man, I feel like whatever age I'm currently

Saturday September 1, 1923

Pencil and sketchbook back out and ready as she considered the fact that she’d spoken to plenty of kids her own age, Lovelace started looking for an older kid that might be approachable. She didn’t want to just talk to someone her sister’s age, figuring that wouldn’t do as much for her socialization as the dogs and cats got when they were forced to interact with others, so she was aiming taller, or just older, if she could tell. That was a big if; she wasn’t great at judging, so she generally just had to guess, then ask to confirm. She wouldn’t walk away if she’d guessed wrong because apparently that was rude, but maybe she’d just try to be boring and quiet. If the wrong person seemed to like that, she could always switch it up and really let her personality loose on them, like she really tried to only do with her big sis. She figured Rey probably didn’t actually like it, on account of all their other rellies complaining about how annoying she was like that, but Rey could stand it, which was the important part.

It was a bit more difficult for Lovelace to pick out a satisfactory older kid, because most were chatting it up with others like they had all the friends they could ever need. Most of the others that weren’t already in groups also looked mean, or unhappy. Lovelace supposed she could try out talking to mean people, but she thought she might want to build some confidence first, so she didn’t end up just running back to the compartment she and Rey had taken. She wasn’t sure she needed confidence to talk to the sad ones, so much as she needed to be in a less excitable mood. Her family had always said she was the worst at working the sad marks, and she’d taken that to heart, trying to be less hare around them and more tortoise, but as far as she knew, it had never actually worked.

As though she needed proof that she shouldn’t approach the kids in the car she was in, Lovelace realized that she’d stopped focusing on finding one to talk to and had switched to drawing a tortoise and hare racing at the bottom of a few of the pages of her sketchpad. She grimaced as she reminded herself that she had to conserve this one because her mother had only agreed to buy her a sketchpad when she ran out of space if she behaved and got good marks. After storing the pencil in the stitching again so she wouldn’t be tempted to continue the animation, she headed into the next car.

Which, after a few cursory glances, seemed to be just as unlikely to be hiding anyone she thought she could approach. Lovelace was getting a bit tired of people-watching, but she also didn’t want to give up that easily. As dutifully as though she’d been ordered to by her mother (so, with very little attention or care given to the task), Lovelace scanned the faces and activities of her fellow students. After a few moments, she thought she actually might have found a student that ticked all the boxes to help broaden her social skills. As bored as she was of searching, she might’ve stretched some of the boxes, but they were in her head, so she figured that would be just fine as she made her way quickly over to them. “G’day, want some company?” she asked as soon as she thought they could hear, an eyebrow slowly raising as she spoke and waited for a response.

Nothing felt right.

There were things that felt familiar. Loading her trunk onto the train. Finding a compartment. Watching the countryside disappear beyond the window. The trolley witch making her rounds with sweets. Laughter filling the corridor as first years ran around with excitement.

Everything was exactly as it should have been.

Matilda wanted nothing to do with any of it.

Curled into the corner beside the window, as far away from the noise as she could manage, she watched the countryside blur together. Normally she'd have been halfway through a bottle of butterbeer, telling stories about their summer adventures, or dragging Alice off to find their friends before the train got underway.

Today she couldn't even convince herself to smile. She wouldn’t be looking for her friends today. Internally, she knew it was childish to sulk and hide, but she couldn’t find it in her to care.

Her eyes had finally stopped burning. That at least, was an improvement.

She'd known saying goodbye to Drago would hurt. She'd prepared herself for that. What she hadn't prepared for was dissolving into tears on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

Dignified. Lady Beaumont would have been appalled. Grandmother would've probably asked if she'd been possessed.

Looking back on it now, Matilda couldn't even blame exhaustion or emotion. The truth was painfully simple.

She loved him.

Somewhere between arguments in greenhouses, birthday dinners, dancing until her feet hurt, letters that made her laugh aloud in Paris, and stolen kisses that had completely ruined her ability to think like a respectable young lady…

...she had fallen hopelessly, spectacularly in love with Dragomir Zdravkova.

It was almost insulting how thoroughly he'd won.

She'd spent months insisting he was insufferable. She had been right, he'd remained insufferable. He'd simply become her favorite person anyway.

A small, watery laugh escaped her. Wiping a single tear away before anyone would notice.

"Don't let that go to your head,"/b] she muttered to the empty compartment, imagining exactly how smug he'd look if he could hear her.

The smile faded almost as quickly as it came. The summer had changed more than just her relationship with Drago.

Alice wasn't coming back. That thought landed heavier than all the rest.

For years there had always been someone waiting for her at Hogwarts. Someone who understood her before she had to explain herself. Someone who had grown up alongside her. Now Alice had disappeared, and while Matilda prayed she was somewhere safe...the empty space she'd left behind felt like a black hole.

Rae. Benji. Morgan. Maevie. Tulip.

She had friends. Good friends. But they weren't Alice. And suddenly Hogwarts didn't feel quite so much like home.

She rested her forehead against the cool glass. Maybe that was why leaving Drago had hurt so much. Because Hogwarts was no longer home. Home was standing on the platform she had just left behind.

---

Thoroughly in her own head, she didn’t notice the girl walking up to her.

“G’day, want some company?”

No. No she did not. [b]”Sure. Come on in and take a seat.” Matilda sat up straight, running her hands down her sweater, over her skirt and patting her hair to make she she looked halfway decent. No doubt her eyes were red from crying.

Not exactly the best first impression.

”Hi, I’m Matilda. What's your name? First year or are you transferring from another school?”

More than happy to take anyone that didn’t look like they planned to bite her head off up on an offer, Lovelace nodded her head and stepped into the compartment. “Thanks!” she responded brightly, already happy at how well her attempts to socialize herself were going. She sat diagonally from the other girl, getting comfortable while making sure her sketchpad didn’t jump out of her lap. There were a few close calls that led her to believe she should’ve steered clear of her mother’s card stock when making it, no matter how shiny it looked.

Once in a position she could live with, Lovelace turned her attention back to the other girl. She’d noticed that the other girl seemed a bit fidgety, though Lovelace was always fidgety, so didn’t feel she had the right to judge or speculate on that. Now that she didn’t seem to be moving around so much, though, Lovelace wondered what had changed. So, she examined the other girl, being as subtle about it as she could manage by looking from the corners and tops of her eyes.

“’Ullo,” she greeted Matilda again in response to her words, relieved to be able to look at her head-on. “Nice to meetcha, Matilda, I’m Lovelace,” she replied with a smile before shaking her head, “Not transferring, I’m a first year.” she admitted, mouth twisting slightly. She didn’t know how any first years without siblings were doing it—then she remembered many would’ve grown up knowing plenty about magic. For the muggleborns, though, that had to be rough.

As Lovelace focused more on studying the other girl, she noticed that her eyes looked a bit red. Her mother was a redhead as well and her eyes always looked the same, so she assumed it was just a redheaded thing and figured it’d be more polite to not comment on it. Instead, she raised her eyebrows and took a breath to ask some questions of her new companion, “What year are you?” she asked, and truly tried to leave it there. “Have you been going to Hogwarts this whole time? Didja know about magic before ya got your letter? What’s the castle like? I’ve never been in a castle before, but what with all the stone I’d think it’d be a bit cold n’ drafty, is that so?”

The barrage of questions hit Matilda so quickly she actually blinked. A tiny laugh escaped before she could stop it.

The unmistakable energy of a first year was exhausting. It reminded her of herself once, her and Benji sitting on the train, eating snacks and comparing stories. The nostalgia hit her like a freight train. Before etiquette lessons. Before society. Before Russian boys made a disaster of her emotions.

"One at a time," she chuckled, holding up a hand to slow her down. "I promise I'll answer all of them."

She shifted in her seat, turning to face Lovelace properly. Having something to take her mind off all the emotions was a welcome distraction.

"I'm a seventh year." The words still felt strange to say aloud. "I've been at Hogwarts since I was eleven, so yes, it's always been my school."

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "And yes, I knew about magic before my letter, but plenty of students don't. You'll fit in just fine."

Her eyes drifted briefly toward the passing countryside before returning to the younger girl. "As for the castle… It is cold. It's drafty. The staircases enjoy inconveniencing everyone equally. Portraits gossip more than actual people. You'll get lost for at least your first month."

She paused, thinking about her previous answer. "And possibly your second."

Smiling wider. "Actually..." she admitted, "I still occasionally get lost."

"But it's also one of the most wonderful places you'll ever see." The words surprised her a little. Despite everything… Alice leaving, being away from Drago, her whole life changing without her having a say, she was still excited to go back to school and finish her final year. The castle really was an amazing place.

"You'll find rooms you didn't know existed, paintings that argue with each other, staircases that drop you off on floors you’ve never been to, house elves that love to give you snacks in the kitchen..." She smiled at the memories. ”It can be scary at first, but now it’s home.”

Her expression softened for a moment before she caught herself lingering on that last word.

Home. Not quite. Not anymore. Not without them. Clearing her throat, she tilted her head curiously.

"Now my turn. You have an accent I can’t place. Where are you from?" She nodded toward the sketchbook sitting in Lovelace's lap. "And you haven't put that thing down since you came in. What are you drawing?"

The other girl’s laughter hadn’t slowed Lovelace’s words, though her words had. As soon as she was finished asking if the castle was drafty, she pressed her lips together and did her best to keep them that way to further questions while Matilda answered the first ones she’d had. Her eyes widened at the revelation that her new compartment-mate was a seventh year. Height really didn’t seem to equate to age—although, she was sitting down, so that might have something to do with it as well.

It was hard for Matilda’s thoughts on fitting in with the students that hadn’t heard of magic to not feel familiar to Lovelace. This time, though, she was being thrown into a world of strangers with magic rather than those at “home” that just judged her for hers. As her mouth twisted with slight dissatisfaction at the concept of fitting in, she worked to consider her next thoughts neutrally. Matilda’s clear appreciation for the castle helped, and Lovelace found herself imagining what the girl spoke of. It wasn’t difficult in the way it seemed to be for her mother’s side of the family, Lovelace had never had any issues allowing her imagination to carry her away with it. “I’ve heard some about the staircases.” she admitted seriously, eyebrows furrowing slightly. She always did her best to protect her sources, so wasn’t sure how much she should share about the staircases throwing students willy-nilly; was that only something a Blackwood would know about?


The portraits were even more interesting to Lovelace, so she leaned in, although she fought the urge to ask another question. Almost against her will, she found herself smiling with Matilda as the girl continued to speak. She was surprised that the other girl was willing to admit to having gotten lost, since she seemed much more like Lovelace’s mother’s side of the family than her father’s, though she supposed not everyone would be just like the two groups she was most familiar with.

Lovelace’s eyebrows skyrocketed at the concept that this girl, who had so much experience with Hogwarts and magic, might want to know anything she already did. She didn’t exactly think she was boring, or that she didn’t have some amount of knowledge that others might have, but it did seem like there were much more pressing issues ahead of them. Still, she reminded herself, it was natural for people to want to know if they’d found their people in another, so she straightened up and waited for a question, hoping she would be able to answer easily. She broke out into a smile at the first question, shoulders managing to push back into what her mother might consider good posture as she answered, “It’s not the clearest, or best example of what I coulda done, according to my mother, but I lived all over Australia til I was ten.” she responded, head tilting to consider her sketchbook. She’d never been shy about it before, and though she knew it was like exposing her belly, she lifted it and started to hand it to the other girl.

It was difficult not to look intently at Matilda as Lovelace opened the sketchbook and waited for the girl to look through it. “Stuff I’ve seen at Diagon Alley, or on the train here, or flyin’ on my father’s broom, a few other things I thought may’ve been magic that I seen or did before my father told me, an’ what I think stuff might look like.” she said, finishing off rather quietly. She wasn’t sure how someone who’d seen it all already might react to her imagination, or how simplistic she knew her sketches were compared to what she had in her head. She reminded herself again that she’d never seen a unicorn, or a mandrake, or the castle, or any quidditch pitches outside of the books she’d begged her father to get, and that if the other girl made fun of her for any of that, it had nothing to do with Lovelace or her drawings. Although she wanted to ask more questions, she wanted to wait until her curiosity was back, rather than just asking to change the subject, so she turned her head to look out the window instead of looking for reactions from the other girl. This was a good thing, she realized as she took in the view: what she saw was all so much more beautiful than London, so much more green than way back home, and she probably wouldn’t have even noticed until they arrived at the castle if she hadn’t taken the moment to.