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Mattresses in the Hallway by thegirllikeme

Format: Short story
Chapters: 2
Word Count: 10,260
Status: WIP

Rating: 15+
Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Violence, Scenes of a Mild Sexual Nature, Substance Use or Abuse, Sensitive Topic/Issue/Theme

Genres: Humor
Characters: OC
Pairings:

First Published: 02/13/2011
Last Chapter: 02/16/2011
Last Updated: 02/16/2011

Summary:



It was a war of inconceivable proportions.
It began with enemies
and ended with the best of friends.

A tale of friendship told in two parts, starring Persephone Andreou and Valiant Bloodmoon

 

banner by coco786


Chapter 1: worst enemies
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Author's Note: The OCs, Persephone and Valiant, are from my chaptered series Once There Was A Darkness, so some events within this story reflect those that happen during Year One of OTWAD. If you have not read the story, you may not understand the full context of some of these events. However, it's not necessary to have read OTWAD to enjoy this story and I hope you will read on.





"A true friend is one who thinks you are a good egg even if you are half-cracked." ~Author Unknown




Of all of Persephone Andreou’s atrocious roommates, Valiant Bloodmoon was the worst.

It was true that Daphne Greengrass was an arrogant, pureblooded pig. With the way she strutted around the castles as though she was the finest thing Hogwarts had ever seen, turned her pointed nose into the air, and snorted that laugh that if you listened quite right, sounded like an oink, Persephone was tempted to put her on a leash, take her to the nearest fairground, and see if she could win the blue ribbon with her. And Tracey Davis was so preoccupied as being seen as ‘one of the purebloods’ that she was too busy to have any sort of personality of her own. Both of them were perfectly odious, obnoxious, and boring in their own right. But Valiant Bloodmoon was the worst of them all.

Persephone had known it from the first time she’d met her.

Of course, Persephone hadn’t made that good of a first impression, but she still insisted that it was hardly her fault.

Really, who could blame her that she had been born with a curiosity that her father had called insatiable? Then again, her father, like his ancestors before him, had been a Ravenclaw and he often used big adjectives to describe things. Persephone hadn’t bothered to look this word up, but she suspected it meant ‘always causes trouble’.

It also wasn’t Persephone’s fault that the drawing pad had been laying on the bed in plain view. Of course, Persephone had known that it wasn’t her bed or her thing, but when her curiosity got perked, propriety hardly mattered. She had been alone in the room so she had seen absolutely no harm in sneaking a peek. She thumbed through the drawings, marvelling at the sketches, so enchanted by the drawings of hippogriffs and dragons that she didn’t even hear the door open or footsteps approach.

A hand reached from behind her and whipped the pad out of her hands so swiftly that the page she had been holding sliced her finger. Persephone whirled about with a gasp. A dark-haired girl stood behind her. She had bangs so long they nearly covered her deep blue eyes, but Persephone could still manage to see the glare she wore impressively well. Eyes narrowed, nose wrinkled, this girl was giving the same disgusted, furious expression that her father always gave her when Persephone had chosen the wrong thing to say to their guests, and he could just die from embarrassment. Only this girl looked like she was more ready to kill than die.

So Persephone did the only thing she could reasonably do when she had been caught red-handed. She turned the blame on them.

Inspecting her bleeding finger, she whined, “You gave me a paper cut.” Persephone stuck her finger in her mouth, sucking on the metallic taste of blood which was rather like sucking on a mouthful of Knuts.

The girl didn’t look the least bit sympathetic. Instead, she curled her lip back in a snarl that seemed to belong more on the face of a lioness than the girl standing before her.

“Don’t you ever touch my things again!” she growled.

Persephone raised her eyebrows at the vicious tone in her voice. Merlin, the girl acted like she’d set fire to the thing, not just looked at it. “Okay, okay,” Persephone said, waving her hands as though dismissing a fly. “I was just looking at it. No need to go all mental about it.”

“Ever!” she growled again.

“Yeah,” Persephone agreed again, a little more annoyed. “I’m not deaf.”

The girl only turned her back on her. If Persephone had an ounce of the Ravenclaw intelligence, she might have let the girl be. But as her father said, she was incorrigible. Persephone hadn’t looked that up either, but she thought it meant she was some sort of masochist.

“They’re really good drawings, you know,” Persephone said.

No response. Odd.

“My name is Persephone, by the way.” She rolled her eyes and added, “And please, no Greek goddesses jokes. Believe me I’ve heard them all.” Catching a ride with Hades any time soon? Going to walk and make the flowers grow? Finally back from the Underworld, I see. Seriously, some of the tutors her parents had hired were just cruel. She had known they had wanted her to understand the Greek mythology well, but verbal abuse wasn’t exactly what she would call fun-ducational.

But the girl didn’t look as though she was about to make a joke. In fact, as she eyed Persephone with that permanently narrowed gaze, Persephone was willing to bet her last Galleon that this girl wouldn’t know a joke if it broke her funny bone.

“Persephone, huh?” she asked, eyeing Persephone from head to toe with a sneer on her face.

Persephone shifted uncomfortably and nodded. Really, the girl shouldn’t look at people like that. She was going to start scaring people.

“Bugger off, Persephone!” With that, the girl flopped onto her bed and pulled the green curtain shut in Persephone’s face.

Persephone stood flabbergasted, so stunned by the girl’s rude nature that she couldn’t be properly offended for several minutes. And then she huffed and crossed her arms and stuck her tongue out at the closed curtain. Finally, she stormed away, murmuring, “And people call me rude.”

Persephone later learned the girl was named Valiant Bloodmoon. Persephone, however, only referred to her as Grumpy.

It was evident from that first meeting that there would be trouble ahead of them, because never had there been two girls more different. Persephone, the vibrant, charismatic gossip, and Valiant, the grumpy, bitter loner. With two such different personalities, they were bond to clash. Call it fate or destiny or just really bad timing, but because of that first terrible meeting, a war had begun.

Persephone liked to think that had she known what looking at one drawing pad might have started, the chaos it would wreck on her life, she never would have dared glance at it. She would have turned around and never thought of it again. She would have willingly missed out on all that was to come.

Ha! Who was she kidding?

Persephone wouldn’t have missed it for the world!




For a time, things were calm between the two girls, mainly because they liked to pretend the other didn’t exist. Valiant only glared as they passed each other in the hallway and Persephone only stuck out her tongue at her as her back was turned. When they were actually in their room, Valiant mostly hid behind her curtain, drawing or doing schoolwork or whatever it was that demon children did. But Valiant wouldn’t have won the Worst Roommate in History Award for a few glares and anti-social behaviour.

Things were about to get worse.

It was two weeks into term when the first battle of the war was fought, and again Persephone insisted that it was in no way her fault. She had been lying on her bed after a particularly stressful day of classes in which she had managed to blow up a cauldron and transfigure her hand into a foot. She was flipping through the channels on her small radio, when her favourite Weird Sister song had come onto a particular station. Squealing with delight, Persephone cranked the volume up and leaped to her feet.

She bounced on her bed, pretending to hammer out the song on an invisible guitar, and belted the lyrics at the top of her longs. This was undoubtedly the best way to relieve stress.

Until Grumpy came and ruined it all!

Valiant streaked from behind her curtain, her mouth moving to words Persephone couldn’t hear over the music.

“What?” Persephone shouted, cupping her hand around her ear.

Valiant’s mouth moved again, but all Persephone heard was Myron’s angelic voice. Persephone, however, certainly understood the look written on Valiant’s face. Anger, yes. And rage, and irritation. Yes, Valiant was just ticked off in general.

“What?” Persephone yelled again. “I still can’t hear you!”

Valiant tried again, waving her hands in the air, but Persephone shook her head. She would never understand a thing Valiant said if Persephone didn’t turn the music down. She stooped and twisted the volume dial down.

“—BLOODY THING DOWN!”

Her scream echoed against the stone walls of the room so loudly, even Valiant winced as it reverberated in her ears. Persephone stared at her, her mouth agape. Valiant’s rudeness honestly knew no bounds, did it?

“There’s no need to yell about it, Grumpy,” Persephone said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Valiant glared. “Just keep it down.”

Persephone had waited eleven years to escape her parents and her sister, even asking the Sorting Hat to put her in a house as far away from them as possible, so she would no longer have anyone constantly telling her what to do. She wasn’t going to ruin that now. Because her father was right, she was rebellious. And that was one word she didn’t need a dictionary to define. She defined it just fine on her own.

Stooping again, she cranked the volume as loud as it would go, so loud that it caused the bed to shake and her ears to ache. “THAT BETTER?” she screamed.

Valiant called something that she couldn’t hear, but Persephone only cupped her hand around her ear in a silent sign that she couldn’t hear a word she was saying. Valiant’s face turned bright red with rage and Persephone grinned triumphantly and stuck out her tongue. In response, Valiant gave her the finger and stormed from the room.

Persephone merely laughed.

She really did love this song.




Persephone Andreou was the worst roommate ever!

Valiant seethed as she stormed out of the common room. She aimed a kick at an unfortunate slab of stone and the only thing that achieved was giving herself a stubbed toe. She swore in pain and mentally called Persephone Andreou every wretched name she could think of.

A thousand Daphne Greengrass clones Valiant could have handled with only minor dismay. Millicent Bulstrode could have moved in and Valiant might never have slept soundly with the constant worry that her spiteful third cousin might strangle her in her sleep, but Valiant would have learned to live with it. Plague of locusts, boils, the death of every firstborn in Slytherin, and other plagues of biblical proportion and Valiant would have understood.

But loud, annoying, snoring, ever-smiling, ever-happy, bloody, effing Persephone Andreou!

Dear God, how was that fair?

The girl was driving her crazy! She might have been named for a goddess, but she was the devil herself! Valiant had done her absolute best not to smother her in her sleep, but this time Persephone had finally pushed her too far. It was time for the mental child to learn that Valiant wasn’t someone to mess around with.

It was why Valiant had issued the threat, or a fair warning if you preferred to call it that. It was hardly her fault if Persephone couldn’t hear her over the music.

Turn it down, Valiant had said, or you’re sleeping in the hallway tonight.

But Persephone hadn’t turned it down and Valiant never had been the sort to give empty threats.

Valiant felt a wicked smirk crawl across her face.

This was going to be fun.




All it took was a simple Levitation Charm.

The spell was nearly a month ahead in the first years’ curriculum, but Valiant had peeked ahead in her Charms book to locate the theory of how to use such a spell. It had taken several long hours, that stretched long past the time she should have been in bed, to translate the theory into the accurate use of the spell. By the time she had levitated the goblet she’d set before her, Valiant had thrown her wand across the room several times, nearly snapped it in half twice, and screamed her frustration into a pillow exactly once. But finally the goblet picked up, hovered in the air, and followed her wand.

She set the goblet down and pointed her wand at the chair next to hers. Swish and flick. “Wingardium Leviosa!” The chair bobbed through the air.

A sound of pure delight came out of Valiant’s mouth that sounded oddly like a giggle. But it couldn’t be. Valiant Bloodmoon did not ‘giggle’.

As quietly as she could, Valiant slipped into her room and crept across the floor. She paused to listen to the breathing of her roommates, and when she heard Persephone’s whistle-like snore, Valiant knew she was indeed asleep. Stepping over Persephone’s slob of an area—another habit of hers, Valiant couldn’t stand, but there was scarcely anything about Persephone she could stand—Valiant stood beside her bed. Persephone uttered an innocent snort, rolled onto her stomach, and mumbled something about not wanting ‘to wear the gray dress, Mummy’.

Valiant rolled her eyes at the pathetic sight and pointed her wand at the mattress beneath Persephone. With a swish, flick, and whispered incantation, the mattress lifted from the frame, the slumbering Persephone still balanced on top. Valiant directed her wand towards the door she had left open and the mattress floated through the air. Valiant’s hand shook and the mattress trembled. Valiant stilled herself and then bit hard on her tongue, glancing anxiously at Persephone. The girl fidgeted, then with a sigh, buried her face deeper into her pillow.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Valiant walked the mattress towards the door. It was a tight squeeze to get the mattress through, but finally it was in the hallway. She lowered her wand and the mattress. It rested on the floor, Persephone still tangled up in her blankets, snoring like an angel.

A smirk crawled up Valiant’s face and she very nearly allowed the strange sound out of her mouth again, but swallowed it back. But Merlin, vengeance was sweet!

“Nighty, night, Persephone,” Valiant whispered with a cold laugh as she walked back into the room, closed the door, and locked it for good measure.




Persephone was having an absurd dream about dancing pineapples and a large singing apple in the shape of Myron Wagtail’s head when she heard giggling. As Persephone felt herself waking, she groaned and seized her pillow, pulling it over her head. But the obnoxious, high-pitched giggling didn’t fade.

“Go away, Daphne,” she growled through clenched teeth.

The laughter only grew louder, turning from a single voice to two. Two turned into three, and then as though laughter had suddenly become pink eye, it had spread contagiously into a dozen voices. Persephone startled at the many voices. What had Greengrass done? Invited the entire dormitory into their room?

Persephone whipped the pillow off of her head and sat up. Girls, from first years to seven years, gathered around her. Some pointed and laughed, some hid their giggles politely behind their hands, while others were stooped over as if this was the best joke since the one about the Muggle and the light bulb. Beyond them, she found familiar stone, but not the stone walls of her room. There was no green curtains here to break the mundane gray. There was just stone and stone and stone, broken by the line of doors. Persephone was in the hallway...on her mattress...surrounded by the population of Slytherin girls.

Her first thought was that this would make a juicy piece of gossip. Her second thought was that her life was over, because the gossip was going to be about her! The third thought was that she was going to kill whichever roommate did this to her!

And there they were, the three despicable roommates opening up their door. They paused as they saw the group standing before their door, and then Daphne and Tracey began shoving their way through the crowd. Valiant, however, took her time, following in the pathway they cleared, as though she knew exactly what she would find. The three pushed to the front. Daphne and Tracey gapped down at her for a long moment, then Daphne shrieked her oinking laugh and her little shadow, Tracey, joined her.

Valiant didn’t laugh, but grinned her evil little smile, looking like she had just crawled straight out of hell to be Persephone’s personal demon. And it was then, looking at Valiant’s victorious smile, that Persephone understood who was to blame for this entire situation.

You did this!” Persephone cried, pointing her finger at her angrily.

Valiant didn’t deny it. She only walked to the edge of mattress and stooped down, putting her face into Persephone’s and puffing her hot morning breath into her face. Her vicious eyes were narrowed into a glare, and Persephone glared right back.

“Maybe next time,” Valiant said, her words as cold as her frigid, black heart, “you’ll keep your music down.”

With that, Valiant flounced away. Persephone heaved her pillow at her head, but it missed and collided with the stomach of a particularly scary looking seventh year. Really, living in the dungeon for seven years couldn’t be conducive to someone’s health if they ended up looking like a feminine troll. The seventh year picked up the pillow and heaved it back. It struck Persephone head so hard it knocked her back onto the mattress.

Persephone laid there, her head covered with the pillow that muffled the laughter of her housemates. She wished the world would open and swallow her whole, but since it didn’t, she could only lay there, pondering a word. Just one word.

VILE: adj.

Definition: see VALIANT.




It was an undeniable fact of life that if you wanted to learn anything about anyone or anything, you didn’t go to the library as a Ravenclaw would assume. What could stuffy old books tell you about the important things of life? No, it wasn’t in the dusty shelves of the library where knowledge could be found. It was in the stalls of the girl’s lavatory that you could find the truth, or at the very least, a more interesting version of the truth.

It was there that girls seemed to feel the most at ease to spill their secrets, so as the older students fixed their make-up, they talked about their dates and their friends’ dates and how much a back-stabber Olivia was for snogging an ex-boyfriend. It was there where younger students, while pretending they had makeup to fix, talked about boys and tests and who they thought was stuffing their bras. Pansy Parkinson, Persephone always suggested to them. Totally.

Sometimes, Persephone would even stumble upon juicier pieces of information. The prank that was being planned against Professor Quirrell; wearing fake vampire fangs and hiding behind his desk would certainly scare him out of his turban. The brief fling between Madam Hooch and Professor Kettleburn and how she had left him for someone with both arms. And Argus Filch being found in a compromising position with Mrs Norris. Admittedly there were things Persephone didn’t want to know.

Yes, good, bad, ugly or bloody hilarious, if it happened at Hogwarts, it could be found out in the girl’s bathroom. And as much as Persephone thrived on the gossip, she had to admit that there were some things that should never be whispered, even in a place as sacred as the girl’s bathroom.

Like the Slytherin first year who had been found in sleeping the hallway.

Persephone glared at a couple of Gryffindor third years who had just been told the story by some random Hufflepuff, or at least, a highly-exaggerated version of the truth. All three were giggling as they dabbed on lip balm.

“It’s not funny!” Persephone shrieked at them, ignoring the fact that if it hadn’t been her this unfortunate thing had happened to, she would have been rolling on the floor laughing. She turned her hot gaze on the Hufflepuff. “And I was not sucking my thumb!”

They only blinked at her, rolled their eyes, recapped their lipstick, and walked out of the bathroom, their laughter drifting back to Persephone’s ears.

Persephone turned back to the mirror and practised her most vicious glare. There it was. Eyes mere slits. She let her hate and anger boil through until the thin line of gray looked like smouldering cool. A glare like that would make the Bloody Baron drop dead with fright. Wait until she got the chance to give it to Valiant.

But this wasn’t why she had come to the girl’s loo. And being here wasn’t just about skipping Charms so she could hide from all her classmates’ mocking stares. Persephone was on a mission. Valiant would pay for the embarrassment she’d caused!

Granted the loo was a pretty strange place to plot revenge, but Persephone had learned more in this bathroom that she had in her classrooms. So when searching for a devious plan to get back at Valiant, there was no better place to get info than from the steady stream of girls who went in and out of the bathroom. Trust her when Persephone said there were some cold-hearted witches at Hogwarts. Some of the things they suggested Persephone didn’t think even she could do morally.

But one doe-eyed Muggle-born was very passionate about pranks and their evils, probably because she’d been the victim of a far few. She pulled at her mound of straw-like hair and ranted about all the terrible things her cousins had done to her over the years. One in particular caught Persephone’s attention.

“How did you say it worked again?” Persephone asked, leaning forward from where she was perched on the edge of one of the sinks.

And she told her. As she neared the end of the story and told of the embarrassing result, the Ravenclaw glared, looking offended. “Why are you smiling? It isn’t funny!”

Persephone still couldn’t wipe the impish smile form her face. “But it’s perfect!” Persephone said. “Perfect!” She dodged the offended girl’s slap, leaped down, and skipped from the bathroom.

And the best part was, all she needed was some warm water.




Persephone laid awake for over two hours, just to be sure Valiant would be sleeping. She always slept with her curtains pulled shut, so Persephone didn’t know for certain. But finally, Persephone was brave enough to sneak a peek behind the green curtain. Sure enough, there lay Sleeping Ugly, fast asleep on her back, drool on her cheek, waiting for some hideous troll to give her the snog of death—at least, Persephone thought that was how the Muggle fairytale her sister, Demeter, had once read to her went.

Sure that she was asleep, Persephone moved into the next phase of her plan. Grabbing her cauldron from beneath her bed, she carried it out of the room and into the Slytherin girl’s loo. She started the tap, tested its temperature, and filled the cauldron with water that was nice and warm. She grinned down at her reflection in the water, completely convinced that her Head of House wouldn’t have approved much of her using her potions tool for such dastardly plans.

She carried the much-heavier cauldron back to her room, succeeding to lose a lot of it down the front of her jimjams. She set the cauldron beside Valiant’s, pulled her curtain back quietly, and ensured the girl was still asleep. Persephone took the girl by the wrist, nearly recoiled when she didn’t awake, and lowered her hand off the bed and into the warm water.

Trying to suppress the tirade of giggles, Persephone hurried back to her bed and buried herself in the blankets. Only her eyes peeked out of the blankets, watching Valiant to see if she would awake. She groaned and shifted her hand out of the water, but stayed fast asleep. Persephone sighed in disappointment; she would have to wait until the morning to see if her prank had worked.

Persephone fell asleep to dreams of Valiant’s screams.




Even before Valiant awoke, she knew something was wrong. She was uncomfortable, but it wasn’t until she was fully conscious that she realized why.

Wet.

Her sheets and her pants were both wet, and there was a telltale odour in the air. But no, it wasn’t possible! She’d never been one to wet to the bed, never! But there was no denying what she felt.

Valiant wanted to swear and scream her anger. She couldn’t believe this was happened to her! But she knew such sounds would wake her roommates. So she only lay completely still, mortified. She eventually willed herself to move. None of her roommates were awake yet; she should still have time to hide all the discriminating evidence, if she could change and hide the sheets and blankets. And one thing was for certain: no one could ever, ever know about this.

Especially not that filthy, gossiping Persephone. She’d never let her live it down!

Valiant stood, careful not to let the floor creak beneath her weight.

The most horrible sound erupted in the room. The alarm clock. Valiant froze as in unison, all three of her roommates began to awake. Daphne groaned and sat up, Tracey stumbled groggily to her feet, and Persephone popped one eye open. Persephone’s other eye came open and a grin spread up her lips. It was a crappy grin, wicked and mischievous, and Valiant glared. What was that wicked beast up to now?

“Sleep well, Grumpy?” Persephone asked. There was a sickening sweetness in her voice. Like too much syrup on treacle pudding.

Valiant ignored her and turned her attention to Daphne who was climbing out of her bed. Valiant felt her heart sink into her stomach and her cheeks turn red, knowing there was nothing she could do than wait for the humiliation.

It came with three horrifying words.

“What’s that smell?” Daphne wrinkled her nose, took another experimental sniff, then pinched her nostrils shut. “Ew!”

“I don’t know,” Persephone said, a cheekiness in her tone. “Why don’t you ask Valiant?”

Valiant turned her sharp gaze towards Persephone, and Persephone’s grin widened. She knew! It was impossible! But the evil, little, music-whore knew! Valiant opened her mouth to scream in rage, but Daphne’s gasp stopped her.

Daphne pointed an accusing finger at the front of Valiant’s trousers. Her mouth dropped open, first in horror, and then in amusement. “Valiant wet the bed!” she shrieked in delight. “Valiant’s a bed-wetter!”

Daphne laughed, clapped her hands, and continued her ever mature rant. “Valiant’s a bed-wetter!” Tracey ignored the situation in discomfort. And Persephone rolled on her bed, laughing so hard she was nearly crying.

Valiant burned with embarrassment and rage, but it was the latter of the three girls she chose to take her aggression out on. “Why you little—“ she growled, as she leapt over her bed in an attempt to reach her. As she landed on the other side, her toe struck something hard. Pain shot through her foot as a cauldron tumbled over, splashing water across the floor. The river flowed before her, reflecting Valiant’s red-hot face.

The suspicion that Persephone had been behind this changed into knowing. Valiant’s glare turned lethal, so deadly that Persephone’s laughter died in her throat. Valiant lunged after her and Persephone did the smartest thing she had done in her entire life.

She ran, shrieking, for the door.

Valiant didn’t peruse her. She was a Slytherin and she had better ways of getting her revenge.

Okay, Andreou. You want to play dirty; I’ll show you dirty.




Granted, spending every Knut she had on revenge was a bit extreme, even for Valiant, but as she counted out the last Knut that she had stolen from her father’s limited stores into the hands of the greedy fifth year, Valiant had the sense that it would be worth it. She pocketed the potion and hurried out of the shadows in the dungeons where the exchange had been made.

Now all that was left was to wait until that night, when Persephone fell asleep. Her doom was set in stone.

The problem was that Persephone seemed to know it. That night, when Valiant made her move hours after the girls had gone to bed, she pulled her curtain aside to find Persephone bolting up at the movement. The two girls stared at one another, Valiant glaring, Persephone trying to do the same but with her eyes just a little too wide. There were no excuses; Persephone knew exactly what Valiant was up to. She knew Valiant wouldn’t stop until she had the revenge she craved.

And so they remained awake, staring at each other with increasingly-tired eyes, neither willing to give in the other, until the alarm clock chirped the next morning.

The two girls dressed, stumbling from exhaustion, never turning their backs on each other. Valiant took a step towards her and Persephone jumped and fled from the room. Valiant grinned. She really liked doing that.

She wasn’t concerned that Persephone knew what she was up to. Valiant was good on surviving on little to no sleep, but Persephone would have to sleep eventually as she proved during Transfiguration that day. Professor McGonagall was only halfway through her lecture when Persephone slumped forward on her open text, snoring her whistle-like snore. Her drool trailed down her cheek, staining the ink of her book. Valiant grinned as a furious-looking Professor McGonagall spotted her and descended like a hawk.

“Miss Andreou,” McGonagall said, clearing her throat. After saying her name three more times to no better response, McGonagall gave her a firm shake. “Miss Andreou!”

Persephone flung her head upwards. “Zeus wants my marmalade!” she cried, clearly far from awake.

The classroom burst into laughter and Valiant joined them with a mocking guffaw of her own. Persephone turned scarlet.

“Quiet!” McGonagall ordered the class, and as they stifled their noise, she glared through her glasses like a cat staring at an unlucky mouse. “Thank you for sharing, Miss Andreou. However, sleeping is not on the curriculum for this semester or any semester in my class. I’m afraid that will cost your house five points.”

The majority of the Slytherins groaned and sent her glares, looking as though they were ready to kill Persephone. Well, get in line behind me, Valiant thought.

Valiant’s opportunity came that very night. After another staring match that lasted three long hours, Persephone finally slumped against her headboard and began to snore. Valiant waited until she was sure that she wouldn’t awake, then stood from her bed and pulled the potion from her pocket.

I win, Andreou. I win.




End Note: Please leave a review! Part 2 will be coming soon!


Chapter 2: best friends
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Persephone jerked awake with the alarm and stifled a cry into her pillow. She’d fallen asleep! Oh, Merlin, no! She quickly sucked in a breath to make sure Valiant hadn’t killed her in her sleep. She looked around the halls, greeted by green curtains, stones, and her Weird Sisters poster. So she wasn’t dead or in the hallway again. Persephone checked herself over and was relieved to find herself dry and not mutilated. She seemed to be just fine. But she couldn’t have gotten off that easy, could she?

She glanced at the bed next to hers. Valiant still hadn’t stirred behind her curtain. Persephone continued to look around frantically, searching for what was amiss, until Tracey came over, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“All right, Persephone?”

“Fine,” Persephone said, then added uncertainly, “I think.”

“Oh.” Tracey gave a small, uneasy smile. “I like what you did to your hair. I think it’s very daring.”

Persephone blinked at her. What was she on about? Persephone hadn’t done anything to her hair, and if this was some sort of joke about her bedhead, it really wasn’t funny. But there was only sincerity in her voice, not the biting sarcasm that might have been in Daphne’s tone.

“My hair?” she questioned. She touched the roots, finding nothing amiss. Then horror hit her, and she shrieked again, “My hair!” She flung herself off the bed and ran towards the mirror on the wall. What had that evil witch done to her hair?

Persephone looked at her own reflection, blinked, looked again, covered her eyes with her hands, and looked once more to find the same horrible image.

And then she screamed.

“My hair is pink! Oh my Greek gods, my hair is pink!”

Daphne only tossed a pillow at her, showing no sympathy. “Shut up, Persephone!” She rolled back over and hid under the pillow.

Persephone touched the long, pink strands of hair. There seemed to be nothing wrong with it; only the colour had changed. It really wasn’t horrible, Persephone decided as she studied it closer. It was unexpected, different, surprising, and daring, but definitely not horrible.

From behind her, Persephone heard a familiar laugh. She turned around, her eyes narrowing in a glare. Valiant stuck her head out of the curtains, her face alit with triumph. She thought she’d won.

Perhaps that’s what made Persephone do it. Unable to bear the idea of Valiant winning their little war, she beamed a smile and exclaimed, “I love it!”

Valiant nearly fell off the bed in surprise.

“I do! I absolutely love it!” Whether it was the truth or not, Persephone hadn’t decided yet, but at the moment, it scarcely mattered.

Valiant’s gritted her teeth and snarled, “What?”

Persephone snickered. “Thanks, Grumpy!”

Valiant only stared at her as she dressed for breakfast, clucked over her now-pink pillowcase, then skipped from the room, her pink hair bouncing around her shoulders. Before the room closed behind Persephone, she heard Valiant’s growl of rage.

Persephone grinned. Victory to me!




Of course, victory always came with a price. It seemed everyone had something to say about Persephone’s hair. Pansy told her it hurt her eyes. Professor Snape managed to insult her hair colour and her potion skills in a single sentence. And Demeter gave her a fifteen minute lecture on the propriety of proper appearance when she caught sight of her. The lecture ended with the most horrible words imaginable.

“You wait until Mum and Dad hear about this.”

Translation: my life is over.

By the end of the day, Persephone had tucked her hair up into a pink, knit cap and held her potions book on her lap, trying to look up a way to be rid of the colour. She had decided that Valiant must have done it with a potion, if she had stained her pillow when she’d done it. Now, she had to figure out a potion that would undo it. But after searching through her textbook not once, but twice, Persephone had nearly given up. She supposed she could go to Demeter for help. But then again, Persephone supposed she could have leaped off the Astronomy Tower. The latter was a much more appealing idea.

Suicidal options aside, Persephone was buggered. Completely buggered.

The door to her room creaked open and someone entered. Dark clothes. Dark hair. Dark expression. Looked like evil. It could be no one but Valiant Bloodmoon.

Persephone tried to shove her book beneath the blankets of her bed, but Valiant had already seen it. A smirk crawled up her face. “Still loving your hair colour?”

Persephone decided to act maturely. Instead of stabbing Valiant with her wand, she heaved the book at her head. Valiant ducked and began laughing so hard, she remained stooped over.

“I hate you!” Persephone shrieked.

Valiant stopped her laughing and glowered down upon her. “I assure you the feeling is mutual, Andreou.”

Persephone stood and whisked her curtain closed in Valiant’s face. She fell back into her bed, buried her face beneath her pillow. She could hear Valiant’s laughter, muffled but there, and Persephone wasn’t sure why she was still laughing.

It wasn’t funny anymore.




The Howler came the next morning at breakfast. Persephone saw it dangling above her head, held in the claws of a familiar Great Grey owl. Persephone prayed a silent prayer to God, Merlin, Zeus, whoever would listen to a desperate eleven-year-old that it wasn’t intended for her. Take it to Demeter, she begged. Just once, take it to Demeter.

But fate didn’t smile on her.

The owl landed, standing in a plate of eggs, and lifted the leg where the unholy red envelope was tied with a perfect, golden bow. Persephone fingers shook as she untied the bow and held the Howler in her hands. It began to smoke, and knowing she had no time to make a run for it, she reluctantly ripped it open.

The noise exploded from the Howler, causes the plates on the table to rattle. It was the normal rubbish; she was a disappointment, she never did anything right, and she had better start living up to their expectations...not that she could if she tried. When the last insult faded away, Persephone’s ears were ringing. But maybe it wasn’t ringing; it was the sound of housemates’ laughter.

Persephone fearfully turned her eyes to Valiant, but the girl wasn’t laughing. She was only staring with her dark blue eyes completely unreadable.

“Hope you’re bloody happy now!” Persephone shoved away from the table and stormed away.

She went to the nearest girl’s loo, her sanctuary. But there was no comforting sound of exciting gossip, no squeals of laughter, or giddy shrieks of disbelief. There was only the sound of water going through the pipes and the flush of the toilet. Persephone hurried into the nearest stall and locked the door. She pressed her palms against the cool metal door and lowered her head against it. Her chin began to tremble and she knew what was coming.

She was only grateful that no one was there to see her cry.

But the problem with no one being there to see you cry was it meant you were alone. And Persephone had never felt so alone. She’d waited her entire life to come to Hogwarts, to be free from her parents, to make friends, to be happier. But here she was, friendless and miserable, crying alone with the weight of her parents’ disapproval crushing on her shoulders.

So what exactly had changed?

Long after Persephone’s first class had come and gone, Persephone stepped from the stall, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. She approached the sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her pink hair clung to her wet face. She was a pathetic sight, wasn’t she?

The door to the bathroom swung open, and a group of Slytherin girls entered the room. Parkinson, Greengrass, Bulstrode, Delamb, and the little Davis tagging along. Yep, all of the demons spawned from hell coming to torment her. However, they were laughing at something else and didn’t seem to glance Persephone’s way.

“She’s so pathetic!” Parkinson barked.

Persephone turned pointedly away, heat rushing to her face. Did they really have to beat her when she was down?

“That’s not the half of it,” Bulstrode retorted. “Her father was a huge supporter of You-Know-Who.”

Persephone frowned. It seemed they certainly weren’t talking about her, after all. So who were they talking about?

“He didn’t try to hide it either. So when You-Know-Who fell, he was fired from his job at the Ministry and completely disgraced. He lost all his money, and his wife left him, with his little pathetic two-year-old. Now, he’s nothing more than an unemployed, washed-up drunk. According to my dad, they live above a shop in the wizarding square in York, because some old lady felt sorry for him. They’re horribly poor,” Millicent said, as though it was the worst thing in the world anyone could be.

“Obviously,” Parkinson said with a roll of her eyes. “Do you see the state of her robes?”

“Disgusting,” Annadel clucked.

Persephone had a sour taste in her stomach. It was true she loved gossip, especially the sort that was untrue and embarrassing. But she suspected there was a lot of truth in their words, and it was the sort that spread hurt. Still, Persephone couldn’t help her curiosity. “Who are you talking about?”

Parkinson rolled her eyes as though it should be obvious. “Valiant Bloodmoon, of course. The no-good excuse for a pureblood.”

Persephone felt blood drain from her face, and she looked pointedly away. She never thought she’d feel sympathy for Valiant, but if what Bulstrode had said was true, than Persephone did feel sorry for her. Persephone swallowed hard and bit her tongue to keep back a nasty retort until they left the room, their crackling laughs drifting behind them.

And Persephone was alone again...or at least, she thought she was. A few minutes later, a toilet flushed and the metal lock clicked open. The stall door swung open and a girl stepped out, wiping at her bloodshot eyes.

Valiant looked up, and their eyes met in the mirror, grey on blue. They stared at each other for a long moment, two girls with tear-stained cheeks and broken hearts and parents they wished could just love them better. They were two enemies made equals.

“Hi,” Persephone managed through her clogged throat.

“Hi,” Valiant said, stepping beside her at the sink. She twisted on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face.

Persephone watched her pat her face dry, staring at her as though she’d never seen her before.

Valiant looked up at her and snapped, “What are you looking at?”

“Sorry,” Persephone said quickly, looking away.

“About what?” Valiant hissed.

Now that was the question, wasn’t it? Was she sorry about the prank? No, not really. Valiant had had it coming, but really, Persephone was just sick of the entire thing. She was sorry it had even begun and sorry they were enemies, especially since of all the people in Hogwarts, she suspected that Valiant might have been the only one who might actually understand her.

“I don’t know,” Persephone said. “About everything I guess.”

Valiant stared at Persephone’s reflection in the mirror, then through gritted teeth, she said grudgingly, “Yeah, me too. But for the record, you started it.”

Persephone opened her mouth to protest, but it really wasn’t worth it.

There was a long uncomfortable silence between them, and Persephone felt as though she should say something more. “Valiant, about your dad...”

“Don’t mention it,” Valiant snapped. “Ever.”

“Okay,” Persephone said a little too quickly.

Valiant shifted uncomfortably and then sighed, lowering her chin. “And about the Howler...your parents...”

“Don’t mention it,” Persephone snapped back. “Ever.”

“Okay,” Valiant agreed.

And so they made an agreement that Persephone knew they’d stick to. They would never speak about the thing that hurt the two of them the most, but she thought they both finally understood each other, even silently. Or maybe it was just because she wanted a friend so much that she was imagining things. Either way, these few moments of sympathy in the bathroom were the closest thing she’d had to friendship since she got to Hogwarts.

But not with Valiant, no. They despised each other, didn’t they?

But Persephone didn’t feel anything close to hate for her. Not anymore. Strange how quickly it had faded away.

“Truce?” Persephone said, offering her hand.

Valiant glowered at it. Same old Grumpy.

“I mean, because I actually want to be able to sleep soundly for the next seven years, don’t you?”

Valiant shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.” She took her hand, gave it one shake, and let go.

Persephone turned back to the mirror. “Now, I just have to figure out what to do about my hair.” She frowned. “It’s a shame, though. I really do like it.”

Valiant shrugged apathetically. “Then keep it. It suits you.”

Persephone had to admit that it did. It scarcely mattered though. “You heard my parents.”

“To hell with what they think.”

Persephone turned to her, startled. “What?”

“I’m serious. They’re hundreds of miles away. You can do whatever the hell you want, so bloody-well do it. Who are they to tell you what you should be?”

Persephone stared at her, then turned to the mirror and gazed at her reflection, Valiant’s question echoing in her brain. Who were they to tell her what to be? Who was she to listen? They’d wanted her to be smart and well-behaved. She wasn’t. They wanted her to be Ravenclaw. She’d asked for any house but. They wanted her to be pretty, perfect Persephone. She wanted to be cool, crazy-haired Seph.

So why shouldn’t she be?

“You know, I hate to say this,” Persephone said as a grin crawled up her face, “but you’re absolutely right.”

Valiant shrugged again, as though to say, ’Yeah, I know.’

Persephone’s face fell. There was just one huge flaw in her plan. “But Demeter! She’ll tell on me, and then I’ll be buggered.”

Valiant rolled her eyes. “So tell on her.”

“Tell what?”

“You’re telling me she’s your sister and you have no rubbish on her that she would rather your parents not know about.”

Valiant raised her eyebrows, and Persephone suddenly understood what she meant. Oh, Valiant was good. She was scarily good. And of course, Persephone did have her information. Lavatories were, after all, extraordinary sources of information.

“Oh, you better believe I do!” And just like that Persephone’s grin was back. She felt bubbly excitement rise in her gut. She was going to defy her parents, she was going to break every expectation, and she was going to do it by being herself. She bounced up and down and giggled. “Hey,” she asked, “how do you think I would look in orange hair?”

Valiant cocked her head at Persephone and narrowed her eyes as though picturing it. “Bright and obnoxious,” she drawled at last.

Persephone frowned, and Valiant added with a grudging smile, “It would fit you perfectly.”




Don’t ask her how it happened; Valiant had no bloody clue. One day they were trying to kill each other, and the next they were friendly—no, no civil. She was not friends with crazy Persephone Andreou. They were...well, Valiant didn’t know what they were. Persephone drove her mental three fourths of the time, and the other few moments, she actually managed to make Valiant laugh.

Whatever they were, they set about to brew Persephone’s orange hair dye. Valiant wasn’t sure how she had gotten roped into doing it; she blamed temporary insanity half the time and masochism the other half. But whatever the reason, they spent hours looking over books in the library. Admittedly, their studies quite often turned into Persephone yakking about something and Valiant, eventually, grudgingly, joining in the conversation. It was not chatting. Valiant didn’t chat.

But then again, before she came to Hogwarts, she didn’t do much of anything, except help Old Lady Imogen in the shop to help make up for back rent and hide from her father when he got plastered. But that was, as she’d told Persephone, a hundred miles away.

So maybe she did chat.

In another session of insanity, Valiant showed Persephone her drawings. Valiant glared at her the whole time. “Don’t you dare laugh,” she growled warningly.

“Laugh?” Persephone said, as she stared at them wide-eyed. “Not blooming likely! These are fantastic!”

Persephone continued to praise the pictures, and Valiant fought not to blush. She’d never showed them to anyone, and Persephone seemed to love them. She even begged Valiant to draw a picture of her, which she did, with little demon horns and a Weird Sisters’ T-shirt. She even coloured in the pink hair. Persephone had begged her to give it to her and, with an uncaring shrug, Valiant had. Persephone had hung it in the place of honour beside her picture of Myron Wagtail above her headboard. Valiant felt something warm in her chest, but she quickly pushed it away.

She wasn’t touched. She wasn’t!

They eventually did figure out how to make the dye. It was a relatively simple potion, which led Valiant to believe that the fifth year had seriously overcharged her. She reminded herself to jinx him later, but for now, Persephone had her full attention helping her get the potion ingredients. They were all available in the student cupboards, so a little bit of thievery during potion class gave them all they needed. Neither of them were remarkably talented at potions, but they managed to brew it correctly in time for Halloween.

On October thirty-first, before dinner, Persephone found Valiant in their dorm and strode up to her, her long orange hair swaying behind her. She held something out to Valiant, and Valiant started when she realized it was a pair of scissors.

“Cut it,” Persephone said bravely.

Valiant stared at Persephone as though she had lost her mind. And she bloody-well had if she was willing to hand Valiant sharp objects! “You sure you want to give me those?” Valiant asked.

“No,” Persephone said, then shoved them into Valiant’s hands and turned around expectantly. “Not too short, just below the shoulders.”

Valiant stood up behind her, holding the scissors in one hand and Persephone’s orange hair in the other. Valiant realized that if ever there was a time to extract revenge, it was now. She realized in the next moment that Persephone trusted her. Chalk it up to her bad judge of character, or maybe just her good heart, but whatever it was, she was the only one in this entire school who believed there was some good in Valiant.

And Valiant, herself, wasn’t sure she believed that.

Valiant gnawed on the inside of cheek in indecision, then began to cut. “Whoops,” she murmured.

“Whoops?” Persephone repeated fearfully. She grabbed at her head, then shrieked again. “Oh, Merlin!” She ran to the mirror and pulled at the ends of her hair. Whirling about, she glared at Valiant and screamed, “You git!”

Her hair was even and perfect, absolutely perfect.

“You scared the crap out of me!” Persephone charged towards her, looking fit to kill, but Valiant was far from afraid.

“You should have seen the look on your face!” Valiant body began to shake with laughter and she fell down onto her bed, rolling with the laughter.

Persephone stared at her blankly for a moment and then she too began to giggle. She fell down onto the bed beside Valiant, and the two laughed together. Valiant’s laughter was deeper and Persephone’s was nasally, but the two mixed together like two strange melodies that somehow fit together in a sound so wonderful it surprised Valiant. She stopped and sucked in a deep breath. They’d laughed together, and it had felt nice. Amazing, in fact, because in those few moments, a deep, long-held ache within Valiant had faded away.

And she’d felt happy.

Maybe that’s what having friends was like. Maybe it was not feeling so empty. Maybe it was having someone who cared enough to drive you mental and who you cared enough about to let them. Maybe it was laughing at each other and picking fun at each other. Maybe it was the moments of happiness they found in between the mess that was their lives.

Maybe...friends were like Persephone and Valiant. Light and dark. Happy and Grumpy. Two girls so completely different and yet entirely the same.

But they couldn’t be, Valiant knew. People always left, and when they did, it hurt like hell. Valiant’s mother had taught her that. One day, Persephone would get sick of her and leave too. And Valiant just wasn’t ready to be abandoned again.

No friends, Valiant swore. Not ever.

Valiant stood briskly. “Let’s clean up your mess and get to dinner.”

Persephone bounced to her feet. “Okay.”

They swept up her orange strands of hair and made their way to the Great Hall. They nearly ran into a Ravenclaw prefect, and Valiant heard Persephone groan when she realized it was her sister. Valiant already had a glare on her face. She wasn’t sure why; all she knew was that Persephone didn’t get on with her older sister, and for some reason, that made Valiant not like her very much either. It was dislike that turned to hatred when Demeter scowled down at Persephone’s hair.

“Persephone, I thought we talked about your hair!” Demeter snapped.

Persephone beamed an impish smile. “Two words. Percy Weasley.”

Demeter’s eyes flew wide.

“Enough said,” Persephone said with a laugh. She grabbed Valiant’s arms and the two strode by without another word.

Valiant snickered. It seemed Persephone had followed her advice.

They ate in relative silence, only broken when Persephone started yakking with a dark-skinned girl in their year—Symone something—who had said she loved Persephone’s hair. Apparently, Persephone loved drawing out every juicy (and exaggerated) detail of the plan to dye her hair. Valiant tuned it out, trying to ignore the feelings of jealousy in her stomach at the idea that Persephone was making a friend. She had every right to. But still, Valiant spent the meal mentally drilling holes into Symone’s pretty head.

Of course, their ‘lovely’ evening was broken by a troll. Such a shame, Valiant thought sarcastically.

They were all shoved back to their common room. Persephone looked excited, as though this was the greatest thing that had happened to her since she came to Hogwarts. Her night got even better when two first years, Annadel and another girl Valiant didn’t recognize, got into a fight. Valiant, herself, found it quite enjoyable, especially when Annadel ended up being dangled above the crowd. The spoiled brat’s shrieks of terror were pleasure to Valiant’s ears.

“What’s the matter, Annadel?” Valiant yelled. “Afraid of heights!”

Persephone was laughing so hard, she fell of the couch and rolled around on the floor. The excitement ended with Annadel and her roommates running back to their room with their tails tucked between their legs like the little female dogs they were. Valiant found herself joining in to the laughter. She helped Persephone off the floor and the two of them made their way back to the room. They were still laughing, throwing hilarious insults at the girl and replaying what had happened when their two roommates entered the room.

“Shut up!” Greengrass spat. “It is not funny.”

“Yes, it is!” Persephone laughed back. “Not our fault God ran short on sense of humour when he was making you.”

Greengrass turned to her, her teeth bared. “No one, and I do mean no one, asked your opinion, you filthy little minger.”

Valiant felt her blood boil. Who was she calling minger?

But Persephone seemed unfazed. “Oh, sod off, Greengass,” she said nonchalantly. “Parkinson’s not around to see your show of loyalty. So why don’t you run off and kiss her—“

Greengrass snatched her wand from her pocket and pointed it at Persephone. “I’ll show you funny! Wingardum—“

Something within Valiant snapped, and she acted before any thought could enter her mind. Without drawing her wand, she pulled back her fist and aimed for Greengrass’s perfectly straight nose. “Wingardium Leviosa this!”

Valiant felt a satisfactory snap as Greengrass’s nose was remodelled. Greengrass screamed and clutched her face, pulling back bloody fingers. “You broke my nose!”

“Good,” Valiant said. “It’s an improvement.”

Greengrass screamed again, but it cut off into a moan of pain. Tracey rushed forward and tugged her towards the door.

“You’re pay for this!” Greengrass shrieked. “You’ll pay!”

Valiant supposed she would, but she really didn’t care.

Persephone was too stunned to do anything but stare with a silly, delighted grin on her face until the door closed behind them. The sound of the click revived her. “Oh, that is so being told in the lavatory tomorrow!”

She spun towards Valiant, bouncing. “That was brilliant! No really, that was bloody fantastic! Wingardium Leviosa this!” She punched the air to copy what Valiant had done with so much exuberance, she spun in a circle and then faced Valiant again.

Valiant stared at her, not sure how to respond to the praise. She still wasn’t even sure why she’d done it, not that she’d needed much to want to punch Greengrass. But the reasoning had little to do with the fact she hated the girl. She had thought she would hurt Persephone, and Valiant hadn’t been able to stand by and let her.

Valiant really was losing her mind.

Persephone’s expression sobered some and she swallowed, adding more solemnly, “Thank you, Val.”

“Don’t mention it,” Valiant said quickly.

But she did press. “No, it was great. You stuck up for me.”

“Is that what that was?” But of course, that’s what that was! Stupid me!

Persephone nodded and then she added hopefully, “It was like we were...friends.”

Friends. There was that word again. Persephone must have recognized the way Valiant’s face contorted, because she quickly added, “Or not!” She shrugged her shoulders and quickly began finding her pyjamas in a pile of laundry, as though it didn’t matter.

But it did matter, Valiant couldn’t deny that. She wanted to make the same old excuses that she always did...that she didn’t like Persephone as a friend...that she couldn’t have friends because people were untrustworthy gits...that she didn’t want or need anyone. But all that fell flat when faced with the truth.

Valiant was so sick of being alone.

“Seph,” Valiant said softly.

Persephone turned her head, and Valiant didn’t like the sad look in her eyes. She liked even less that she had put it there. It was time to remedy it.

“It was exactly like being friends.”

Persephone blinked at her in disbelief for a long moment. Then she gave a cry of excitement, flung the shirt she was holding in the air, and bolted towards Valiant. Jerking in fear, Valiant threw her arms up to shield herself, but it was too late. Persephone had assaulted her, flinging her arms about her in a hug. Valiant shoved her away, making a fuss about personal boundaries and a strict ‘no-hugging’ policy.

It was all rubbish. Deep down, Valiant didn’t really mind.

And deep down, she thought Persephone knew that too.

She guessed that was what it meant to be friends.




That night, both of their mattresses ended up in the hallway.

Persephone awoke in the middle of the night and gasped, startled by different walls than she had been looking at when she fell asleep. Merlin, not again!

She jumped when Valiant’s voice came from beside her.

“Don’t bother trying the door,” Valiant murmured sleepily. “It’s locked and Alohomora won’t work.”

Persephone sank deeper into her pillow and bit back a groan. Persephone really wished Valiant hadn’t taught their two horrible roommates this particular prank. But she should have known Greengrass would stay true to their word to get them back. It was worth it, she supposed. She wouldn’t have traded seeing Valiant break that girl’s nose for anything in the world.

“So what are we going to do?” Persephone asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Valiant replied absently in a way that said she was already mostly back to sleep, quite comfortable with the idea of sleeping in the hallway. “We’ll get them back tomorrow. We still have some of that orange dye left.” And she gave a crooked smile, one that said she was absolutely seriously. Wonderfully, awesomely, hilariously serious.

And the best part: she said we!

“Valiant Bloodmoon,” Persephone said with a laugh, “you are the best roommate ever!”

“Yesterday brought the beginning,
Tomorrow brings the end,
And somewhere in the middle
We became the best of friends.”
Author Unknown



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