LEGEND OF THE SEEKER FIC: Cara/Kahlan
Title: Advanced Charms [Goshawk, M.]
Cast: Cara/Kahlan, Dahlia, Denna, Richard, etc.
Summary: Sequel to Unresolved Tensions and Peace Treaties Time Forgot. Because Kahlan is unpredictable, but Cara's reaction is probably to be expected. Quidditch to come.
Notes: Still a Harry Potter crossover, still pretty primarily PG-13. Thank you to the-girl-20, vicki595, and thebasseffect for putting up with my rambling and fixing my grammar in turns. About 4,400 words.
Since their meeting on the pitch, things with Kahlan don't go at all the way Cara might have expected them to.
For one, there can hardly be said to be things with Kahlan at all.
The very next morning in Charms, Kahlan pretends not to even notice her. The class isn't very big -- just the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, after all -- and there should be no way for Cara to go unseen. Yet somehow as soon as Kahlan steps through the door, her eyes skate and skid right past the spot at the table where Cara is sitting. She smiles at one of the Slytherins only a few seats down, and sashays right past Cara.
That's precisely what she does. She sashays as if she hasn't a care in the world.
"What were you up to last night?" Cara traces quick notes on her parchment while pretending not to listen to the other Slytherin girl questioning Kahlan through a conspiratorial grin. "Your bed was empty very late."
The girl's name is Denna, and she is second to Kahlan in almost all things, but first in her class in spreading rumors.
"Don't be a gossip," Kahlan says, sounding incredibly coy. Out of the corner of her eye, Cara can see the practiced way that Kahlan bites her lip and teases hair back behind her ear. This isn't a real attempt at casual. Cara knows how Kahlan Amnell actually does casual and it's far more contained and composed, less obvious fidgeting.
This is Kahlan pretending to be someone who is anxious and uncertain, blushing like a school girl, without wanting to be caught, saying, "You know I hate that."
"Oh," Denna gasps. "Richard?"
Cara desperately wishes now that her pretense of not hearing was real, and that she was wholly focused on Charms instead. That she really wasn't aware of the smile on Kahlan's face just at the edge of her peripheral vision. She wishes that she could ignore it, but she can't.
So she turns her head.
She looks, and for a brief moment she catches Kahlan's eye. It's only a vague instant of hesitation, a sidelong glance, and then Kahlan is smiling at her friend. Cara is forgotten.
"… yeah," Kahlan says as if the answer is being dragged out of her. She pretends to squirm, but it isn't real.
Cara knows what Kahlan looks like when she really squirms.
She did it last night with their mouths pressed together and Kahlan's hand braced against the railing as she leaned and leaned. She pressed forward and pushed Cara back. The wood groaned, but so did Kahlan. They slid across the bench, nudged onward by Kahlan's hips and quiet laughs.
Cara had seen the way Kahlan's blush started to fade the longer they went on, disappearing beneath the sighs and that charming, tiny smile that made Cara's heart clench. That was real.
"Yes," Kahlan says again, almost breathless. "Richard."
There are many things that Kahlan is good at, but some things she is not. Best in her class in nearly every way, the very best Hogwarts has to offer. Everyone knows it.
But she's also good at smiling, Cara learned, though she doesn't show it to everyone. She was good at kissing, and the way her fingers got caught up in Cara's hair had a rightness to it born from confidence.
She was good at finding things to whisper when they had both stopped and the only sound left was the thumping of their hearts. But she was no good at all at hiding the uneven staccato in her breathing when she said she'd had enough, it's time to go back.
Cara could only grin. She'd thought Kahlan a terrible liar.
But she was wrong. She knows it now.
No one lies half as well as Kahlan Amnell.
*
The library is no better.
Although she tries to make an effort to understand the mess of notes she took during Charms, Cara keeps finding herself distracted. It's bad enough that Dahlia and Chase decided to use her table to discuss the upcoming match against Slytherin at an incredibly loud volume.
What makes it worse is having one of those very same Slytherin players sitting just one table away, surrounded by a host of Gryffindors.
One of them Cara recognizes as Kahlan's younger sister -- the one with the big eyes and an even bigger mouth. It's well known that she's the reason that the pride of Slytherin house began associating with stupid little Gryffindors sometime in her third year. In some ways, Dennee served as match-maker for her big sister and Richard Cypher, the boy with the incredibly poor haircut.
Merlin, is his haircut awful. Doesn't he know there are charms for that?
Memorizing wand movements is one thing, but ignoring giggling and whispers is a skill far beyond Cara's current capacity; and just now, Kahlan's chair is pushed up so close to Richard's that he's nearly smiling in her hair. It's a wonder it doesn't tickle.
But it's Kahlan who blushes and giggles again, tossing her hair back. Somehow she's found a way to move the chair even closer, her knee pressing firmly into Richard's thigh.
The two of them are so close together, the lines of their uniforms almost overlap. If Kahlan were wearing trousers today instead of a skirt, the fabric might seem to blend together completely. As it is, the flash of pale skin is quite distinctive.
And distracting.
It's Richard who notices Cara looking their way, and before she can turn her head, pretend it was only a brief glance, he sends her a friendly grin and a nod.
It's absolutely infuriating. Insufferable. She has half a mind to challenge him to a wizard duel, and would do it too if she didn't think it likely that he'd choose Kahlan as his second. Then Cara would be forced to hex her into next week after finishing Richard off.
Obviously, she would trounce Richard Cypher in any duel. He seems just the tragically noble sort who would want to establish all the rules before the whistle blows, but that's not how it works in dueling. Even noble, self-sacrificing Hufflepuffs know that.
Cara would bow, of course, but then it would be Richard's face planting on the ground and Kahlan sobbing over his broken body. She smiles a little to herself and imagines--
"What do you think, Cara?"
"… mm?"
The table's other two occupant are eyeing her expectantly, clearly waiting for the answer to some question already posed by one or the other. Cara hasn't the slightest idea what it might be. "I… agree."
Clearly pleased, Chase laughs and punches her on the arm. "Of course you do."
Cara laughs too, as if fully in on the joke. She shoots a look across to Dahlia, who smirks just the once, but then helpfully supplies, "We were just discussing preferred targets for the Quidditch match. I said you two ought to concentrate on Amnell. She's their top scorer after all."
Perhaps a bit too eager for the excuse, Cara's eyes flick back to Kahlan. "… yes."
"So you do agree." Dahlia leans in closer, her voice heavy with what sounds like added meaning. "You think that you ought to knock that bitch straight off her broom."
Chase hoots with laughter and slaps the table, which draws a couple looks from several surrounding study tables, including the group of Gryffindors (plus one).
This time when Cara's eyes meet with Kahlan's, she is ready with a sneer.
Chase notices and nudges Cara's arm again, lighter this time. "Hey, don't get into it before the match," he says, shaking his head. "I don't need either of you serving a detention during practice because you don't like the Head Girl."
Cara meets his gaze and forces a smile that feels so false, she's certain that even Chase -- agreeable, friendly, but slightly vague Chase -- could recognize it. "Oh, I don't dislike her."
At the edge of Cara's periphery, she can see the dark head bent down over her notes again, and she can imagine precisely the way Kahlan bites her lip as she writes.
"I don't feel anything about her at all."
*
It's two days in a row that Dahlia spends so much of the day openly staring at Cara, but it isn't until they're both back in the Hufflepuff common room late in the evening that Dahlia grabs Cara by the tie and drags her into a rough and possessive kiss.
Obviously she has something she wants to prove, and Cara really finds it difficult to disagree with the method of approach.
The kiss is forceful, but reproachful too. There's a sharpness to the way Dahlia's mouth moves, not all that unlike the firmness to her jaw. There's always something a little sharp about Dahlia, and just for a moment Cara's certain she can feel teeth.
When they break apart, she notices for the first time a single, brown-haired first year boy watching from one of the over-stuffed yellow chairs close to the fire, mouth agape. Cara hooks her jaw over Dahlia's shoulder and gives him a wicked little leer. Her eyebrows rise and fall just the once, half-taunting and maybe half a challenge.
Come to think of it, she recognizes him. He's the one who earned the house 15 points by actually volunteering to help decorate the Great Hall for Halloween. Professor Sprout was so pleased, saying how no first years had ever assisted with decorations or cleaning without serving out a detention, and the boy ought to serve as a role model to us all.
Just the sort of over-achiever who gives the rest of them the kind of reputation Cara isn't particularly interested in living up to. He's a pest, but apparently he's also the sort of ickle firstie who is easily surprised -- if the confusion on his face is any indication.
She doesn't remember his name, though -- who really bothers with remembering first years -- until Dahlia smirks and says, "Off to bed, Diggory. Or I'll take all those house points back."
Cara has to laugh at how quickly he scampers off at the threat. Like most prefects -- and apparently all Head Girls -- Dahlia will take advantage of most opportunities to flaunt her authority, but at the end of the day she'd never take points from her own house. That sort of stupidity is only for achingly noble Gryffindors whose sense of justice outweighs common sense.
But nosey first years don't need to know that.
"Now..." Cara can't help but smirk a little as Dahlia casually buffs a shine back to her prefect's badge, but she at least pretends not to notice. Consider it a courtesy. "Where were we?"
"Actually," Dahlia whispers, slipping Cara's tie loose from where it's tucked away beneath her plain grey sweater. "Where were you?" A quick tug, and now Cara's mouth is only inches away.
She's also going slightly cross-eyed from proximity. "... what?"
"Last night." Dahlia wraps the tie around her knuckles once and Cara has to take a step forward, bracing a hand against Dahlia's stomach.
She can feel it clenching under her touch.
"Were you with her?"
"Who?" Cara asks, feeling foolish.
"Don't." There's a minor touch of desperation in Dahlia's voice, mixed in with reproach, that makes Cara almost regret the lie. What's the point of it when neither is convinced? "Weren't you?" Dahlia asks again.
This time, Cara only nods.
And then Dahlia nods too, pulling sharply enough to drag Cara in for another kiss. She still tastes like pumpkin juice from dinner, but her mouth is hot. There's a spice mixed in with the sharpness, but perhaps that's cinnamon.
Even once the kissing stops, Dahlia doesn't let loose of the tie. Even her breathing is sharp now, and Cara is still so close that their mouths are touching when Dahlia whispers, "And you know better now, don't you?"
Cara can't be sure if it's more infuriating that Dahlia would say it, or that she's right.
Rather than deciding, she growls into the next kiss, claiming Dahlia's lower lip with her teeth. When they break apart, Dahlia is bleeding, and Cara is grinning. Let's see someone deny that tomorrow.
Of course it's possible, and Cara knows it. That's what simple healing charms are for, after all, so it's best to get out ahead of things.
So when Dahlia licks her lips and shivers at the slightly bitter taste of her own blood, Cara licks it too, saying, "Leave it."
She can feel a breath drawn in, the start of a protest, so she deepens the kiss until Dahlia goes complacent in her arms except for the slight shift of her weight. She's long since let go of the tie, but their bodies keep edging together.
In this moment, Dahlia feels almost soft. "And… if someone asks?"
Her voice is softer too, but heavy with sighs and the pressure of Dahlia's thighs moving into Cara until she has to take a small step back.
"Mm." Cara draws her thumb across Dahlia's mouth and pulls it back feeling slightly damp with blood. But it's only a swirl of pale pink, not half as red as the tongue that quickly follows to catch the digit in Dahlia's mouth.
"Mmhm," Dahlia coos, sucking lewdly. She grins around Cara's thumb, first showing teeth and then biting down. She follows through on even the mildest threats.
It's pleasantly consistent.
Her guilt almost completely forgotten now, Cara can feel only the early hot edge of lust creeping in.
Her tongue sneaks out first -- finding the curve of an ear -- and then her hand moves next, passing over a hip to very delicately lift the skirt that covers it. But her eyes remain in one place, locked on Dahlia's, when she whispers, "Tell them you're mine."
There's another deep breath in, and an even heavier one goes out. Dahlia's panting, and maybe she'd like to say something in return, but Cara isn't interested in hearing it.
The sofa is just as stuffed and plush as the chairs close to the fire, and it's only a few short shoves before they're both sprawled out together, with Cara on top.
Any more pesky first years passing through had best not dare interrupt.
*
The Hogwarts owls are trained, of course, but that doesn't necessarily make them amiable. Getting one to deliver your mail on time, and precisely where you want it to be, is a sort of magic all its own.
Really they're just one more in a string of complications that crop up whenever Cara writes to her little sister, Grace, to tell her about her most recent month at Hogwarts.
It's difficult to know what to say, for one thing. They live such different lives now. Say too much about magic and it might seem as if she's bragging. Or worse.
It's not hard to imagine the sort of monster she might sound like to someone unfamiliar with the particular habits and rhythms of a wizarding school. It's not exactly normal to turn cups into mice and back again, after all. At least, it wasn't when Cara lived with Muggles. That sort of behavior is mandatory here at Hogwarts. And maybe jinxing someone to grow burning boils or half-drowning a few second years by flooding the loo should sound strange and surreal, but when Chase did it two weeks ago Cara thought it was pretty good fun.
It's just hard to know what to say.
Still, she manages to get something down once a month or so, and sometimes Grace will even write back a few quick lines in response. She doesn't have time to jot down much more than that when any reply has to be sent back with the same Hogwarts owl the original letter came with. Grace lives in foster care with a Muggle family and doesn't have many chances for trips to Diagon Alley to pay for an owl delivery.
Today's letter is quite like the rest of them. Cara inquires after Grace's health and offers vague details about Quidditch practices and classwork. The only change from the norm is an additional note at the end, saying, Once school is done with in the spring, I'll be able to visit outside of holidays, if you would like that.
Your Sister,
Cara
Now all that's left is to find the right owl to send it with.
Which Cara has been working at for the past five minutes. It's not as simple as grabbing the first owl that holds still without nipping at a stranger -- though that's certainly a start. You don't want the kind of bird that likes to show off and make a racket delivering letters in Muggle neighborhoods. On the other hand, any owl that seems likely to fall asleep or abandon a delivery out of boredom can't be trusted either.
It's very lucky for Grace that Cara holds her in high enough esteem to bother with this once every four weeks. She's certain not everyone has such a caring and considerate sister.
And just at the moment, she's reconsidering just how much she cares as the third owl in a row nips at her.
"Fucking hell." Cara sucks on the injured finger, but immediately regrets it. Nothing about the owlery seems sanitary. With her luck she's just contracted some rare avian flu that will make her wand hand useless just in time for next week's exam.
This isn't going well at all.
She's already considering abandoning the effort for today and coming back later when the owls are in a better mood -- perhaps sometime after lunch -- when she hears footsteps racing up the spiral staircase. Great, now they're even more agitated.
Cara sighs the long-suffering sigh of someone who has spent many years putting up with the mistakes of far less capable students. The letter will obviously have to wait. She dismounts from the ladder she was using to reach some of the higher perches, makes ready to go--
And very nearly collides with Kahlan on her way out the door.
"Oh-- Cara!"
Perfect. Just exactly what her morning needed.
"Yes," Cara says, trying to work a delicate balance between disdain and disinterest into just the one syllable. "Amnell..."
Cara starts to leave again, but it's rather difficult with Kahlan still taking up the doorway. If anything, it seems as if she's moved to block Cara from going. It's childish enough that Cara feels justified in what might be an equally immature response of crossing her arms and sighing heavily. "Do you mind?"
"Your letter," Kahlan says, nodding to the parchment Cara's still holding in her hand -- as if the word "letter" might somehow be unclear. "Aren't you going to mail it?"
"… obviously."
Kahlan's smile is incredibly self-satisfied for someone who is such an unbearable nuisance. "From… Potions?" She tilts her head and nods up to the rafters. "Because I don't know if you've noticed, but there are a few owls here already."
"Yes." Cara refuses to look up, since that might ruin the effect of her glare. "I see."
It's difficult to keep the dirty look going once Kahlan's smile begins to soften, though. "Do you need to borrow an owl?" Even worse is when she puts her hand on Cara's arm, which is unsettling in so many ways that it's impossible to count.
Decidedly uncomfortable, Cara takes a step back from the touch and frowns. This time, though, it's more of a look of confusion than accusation. Because Cara really is terribly confused. "Why would you--"
"I've only got to send Wen with a message for Dumbledore. She'll have time to deliver yours as well."
"… your owl is named When?" It's absurd enough to make Cara forget the touching. For now. "Why not Where? Or How?"
But Kahlan only blinks. "Sorry? … Oh. Ohhh, no, it's--" And now she's doing that charming laughing and smiling thing she did the other night before she lunged at Cara's mouth.
Just to be safe, Cara takes another step back.
"It's Wen, but it's short for Wenlock. Bridget Wenlock, she was a famous Arithmancer."
Cara anticipates the snide remark sure to follow about that being why she wouldn't recognize the name, of course, since Arithmancy is such a difficult subject and Cara is such an unexceptional student.
But it doesn't come. Kahlan just keeps smiling, and points up to the rafters. "That's Wen there. Come on."
If Cara thought she had finally figured Kahlan's act out completely, obviously she was wrong.
Cara really hates being wrong.
*
It turns out that Wenlock is a large grey owl with a calm enough demeanor that she eats right out of Cara's hand and sits quietly on Kahlan's shoulder while she finishes her message to Dumbledore.
The sudden generosity is still confusing. Why on earth is Kahlan pretending to be nice today, and why should Cara trust it?
She's in the midst of mulling this over when Kahlan interrupts her thoughts, asking, "Is it for your sister?"
Immediately, Cara stiffens. She doesn't like to talk about her family, not at school. That's why her mouth's already gone dry when she asks, "What makes you think I've got one?"
"Well, you said as much. First or second year, I think," Kahlan says with a light laugh. Since when has Amnell paid attention to her since first or second year? It seems odd, and definitely unsettling, too. Cara might have to start a list of all the upsetting things Kahlan Amnell does when she's trying to be nice. "I've got a sister too, you know. So I remembered."
"Yes, I do know." Cara snorts. "She's best friends with your Gryffindor."
"He's not my--"
"Your boyfriend then."
And this time, Cara notices, Kahlan doesn't object.
*
By the time they make it down the full length of the spiraling stairs, Wenlock has probably already made her way to Dumbledore and is off to deliver Cara's letter to Grace.
She knows she ought to feel grateful, but the thought of owing Kahlan Amnell anything at this point is making her feel ill instead.
Better to remind them both of where things stand, she thinks. So it's only logic that has her take hold of Kahlan's robes to tug her back in close for a chat.
No ulterior motives here.
Even if that startled look on Kahlan's face is cute in its own way. An infuriating, unbelievably annoying way. "… what is it, Cara?"
"Tell your boyfriend to stop staring at me."
"He's not--"
"The one you'd rather be snogging?" Cara smirks, and the rising blush on Kahlan's cheeks only increases her sense of satisfaction. "Yeah, I rather noticed. Bit late now, Amnell."
Kahlan bites her lip and for just a moment, Cara's eyes drift down. It's a distraction.
So she thinks about kissing Dahlia, instead. The way Dahlia's hands fit just so on her hips, clenching. The way her mouth gives way under Cara's.
The way Kahlan looks up at her through her lashes. How does she manage it when they're so near the same height? And the way her mouth parts when she--
"Cara."
Cara blinks and then she's back again in the moment, but horribly unnerved. "Just… tell your Gryffindor."
*
Whatever Kahlan says to him must not be enough, because there Richard is during the break between first and second class. Cara's alone, without Dahlia or Chase to scare him off or warn her of his approach, so he manages to catch her by surprise.
But just how thick can he be? She wouldn't have expected this from a Seeker. Aren't they meant to have finely-tuned observational skills? Dahlia, at least, has eyes like a hawk.
"Are you lost?" Maybe something more direct and he'll catch a hint.
"I wanted to speak with you."
"Oh, haven't you heard? You're not my type." She sneers, Kahlan's words from that night beating in her ears. "Thought the whole school knew, or very nearly." Abruptly looking away, her eyes drift to her notes. The better to feign disinterest in his reaction when she says, "Besides, thought you were busy with Amnell. Frequently. On the pitch."
When she finally lifts her eyes again, he's wearing the frustrated look of someone used to being terribly misunderstood. How very Gryffindor. "I don't know where that came from," he huffs, arms crossed and shoulders hunched.
Cara thinks she might say something lewd about rumors originating from Kahlan's own luscious mouth, but that would only prolong this already painful conversation. "What do you want?" she says, striving valiantly not to sound resigned. This is for the sake of her own curiosity; he hasn't won anything.
"You know Leo, of course."
"… who?"
"He-- oh. He's in Gryffindor? Chaser. You were staring at him all day yesterday."
Oh, him. One of the Gryffindor Chasers it seems had taken Quidditch a bit too seriously and taken to chasing after Cara. For the past three years.
He must have been sitting at the table next to that Slytherin before. "Yes, right-- Him. I know."
"He wanted to invite you to study with us later."
"He wanted you to invite me?"
"Well, no. He doesn't know I'm here."
Cara just barely manages to regulate her smirk into a smile. Someone naive as a Gryffindor might even mistake it for sincere. "I imagine no one knows you're here then."
"I suppose not."
"You are such a good friend, Richard."
For his part, Richard just looks pleased that Cara isn't scowling at him any longer.
*
Once again, the Gryffindors are sharing their table with at least one Slytherin, but it looks like this time Kahlan has brought Denna along as well. Neither looks especially pleased with their arrangements, but perhaps it's for the better.
With Denna here to witness, the news of what's about to happen will spread faster than ever. That has to be a good thing.
This is what Cara wants, isn't it?
Either way it's happening and she feels almost unable to stop, pulled forward along with the earth's rotation. Leo is there, one chair away from Kahlan, with a Charms book laid out in front of him and an easy smile on his face.
It drops completely when he sees Cara advancing toward him. The look on her face is probably not all too unlike the one she wears in Quidditch when overtaking a particularly unruly Bludger. It's a look of determination.
She will not be turned aside.
"Cara, oh-- Hi, hello," Leo stammers, jumping up from his chair.
But Cara shoves him back down into it and takes a seat in his lap just to make sure he stays. "Shut up."
Her mouth pressed firmly to his is the added security there.
Next to her, she can hear Denna gasp and Richard's hearty laugh. If there's any response from Kahlan, she doesn't deign to make it audible.
And Cara can't -- no, won't -- be bothered to look.
Leo tastes a bit like butterbeer and something sweet, but even more like victory and satisfaction. She might have to make things up to Dahlia for this later, but this needed doing. Even once Madam Pince notices and has tossed them all out -- which she's absolutely sure to -- it will have been worth it.
Because this is a reminder.
Kahlan Amnell might be top of the class and first in all things, but when it comes to Cara, her place is at the back of the line.
Cast: Cara/Kahlan, Dahlia, Denna, Richard, etc.
Summary: Sequel to Unresolved Tensions and Peace Treaties Time Forgot. Because Kahlan is unpredictable, but Cara's reaction is probably to be expected. Quidditch to come.
Notes: Still a Harry Potter crossover, still pretty primarily PG-13. Thank you to the-girl-20, vicki595, and thebasseffect for putting up with my rambling and fixing my grammar in turns. About 4,400 words.
Since their meeting on the pitch, things with Kahlan don't go at all the way Cara might have expected them to.
For one, there can hardly be said to be things with Kahlan at all.
The very next morning in Charms, Kahlan pretends not to even notice her. The class isn't very big -- just the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, after all -- and there should be no way for Cara to go unseen. Yet somehow as soon as Kahlan steps through the door, her eyes skate and skid right past the spot at the table where Cara is sitting. She smiles at one of the Slytherins only a few seats down, and sashays right past Cara.
That's precisely what she does. She sashays as if she hasn't a care in the world.
"What were you up to last night?" Cara traces quick notes on her parchment while pretending not to listen to the other Slytherin girl questioning Kahlan through a conspiratorial grin. "Your bed was empty very late."
The girl's name is Denna, and she is second to Kahlan in almost all things, but first in her class in spreading rumors.
"Don't be a gossip," Kahlan says, sounding incredibly coy. Out of the corner of her eye, Cara can see the practiced way that Kahlan bites her lip and teases hair back behind her ear. This isn't a real attempt at casual. Cara knows how Kahlan Amnell actually does casual and it's far more contained and composed, less obvious fidgeting.
This is Kahlan pretending to be someone who is anxious and uncertain, blushing like a school girl, without wanting to be caught, saying, "You know I hate that."
"Oh," Denna gasps. "Richard?"
Cara desperately wishes now that her pretense of not hearing was real, and that she was wholly focused on Charms instead. That she really wasn't aware of the smile on Kahlan's face just at the edge of her peripheral vision. She wishes that she could ignore it, but she can't.
So she turns her head.
She looks, and for a brief moment she catches Kahlan's eye. It's only a vague instant of hesitation, a sidelong glance, and then Kahlan is smiling at her friend. Cara is forgotten.
"… yeah," Kahlan says as if the answer is being dragged out of her. She pretends to squirm, but it isn't real.
Cara knows what Kahlan looks like when she really squirms.
She did it last night with their mouths pressed together and Kahlan's hand braced against the railing as she leaned and leaned. She pressed forward and pushed Cara back. The wood groaned, but so did Kahlan. They slid across the bench, nudged onward by Kahlan's hips and quiet laughs.
Cara had seen the way Kahlan's blush started to fade the longer they went on, disappearing beneath the sighs and that charming, tiny smile that made Cara's heart clench. That was real.
"Yes," Kahlan says again, almost breathless. "Richard."
There are many things that Kahlan is good at, but some things she is not. Best in her class in nearly every way, the very best Hogwarts has to offer. Everyone knows it.
But she's also good at smiling, Cara learned, though she doesn't show it to everyone. She was good at kissing, and the way her fingers got caught up in Cara's hair had a rightness to it born from confidence.
She was good at finding things to whisper when they had both stopped and the only sound left was the thumping of their hearts. But she was no good at all at hiding the uneven staccato in her breathing when she said she'd had enough, it's time to go back.
Cara could only grin. She'd thought Kahlan a terrible liar.
But she was wrong. She knows it now.
No one lies half as well as Kahlan Amnell.
*
The library is no better.
Although she tries to make an effort to understand the mess of notes she took during Charms, Cara keeps finding herself distracted. It's bad enough that Dahlia and Chase decided to use her table to discuss the upcoming match against Slytherin at an incredibly loud volume.
What makes it worse is having one of those very same Slytherin players sitting just one table away, surrounded by a host of Gryffindors.
One of them Cara recognizes as Kahlan's younger sister -- the one with the big eyes and an even bigger mouth. It's well known that she's the reason that the pride of Slytherin house began associating with stupid little Gryffindors sometime in her third year. In some ways, Dennee served as match-maker for her big sister and Richard Cypher, the boy with the incredibly poor haircut.
Merlin, is his haircut awful. Doesn't he know there are charms for that?
Memorizing wand movements is one thing, but ignoring giggling and whispers is a skill far beyond Cara's current capacity; and just now, Kahlan's chair is pushed up so close to Richard's that he's nearly smiling in her hair. It's a wonder it doesn't tickle.
But it's Kahlan who blushes and giggles again, tossing her hair back. Somehow she's found a way to move the chair even closer, her knee pressing firmly into Richard's thigh.
The two of them are so close together, the lines of their uniforms almost overlap. If Kahlan were wearing trousers today instead of a skirt, the fabric might seem to blend together completely. As it is, the flash of pale skin is quite distinctive.
And distracting.
It's Richard who notices Cara looking their way, and before she can turn her head, pretend it was only a brief glance, he sends her a friendly grin and a nod.
It's absolutely infuriating. Insufferable. She has half a mind to challenge him to a wizard duel, and would do it too if she didn't think it likely that he'd choose Kahlan as his second. Then Cara would be forced to hex her into next week after finishing Richard off.
Obviously, she would trounce Richard Cypher in any duel. He seems just the tragically noble sort who would want to establish all the rules before the whistle blows, but that's not how it works in dueling. Even noble, self-sacrificing Hufflepuffs know that.
Cara would bow, of course, but then it would be Richard's face planting on the ground and Kahlan sobbing over his broken body. She smiles a little to herself and imagines--
"What do you think, Cara?"
"… mm?"
The table's other two occupant are eyeing her expectantly, clearly waiting for the answer to some question already posed by one or the other. Cara hasn't the slightest idea what it might be. "I… agree."
Clearly pleased, Chase laughs and punches her on the arm. "Of course you do."
Cara laughs too, as if fully in on the joke. She shoots a look across to Dahlia, who smirks just the once, but then helpfully supplies, "We were just discussing preferred targets for the Quidditch match. I said you two ought to concentrate on Amnell. She's their top scorer after all."
Perhaps a bit too eager for the excuse, Cara's eyes flick back to Kahlan. "… yes."
"So you do agree." Dahlia leans in closer, her voice heavy with what sounds like added meaning. "You think that you ought to knock that bitch straight off her broom."
Chase hoots with laughter and slaps the table, which draws a couple looks from several surrounding study tables, including the group of Gryffindors (plus one).
This time when Cara's eyes meet with Kahlan's, she is ready with a sneer.
Chase notices and nudges Cara's arm again, lighter this time. "Hey, don't get into it before the match," he says, shaking his head. "I don't need either of you serving a detention during practice because you don't like the Head Girl."
Cara meets his gaze and forces a smile that feels so false, she's certain that even Chase -- agreeable, friendly, but slightly vague Chase -- could recognize it. "Oh, I don't dislike her."
At the edge of Cara's periphery, she can see the dark head bent down over her notes again, and she can imagine precisely the way Kahlan bites her lip as she writes.
"I don't feel anything about her at all."
*
It's two days in a row that Dahlia spends so much of the day openly staring at Cara, but it isn't until they're both back in the Hufflepuff common room late in the evening that Dahlia grabs Cara by the tie and drags her into a rough and possessive kiss.
Obviously she has something she wants to prove, and Cara really finds it difficult to disagree with the method of approach.
The kiss is forceful, but reproachful too. There's a sharpness to the way Dahlia's mouth moves, not all that unlike the firmness to her jaw. There's always something a little sharp about Dahlia, and just for a moment Cara's certain she can feel teeth.
When they break apart, she notices for the first time a single, brown-haired first year boy watching from one of the over-stuffed yellow chairs close to the fire, mouth agape. Cara hooks her jaw over Dahlia's shoulder and gives him a wicked little leer. Her eyebrows rise and fall just the once, half-taunting and maybe half a challenge.
Come to think of it, she recognizes him. He's the one who earned the house 15 points by actually volunteering to help decorate the Great Hall for Halloween. Professor Sprout was so pleased, saying how no first years had ever assisted with decorations or cleaning without serving out a detention, and the boy ought to serve as a role model to us all.
Just the sort of over-achiever who gives the rest of them the kind of reputation Cara isn't particularly interested in living up to. He's a pest, but apparently he's also the sort of ickle firstie who is easily surprised -- if the confusion on his face is any indication.
She doesn't remember his name, though -- who really bothers with remembering first years -- until Dahlia smirks and says, "Off to bed, Diggory. Or I'll take all those house points back."
Cara has to laugh at how quickly he scampers off at the threat. Like most prefects -- and apparently all Head Girls -- Dahlia will take advantage of most opportunities to flaunt her authority, but at the end of the day she'd never take points from her own house. That sort of stupidity is only for achingly noble Gryffindors whose sense of justice outweighs common sense.
But nosey first years don't need to know that.
"Now..." Cara can't help but smirk a little as Dahlia casually buffs a shine back to her prefect's badge, but she at least pretends not to notice. Consider it a courtesy. "Where were we?"
"Actually," Dahlia whispers, slipping Cara's tie loose from where it's tucked away beneath her plain grey sweater. "Where were you?" A quick tug, and now Cara's mouth is only inches away.
She's also going slightly cross-eyed from proximity. "... what?"
"Last night." Dahlia wraps the tie around her knuckles once and Cara has to take a step forward, bracing a hand against Dahlia's stomach.
She can feel it clenching under her touch.
"Were you with her?"
"Who?" Cara asks, feeling foolish.
"Don't." There's a minor touch of desperation in Dahlia's voice, mixed in with reproach, that makes Cara almost regret the lie. What's the point of it when neither is convinced? "Weren't you?" Dahlia asks again.
This time, Cara only nods.
And then Dahlia nods too, pulling sharply enough to drag Cara in for another kiss. She still tastes like pumpkin juice from dinner, but her mouth is hot. There's a spice mixed in with the sharpness, but perhaps that's cinnamon.
Even once the kissing stops, Dahlia doesn't let loose of the tie. Even her breathing is sharp now, and Cara is still so close that their mouths are touching when Dahlia whispers, "And you know better now, don't you?"
Cara can't be sure if it's more infuriating that Dahlia would say it, or that she's right.
Rather than deciding, she growls into the next kiss, claiming Dahlia's lower lip with her teeth. When they break apart, Dahlia is bleeding, and Cara is grinning. Let's see someone deny that tomorrow.
Of course it's possible, and Cara knows it. That's what simple healing charms are for, after all, so it's best to get out ahead of things.
So when Dahlia licks her lips and shivers at the slightly bitter taste of her own blood, Cara licks it too, saying, "Leave it."
She can feel a breath drawn in, the start of a protest, so she deepens the kiss until Dahlia goes complacent in her arms except for the slight shift of her weight. She's long since let go of the tie, but their bodies keep edging together.
In this moment, Dahlia feels almost soft. "And… if someone asks?"
Her voice is softer too, but heavy with sighs and the pressure of Dahlia's thighs moving into Cara until she has to take a small step back.
"Mm." Cara draws her thumb across Dahlia's mouth and pulls it back feeling slightly damp with blood. But it's only a swirl of pale pink, not half as red as the tongue that quickly follows to catch the digit in Dahlia's mouth.
"Mmhm," Dahlia coos, sucking lewdly. She grins around Cara's thumb, first showing teeth and then biting down. She follows through on even the mildest threats.
It's pleasantly consistent.
Her guilt almost completely forgotten now, Cara can feel only the early hot edge of lust creeping in.
Her tongue sneaks out first -- finding the curve of an ear -- and then her hand moves next, passing over a hip to very delicately lift the skirt that covers it. But her eyes remain in one place, locked on Dahlia's, when she whispers, "Tell them you're mine."
There's another deep breath in, and an even heavier one goes out. Dahlia's panting, and maybe she'd like to say something in return, but Cara isn't interested in hearing it.
The sofa is just as stuffed and plush as the chairs close to the fire, and it's only a few short shoves before they're both sprawled out together, with Cara on top.
Any more pesky first years passing through had best not dare interrupt.
*
The Hogwarts owls are trained, of course, but that doesn't necessarily make them amiable. Getting one to deliver your mail on time, and precisely where you want it to be, is a sort of magic all its own.
Really they're just one more in a string of complications that crop up whenever Cara writes to her little sister, Grace, to tell her about her most recent month at Hogwarts.
It's difficult to know what to say, for one thing. They live such different lives now. Say too much about magic and it might seem as if she's bragging. Or worse.
It's not hard to imagine the sort of monster she might sound like to someone unfamiliar with the particular habits and rhythms of a wizarding school. It's not exactly normal to turn cups into mice and back again, after all. At least, it wasn't when Cara lived with Muggles. That sort of behavior is mandatory here at Hogwarts. And maybe jinxing someone to grow burning boils or half-drowning a few second years by flooding the loo should sound strange and surreal, but when Chase did it two weeks ago Cara thought it was pretty good fun.
It's just hard to know what to say.
Still, she manages to get something down once a month or so, and sometimes Grace will even write back a few quick lines in response. She doesn't have time to jot down much more than that when any reply has to be sent back with the same Hogwarts owl the original letter came with. Grace lives in foster care with a Muggle family and doesn't have many chances for trips to Diagon Alley to pay for an owl delivery.
Today's letter is quite like the rest of them. Cara inquires after Grace's health and offers vague details about Quidditch practices and classwork. The only change from the norm is an additional note at the end, saying, Once school is done with in the spring, I'll be able to visit outside of holidays, if you would like that.
Your Sister,
Cara
Now all that's left is to find the right owl to send it with.
Which Cara has been working at for the past five minutes. It's not as simple as grabbing the first owl that holds still without nipping at a stranger -- though that's certainly a start. You don't want the kind of bird that likes to show off and make a racket delivering letters in Muggle neighborhoods. On the other hand, any owl that seems likely to fall asleep or abandon a delivery out of boredom can't be trusted either.
It's very lucky for Grace that Cara holds her in high enough esteem to bother with this once every four weeks. She's certain not everyone has such a caring and considerate sister.
And just at the moment, she's reconsidering just how much she cares as the third owl in a row nips at her.
"Fucking hell." Cara sucks on the injured finger, but immediately regrets it. Nothing about the owlery seems sanitary. With her luck she's just contracted some rare avian flu that will make her wand hand useless just in time for next week's exam.
This isn't going well at all.
She's already considering abandoning the effort for today and coming back later when the owls are in a better mood -- perhaps sometime after lunch -- when she hears footsteps racing up the spiral staircase. Great, now they're even more agitated.
Cara sighs the long-suffering sigh of someone who has spent many years putting up with the mistakes of far less capable students. The letter will obviously have to wait. She dismounts from the ladder she was using to reach some of the higher perches, makes ready to go--
And very nearly collides with Kahlan on her way out the door.
"Oh-- Cara!"
Perfect. Just exactly what her morning needed.
"Yes," Cara says, trying to work a delicate balance between disdain and disinterest into just the one syllable. "Amnell..."
Cara starts to leave again, but it's rather difficult with Kahlan still taking up the doorway. If anything, it seems as if she's moved to block Cara from going. It's childish enough that Cara feels justified in what might be an equally immature response of crossing her arms and sighing heavily. "Do you mind?"
"Your letter," Kahlan says, nodding to the parchment Cara's still holding in her hand -- as if the word "letter" might somehow be unclear. "Aren't you going to mail it?"
"… obviously."
Kahlan's smile is incredibly self-satisfied for someone who is such an unbearable nuisance. "From… Potions?" She tilts her head and nods up to the rafters. "Because I don't know if you've noticed, but there are a few owls here already."
"Yes." Cara refuses to look up, since that might ruin the effect of her glare. "I see."
It's difficult to keep the dirty look going once Kahlan's smile begins to soften, though. "Do you need to borrow an owl?" Even worse is when she puts her hand on Cara's arm, which is unsettling in so many ways that it's impossible to count.
Decidedly uncomfortable, Cara takes a step back from the touch and frowns. This time, though, it's more of a look of confusion than accusation. Because Cara really is terribly confused. "Why would you--"
"I've only got to send Wen with a message for Dumbledore. She'll have time to deliver yours as well."
"… your owl is named When?" It's absurd enough to make Cara forget the touching. For now. "Why not Where? Or How?"
But Kahlan only blinks. "Sorry? … Oh. Ohhh, no, it's--" And now she's doing that charming laughing and smiling thing she did the other night before she lunged at Cara's mouth.
Just to be safe, Cara takes another step back.
"It's Wen, but it's short for Wenlock. Bridget Wenlock, she was a famous Arithmancer."
Cara anticipates the snide remark sure to follow about that being why she wouldn't recognize the name, of course, since Arithmancy is such a difficult subject and Cara is such an unexceptional student.
But it doesn't come. Kahlan just keeps smiling, and points up to the rafters. "That's Wen there. Come on."
If Cara thought she had finally figured Kahlan's act out completely, obviously she was wrong.
Cara really hates being wrong.
*
It turns out that Wenlock is a large grey owl with a calm enough demeanor that she eats right out of Cara's hand and sits quietly on Kahlan's shoulder while she finishes her message to Dumbledore.
The sudden generosity is still confusing. Why on earth is Kahlan pretending to be nice today, and why should Cara trust it?
She's in the midst of mulling this over when Kahlan interrupts her thoughts, asking, "Is it for your sister?"
Immediately, Cara stiffens. She doesn't like to talk about her family, not at school. That's why her mouth's already gone dry when she asks, "What makes you think I've got one?"
"Well, you said as much. First or second year, I think," Kahlan says with a light laugh. Since when has Amnell paid attention to her since first or second year? It seems odd, and definitely unsettling, too. Cara might have to start a list of all the upsetting things Kahlan Amnell does when she's trying to be nice. "I've got a sister too, you know. So I remembered."
"Yes, I do know." Cara snorts. "She's best friends with your Gryffindor."
"He's not my--"
"Your boyfriend then."
And this time, Cara notices, Kahlan doesn't object.
*
By the time they make it down the full length of the spiraling stairs, Wenlock has probably already made her way to Dumbledore and is off to deliver Cara's letter to Grace.
She knows she ought to feel grateful, but the thought of owing Kahlan Amnell anything at this point is making her feel ill instead.
Better to remind them both of where things stand, she thinks. So it's only logic that has her take hold of Kahlan's robes to tug her back in close for a chat.
No ulterior motives here.
Even if that startled look on Kahlan's face is cute in its own way. An infuriating, unbelievably annoying way. "… what is it, Cara?"
"Tell your boyfriend to stop staring at me."
"He's not--"
"The one you'd rather be snogging?" Cara smirks, and the rising blush on Kahlan's cheeks only increases her sense of satisfaction. "Yeah, I rather noticed. Bit late now, Amnell."
Kahlan bites her lip and for just a moment, Cara's eyes drift down. It's a distraction.
So she thinks about kissing Dahlia, instead. The way Dahlia's hands fit just so on her hips, clenching. The way her mouth gives way under Cara's.
The way Kahlan looks up at her through her lashes. How does she manage it when they're so near the same height? And the way her mouth parts when she--
"Cara."
Cara blinks and then she's back again in the moment, but horribly unnerved. "Just… tell your Gryffindor."
*
Whatever Kahlan says to him must not be enough, because there Richard is during the break between first and second class. Cara's alone, without Dahlia or Chase to scare him off or warn her of his approach, so he manages to catch her by surprise.
But just how thick can he be? She wouldn't have expected this from a Seeker. Aren't they meant to have finely-tuned observational skills? Dahlia, at least, has eyes like a hawk.
"Are you lost?" Maybe something more direct and he'll catch a hint.
"I wanted to speak with you."
"Oh, haven't you heard? You're not my type." She sneers, Kahlan's words from that night beating in her ears. "Thought the whole school knew, or very nearly." Abruptly looking away, her eyes drift to her notes. The better to feign disinterest in his reaction when she says, "Besides, thought you were busy with Amnell. Frequently. On the pitch."
When she finally lifts her eyes again, he's wearing the frustrated look of someone used to being terribly misunderstood. How very Gryffindor. "I don't know where that came from," he huffs, arms crossed and shoulders hunched.
Cara thinks she might say something lewd about rumors originating from Kahlan's own luscious mouth, but that would only prolong this already painful conversation. "What do you want?" she says, striving valiantly not to sound resigned. This is for the sake of her own curiosity; he hasn't won anything.
"You know Leo, of course."
"… who?"
"He-- oh. He's in Gryffindor? Chaser. You were staring at him all day yesterday."
Oh, him. One of the Gryffindor Chasers it seems had taken Quidditch a bit too seriously and taken to chasing after Cara. For the past three years.
He must have been sitting at the table next to that Slytherin before. "Yes, right-- Him. I know."
"He wanted to invite you to study with us later."
"He wanted you to invite me?"
"Well, no. He doesn't know I'm here."
Cara just barely manages to regulate her smirk into a smile. Someone naive as a Gryffindor might even mistake it for sincere. "I imagine no one knows you're here then."
"I suppose not."
"You are such a good friend, Richard."
For his part, Richard just looks pleased that Cara isn't scowling at him any longer.
*
Once again, the Gryffindors are sharing their table with at least one Slytherin, but it looks like this time Kahlan has brought Denna along as well. Neither looks especially pleased with their arrangements, but perhaps it's for the better.
With Denna here to witness, the news of what's about to happen will spread faster than ever. That has to be a good thing.
This is what Cara wants, isn't it?
Either way it's happening and she feels almost unable to stop, pulled forward along with the earth's rotation. Leo is there, one chair away from Kahlan, with a Charms book laid out in front of him and an easy smile on his face.
It drops completely when he sees Cara advancing toward him. The look on her face is probably not all too unlike the one she wears in Quidditch when overtaking a particularly unruly Bludger. It's a look of determination.
She will not be turned aside.
"Cara, oh-- Hi, hello," Leo stammers, jumping up from his chair.
But Cara shoves him back down into it and takes a seat in his lap just to make sure he stays. "Shut up."
Her mouth pressed firmly to his is the added security there.
Next to her, she can hear Denna gasp and Richard's hearty laugh. If there's any response from Kahlan, she doesn't deign to make it audible.
And Cara can't -- no, won't -- be bothered to look.
Leo tastes a bit like butterbeer and something sweet, but even more like victory and satisfaction. She might have to make things up to Dahlia for this later, but this needed doing. Even once Madam Pince notices and has tossed them all out -- which she's absolutely sure to -- it will have been worth it.
Because this is a reminder.
Kahlan Amnell might be top of the class and first in all things, but when it comes to Cara, her place is at the back of the line.