I promise.”
Brittany smiled, clouds completely gone from her eyes as she gave Santana’s arm a quick squeeze before giving an insistent ‘see you later’ and hurrying off with a skip in her step. Santana watched her go, her body a mix of emotions that she struggled to shake off as she turned to go find Quinn and see what she had been up to all morning.
“I thought Brittany was supposed to be meeting us here,” Quinn noted as they approached their usual tree near the Great Lake. She laid her book bag on the ground beneath its branches and used it as a pillow, closing her eyes with a tired sigh. Their Herbology lesson had been a long one about the uses of a squat, purple plant known as shrivelfig.
Santana just smiled knowingly, feeling energized after her nap through Professor Hagberg’s lecture. She sat beside Quinn, looking up to meet a pair of feline eyes a bright sky blue as they twinkled in mischief.
Brittany sent her a wink before allowing her weight to slide back over the branch, her upper body falling with it, but her legs holding firm in their grip around the tree’s limb. Santana must have seen her do that very same move nearly a dozen times already, but that didn’t stop her stomach from tumbling anxiously every time she watched Brittany’s body free fall for the split second or two before her legs caught the branch.
Brittany grinned at her, wiggling her eyebrows from where she now hung upside down a few feet above Quinn.
Santana struggled to stifle her giggle.
“Hey Quinn,” Brittany greeted happily.
Quinn’s eyes shot open, a shriek emitting from her mouth at the sight of a body suspended above her. She quickly scrambled to her feet, eyes a dark glare as they darted from Santana who was clutching her sides as the laughter poured out of her up to Brittany who was still upside down, grinning at her broadly.
“What the heck, Brittany?” she scowled. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“I thought you knew I was up here,” Brittany replied innocently.
“How would I know that?”
“I’m always up here,” she shrugged.
“Why…what…how would I know that?” Quinn sputtered.
“Santana knew,” Brittany mumbled softly with a pout.
Santana rolled her eyes, “Oh, don’t be crabby just because she turned you into a scared little ninny, Fabray."
“She did not turn me into a ninny,” Quinn crossed her arms firmly over her chest.
“Shall I re-enact it for you?”
“Oh, shut it, already,” she huffed before taking her place back down on the ground, eyeing Brittany wearily before closing her eyes once more.
Santana chuckled, looking up to find Brittany sitting upright once again, “How do you get up there, anyway?”
“I climb.”
Santana laughed softly at her response, “Why, though?”
Instead of replying with words, Brittany adjusted her position until she was balancing on the branch, her arms stretched downwards.
Santana eyed her skeptically.
Brittany replied with a reassuring smile and a look that urged, trust me.
Santana swallowed hard before reaching up as far as she could. Brittany had to shimmy a little further down, and Santana had to stretch up on her tippy toes before their fingers brushed together.
Brittany clasped her fingers tightly, making sure she had a good grip before pulling Santana up.
Santana felt her forearms scraping along the bark of the tree as she was pulled onto the branch. When Brittany let go of her hands, she wrapped her arms firmly around the branch, her cheek pressed against its rough coating.
Brittany giggled.
Santana chanced a glance up to find the smaller girl breathing heavily. “You know, you are really strong for your size.”
Brittany grinned broadly, raising both arms and flexing them. Taut muscle pushed out against creamy skin, easily belying her tiny frame.
Santana giggled, relaxing some.
“Sit up,” Brittany instructed, offering her hands once more.
Santana slowly let go of the branch and reached out to take Brittany’s hands, allowing herself to be pulled up into a sitting position.
“It’s just like riding a really thick broom,” Brittany explained.
Santana nodded, finding her balance and realizing that she was right. “So why do you like it up here so much, again?”
Brittany let go of her hands and motioned to the school grounds all around them, “Because I get to watch the dance.”
“The dance?” Santana questioned, taking in their surroundings. Then she saw it: the way the breeze blew the falling leaves, causing autumn colors to tumble across the green grass, the way the sun glittered across the lake, making various water creatures pop up from the depths to bask in its pleasant warmth, the way the students wound their way across grounds, weaving in and out of trees, amongst the gliding leaves, all around each other, leaving one group to join another. From their advantage, it all seemed so choreographed, like a dance.
Santana turned back to Brittany to find her watching her with a smile that exuded pure joy.
“You see it, huh?”
“It’s…beautiful, Britt,” Santana shook her head. “I never would have…thanks for sharing this with me,” she lowered her voice, eyes glancing down at Quinn quickly to see her studious friend still lain beneath them with her eyes closed.
“I’d share anything with you; all you have to do is ask,” Brittany replied honestly.
“Another friendship lesson?”
“A Brittany and Santana lesson,” she answered after a moment of thought.
Santana smiled, turning back to watch the people moving about them, getting a silent thrill at the fact that she could see them, but they couldn’t see her.
She began making up a story about how a third year Hufflepuff girl she was watching sit in a circle of her classmates who were all engaging in a lively conversation except for her was sorted into the wrong house and how she should’ve been sorted into Ravenclaw because she was really a secret genius, especially when it came to Astronomy and how she could name every constellation in the universe and spout of their exact locations at the drop of a hat.
Santana didn’t realize she had been smiling as she partook in her favorite pastime for the first time in a long time. She did feel herself frowning slightly as she thought about the back story she had just made up, though. Could the Sorting Hat get it wrong?
She looked down at Quinn who was outwardly everything a member of Gryffindor should be, but on the inside, thrived on gossip and power and force. Santana’s eyebrows rose as she realized for the first time that perhaps Quinn wasn’t the perfect candidate for the Gryffindor House when it came down to it, and maybe she really did belong in Slytherin…not that she was going to admit that out loud to Quinn in fear of setting her off…yeah, Quinn was definitely Slytherin material.
Santana then turned to Brittany whose gaze was focused on something far out on the horizon. She and Brittany often joked about the Sorting Hat messing up when it placed her in Gryffindor, with Brittany even saying that the Sorting Hat must have either misunderstood her or didn’t listen to her at all, but had the old hat gotten it right after all? She thought of all the things she knew about Brittany. First, out of anyone she had ever known, Brittany was easily the most knowledgeable about and best at being a friend. That would put her in Hufflepuff. Although, Brittany also looked at things in completely unique way, allowing her to view and understand the world in a way no one else around them did; she just seemed to get it. That would put her in Ravenclaw. Yet, the more they hung out together, the more Santana had become impressed with the quick snarky retorts Brittany was able to come up with when she was tearing someone down-even though her retorts seemed to be reserved for a select few individuals that just seemed to rub the girl the wrong way That would put her in Slytherin. But then there were times where all she had to do was frown disapprovingly at Santana’s witty tear downs in order to get her to hold her tongue. She seemed more than ready to stand up to people, no matter their size or bite, when she felt there was an injustice going on. Not to mention all of the times Santana had seen the smaller girl do something borderline crazy like when she walked around and around the edge of the astronomy tower, skipping from parapet to parapet with no regards for the near two hundred foot drop that awaited her the night Professor Castle was half an hour late to class. Brittany was brave. That would put her in Gryffindor.
Santana took in the way the late afternoon sun was falling on the other side of Brittany, causing a golden haze to seemingly emit from within her. Yes, Brittany definitely belonged in Gryffindor. So if Quinn and Brittany both actually had been sorted correctly, then obviously she must have been sorted correctly into her House of Slytherin as well. Santana’s eyebrows furrowed, not sure why that thought caused her to frown so deeply.
“Isn’t that Blaine?” Brittany asked, breaking through Santana’s musings.
Santana turned to look to where Brittany’s gaze had been focused.
A black dot was growing larger as it approached, taking the shape of a bird, its wings rising and falling gracefully, its jet black feathers glistening under the sun. Santana smiled, even her owl had class.
“Yeah, that’s him,” she nodded.
“Bit late for post,” Quinn noted, opening her eyes as she sat up.
Santana heard the implication in her comment, it must be something important. There was only one reason for her parents to be replying to her last letter this late in the day, and that was so their reply would not be received in the crowded dining hall where anyone and everyone could bear witness. She also couldn’t help the internal eye roll at Quinn finally joining the conversation when Blaine’s late approach meant one of two things: a howler or a big of important gossip.
Santana’s smile grew as Blaine swooped under the low branches and landed easily on the branch between her and Brittany despite her growing curiosity and nerves over the letter’s contents because he had managed to find her despite her semi camouflaged hiding spot amongst the trees. She scratched his head affectionately, well aware that he was the only companion she had back when she had arrived upon platform 9 ¾. Her eyes flickered to Brittany who was digging in her book bag that was hanging on a nearby branch, knowing that that was no longer the case. Brittany settle back on their branch with a smile of her own. She opened her hand, revealing a palm full of owl treats that Blaine immediately dug into.
“Thanks Britt,” Santana said gratefully. “That was really thoughtful of you.”
“I had some left over from our last visit to the Owlery, and I figured he’d probably be hunger after his journey,” she shrugged, giggling softly as Blaine’s beak tickled her palm as he ate.
“Isn’t anyone going to read the letter?” Quinn asked impatiently.
Santana physically rolled her eyes this time, but reached out, nonetheless, to untie the letter from Blaine’s leg, making sure not to jostle him too much as she did so while he continued to eat. She opened the letter carefully, eyebrows furrowing deeper and deeper as she read it to herself.
Santana,
I have not had time to read the letter Blaine brought because I had to send him back immediately with this one, but I am sure all is well for you and that you are doing exactly as we taught you to and are making us proud-
That was true, Santana nodded before glancing up at Brittany and her crimson and gold tie…well, mostly true.
So, on to business. There are rumors circling around certain circles your father and I belong in that are far too heavy to ignore.
Santana swallowed hard. She knew what circles her mother was talking about.
These rumors may be just that, rumors, but we would rather not take that chance, and that is why I am turning to you.
I am sure you can recall the story I used to tell you about the Dark Lord’s demise. But as a reminder, in that story, the Dark Lord attacked a family, a family that had been in hiding and had birthed a baby while in hiding. The parents were killed, and the Dark Lord turned to the baby, but his spell backfired, and both he and the infant perished.
Now, however, there are rumors circulating that the baby did not die, that someone found the baby alive and hid him away, leaving a fake decoy in its place so that no one would search for him. If these rumors are in fact true and that baby did indeed survive, then he would now be your age, meaning that there is a significant chance that he could be attending Hogwarts right now, enrolled amongst you and your fellow First Years.
I want you to keep an eye out for him. If he takes after his parents, he would have light colored hair and eyes, but do not just rely on that because whoever has been caring for him could have altered that with a simple spell. Instead, look for someone with unusual talents. His parents were powerful wizards, and he should be too. Keep an ear to the ground for any First Year boys with strange abilities or a grand aptitude for spells, and report back to me with any names you come up with.
And needless to say, I need you to keep this information and search to yourself. Not many people know about it, and for now, it needs to stay that way.
Evelyn Black Lopez
“Well?” Quinn pressed brusquely.
Santana allowed the letter to fall down to Quinn so she could read it herself. Under different circumstances, she would have admired the way Quinn snatched the letter out of the air effortlessly, but as it were, her mind was spinning too dizzyingly from what she had just read to focus on anything else.
“What’s going on?” Brittany asked worriedly as she gently ruffled Blaine’s feathers with her now empty hand.
“Has there ever been some thing, some truth or fact, that has been present throughout your entire life, that much of your life was actually based upon?”
“Like Santa?”
“Yes,” Santana nodded. “Exactly like Santa. Now, do you remember what it felt like when that truth was suddenly pulled out from under you when you realized it, in fact, was a lie?”
“No,” Brittany’s nose scrunched in confusion. “Why would Santa lie?”
Santana’s eyes widened as she realized the implication of Brittany’s answer. She decided to store that for a rainy day, now not being the time to deal with Brittany’s belief in purely mythical figures.
“Okay, maybe Santa was a bad example,” Santana allowed. “Let’s just skip examples. Do you remember the stories of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?”
Brittany shook her head.
“Really?” Santana questioned in shock.
“We must have different fairy tales in America,” she offered.
“No, Britt, this is not a fairy tale, and I cannot believe your parents never taught you about him. He is a major part of our recent history. He was the most powerful wizard in the world before everything fell apart.”
“What happened?” Blue eyes latched onto brown in intense curiosity.
Santana went into the abridged story of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his downfall, explaining about the baby and the curse that backfired. As the story came to a close, she noticed the struggle in Brittany’s eyes over which emotion to settle upon: sadness or anger.
“He killed an innocent baby?” Brittany’s voice came out low, an open threat in her tone. Anger had clearly won out.
“Well, there was a prophecy that said the baby was going to be more powerful than him,” Santana gave the explanation that her own mother had given her after telling her the story for the first time when she was little and Santana replied with a question similar to Brittany’s. Hers had been a question of sadness, though.
“So?!” Brittany replied in exasperation. “He couldn’t at least wait until the baby grew up so that it would be a fair fight?”
“He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named does not like waiting,” Santana replied solemnly.
“Well the guy sounds like a coward,” Brittany spat. “An evil coward.”
Santana’s eyes widened. She had never heard anyone call him that before.
“I’m glad he’s dead.”
“Well, that’s the thing,” Santana began carefully. “In the letter, my mother said-“
“Not to share this news with anyone,” Quinn cut her off firmly.
“It’s Brittany,” Santana replied as she looked down at her, as if that were all the explanation needed.
“Santana…” Quinn warned you.
“I showed you.”
“That’s different. You knew I will be hearing about it any day now from my own parents.”
“My letter, my judgement,” Santana said with finality before turning back to face Brittany. “My mother said that there is a rumor going around that the baby survived. If that’s true, and he did, then he should be at Hogwarts in our very year.”
“So he survived?” Brittany asked hopefully.
“It’s just a rumor,” Santana answered. “But my mother has set it upon me to find out whether or not that rumor is true.”
“Why does it matter if it is or isn’t? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead; it doesn’t matter if there’s a child running around that could grow up to defeat him because he is already defeated. Let the child live his life. He suffered enough because of the creep, let him enjoy the guy’s death.”
“That’s the thing,” Santana stated carefully, her voice slightly shaky as she thought about the hidden revelation in her mother’s words, a revelation her mother would have never written down. Implications and hidden meanings were something Santana had mastered at an early age-her parents and their acquaintances thrived on them. “If the baby lived, then there is a good chance that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did as well.”
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: So, there is, in fact, an HP character cameo in this chapter. Funnily enough, it is not the one I mentioned in the summary, bc I totally forgot about him when writing the summary, so that will make it two HP character cameos. Anyways, hope y'all enjoy!
Previous Chapter
“On my own, pretending he’s beside me…”
Santana’s ears perked up at the sound of a polished voice singing as the Slytherin First Years set up their telescopes in preparation for the evening’s astronomy lesson. It was clean, a bit too clean for Santana’s taste-she always preferred her music to have a little something behind it-but good nonetheless.
Really good, she noted to herself as the song picked up. None of the Slytherins bothered to say anything about the vocal intrusion since the owner of the voice had talent and the song was rather soothing as it floated through the dark night. Santana, herself, was content to let the song finish without interruption until,
“I love him, and everyday I’m pretending…no, that’s not right,” a grating voice corrected herself.
Santana winced, and Quinn stiffened as they realized the same thing at the same time: the talented, carefully trained voiced belonged to Rachel.
“How?” Santana questioned as Rachel picked up the song again, this time with the correct lyric.
“I love him, but every day I am learning, all my life, I’ve only been pretending…”
“It is not possible for that voice to be coming out of her,” Quinn shook her head in disbelief.
“A world that’s full of happiness that I have never known!” Rachel’s voice reached the peak of its crescendo.
“Would you shut up?” Santana snapped as she turned around to face Rachel who was on the opposite side of the flat tower top. “This isn’t one of those stupid Muggle Idol shows. People are trying to concentrate.”
“S-Sorry,” she stuttered in reply. “I was only practicing. You see, glee club auditions are coming up next week, and the acoustics up here are unparalleled. I was just-“
“No one cares about your stupid glee club auditions,” Quinn cut her off. “Glee club is and always will be a place for losers like you to find safety in numbers. That’s it.”
The class of Slytherins laughed.
“Now, if you would kindly shut up like Santana told you to so the rest of us can get back to concentrating on getting ready for class-class, you know, a place where we learn something useful in order to ensure that we become a contributing part of society and not some hobo sitting on the corner, singing for her supper-then your face will forever be grateful.”
“My f-face?”
“Yes, your face. Santana, here, does not like repeating herself, especially to commoners like you who should be respecting our titles. So, if you do not want your nose to be five times too large for your face instead of its normal three, I suggest you heed her warning and shut up.”
Santana flexed her grip on her wand, and Rachel’s face paled.
“Okay, sorry, I’ll shut up like you asked. Sorry, Santana,” she apologized.
Quinn cleared her throat.
“I mean, Lady Santana Lopez,” she quickly amended.
Santana waved her off with a sigh, as if she couldn’t even be bothered with her apologies and turned back to her telescope, the class’s snickering behind her.
“Nicely played,” Quinn noted in a hushed voice.
“Well, you threw me under the bus a bit, so I worked with what I had on short notice,” Santana replied, her voice equally quiet.
“Oh come on, out of the two of us, which do you think people are more likely to believe will fly off the handle and become violent?”
“Me,” Santana admitted. “But that’s only because-“
“Because that’s the picture you have painted for them. I am the bark, you are the bite. That’s what they see, that’s what we will give them.”
“It’s not the truth,” Santana argued. “In fact, it is damn near the opposite of it.”
Sure, she was known to have a short temper and a pretty nasty left hook for someone her size at her old school, but it was extremely rare for her to actually use it. Normally, her words alone were enough to strike fear and, eventually, compliance into her enemies. It was Quinn, though, with her soft voice and cold eyes, that was known for breaking a girl’s jaw just because she had refused to address her by her proper title.
“So?” Quinn cocked an eyebrow. “Since when do you care about the truth? Especially when it gets in the way of our running this place?”
“And what about when some Muggle-born bumps into you in the hall, and you get the itch to reply with a black eye?”
“Please, if there is one thing I know about, it is control.”
“Yeah, when it comes to other people, but when it comes to yourself? Not so much.”
Quinn opened her mouth to retort, but the door swung widely beside them as the First Year Gryffindors walked out into the open air, and the conversation was dropped.
Santana froze momentarily when she saw Brittany walking towards her with Mercedes right behind her, being reminded how, besides her strange intrusion on their Transfiguration class the day before and their shared Potions class-which she didn’t count since the other girl had barely spoken three words during both classes, her mind clearly miles away-she had not seen the girl since their meal together after watching the Quidditch match the previous week. Brittany smiled at her brightly, clearly unaware of the near two mile trek around the Great Lake or the walk dangerously close to the edges of the Forbidden Forest she had made the evening before in search for her to no avail.
“Hey guys,” she spoke, Mercedes smiling along with her in greeting.
“Hey,” Quinn replied shortly, still unable to look at either of them without her eyes falling to their ties longingly.
“Hey Brit…” Santana began as they started to set up their telescopes as well. “Where have you been? I feel like you fell off the grid the past few days.”
“I haven’t fallen,” Brittany shook her head, pulling back her robes to reveal her knees. “See? Not a single scrape. I don’t know why everybody’s making such a big deal out of it, though.”
Santana’s eyebrows knitted in confusion, but she shook it off, realizing that she was becoming side-tracked, which she was finding was more often the case than not when talking with Brittany.
“Where have you been, though?”
“At Hogwarts,” she replied, nose scrunching. “Where have you been?”
Santana started to reply that she had been looking for her, but she noticed Mercedes watching the pair of them, listening closely, as if waiting to jump into the conversation at any moment if so warranted.
“I just…you haven’t even eaten with us since last week,” Santana caught her bottom lip between her teeth before it fell into a pout.
“I know, but they’ve been asking me to eat at the Gryffindor table.”
“Now I need to make reservations to eat with you or something?” she frowned.
Mercedes stepped closer as Brittany’s mouth fell into a pout of its own.
“You know I like eating with you, but they’ve been asking, and I didn’t want to be rude. I mean, they’re…”
“Your House,” Santana nodded. “I get it.”
Brittany’s eyes fell as she kicked the ground, “I miss hanging out with you, if that counts for anything.”
It did. It counted for a lot, but Santana was not about to admit that with Quinn standing right beside her and a dozen or so other members of Slytherin and Gryffindor around them. “Come eat with us for lunch tomorrow, then.”
“I can’t,” Brittany admitted regretfully.
“Dinner?”
Brittany shook her head.
“Whatever, Brittany. Come find us whenever you can fit us into your buzzing social schedule again.”
“No, Santana, it’s not that-“ Brittany reached out for her as she turned back to her telescope.
Santana rounded on her, her lingering agitation with Rachel and Quinn spilling over, “You know, I think it’s great that you have all these friends now, I do. I just didn’t think you would forget about all the crap they did to you at the start of the term, or about the fact that we were the ones that helped you out. I stuck my neck out for you,” Santana’s voice lowered as it came out through clenched teeth. “If you only knew…if you knew how much trouble I could get into, not just with my House, but with my family-“
Quinn placed a heavy hand on her shoulder to stop her from going any further.
Santana sighed, shaking her head, “You would not be so eager to forget.”
“Santana I haven’t forgotten,” Brittany insisted, tears swimming across her eyes as she shrugged off Mercedes’ grip on her own arm. “I just-“
“I think you need to back off, Santana,” Mercedes cut her off.
“How about you stay out of it, and let the two of them work it out for themselves?” Quinn countered.
“How about you listen to your own advice?” Mercedes gave a pointed look to her hand on Santana’s shoulder.
“Some things are bigger than this,” Quinn replied, her normally gentle voice gravelly with a warning, not just for Mercedes but Santana as well. “I was just reminding Santana of that.”
“And I was just reminding Santana that not everyone is sacred of her and willing to take her shit.”
“Enough!” Brittany’s voice rose over the arguing, causing several nearby heads to turn their way. “Enough,” she repeated, quieter this time, tears leaving visible trails down her cheeks.
Santana clenched her hands into fists in order to prevent herself from reaching out and brushing her tears away as she found herself driven to do.
“This has nothing to do with either of you,” Brittany informed, her voice shaky, but her tone form. “So, if you will excuse us…”
Santana allowed Brittany to take her hand and pull her away until they were granted as much privacy as they could be allotted while surrounded by their classmates.
“Santana, I’m sorry. I really am. I tried finding you so we could hang out, but I couldn’t, and I’ve just been so busy. And no, before you start on your craziness, I have not forgotten you. How could I? You saved my life.”
“That’s true,” Santana allowed with a small nod.
“And you’re right. You were there for me when nobody else was, and that is something I will never forget nor will I ever want to. I feel like…” she sighed, struggling with the words.
“Like what, Britt?” Santana coaxed, her voice much gentler now as she watched Brittany trying her best to express herself.
“Like I failed you,” she sniffed back more tears. “But Santana, you have to know that, yeah, I’ve been eating with the Gryffindors, and yeah, I’m having fun with them, but the whole time I’m thinking of how much more fun I would be having if I were eating with you.”
“You haven’t failed me, Britt,” Santana shook her head.
“But I have,” she insisted. “I told you that I was going to teach you how to be a friend, and I have been doing a crappy job of that the past few days. But I promise, I’m going to do better.”
“You haven’t failed me, Britt,” Santana repeated, this time in realization
“Yes, I did, but look, Saturday I am all yours. It’s gonna be a Brittany and Santana day.”
“No, Britt, you haven’t. Listen to me. You are showing me this very second how to be a friend,” Santana said. “You think Quinn and I ever take the time like this to talk about our problems? We just ignore each other until the anger subsides enough to be in the same room together again.”
“But that’s what y’all have to do.”
Santana’s eyes turned curious, “Why do you say that?”
“Because if you didn’t, then y’all wouldn’t have anyone to sit with or hangout with. The tough, popular girl image doesn’t work too well when you are all by yourself.”
“How is it that you understand me better than I do sometimes?”
“Because I pay attention,” she shrugged, a gentle smile on her face as they walked back to their stations.
“One more lesson that you’re teaching me in friendship,” Santana nodded, making her smile grow. “And Saturday sounds good, by the way.”
“Awesome,” Brittany grinned.
+++gw+++
Brittany ended up staying true to her word and spent all day Saturday with Santana, goofing off and even working on some homework. Santana came up with the plan of Brittany eating with the Gryffindors for lunch and with the Slytherins for dinner. Breakfast was left to the blonde since she was normally so hungry in the mornings that she just sat at whichever table she got to first, even if it were Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff.
And after that weekend, Santana started paying better attention to Brittany. She noticed how Brittany was now making a concerted effort to go out of her way and make sure that they spent time together, no matter how many times she fell asleep in the middle of a conversation-Brittany would always fuss at Santana afterwards for allowing her to doze off, but Santana would just shrug it off, all too conscious of the dark circles under the smaller girl’s drooping eye lids. She also took in the way Brittany’s nose collected more and more freckles the more afternoons they spent outside under the sun. She became well aware of the sadness in her eyes every time she answered a question in Astronomy and the class laughed at her and Professor Castle scolded her-for her part, Professor Sylvester seemed unusually patient when it came to Brittany’s answers and questions, giving sarcastic replies at times, sure, but never degrading her for speaking her mind like the other professors had begun doing. She even noticed the spark of excitement in Brittany’s eyes outside the classroom that had been present ever since their first encounter remained, though it seemed to start to dim ever so slightly.
It was that dimness that found them in the Owlery one afternoon, Santana bringing treats to Blaine and Brittany walking beneath the rows of owls, making sure to pet each and every one that was within reach. Santana had a theory about the hint of darkness that plagues Brittany’s excitement-as for what was causing the excitement itself, she had no clue-and figured that bringing Brittany here, to the Owlery, was a good way to broach the topic.
“This is the one I use when writing to my parents,” Brittany noted.
Santana turned to find Brittany standing before a Common Barn Owl that resembled dozens of others surrounding them. Santana didn’t bother asking how she could tell him apart, instead smiling at the window that had just been opened.
“So, have you heard back from them yet?” Santana asked, trying to keep her voice light and curious. “Your parents, I mean.”
“Yep,” Brittany’s entire face lit up as she dug through her robes to produce a folded piece of paper.
Santana took it from her extended hand with a raised eyebrow.
“You can read it,” Brittany assured before turning to coo at a tiny Scops Owl.
Santana carefully opened the letter, her eyebrows knitting together at the sparse few lines of writing decorating the paper.
Brittany,
We are happy to hear you arrived safely and are enjoying your time at your new “school”. Things are going great over here. In accordance to your questions, your father says to tell you that the shop is doing well and is very busy.
Love,
Mom and Dad
P.S. We are happy to have received all of your letters, but we wonder if there is any way you can send them through some other method? Owls are not particularly common in our neighborhood.
Santana looked up from the letter with a frown, “Britt? How many letters have you written them?”
“Once a week,” Brittany replied from where she had managed to hoist herself up onto one of the long shelves circling the large room and sat amongst the owls and their nests.
Santana would have smiled at her new position if not for her upcoming question, “And this is the only letter they have written you back?”
“Things are busy,” Brittany shrugged, smiling as the owl whose feathers she was scratching practically purred beneath her touch. “Running your own shop is very time consummating.”
“And your mom teaches?”
“At the university,” Brittany nodded, a look of pride on her face.
“And they’ve only written you once?” Santana struggled to keep the anger out of her voice.
“My family’s not like yours, Santana,” Brittany replied calmly. “There isn’t a whole lot of money to be made in a repair shop or in teaching. They have to work long hours just to make ends meet.”
“And my father doesn’t work long hours?”
“Of course he does. From what I hear, your father is an extremely hard working man.”
Santana nodded at the insinuation, “My mother.”
“Not every family is lucky enough to have a stay at home parent to be there for them at a moment’s notice,” Brittany shrugged.
Santana’s chest tightened painfully. “My mother may not work, but she is anything but a stay at home parent,” her voice came out strained, causing Brittany to jump down from her perch.
She landed nimbly on her feet and approached her cautiously, “Santana, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it as a bad thing. I just meant that your mother has more time to write than mine.”
Santana nodded. Brittany was right, her mother did have a lot of time to write; she often received biweekly letters from her. But the insinuation that just because she had the time, meant that she should be some sort of supportive parent that was always there for her, caused her stomach to turn sickeningly at the realization that it was an assumption based on a logical truth. She was an only child, and her mother did not work, so she should have been there for her.
But no, instead, she dumped Santana off on a nanny and eventually a boarding school. It had gotten to the point where she didn’t even look for her mother’s face at her vocal recitals or her primary school graduation because in their lives, it wouldn’t have made sense. Nanny and Brad had made it to every recital, always waiting with flowers from her father who was away at work. When she would get home, her mother would instruct the cooks to prepare Santana’s favorite meal and tell Brad and Nanny to take Santana out the following day to buy a new dress to celebrate her performance. For her primary school graduation, it was only Brad waiting for her in the audience with a bouquet of roses and a small black box. The box contained a white gold necklace whose two sides were connected to a simple word written in white gold script: believe. The ‘b’ was covered in tiny diamonds, making it sparkle magnificently
Brad explained that he and Nanny had been saving up for it for nearly two years. Santana had instantly crumpled against his lapel in tears. It had been six months since her nanny’s death, and the wound was still raw. The large diamond earrings her mother had given her that evening at dinner she wore only once, but that necklace had yet to be removed after Brad placed it on her with her teary-eyed request as they walked to the town car after her graduation ceremony was complete.
“Santana?”
A warm hand on her arm brought her back to the present.
“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Brittany asked when her eyes refocused on their surroundings.
Santana shook her head, “Don’t apologize. You’re right; my mom does have a lot of free time. I guess, I just never realized that that meant she should have been spending that time with me.”
Brittany’s face fell, “I am so sorry, Santana. I was just trying to explain. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Azure eyes began swimming in such sadness that Santana found herself wanting to apologize as well.
“No,” Santana stated firmly. “No, Britt, this is in no way your fault.
“I didn’t want to make you sad,” her bottom lip pouted.
“You didn’t,” she insisted. “It is my mother’s bloody fault that I am upset, not yours. I promise.”
Brittany gave a tenuous smile, “You sure?”
“Positive,” Santana nodded. “If anything, I am grateful.”
“Grateful?” she asked in disbelief.
“You have this way of making me see truths that I’d never see otherwise.”
“I just try to be honest,” Brittany shrugged bashfully.
Santana placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly until blue met brown, “Promise you will always be honest with me.”
Another thing she had come to realize-one she had already begun to previously suspect-while paying close attention to Brittany during their times together was that a lot of her misspoken words and unusual theories and confused meanings came from not just a struggle with word comprehension, but also a lack of focus. All it took was the tickle of grass beneath her legs as they lounged about under their tree for Brittany’s imagination to be off on some wild adventure, leaving her barely half listening to what was being said. Santana’s way of combating this when she had something important to say was really quite simple. She would hold the other girl’s gaze, making sure she was completely focused on her before speaking. Often, she would even go a step further and touch her somehow, whether it be holding her shoulder or grazing her wrist in order to help ground the imaginative girl to her in that moment just to be sure that she was completely present. Then, after she had made sure Brittany had not only heard, but understood, she would let go of the strong hold their eyes shared, and allow the blonde to go back to half-listening while the other half of her brain went to places only Brittany could dream up.
“I promise,” Brittany replied, her gaze holding onto their connection just as firmly.
Santana smiled and nodded before turning back to give Blaine one last treat. She didn’t press the issue of Brittany’s family anymore, despite the burning issue of Brittany acknowledging the fact that Lord Lopez was an extremely busy man, and yet he had already found the time to send Santana three letters since the school year had started. She realized that Brittany believed her parents were doing all they could, and she didn’t want to ruin that for her.
“Ready to go?” she asked, dusting the remnants of owl treats from her hands.
“Yep,” Brittany nodded before giving the owls a collective good-bye. There were a few hoots in reply, making a wide grin dance across her face.
“Can we come back soon and visit them?” Brittany asked hopefully as they descended down the stairs that led away from the Owlery. “I really like it there.”
“Sure, Britt,” Santana smiled at her squeal of excitement. “So what do you want to do for the rest of the afternoon?”
Brittany gave her a sadness plagued look of guilt.
“You have other plans,” Santana nodded, choosing to look straight ahead rather than at the girl beside her.
“I thought I had mentioned that earlier,” Brittany swore.
“No, you did,” Santana assured, recalling her words from that morning. “I guess I just got…caught up.”
“Want to walk with me?” Brittany offered.
“No, it’s okay. I promised Quinn I would meet up with her,” Santana came up with a quick excuse to not make it seem like she was too dependent on the shorter girl.
Brittany nodded, though she didn’t seem entirely convinced. But instead of pushing it, she reached out and put a gentle hand on her arm, holding her gaze.
Santana couldn’t help but smile, realizing what she was doing as she stared into eyes that were returning to their normal aquamarine state after having left behind their conversation in the Owlery. They were still cloudier than normal, though, and Santana felt her own sense of guilt over having made Brittany feel guilty for having prior commitments, something she promised herself she would work on.
“Promise me we will never be too busy to get ‘caught up’ with each other.”
Santana nodded, sensing both the apology and the sincerity in her words, “I promise.”
Brittany smiled, clouds completely gone from her eyes as she gave Santana’s arm a quick squeeze before giving an insistent ‘see you later’ and hurrying off with a skip in her step. Santana watched her go, her body a mix of emotions that she struggled to shake off as she turned to go find Quinn and see what she had been up to all morning.
“I thought Brittany was supposed to be meeting us here,” Quinn noted as they approached their usual tree near the Great Lake. She laid her book bag on the ground beneath its branches and used it as a pillow, closing her eyes with a tired sigh. Their Herbology lesson had been a long one about the uses of a squat, purple plant known as shrivelfig.
Santana just smiled knowingly, feeling energized after her nap through Professor Hagberg’s lecture. She sat beside Quinn, looking up to meet a pair of feline eyes a bright sky blue as they twinkled in mischief.
Brittany sent her a wink before allowing her weight to slide back over the branch, her upper body falling with it, but her legs holding firm in their grip around the tree’s limb. Santana must have seen her do that very same move nearly a dozen times already, but that didn’t stop her stomach from tumbling anxiously every time she watched Brittany’s body free fall for the split second or two before her legs caught the branch.
Brittany grinned at her, wiggling her eyebrows from where she now hung upside down a few feet above Quinn.
Santana struggled to stifle her giggle.
“Hey Quinn,” Brittany greeted happily.
Quinn’s eyes shot open, a shriek emitting from her mouth at the sight of a body suspended above her. She quickly scrambled to her feet, eyes a dark glare as they darted from Santana who was clutching her sides as the laughter poured out of her up to Brittany who was still upside down, grinning at her broadly.
“What the heck, Brittany?” she scowled. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“I thought you knew I was up here,” Brittany replied innocently.
“How would I know that?”
“I’m always up here,” she shrugged.
“Why…what…how would I know that?” Quinn sputtered.
“Santana knew,” Brittany mumbled softly with a pout.
Santana rolled her eyes, “Oh, don’t be crabby just because she turned you into a scared little ninny, Fabray."
“She did not turn me into a ninny,” Quinn crossed her arms firmly over her chest.
“Shall I re-enact it for you?”
“Oh, shut it, already,” she huffed before taking her place back down on the ground, eyeing Brittany wearily before closing her eyes once more.
Santana chuckled, looking up to find Brittany sitting upright once again, “How do you get up there, anyway?”
“I climb.”
Santana laughed softly at her response, “Why, though?”
Instead of replying with words, Brittany adjusted her position until she was balancing on the branch, her arms stretched downwards.
Santana eyed her skeptically.
Brittany replied with a reassuring smile and a look that urged, trust me.
Santana swallowed hard before reaching up as far as she could. Brittany had to shimmy a little further down, and Santana had to stretch up on her tippy toes before their fingers brushed together.
Brittany clasped her fingers tightly, making sure she had a good grip before pulling Santana up.
Santana felt her forearms scraping along the bark of the tree as she was pulled onto the branch. When Brittany let go of her hands, she wrapped her arms firmly around the branch, her cheek pressed against its rough coating.
Brittany giggled.
Santana chanced a glance up to find the smaller girl breathing heavily. “You know, you are really strong for your size.”
Brittany grinned broadly, raising both arms and flexing them. Taut muscle pushed out against creamy skin, easily belying her tiny frame.
Santana giggled, relaxing some.
“Sit up,” Brittany instructed, offering her hands once more.
Santana slowly let go of the branch and reached out to take Brittany’s hands, allowing herself to be pulled up into a sitting position.
“It’s just like riding a really thick broom,” Brittany explained.
Santana nodded, finding her balance and realizing that she was right. “So why do you like it up here so much, again?”
Brittany let go of her hands and motioned to the school grounds all around them, “Because I get to watch the dance.”
“The dance?” Santana questioned, taking in their surroundings. Then she saw it: the way the breeze blew the falling leaves, causing autumn colors to tumble across the green grass, the way the sun glittered across the lake, making various water creatures pop up from the depths to bask in its pleasant warmth, the way the students wound their way across grounds, weaving in and out of trees, amongst the gliding leaves, all around each other, leaving one group to join another. From their advantage, it all seemed so choreographed, like a dance.
Santana turned back to Brittany to find her watching her with a smile that exuded pure joy.
“You see it, huh?”
“It’s…beautiful, Britt,” Santana shook her head. “I never would have…thanks for sharing this with me,” she lowered her voice, eyes glancing down at Quinn quickly to see her studious friend still lain beneath them with her eyes closed.
“I’d share anything with you; all you have to do is ask,” Brittany replied honestly.
“Another friendship lesson?”
“A Brittany and Santana lesson,” she answered after a moment of thought.
Santana smiled, turning back to watch the people moving about them, getting a silent thrill at the fact that she could see them, but they couldn’t see her.
She began making up a story about how a third year Hufflepuff girl she was watching sit in a circle of her classmates who were all engaging in a lively conversation except for her was sorted into the wrong house and how she should’ve been sorted into Ravenclaw because she was really a secret genius, especially when it came to Astronomy and how she could name every constellation in the universe and spout of their exact locations at the drop of a hat.
Santana didn’t realize she had been smiling as she partook in her favorite pastime for the first time in a long time. She did feel herself frowning slightly as she thought about the back story she had just made up, though. Could the Sorting Hat get it wrong?
She looked down at Quinn who was outwardly everything a member of Gryffindor should be, but on the inside, thrived on gossip and power and force. Santana’s eyebrows rose as she realized for the first time that perhaps Quinn wasn’t the perfect candidate for the Gryffindor House when it came down to it, and maybe she really did belong in Slytherin…not that she was going to admit that out loud to Quinn in fear of setting her off…yeah, Quinn was definitely Slytherin material.
Santana then turned to Brittany whose gaze was focused on something far out on the horizon. She and Brittany often joked about the Sorting Hat messing up when it placed her in Gryffindor, with Brittany even saying that the Sorting Hat must have either misunderstood her or didn’t listen to her at all, but had the old hat gotten it right after all? She thought of all the things she knew about Brittany. First, out of anyone she had ever known, Brittany was easily the most knowledgeable about and best at being a friend. That would put her in Hufflepuff. Although, Brittany also looked at things in completely unique way, allowing her to view and understand the world in a way no one else around them did; she just seemed to get it. That would put her in Ravenclaw. Yet, the more they hung out together, the more Santana had become impressed with the quick snarky retorts Brittany was able to come up with when she was tearing someone down-even though her retorts seemed to be reserved for a select few individuals that just seemed to rub the girl the wrong way That would put her in Slytherin. But then there were times where all she had to do was frown disapprovingly at Santana’s witty tear downs in order to get her to hold her tongue. She seemed more than ready to stand up to people, no matter their size or bite, when she felt there was an injustice going on. Not to mention all of the times Santana had seen the smaller girl do something borderline crazy like when she walked around and around the edge of the astronomy tower, skipping from parapet to parapet with no regards for the near two hundred foot drop that awaited her the night Professor Castle was half an hour late to class. Brittany was brave. That would put her in Gryffindor.
Santana took in the way the late afternoon sun was falling on the other side of Brittany, causing a golden haze to seemingly emit from within her. Yes, Brittany definitely belonged in Gryffindor. So if Quinn and Brittany both actually had been sorted correctly, then obviously she must have been sorted correctly into her House of Slytherin as well. Santana’s eyebrows furrowed, not sure why that thought caused her to frown so deeply.
“Isn’t that Blaine?” Brittany asked, breaking through Santana’s musings.
Santana turned to look to where Brittany’s gaze had been focused.
A black dot was growing larger as it approached, taking the shape of a bird, its wings rising and falling gracefully, its jet black feathers glistening under the sun. Santana smiled, even her owl had class.
“Yeah, that’s him,” she nodded.
“Bit late for post,” Quinn noted, opening her eyes as she sat up.
Santana heard the implication in her comment, it must be something important. There was only one reason for her parents to be replying to her last letter this late in the day, and that was so their reply would not be received in the crowded dining hall where anyone and everyone could bear witness. She also couldn’t help the internal eye roll at Quinn finally joining the conversation when Blaine’s late approach meant one of two things: a howler or a big of important gossip.
Santana’s smile grew as Blaine swooped under the low branches and landed easily on the branch between her and Brittany despite her growing curiosity and nerves over the letter’s contents because he had managed to find her despite her semi camouflaged hiding spot amongst the trees. She scratched his head affectionately, well aware that he was the only companion she had back when she had arrived upon platform 9 ¾. Her eyes flickered to Brittany who was digging in her book bag that was hanging on a nearby branch, knowing that that was no longer the case. Brittany settle back on their branch with a smile of her own. She opened her hand, revealing a palm full of owl treats that Blaine immediately dug into.
“Thanks Britt,” Santana said gratefully. “That was really thoughtful of you.”
“I had some left over from our last visit to the Owlery, and I figured he’d probably be hunger after his journey,” she shrugged, giggling softly as Blaine’s beak tickled her palm as he ate.
“Isn’t anyone going to read the letter?” Quinn asked impatiently.
Santana physically rolled her eyes this time, but reached out, nonetheless, to untie the letter from Blaine’s leg, making sure not to jostle him too much as she did so while he continued to eat. She opened the letter carefully, eyebrows furrowing deeper and deeper as she read it to herself.
Santana,
I have not had time to read the letter Blaine brought because I had to send him back immediately with this one, but I am sure all is well for you and that you are doing exactly as we taught you to and are making us proud-
That was true, Santana nodded before glancing up at Brittany and her crimson and gold tie…well, mostly true.
So, on to business. There are rumors circling around certain circles your father and I belong in that are far too heavy to ignore.
Santana swallowed hard. She knew what circles her mother was talking about.
These rumors may be just that, rumors, but we would rather not take that chance, and that is why I am turning to you.
I am sure you can recall the story I used to tell you about the Dark Lord’s demise. But as a reminder, in that story, the Dark Lord attacked a family, a family that had been in hiding and had birthed a baby while in hiding. The parents were killed, and the Dark Lord turned to the baby, but his spell backfired, and both he and the infant perished.
Now, however, there are rumors circulating that the baby did not die, that someone found the baby alive and hid him away, leaving a fake decoy in its place so that no one would search for him. If these rumors are in fact true and that baby did indeed survive, then he would now be your age, meaning that there is a significant chance that he could be attending Hogwarts right now, enrolled amongst you and your fellow First Years.
I want you to keep an eye out for him. If he takes after his parents, he would have light colored hair and eyes, but do not just rely on that because whoever has been caring for him could have altered that with a simple spell. Instead, look for someone with unusual talents. His parents were powerful wizards, and he should be too. Keep an ear to the ground for any First Year boys with strange abilities or a grand aptitude for spells, and report back to me with any names you come up with.
And needless to say, I need you to keep this information and search to yourself. Not many people know about it, and for now, it needs to stay that way.
Evelyn Black Lopez
“Well?” Quinn pressed brusquely.
Santana allowed the letter to fall down to Quinn so she could read it herself. Under different circumstances, she would have admired the way Quinn snatched the letter out of the air effortlessly, but as it were, her mind was spinning too dizzyingly from what she had just read to focus on anything else.
“What’s going on?” Brittany asked worriedly as she gently ruffled Blaine’s feathers with her now empty hand.
“Has there ever been some thing, some truth or fact, that has been present throughout your entire life, that much of your life was actually based upon?”
“Like Santa?”
“Yes,” Santana nodded. “Exactly like Santa. Now, do you remember what it felt like when that truth was suddenly pulled out from under you when you realized it, in fact, was a lie?”
“No,” Brittany’s nose scrunched in confusion. “Why would Santa lie?”
Santana’s eyes widened as she realized the implication of Brittany’s answer. She decided to store that for a rainy day, now not being the time to deal with Brittany’s belief in purely mythical figures.
“Okay, maybe Santa was a bad example,” Santana allowed. “Let’s just skip examples. Do you remember the stories of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?”
Brittany shook her head.
“Really?” Santana questioned in shock.
“We must have different fairy tales in America,” she offered.
“No, Britt, this is not a fairy tale, and I cannot believe your parents never taught you about him. He is a major part of our recent history. He was the most powerful wizard in the world before everything fell apart.”
“What happened?” Blue eyes latched onto brown in intense curiosity.
Santana went into the abridged story of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his downfall, explaining about the baby and the curse that backfired. As the story came to a close, she noticed the struggle in Brittany’s eyes over which emotion to settle upon: sadness or anger.
“He killed an innocent baby?” Brittany’s voice came out low, an open threat in her tone. Anger had clearly won out.
“Well, there was a prophecy that said the baby was going to be more powerful than him,” Santana gave the explanation that her own mother had given her after telling her the story for the first time when she was little and Santana replied with a question similar to Brittany’s. Hers had been a question of sadness, though.
“So?!” Brittany replied in exasperation. “He couldn’t at least wait until the baby grew up so that it would be a fair fight?”
“He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named does not like waiting,” Santana replied solemnly.
“Well the guy sounds like a coward,” Brittany spat. “An evil coward.”
Santana’s eyes widened. She had never heard anyone call him that before.
“I’m glad he’s dead.”
“Well, that’s the thing,” Santana began carefully. “In the letter, my mother said-“
“Not to share this news with anyone,” Quinn cut her off firmly.
“It’s Brittany,” Santana replied as she looked down at her, as if that were all the explanation needed.
“Santana…” Quinn warned you.
“I showed you.”
“That’s different. You knew I will be hearing about it any day now from my own parents.”
“My letter, my judgement,” Santana said with finality before turning back to face Brittany. “My mother said that there is a rumor going around that the baby survived. If that’s true, and he did, then he should be at Hogwarts in our very year.”
“So he survived?” Brittany asked hopefully.
“It’s just a rumor,” Santana answered. “But my mother has set it upon me to find out whether or not that rumor is true.”
“Why does it matter if it is or isn’t? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead; it doesn’t matter if there’s a child running around that could grow up to defeat him because he is already defeated. Let the child live his life. He suffered enough because of the creep, let him enjoy the guy’s death.”
“That’s the thing,” Santana stated carefully, her voice slightly shaky as she thought about the hidden revelation in her mother’s words, a revelation her mother would have never written down. Implications and hidden meanings were something Santana had mastered at an early age-her parents and their acquaintances thrived on them. “If the baby lived, then there is a good chance that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did as well.”
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