Folie à Deux

Chapter 9: The Kids Aren't Alright

Chapter 9: That's A Good Idea, Break A Promise To Your Mother or, The Kids Aren't Alright

Rating: M mainly for language, and I can't discount any funny business later on

Disclaimer: I work with only what the infallible J.K. Rowling has given me.

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"McGonagall wants to see us, she didn't actually say why — Oh, God, Weasley, what are you doing?"

Rose looked up from where she was stringing twine balls along the mantel above the fireplace. "What? I was just adding a few little things here and there."

"That is hideous, Weasley. If I die tomorrow and that is the last thing I remember, you'd better believe I'd rise from the grave and strangle you with it."

"At this rate you'll be dying a lot quicker than tomorrow, I can assure you," Rose muttered back, ignoring him as she charmed the balls to flicker with a soft orange light.

"Why do we need light over a fireplace?"

"It's not just the light," she said, standing and surveying her handiwork. "I think it makes it look a lot homier." She turned and taxed his unimpressed expression, then sighed and charmed the balls to a tawny brown. "Better?"

Scorpius made a noise that sounded like begrudging acceptance.

"And what's that?" he said, his voice rising as something caught his eye to their left. "What exactly have you done to our window?"

Rose folded her arms across her chest. "Oh, right, I was going to ask you about that. I think the blue casts a nice light in here. Or I could change it so it only tints blue at night?"

"Blue is for the ocean and I don't like the ocean. And since we're still decorating-" He raised his wand and magicked up a mirror positioned above the fireplace. "Looks better here than over there."

Rose glanced at her reflection in it. "Blue isn't just for the ocean. Eyes can be blue." She turned to face him.

"I don't like blue," he said.

Rose shook her head at him. "Then, by all means, change it to something you like." She flounced past him and shut herself in her room.

Scorpius massaged his temple, made a face and headed for the other bedroom. As he turned to take another look at the new room changes, he noticed that there was still only one desk available, and he paused. He could duplicate it, or he could leave it; both would send a message he wasn't quite sure he wanted to send.

He huffed, and left it as it was.

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"I trust you find your new dorm to your satisfaction?" McGonagall surveyed them under her glasses as she sealed the envelope she was writing.

"Yes, Professor."

"Good. Now, I'd imagine you'd like to know why I called you two in." Without waiting for a reply, she carried on. "As you're aware, the annual Christmas Ball will be held on the last Friday of the school term. You will also be aware that the event is traditionally organised by choice members of the faculty, however," - and here her eyes seemed to twinkle behind her glasses - "we have decided that it might be more fitting for the arrangers and decorators of the Ball to better represent the student body."