Sixth Year (Snowbaz)

11. Star Signs

A/N: Ahhhh the Wayward Son release date was announced a few days ago and I'm so excited I cried a little :-) Sorry it's been a while but I was out of town and then living my best life.

(Also I know Simon doesn't know his birthday in Carry On but I'm cancelling that fact because it makes me upset. Therefore, he sorta knows his birthday.)

Simon

Agatha and I sit in the window nook outside the Astrology classroom after our lesson. Today, Mrs. Chevette taught us about astrological signs and how they determine compatibility in a relationship. Agatha and I gave each other a worried look across the room when we determined that Libras and Cancers aren't astrologically compatible.

The thing is, I might not even be a Cancer. When the workers at the orphanage took me to the doctors they estimated I was born around mid-June. The orphanage wrote on my official documents that my birthdate was June 21st. According to Margaret, the front desk lady at the orphanage, they'd picked the date because it was Prince William's birthday and a Saturday. Not only would I follow in the footsteps of a future king, but apparently babies born on Saturdays were destined to be hard-working and powerful. Even so, for all I knew I could be a Gemini or aLeo and Agatha I would be perfectly compatible.

Agatha's stockinged legs connect with mine. We're facing each other on opposite sides of the window nook, the white mid-morning light pouring onto our faces.

"I doubt it means anything," Agatha says matter-of- factly, fiddling with a hair tie around her wrist. "I mean, Baz is a Pisces. Which makes you two perfect for each other." We both let out a laugh.

"Hah. Fat chance," I say. "Also, I'm not even that emotional I'm not sure how I could be a Cancer."

"You must me joking, Simon. You're moodiest person I know." Agatha is grinning.

"As if you aren't a textbook superficial Libra," I jeer.

She slaps my arm.

"Am not!" Her bottom lip fat and sulky.

"Agatha, you spend an hour doing your hair each morning and you have 3 Louis Vuitton bags," I kick her ankle teasingly and laugh.

"I like nice things," she argues, "I'm still a nice person. All this star sign business is rubbish anyway. Pisces are supposed to be compassionate and gentle and Baz is a complete brute."

"Hmm I guess." Agatha glares at the hesitation in my voice.

"Simon, he pushed you down a flight of stairs last year!" she exclaims.

"Oh yeah."

Agatha and I continue talking through the morning recess. She has French next and I have Magic Words. I gave up French as soon as I could. All those letters that you never actually pronounce were too complicated for me.

Agatha tells me her mother ordered me a silver Giorgio Armani suit for the Halloween ball in a few weeks. She says it'll be dropped off at Watford within the next week.

"Wear the black shoes not the brown Simon, remember that."

"Okay black not brown got it."

I give her a quick peck on the cheek, gather my books and head down the winding stairs to my Magic Words lesson. I'm not particularly good at the practical aspect of the lessons but I am rather fond of Miss Possibelf. She's kind (but not friendly) and she doesn't treat me like an idiot, which is helpful because I feel like one most of the time anyway.

Last week we had to write a commentary on the importance of the emphasis of syllables in film quotations. I used the Lord of the Rings' "My precious," as an example for why emotion and the trailing out of multi-syllable words was key to the landing the Commanding Spell effectively.