Unofficial Portkey Archive

A/N: Wow, are the reviews beginning to pack up! I mean, hot damn!! You guys are awesome, you know that? :] I actually liked the way this chapter turned out, for once. I hope you like it, too. The beginnings of major URST are definitely present towards the middle-end and, of course, LOTS of dramatic irony. I'm not even kidding-it's really bad. Please don't kill me *cowers*

Disclaimer: Harry Potter ain't mine, ya crazies!

Enjoy!

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A Truce with Claudius

Dear Anonymous,

How does it feel to be back at Hogwarts? Well, to be truthful, my first day has been anything but pleasant. Turns out my new roommate is someone that hates my guts and has for quite some time. Every time I try to be nice I'm shot down by another degrading comment. I really have no clue what their problem is and frankly, it really bothers me that someone of their supposed "collected and organized" demeanor could hold onto a feeling this strong for this long. This year is going to be a trip, let me tell you. Luckily, I have plenty of distractions to busy myself with. How about you? Are you getting off to a bad start? Gods, I hope not. I think one of us suffering is enough.

Love,
Joe Bloggs

I had maneuvered back to my chair by the fireplace before reading the letter. It's a good thing, too, because the fire helped ease the goose bumps that erupted on my arms and neck. Joe was going through the exact same thing I was, give or take a few circumstances. I knew why Potter detested me-it had been made perfectly clear to me six years ago. But now wasn't the time to dwell. I had a response to write.

I summoned a book, parchment, and quill from my open trunk at the foot of my bed and settled deeper into the plush cushions of my new favorite chair. I held the self-inking quill level to the parchment and waited a moment before writing a proper response.

Dear Joe Bloggs,

I'm sorry to hear about your new roommate. I offer my condolences and wish I could say that I had a better first day. But I have never been one for lying. You see, I also have an annoying roommate this new year. But, unlike you, I have no curiosity as to why they detest me. Let's just say our past is anything but pleasant. Looks like we're in the same boat-what a coincidence. At least we have each other to vent to, right? And because of that, I have full confidence that neither of us with go insane. Thank Merlin. It's better to have someone that understands by your side than someone who has no idea how you feel and can't help you in any way.

Love,
Anonymous

Truth be told, I can't pinpoint when we started using Love as our official signoff. But I liked it, a lot. It made my stomach make happy little twists that reminded me there was someone in Hogwarts who cared.

I turned towards the antique-looking bronze clock atop the fireplace mantelpiece. It was a good five minutes past the start of dinner. The Great Hall was always open a good hour and a half at dinnertime for stragglers, such as myself, who had other things that came before hunger. I think a trip to the Owlery was in order.

I quickly sealed the letter and headed out the door, through the common room, and past the portrait hole. The woman that occupied the portrait made a sound of surprise and I glanced back at her.

"What's that in your hand, my dear?" She asked, her eyes aglow with curiosity.

I looked down at my letter to Joe and said simply, "A letter."

She nodded, "Forgive me. My old eyes can be quite a hassle."

"It's quite alright…" I trailed off, not knowing what to call her. At Gryffindor tower, we called our portrait Fat Lady. Not a nice name, but she seemed to accept it with her shoulders held high.

She sensed my hesitation and answered my silent question. "Marie."

"Marie?" I asked, my first impression of her quickly proving to be more accurate than I had originally thought. "As in Marie An-"

She shook her head. "No, not as in Marie Antoinette. I get that all the time with this hair and outfit. My painter had painted her once before, though. He said she was his inspiration when picking out the layout and clothing I was to wear for the rest of my existence."

"Really?" I asked in surprise. "Does that mean a wizard pained her?"

"Not necessarily. Most portraits were, indeed, painted by artistes that possessed magical abilities. But sometimes a portrait painted by a Muggle artist would gain the appreciation of a wizard and be charmed and hung in a place like this-a place to hang for eternity, always listening to others. I was lucky to be chosen to hang here. There are many kind people and portraits to keep me company. Imagine my surprise when I realized I was amongst wizards and could come and go as I pleased."

"That's-I've never read about that before." I said in a dazed voice, soaking up this new information like a sponge.

"It's not widely known. Most people have better things to do than talk to portraits." I gave her an odd look and she quickly spoke up again. "Not to be insulting! I was only speaking the truth. Most humans nowadays are too wrapped up in their daily business to pay any mind to us."

I smiled, "I know what you mean."

Marie nodded and let out a breath of relief. It was a few moments before she chose to speak up again. "What exactly are you doing talking to a portrait? Don't you have a boyfriend or someone to meet? Ohhh is that who you're writing too?"

I snorted, "Yeah right. I have better things to do than let boys get into my knickers."

"Not all boys are like that, my dear. In my days here, I have come across many Head Boys who were the epitome of a gentleman."

"Well that chain stops here. Potter isn't in any way classified as a gentleman."

She cocked a perfectly painted eyebrow and let her lips downturn into a small frown. "Oh. Well if you say so, dear."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm just saying."

"Yes, of course."

I quickly remembered why I had left in the first place. "Well I must be on my way. It was nice talking to you, Marie."

"Same to you."

I turned on my heel and took off down the hall at a swift pace. That was odd. I had never talked to a portrait before. But somehow, Marie was more than a portrait. She had been a Muggle, from the sounds of it, and a very observant one at that. I wonder if all of the portraits were like that? The only one I could even remember having an extended conversation with was Sir Cadogan when he had briefly taken over the Fat Lady's portrait third year, and that was because I had said the wrong password and was wrongly accused of being the escaped convict Sirius Black. Honestly, do I look like I could be a mass murderer in disguise? I think not. Luckily, Neville Longbottom came to my rescue with his tiny paper filled with the daily (and sometimes hourly) passwords.

My trip to the Owlery was a short one. The drafty tower was, as always, filled with owls of every shape, size, and color. I was familiar with most of the owls, as I wrote to my parents every few weeks since I started school here. I looked around the smelly, windowless room and spotted a blur of white feathers at the topmost corner of the perches. No wonder I had never noticed her here before-it was almost as if she was hiding.

"Hedwig!" I called, relieved that I had unconsciously found her.

The bird turned to lock eyes with me and glided down to land on my shoulder. I giggled and stroked her feathers fondly. "I missed you, too." I said out of habit. At least it wasn't a lie. I did miss her, even if I had seen her a few days before. This was the first time I had seen her at Hogwarts and a weird sort or relief spread throughout me. Now that I've seen Hedwig, it meant that this wasn't a dream. Joe Bloggs was real and here at Hogwarts. I let myself grin widely as I attached my letter to her leg.

She craned her head to me as if asking, "Where's my food?"

I responded with a guilty smile. "Sorry, girl. I left them in my trunk. I'll bring them next time, alright?"

She tilted her head back up at an angle, as if sticking her nose up at me and I resisted the urge to laugh. This bird really was a piece of work.

I felt her claws detach from my shoulder as she took off through one of the windowless holes. I watched he go, like I always did, in wonder. Whoever owned her must be one hell of a guy. Who else would own such a beautiful, yet tame, owl? It's been said that pets always reflect their master's personality. That thought alone was enough to add to the hope I had that when-I mean if-I met Joe, he would be perfect.

Well enough of that. I felt my stomach let out a small gurgle that told me it was time to eat.

I made my way down the stone steps and turned down the path that would lead me to the Great Hall.

~*~

It had been two days and I still hadn't gotten a response back from Joe.

I'm usually patient, but this was really threatening to be harmful to my heath and, even worse, my schoolwork. Most of my thoughts consisted of theories as to why he was taking so long. I knew that the schedule for the letters was going to be different but come on. My grandmother took less time to walk to the loo. Maybe I was expecting too much. He was just busy. Yeah, busy.

I knew it was total bullshit, but I had to come up with some excuse before I had to force myself to check into an insane asylum.

Seeing as it was Wednesday, I had plenty of things to distract myself with. Today was the first Prefect's meeting I had fully planned. We were meeting in Professor McGonagall's classroom, which she had kindly offered for us to use, before dinner. I had arrived early to set up and make some last minute adjustments. Since I had only informed Potter of the time in which the others were coming, he was nowhere to be found.

The students began filing in a good five minutes before the meeting started and I had to give them props. It was nice to see that being prompt still hadn't died. But, of course, as the clock struck six a group of Slytherins passed through the door and took seats near the back of the room, some choosing to put their feet up on the tables. I knew better than to scorn them, so I just shot them a disgusted look and turned around to get my notes. I grabbed them and looked around the room for Potter-he wasn't there. Of course.

I tried my best to ignore my annoyance and began the meeting. "Good evening everyone. I trust we've had a good few days back at school. Now tonight we're going to discuss-"

"You're not starting the meeting without me, are you?"

There, a good twenty seconds late, was Potter, leaning against the doorframe and tossing an apple up and down in the air. I heard a few fifth year girls sigh at the sight of him. Oh honestly, all he was doing was leaning up against a door-it wasn't like he was just in his boxers or anything. The image of him Monday morning flashed quickly in my mind and I had to shake my head to get it out.

"I didn't think so."

Potter took my movement as a sign to take stance next to me and bite his apple in what the other girls in the room thought was a sexy manor. Ugh.

I rolled my eyes a turned back to the Prefects. "Now that Potter has chosen to make an appearance, we can formally begin." Nobody bothered to point out I had full intent on stating the meeting without him and I was grateful. Maturity; that's what more people in this school needed. "I know that what's on most of your minds is the ball that was announced our first day back-" There was a slight murmur amongst a select few of the students and I smiled knowingly. Well what do you know? I wasn't alone. "And we, meaning Pot-Harry and I have been appointed to planning it. Well I, for one, think that you all should have some say in it as well, so I am now opening the floor to any ideas or suggestions. But before we discuss that, we have to get the boring stuff out of the way." A collective groan went off throughout the room and I sighed.

"There," I pointed to the now closed doorway. "Is a posted list of patrol times. If you have any problems with your assigned time, tell me and I'll see what I can do. Anything else you would like to add, Harry?"

He seemed startled that I addressed him. "N-no. Nope. You've pretty much covered everything."

I smiled and turned back the others. "Alright, now we can talk about the ball." The air seemed to get thinner somehow as I pressed on. "The first thing we need to sort out is a theme. Any ideas?"

A dozen hands went up and I resisted the urge to laugh. It's a good thing they liked this whole ball idea more than I did. I wasn't one for parties in general. The only reason I had a positive outlook on this was because of Joe.

I picked a girl at the front of the room with silky, strawberry blonde hair and earrings as big as Bludgers. No joke. "I actually have a question…" She said hesitantly. I nodded for her to go on. "Well, if we're not participants of the pen-pal system, do we still have to plan it?"

Good question. "My idea was that if we all helped out, I could convince Professor McGonagall to let you, meaning Prefects only, who weren't a part of the system to go to the ball and help out with drinks, music, and such."

The girl nodded. "So will there be committees that we can get into to make this easier?"

"My thoughts exactly Miss…"

"Elliott. Hayley Elliott."

"You read my mind, Hayley. After we determine a theme, we'll sign up for committees in charge of music, catering, decorations, and so on."

Hayley turned to a blonde girl next to her and they started whispering excitedly to each other. I looked around for another raised hand and picked a boy in the middle of the room with sandy brown hair and square brown glasses.

"For the themes, can we all pick something that's not too girly?"

Everyone, including me, let out a chuckle. "That's the point, Mr.…"

"Sid."

"Sid. It's crucial we pick something we can all agree on. In this room we have representatives of every house and year from fifth up. I think that accounts for most of the student population, so if we can all come up with a nice, clean theme, I'm sure that it'll work itself out."

A girl, a fifth year by the looks of it, with curly chocolate hair and bangs that cuffed her forehead, raised her hand up hesitantly. I pointed to her and she spoke softly. "How about A Walk in the Clouds? Like up in the sky. We could decorate the Great Hall in pale blue and white and have a charm on the floor and walls to make it look like we're up in the sky."

I was impressed. Waving my wand, I conjured my quill, paper, and clipboard that I had set on Professor McGonagall's desk and began writing down her idea. I didn't have time to thank her for her idea when another voice spoke up.

"How about Under the Black Lake? We could ask the Mermaids to come and sing."

"NO!" Potter and I shouted at the same time.

I looked over at him to see him looking at me with wide eyes. "It's a good idea… just no Mermaids, alright? They are dreadful singers. Trust me."

I faintly remember him opening the egg he had collected from the first task of the Triwizard Tournament fourth year. The screeching, nails-against-chalkboard sound had left me shivering for a week. I read that they sounded much, well, better underwater in their natural habitat. I had been unconscious the only time I was in the Black Lake during the second task when Victor saved me. I vowed never to return after I found questionable green weed in my hair after resurfacing. I shivered and wrote down the girl's (at least, I think it was a girl) idea, underlining and bolding NO MERMAIDS!

A few more ideas, and many votes, later, we were down to: Under the Black Lake (save the screeching mermaids), Flying Through the Sky on a Broomstick (combining the Walk in the Clouds idea and a sixth-year boy's idea of a Quidditch theme), A Night in the Astronomy Tower (it earned a few giggles, but I liked the promise of a starry night sky), and A Look Into a Pensive: The Hogwarts Golden Age. All fantastic ideas that we still had to choose from in-I looked at the clock-five minutes.

I rolled the chalkboard next to me and wrote down the themes in columns, choosing the timeless "Head's down and vote while I tally them up on the board" approach. I instructed everyone to put their heads down and close their eyes, only putting up their hands and voting for one theme. I recited the themes and tallied the votes, including my own, and smiled at the end result. Erasing the board and writing the winning theme, I turned it around and told everyone to pick up their heads while I announced the winner. But before I could do so, a voice spoke up from beside me.

"Actually-I have another idea."

I turned to see Potter looking meekly at me with an unreadable look in his eyes. I motioned for him to elaborate and he turned to the rest of the room. "How about a Masquerade?"

The room erupted in a buzz of excited voices.

I snorted and he turned to glare at me. "What's so funny?" he asked in annoyance.

"Well it's just… it's so tacky." He narrowed his eyes and I continued. "These people have been in anonymity for the entire summer. Why continue that? They should all be out in the open. No masks, no need to hide anymore."

"That's the point! Some people want to remain anonymous."

"And why on Earth would they want to do that?"

"Because they're probably ashamed of themselves, that's why. Imagine talking to someone in anonymity, making a connection, and then meeting them. What if they're disappointed? What if they change their opinion of you after seeing who you really are?"

"That's bollocks." I said, temporarily forgetting that just two days ago, I was thinking the exact same thing. "If you genuinely like the person, it shouldn't matter who they are or what they look like. All that should matter is that after all this time, hiding behind paper and quills, you have the chance to break free and show yourself. If they don't like you-that's their problem."

Oh Merlin, I sounded like Sue. Stupid Potter and his ability to get me all riled up.

"It's not what they'll think; it's what they'll do!"

"What they'll do…" I repeated slowly. "I don't imagine that as soon as they find out who the other is, they'll start wailing on each other."

"No that's not what I meant-"

"Oh really? Then please, elaborate for me."

"I would if you would give me two seconds to get my point across."

"Is that all it takes for you to talk? Wow, I actually overestimated you for once. Alert the Daily Prophet!"

He narrowed his eyes. "Tell me honestly, do you not like the idea because it's not a good one or because I said it?"

"Honestly." He nodded. "Both."

"That's not what I asked."

"That's exactly what you asked!" I said in exasperation, throwing my hand up in the air.

"No it wasn't! I asked a `this or that' question. You, among everyone else here, should know that you can't say this and that. It defeats the purpose."

"Since when did you get so articulate?" I asked in a dry voice.

"If you took a minute to listen to what I had to say, you would realize I'm not made up of just hot air."

"Could've fooled me…"

"What is your problem? Why do you insist on treating me like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like scum!"

"Because that's what you are. Low-life scum that belongs atop the Giant Squid's natural habitat! But if you're scum then what is everyone else? The lake? Everyone worships the ground you walk on. Yeah, okay, you defeated the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time. That's great, really. But that doesn't give you the right to push people out of your life that were trying to help you."

"Help me? What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!"

"No, I don't. Please, explain."

I almost believed him. Almost. "Why should I? This proves my point. You can't even remember how I-"

"MISS GRANGER, MISTER POTTER!"

I turned to see whose shrill voice interrupted me. But I already knew who it was before even taking the time to slowly address her. "Professor McGonagall."

She pointed to me and Potter. "You and you-my office-now. The rest of you, go on to the Great Hall. This meeting is now adjourned until your meeting next week."

It wasn't a suggestion. The horrified students scrambled for the exit and quickly skimmed the patrol times I had posted. I watched them go with sad eyes and walked with Professor McGonagall and Potter to her office.

The room was a tribute to Gryffindor. Her desk was placed by the furthest wall and had a series of trinkets, papers, and books lying atop it. There was a single scarlet lamp on the right side and a chair with a high back in the same shade. Along her walls were portraits of famous Wizard writers and-to my surprise-Quidditch players. There was a large bookcase (of course) on the right wall and what looked to be a globe in a near corner. The whole place had a warm glow to it and almost made me forget that I was in trouble. Big trouble.

"Sit." She ordered.

Me and Potter complied without speaking and sat down as she conjured two wooden chairs for us to sit on. She looked at us pointedly for about a minute. I wanted to speak up, cough, do something. But I feared that she might transfigure my head into a fishbowl-or worse, strip me of my Head Girl title.

"Would either of you care to explain yourselves?" She asked sternly, her lips thin with distaste. I remained silent and looked at Potter, who was as pale as Nearly Headless Nick. Was he really that afraid of her? I looked back at the professor. With the looks she was shooting at us, I would be too if I were him.

"Alright," She chipped, leaning forward in her chair and looking back and forth between the two of us. "Seeing as you have currently lost the ability to speak, let me try to sum it up for you. I come to my classroom to see two of my start students, the two Heads in fact, engaged a heated argument, voices raised to the point of screaming, and all the while, showing your fellow students how to not be a proper role model. One girl was as pale as you are now, Potter."

Some color came to his face as he shrunk down in his seat. Still, McGonagall continued. "What in Merlin's name could be so important that the two of you saw fit to debate heatedly in the presence of pupils who look up to you. Who aspire to be like you. Go on, tell me."

I heard Potter gulp dramatically like some actors do in films when they are too scared to do anything else. I gathered all of the courage I had left in me and spoke up in what I hoped was a confidant tone. "We-we were debating on what theme the upcoming ball should be, professor."

It wasn't a lie. That was how it started out.

But apparently, it wasn't good enough. "I think we all know it was a bit more than that, Miss Granger. In all my years of teaching I have never met a student that passionate about ball themes." I swallowed a laugh. Something about the way she said it made me believe it was meant as a joke. But, though I never chose to admit it, I could be wrong. "But I have come across two students that acted the same way you two do once before." My curiosity peaked and I straightened up in my seat, eager to listen. In the corner of my eye, I could see Potter's skin return to a ghostly pale shade and I made a point to note that for later.

"Throughout their years here, they always found a way to get into arguments with each other. The girl, one of the brightest of her age and a very gifted student; the boy, well, he wasn't an angel but harmless as a garden gnome. They were two of my best students and Head Boy and Girl." I gulped much like Potter had done a few moments ago. "I sat them down in my office after a very public, very loud argument had broken out between them, and informed them that if they did not stop their childish arguing, their positions would be stripped and it would go on their permanent records. Can you guess what happened after that, Mr. Potter?"

I turned and saw him nodding, looking at the floor. I shifted my gaze between him and McGonagall in confusion and wanted more than anything to know what exactly happened to the former Heads. I opened my mouth to ask, but McGonagall put up a hand, her face in a knowing contort. I shut my mouth and allowed her to speak. "Now, I'm going to say the same thing to you two as I did them. Clean up the way you act around each other and you can keep your positions and we can look past this whole ordeal. If not, I will take your positions away and make sure to record this on your transcripts. Are we clear?"

"Yes, professor." Potter and I chorused.

She nodded stiffly. "Good. Now, head off to your dormitory. I'm afraid you've missed the rest of dinner."

I nodded and left the room with my shoulders hung limp. I wasn't hungry anyway. The threat of my position being taken away was enough to make my stomach feel like someone took out my stomach, shook up its contents, and put it back all fizzy and flabby. It was all very graphic.

I arrived at the portrait and spoke the password to Marie. She looked down at me with pity but didn't ask any questions, which I appreciated. I slumped into the couch and rested my head in my hands, willing the upcoming headache I knew would happen to go away.

"So what now?"

His voice scarred me and it took a moment before I turned to see him sitting on the other side of the couch, looking at me numbly. I shrugged my shoulders, "The only thing we can do."

"And what's that?"

I licked my lips that had become chapped with all of the shallow breaths I had been letting escape. "Make peace."

I expected him to throw a fit, yell, tell me it was a stupid idea, but he did none. Instead, he nodded slowly, "Alright."

"Easier said than, though, right?"

"I'll stop if you will. Simple as that."

"Is it really that simple?" I asked darkly.

"Well yeah. As long as we keep in consensual-you pull your weight, and so do I. Contrary to popular belief, I actually enjoy being Head Boy."

"Really?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yes."

"At least we're on the same page." I mused.

"That's step one."

I chuckled.

"Step two."

"And what's that?"

"I made you laugh."

I raised an eyebrow. "Exactly how many steps are there?"

"Too many."

Instead of making a smart comment I turned serious for a minute. "I'm not going to be your friend, I hope you realize this."

He nodded. "I don't expect you to be. You seem to hate me too much to even fathom friendship with me."

It was like he read my mind. I awkwardly twiddled my thumbs, "This is a simple negotiation. No hugs, no inside jokes-just acting civil."

"I'll behave if you do."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked slightly offended.

"Nothing." He said coldly.

There was a long pause and I remembered my mental note. He was still in the same spot and I quickly asked before he left. "Who was McGonagall talking about, by the way?"

He stiffened and looked over at me. "No idea."

"You're a horrible liar."

He shrugged and got up from the couch, heading up the stairs. "Hey!" I called after him. He ignored me and, unless I was imagining things, picked up pace. I sunk back into the couch as my jaw locked. I would find out. Eventually.

As I sat there in silence, I let the cold sense of reality take a hold of me. Did I just make peace with Claudius? Arguably, the most hated of all literary characters written by William Shakespeare?

Only I would make that connection at a time like this. Next thing I knew, I was going to look for poison in my pumpkin juice and accuse him of being a phony in front of the royal family-I mean the professors. Shit.

Why does life have to get so damn complicated every time Potter enters the equation?

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