Gretchen frowned at the curious question, mostly because in the moment it hardly seemed appropriate but also because she was a Lestrange - what did he take her for? (The fact that her sisters were in entirely different houses was by-the-by, apparently she was more like Kris after all and he had certainly been a Slytherin through and through.)

Surely he wouldn’t think less of her? True, she didn’t like Gryffindors much but that was just the way it was at school and Gretchen hadn’t imagined the rivalry was something people genuinely carried into adulthood. Was it possible she had been mistaken and she was doomed to eternally be trapped amongst the immature?

“Which do you think?” She asked, with an ironic arch to her eyebrow. He seemed to be serious about the question though, for whatever reason, so Gretchen followed up with: “Slytherin, naturally.”

Had she done something wrong? She couldn’t imagine what, and Gretchen utterly hated being in the dark, so to be safe she ducked under his arms and took hold of the door handle. “I really ought to go.”

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Bee is tremendous, isn't she?

She was a Slytherin, which - made sense, now that he thought about it, because unlike in his family the Lestranges tended to favor Slytherin. From what he'd seen of her it came as a bit of a surprise (she seemed neither cunning or particularly manipulate) but then again, he knew the feeling of her lips more than he knew anything else about her, which he ought to change. Now wasn't the time, though, and although he had yet to figure out whether or not she was an actual child, he figured that he could simply ask someone about it later. Maybe Art would know—his mother was a Lestrange.

He made no move to stop her from leaving, but he managed a lopsided smile. "I was a Hufflepuff," he answered, almost like it was an afterthought—which it was, really, but he didn't know how else to respond to that question without making himself look like a silly, presumptuous fool.

She was turning the doorknob then, and he reached and took hold of her free hand in his own. "I'll see you - eventually," he said, the realization that she was going back to school (and would likely be there for a few more months) set in. If he was lucky he might see her this summer, and logically he would see her again someday as their families existed in similar crowds, but he didn't know when.

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— set by mj <3 —

Eventually?

What in Merlin’s name did that imply? He was smiling at her, in the same lazy, charming way he had at Christmas when she had perhaps had a little too much champagne and gotten carried away with the thrill of actually having someone talk to her like he actually cared that she was there, but this time Gretchen felt her head ought to be a great deal clearer.

It wasn’t. She was still confused and couldn’t explain why she had allowed any of this to happen. She could have pushed him away, could have returned to her guardian, sounded the alarm that there was a cad aboard the ship and she would probably have been believed: Gretchen credited herself that, seventeen or not, she had more sense than her cousin…

Oh.

Was that it?

Did Mr Prewett think he could take liberties because he thought she was as loose as Ellory had proven herself to be?

“No you won’t.” Gretchen replied before she left the cabin.

Leaning against the door for a moment she realised belatedly that her uncle was indeed coming along the passageway, though he was smiling and waving her towards him.

Don’t come out. Don’t come out. Don’t come out.

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Bee is tremendous, isn't she?

Her words struck him, and she might as well have slapped him, because it would have been equally as shocking.

She did not intend to see him again. Logically, it made sense: she was still a Lestrange, she was in school, and she shouldn't have been anywhere near him to begin with, especially after their first encounter. But Freddie was not typically ruled by logic, and although upon reflection he knew it made sense, it did not stop the disappointment from seeping into his chest.

She'd been so pretty, such a nice kisser, and he hadn't even had time to learn her name yet—and now she was gone.

He might have followed her, but she left so quickly, her words so emotionless and decisive, that he felt as though any attempts to convince her otherwise would make him look pathetic. It's not like he knew her, not really. He would move on. There were plenty of pretty faces—not so many that were as eager as agreeable as Miss Lestrange, but still plenty. But even as he thought that, a frown still sat unmoving on his lips.

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— set by mj <3 —