A Study in Red PV Rhea Bishop Finished

Rhea seemed to space out for a bit, as if getting lost in her own memories, and Max wondered just how unpleasant they were. Purebloods could be brutal when it came to Houses, and if his mother liked the family then there was no doubt that they were firm when it came to punishments. He felt bad for the girl he barely knew, though sympathy quickly turned to shock when she snapped out of her reverie and spoke again.

She'd lied? About her House? To her parents? If he hadn't been so schooled about keeping a neutral expression, Max's jaw might've genuinely dropped at that. It would be nearly impossible to keep that a secret for even a few months, let alone years. Which meant she expected to get caught sometime, which was... concerning, to say the least. She must be truly terrified to not only risk their wrath about her House, but also to directly lie to them. He couldn't decide whether it was incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Both, probably.

"Oh, my parents?" It took a couple of seconds for him to come out of his thoughts, pausing as he remembered the letter he'd gotten before he even had time to write home. Sometimes he thought his mother was psychic - she seemed to know things about him that he barely knew himself. That, or she had spies everywhere. Either option was equally as likely. Gingerly sliding into the chair across from her, he tried to think of something encouraging about his own situation to give her hope for hers.

"Well. The first thing I got was a letter from my mother saying that we'll talk when I get home." That had all been that'd been written but a lot more had been said in the brief few words than an entire letter. Threats and promises lived in the little white spaces between words when someone wrote something like that. "And then I got a longer letter from my father saying that I'm going to live with my Uncle Ivor this summer."

Somehow, that had been even more concerning than the horrifying punishments his mother's vague threat had dredged up. His uncle was a haunting figure who more often than not had a completely flat affect. Eyes that were more dead than cold, an expression that could make a rock look emotive, and such an air of unruffled neutrality that it seemed like you kill everyone he knew and he wouldn't care enough to blink... They all added up to a summer that seemed poised to break him.

Max smiled weakly, trying to think of something positive to say about that. Even if he convinced his parents that Gryffindor was good, they'd already made the arrangements, so he was stuck with the very-likely-former-Death Eater for at least a couple of months. It was bleak. But on the bright side - because you always had to find something you could get out of a terrible situation - it might make him a stronger person. Achilles had basically been dipped in the river of hell and he'd come out nearly invulnerable. Then again, if Max tried to make that case with Rhea, there was always the fact that Achilles's 'invulnerability' had led to his downfall.

"It isn't great, but..." He ran through a list of things to say in his mind, all of them sounding too fake to an ear that was practised in hearing falsehoods. And he'd bet any money Rhea would hear it right away, coming from the Bishop family. His smile slipped away and he leaned down to rest his forehead on the table with a long sigh.

"Who am I kidding?" he muttered to the table, not looking up. "This sucks. We both know it. We'll be gossiped about all summer - it'll be scandalous." He snorted a laugh before lifting his head to look up again, a rueful grin on his face. "And there's no doubt holidays will be hell. But, I mean... it'll be kind of funny, in a horrible sort of way. I wonder who'll fake faint at the dinner parties when they hear."

It certainly was good to know that someone else was in the same boat as her. That she wasn't all alone in this unpleasant situation. As she told the boy of her actions, she almost saw the gears in his head start to turn, wondering how she'd managed to keep everything a secret. She herself was surprised she'd managed to keep her secret for so long. Part of the credit would have to go to her nanny, however; she'd sent two separate owls that faithful day, one to her nanny and one to her parents. The one to her nanny had stated that she was sorted into Gryffindor, but wanted to pretend she was in Slytherin. Without any questions, her nanny had complied.

And Rhea was eternally thankful, for without Aida's help, she long would've been withdrawn from Hogwarts. And how else would she have been able to meet all the fabulous people that she had; how else was she supposed to not go insane from the amount of time she spent at dinner parties and the like?

As she slowly came out of her daydream, she realized that Max was explaining all about how his parents had taken the news. He mentioned something about his mother wanted to talk with him, and then him having to stay with an Uncle over the summer... The uncle sounded scary. Just from the way Max spoke about him, Rhea could tell that Uncle Ivor was not the nicest man. Scared to know the details, Rhea didn't bother to ask about why exactly he sounded so mean. 

If Max had to go away for the summer just because he was being sorted into Gryffindor, would she have to as well? But who would she have to stay with? Her grandparents that lived on the coast had passed away (a fact that that still pained Rhea to think about), and no uncles or aunts of hers would take her in. Unless Aunt Siobhan did, but that depended on if her mother even wanted to send Rhea over to their house. 

Sighing, Rhea looked down at the ground. There was nothing good that could come out of this. Why had she been sorted into Gryffindor? Did the Sorting Hat really like torturing its students, or something? Like, come on. She'd expressly ask to be put into Slytherin, but here she was, wearing red and golden patterned robes. 

Not that she was angry, of course. She loved her house, and had a lot of pride for it (as one would know, if they spoke to her on a daily basis). However, the complications of being sorted into Gryffindor almost outweighed the benefits that came with being a Gryffindor. 

She tilted her head as Max tried to find the good in their situation - there wasn't any, of course; both of Rhea's parents would krill her as soon as they found out, and she'd go to bed crying again. But at least he tried, right?

"Oh yes, the dramatic fainting that everyone must have become a professional at," Rhea rolled her eyes a bit, a small smile appearing. "But hey, even if our parents yell at us, even if you have to go live with that scary uncle of yours - at least you'll know you have someone going through the same thing, right? And we can even laugh at all those who faint."

A chuckle fell from Max's lips as he nodded, trying to maintain the lighthearted atmosphere despite the fact that they were both in poor situations. Although it would majorly suck, there was nothing that could be done at this point. He still wasn't sure if he was a fan of this House or not, but he decided he'd do his best for where he'd been sorted during his time here. The paper seemed to have spots open, so maybe he'd apply for that and gain some reputation that way. Or become a Quidditch player despite the fact that he had no sports qualifications. He barely even knew how to fly, but doing things for his House may increase his prestige slightly among the family. He could call it spy work or some such thing. Why they'd need spies, he had no clue, but adults were weird.

"You're right," Max said with a nod of determination that said everything he couldn't. It couldn't be changed, and he wasn't about to go grovelling to the headmaster on his hands and knees because the Sorting Hat had messed up. Bravery was an alright trait, and apparently Gryffindors had it in spades. Ambition would've better but there was no point focusing on the 'would've beens'. "Birds of a feather, right? There's probably other people out there like us but since we've found each other, we should stick together. Hell, if we tell our parents we're friends then maybe it'll give us brownie points because it's some of that networking stuff pure-bloods love."

There he'd said it, the F-word despite them only just meeting. But with their families and situations, they had enough in common that he didn't feel awkward putting it out there. Their kind really did have to stick together with the bloodlines rapidly declining through getting muddied up with muggles or just modern day pure-bloods electing not to have children. Who wanted to have children anymore? He certainly didn't - they were often noisy, messy, and all around gross. He wasn't even sure how one went about acquiring a child anyway, and he wasn't inclined to find out because it all seemed like one big horror fest.

The thought was making him antsy so he shifted in his seat, pulling a foot up to rest it on the edge of the table and leaning back so he could use his leg to tip his chair backwards. Crossing his arms, he rocked his chair back and forth, wondering what the best way to make a friend was. Laughing always seemed like the best policy.

"Tell me, Rhea Bishop," he said as he continued to rock, the chair gently protesting with squeaks that weren't quite loud enough to alert any nearby librarians or assistants. He should really have more respect for school property, but after learning some of the ropes here he'd realized that you only needed respect for school property when someone was watching. "What's your absolute funniest dinner party story? I know there's a ton, but there's always that one special one you never forget because of the hilarity that ensues."

It was a good way to distract the both of them from the situation at hand as well, since talking about it might only lead to more stress. Two birds with one stone - stress relief and laughing. Which also added to the bigger picture of becoming the F-word. Plus, adding another story to his repertoire of them couldn't hurt. Though most pure-bloods were stuck up and loathed to embarrass themselves, you always had those select few who could never help it. Maybe it was after a couple of drinks, maybe it was because they had a flair for the dramatics and took it too far; but whatever the reason, disgustingly rich people could be absolutely hilarious.

"sometimes what you expect from a friend, you get from a stranger."

"sometimes what you expect from a friend, you get from a stranger."

When Rhea grinned and seemed to become more relaxed, Max decided that trading funny stories was the best way to go in an uncomfortable situation like this. He let his chair hit the ground with a solid thunk, waiting for the slight wobble to cease before standing up to go plant himself on the opposite side of the bookshelf. Moving back to lean against some of the soft old covers, he stretched out one leg and drew the other one up to his chest to set his chin on as he listened, smiling with his lips slightly parted to let out continuous small laughs as she spoke.

It was almost hypnotic, hearing a story in the library with nothing but the scent of the old books and the laughter of two kids between shelves. This was a place that imagination could and had run wild - for people getting lost in fictional worlds or someone furiously scribbling on paper to get what was in their head out so that it might one day be a book in this library.

Here it was easy to conjure up the images Rhea was talking about - an entire house full of people politely conversing and dining while waiting for the hosts to show up. He could only laugh harder at the thought of how everyone might've tried to hold back their curiosity as they waited, no one thinking they ought to leave simply because the hosts weren't there. If it wasn't a gala then it wasn't so formal that you had to be there to greet people, right? But the way they got back was the real kicker - another pureblood family who was only holding it together on the surface while getting drunk or doing bad things. Man, purebloods were messed up. Were any of them really normal?

When the story ended with people being appalled and finding it funny at the same time, Max was in stitches. It didn't help that Rhea was on the floor laughing, because every time he looked at her it made him start laughing again. Without even seeing the hosts, he had the most hilarious mental picture in his head just from Rhea's expression; it took a while for his laughs to taper off into chuckles that finally abated as he shifted to wake a leg that had fallen asleep.

"People are always so put together... until they're not," he snorted, leaning his head back to rest it against the shelf as he tried to rub some blood into the calf of his leg. "Merlin, there's so many stories when it comes to purebloods - they're always losing their minds. I don't know if I have a specific situation at a dinner party that can come close to yours but..."

He paused to let out a low laugh again, trying not to crack up into giggles because he was still giddy and that one night had always made him fall apart. "Well, this one was bonkers because it was all a big misunderstanding, as these things are often are. Mother and Father liked to have our House Elves look after the invitations and respond because there always so many and they're busy with business. The Elves go through it all and pick out the cream of the crop families that are on the list, respond with something like 'The Averys would be delighted to attend,' and set up transportation so my parents don't even have to think. Good system, yeah? Until they accidentally mix up and think an invitation is from someone who isn't a pureblood is an invitation from some great family."

Leg tingling as the blood returned, he stopped massaging it to rest his hand on the floor as he looked upwards, not able to look Rhea in the eye for fear of laughing again. "Not really anyone's fault - Červeňák sounds pretty hoity-toity, the spelling takes some thought. We all got signed up to go this party for the Červeňák family without much thought; it was all good and fine until we're halfway there in the carriage and Mother asks, 'whereabouts is this party, anyhow?' Keep in mind we're dressed to the nines, custom suits and a one-time-only dress for Mother because we want to make a good impression. The House Elf who set this all up - can't remember the poor bugger's name, since he's been fired - says 'Black Country, Ma'am.'"

It was truly a struggle not to die of laughter thinking about the look on his mother's face. Never had he seen her caught so unawares as she was upon finding out that they were heading for the 'rough, working-class trash' area of the West Midlands. "Červeňák wasn't some rich, pureblood family," he barely managed to get out, his voice quavering with effort. "They were Romani people who sent us the invite as a mocking joke making fun of us, never expecting us to come. They weren't - they weren't even wizards." He lost it, clutching his stomach as he broke into laughter at the memory of arriving to a place in the middle of the country. No houses, no tables, a few chairs, but mostly people partying around fires and looking like they were having more fun that he'd ever thought possible in his life. A pig on a spit turning over the fire, and the men working the spit wearing grease-stained clothes without a care in the world for propriety.

"But Merlin, those people knew how to party," his words were wheezing between his teeth now and the fight to keep his voice down was real. "We were about to turn around and leave when they caught site of us and basically dragged us out of the carriage. Mother and Father were so lost; everyone was yelling and there were too many witnesses to Obliviate all at once. It took forever to leave and we must've gotten hugged by everyone there. It... it still doesn't even feel real, it was so different." He wished he could say more - like how, despite the people doing it to make fun of them, the Červeňáks had appeared genuinely delighted to see them. That none of the friendliness or gaiety of the people there had been faked, but instead everyone had been happy just to be partying, and more than willing to share. It was debatable whether or not those people had a lot of money, but they hadn't seemed to want for anything. Kind of amazing, although it didn't take away from the fact that it was so funny his stomach was aching and he had to draw in deep breaths to calm himself or he might pull something.

"Ah, it feels good to laugh. Despite everything else, they can't take away how funny things are." He was more controlled now, though it still felt like the slightest bit of some small hilarity might send him over the edge. "You know, hearing stories and telling them has actually made this whole thing feel better. So thanks for that - if you hear or see anything else funny, be sure to tell me, yeah?"

❝a friend is not a coincidence in our life. They were a stranger meant to come into our life to bring us priceless lessons and funny memories.❞

❝a friend is not a coincidence in our life. They were a stranger meant to come into our life to bring us priceless lessons and funny memories.❞

Laughter, merriment, and glee. This day had begun rather monotonous and been a slow trickle of time leafing through books in the library, but the ending to it had become something else altogether. Outside of Aubren - which had ended poorly, hence the reason he was in the library alone with no friends - he hadn't met another Gryffindor he'd connected with. Meeting with someone with a background as illustrious as the Bishops' had proved that fortune didn't only favour the bold. It also favoured the cunning, crafty people who became friends through curiosity about mutually affluent relatives.

After the deep, full-bellied laughs that left him with that inexplicable satiated feeling one often got after a fun interaction, it was rather shocking to be reminded of the time. Yet again it felt like the library was a timeless place - minutes slipped away so subtly you didn't realize they were gone until it was too late. Or maybe it was just because they'd been having so much fun; there was some sort of saying about how fast things went when you were having fun. Either way things looked up. More up than they had in a bit, leastways, as he scooped up his book and stood from his spot on the floor.

"The pleasure was all mine, and I'm certain we'll speak again soon," he offered back with a deep bow of his own that bent him neatly in two as if he were bowing to a queen. He kept his bow up as if he were keen on proper etiquette until she had exited the room, a small smile still on his face the entire time. This would be one of those tricky friendships where you were never quite sure how much you could say, but it would be worth it - regardless of the fact that they weren't in the House they should've been, it would be easier. Around another pureblood, he could breathe. None of that tension that sat in his shoulders every time he had to be polite to someone who wasn't pure.

Straightening up, he gave one last glance to the shelf that had fallen with narrowed eyes. Hogwarts was supposed to be one of the safest places around. It hadn't been during the Wizarding War, sure, but things were supposed to have changed. A rickety shelf with the potential to hurt a student that couldn't move out of the way quick enough wasn't what they'd advertised. Or professors not being around when bullying got out of hand.

There was something about this school that made him feel slightly uneasy...

Shrugging it off, he tucked his book back under his arm and decided there was no point in searching for what he'd been planning to look for, not when the librarian could come creeping around the corner at any time. He'd rather get a good, long sleep to keep his mind sharp than stick around to fight with whatever old, decrepit woman likely ran this place. With a small nod to himself and the resolve to go back to the dorms at a brisk pace to chase off his disquiet, he left the library.