October 13th, 1890 — Hogwarts Library

Cameron had been dealing with the shock of their weekend in the same way that any self-respecting teenage boy would: by ignoring it completely. He pretended Sloane had never broken down, that he had ever jumped to conclusion, and that she'd seen him shed a tear—and really, it was easy enough to regret considering how intense(ly destructive) their snogging had gotten shortly after.

He even invited her to study with him in the library, making sure everyone around him saw the stack of textbooks he'd been carrying with him as to not cause any suspicion. He'd invited Ned, too, just to be on the safe side (and it was the safe side, because he already knew Ned had a prior commitment). Besides, it wasn't as if he intended to snog her in the middle of the library. He knew better. If she got so panicked over snogging in the Potts library—something that had made his ability to meet Calla's eye that week way too difficult—he couldn't imagine how she'd handle it in the library. No, he actually intended to study. Intended to.

"I'm never going to pass my Potions OWL," he groaned not even ten minutes into their study session. Before now, it hadn't mattered much. Quidditch was his future, and no quidditch player needed Potions to play, but now he was beginning to consider alternatives. Not because quidditch wasn't his future, but because it had recently dawned upon him that quidditch wasn't a forever. The only son to a widow who he greatly suspected had spent much of his father's savings to survive in the years after his death, he needed a real job after the sport. He couldn't afford to coach or referee or whatever players did, and he needed more than three NEWTs (and thus, more than three OWLS) to accomplish that.

Maybe Potions wasn't one of them. He still wanted the option.

"What sort of jobs can you get with three NEWTs anyways?" he asked, not expecting her to know much more than him. At least girls didn't have to work. At least Sloane wouldn't. Not forever.

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Sloane Bixby

  

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Sloane had settled on keeping her embarrassment to herself after their weekend escapades had gone awry, then gotten slightly better. Even breaking the pots now caused a chuckle instead of dread. Somehow she'd make it up to Calla and her sisters. Somehow.

Studying in the library with Cam no longer looked as odd as it would have a few weeks ago. Sloane had become a frequent flier of the stacks ever since she'd decided she needed to avoid the dorm and common room as much as possible these days. It sucked, but having Cam for company made it a little better.

"I don't know. Haven't looked into much other than maybe doing magizoology after quidditch." Truthfully even that had been minimal effort even after Ned had mentioned it. Maybe she'd ask him what he thought she'd need for it. "I'm not going to pass it either, if that makes you feel any better." She was just dreadful at potions. Awful. Probably worse than he was and she would have another year yet to study for it.

"What were you thinking?" Sloane had always kind of assumed he'd go straight to quidditch, but then again wasn't sure she'd ever directly asked him either. "What do you want to do after NEWTs?" There, now she had.

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"Magizoology?" Cam questioned teasingly, passing her a broad grin across the table. He'd never considered it before, but it seemed fitting. Sloane was just as wild as some of the creatures they studied in Care of Magical Creatures class, and persistent enough to chase them around all day. He snickered to himself as he imagined the a frustrated Sloane trying to corral a disappearing diricrawl into an enclosure. "I can see it. You've got the spirit."

He looked back down at his Potions textbook. It was a simple pepper-up potion—or, a supposedly simple pepper-up potion. He hadn't mastered it yet, despite the fact that the third and fourth years in his group were managing easily enough. He'd always had a terrible memory for lists, and potion-making was half remembering what order to put ingredients in. "You'll do better than me, I'm sure," he said bitterly, and flipped the page in defeat.

Her question seemed like a simple enough one to answer, but he found himself frozen by her question. There were already plenty of things he knew he wanted. He wanted to get out of the Gillenwater-Bell house and get his own flat. He wanted to explore. He wanted to play quidditch and be famous. But career-wise, he was at a crossroads. His face slipped into a defeated pout and he gave a shrug.

"I want to play quidditch, but I know it's not the most... responsible." Even saying the word caused him to grimace. He wasn't responsible. He didn't like being responsible. But he knew that, unless he wanted to be impoverished and having no chance of enjoying his future, he needed to be responsible after graduating... which meant doing well now. Ugh. "At least for a long time. You can't build a life on a quidditch salary, you know?" That was one thing Cameron knew he wanted, too: a home and a family. He didn't want to be forty before he could have a sizable home and afford to hire a tutor for kids. How depressing that would be. He wouldn't admit that out loud, though; it seemed too cheesy.

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Sloane chuckled. Magizoology certainly would fit her, if quidditch wasn't the real goal. Depending on how long her career lasted and whatever else she got up to in that time, she'd probably be old enough to pursue a secondary career without too much to consider outside of that. It was the perk of coming from a quidditch family and being female. It was the only time really.

It had to be harder for him, as a boy, expected to make real life decisions that would impact his career path later in life, well, this year, and she didn't envy him that. Sloane thought she had things figured out well enough. For now. This little romance they had going on was unexpected and she didn't know how to navigate it as they got older until they got there. They were very much making it up as they went along. Even sitting here now, thinking in the long term was ridiculous.

"Well, what else interests you? It's not too late to get the right OWLs, it's only October after all." She didn't want to discount quidditch or anything else he might be thinking about. Just because her path was set, didn't mean his was. Sloane only had to get three OWLs herself to continue on with school and that was because she wanted to complete her schooling, not just fifth year. Plus between their friend group, there were enough people to help get him through any of the subjects he needed.

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Cam passed her an exasperated look. "No amount of studying can make up for natural stupidity," he said, only belatedly realizing that it wasn't the best way to describe himself to the girl he sort of wanted to impress. Well, it wasn't as if there was much about him she didn't already know—stupidity and all. None of his interests really mattered when natural talent was taken into consideration, though, because there were few areas of magic where Cameron excelled that he could build a viable career. He couldn't be a professional duelist when Ned could knock him to his feet. He couldn't be a magizoologist when he found himself either intimidated or overly cautious around the creatures they were shown. He definitely didn't have a future in transfiguration (and what transfiguration-centric jobs were there, anyways?).

"I don't know," he sighed, despite knowing that there was one job that he could see himself doing. "You'll think I'm silly for saying it, because I'm awful at everything that it involves." And it was silly, except there was a history to it he couldn't ignore. "And if you tell Alice, I'm never speaking to you again," he warned, giving her a pointed look that quickly softened into a sad smile.

"My dad was a doctor, you know. A muggle one." He didn't talk about his father with anyone much, not even Greta. He'd died when Cameron was only a child, yet Cameron had felt the effects of his deaths even years later. "And, I don't know... It's stupid."

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Sloane scowled at his self-depreciative comments and reached out to less-than-playfully swat his arm to show her displeasure. She listened to him reason it out, eyeing him with the frown as he continued to doubt himself.

If there was anything Sloane had learned about their up and down friendship and now relationship, it was that she had to choose her words carefully with Cam. Fortunately, when she wasn't worked up or upset, she could handle rather easily. "It's not stupid and neither are you." She assured him, softening her tone a little, though gave him a rather pointed look.

"If you want to be a healer, then do it." She wasn't oblivious to where that had lead, despite his inability to finish the sentence. "It's going to be a lot of work, but I'm sure you know that. I also think you can do it if you put your mind to it." He wouldn't be able to play quidditch professionally if he really wanted to pursue healing, but if that was what he truly wanted to do, of course she would support it— "Maybe just not Potion and Plant Poisoning." Okay one small jab

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Cameron flashed her one of those "yeah, whatever you say" sort of looks and continued scanning the page in the Potions textbook with his finger despite his mind being a mile away. It wasn't really a question of if he wanted to be a healer; it was more a question of whether he could be. Naturally stupid or not, he had no natural talent in at least two of the five classes that was generally accepted as the bare minimum for healers. He knew. He'd already asked Alice before under the guise of wanting to know what NEWT classes she needed. He would pass DADA, Transfiguration, and Charms with a bit of effort, probably—or at least do well enough to take them at a NEWT level—but Potions and Herbology? He scoffed to himself.

"I can't play quidditch as a healer," he mumbled. There was still that problem. Quidditch was his thing. It was their thing. It was the thing that binded his household together, even. He and Maddy wanted to play professionally, and Sloane, too. Would he still have those bonds if he bowed out? Did he even want to? He reminded himself that healers made more money. Way more money. Enough to rent a decent-sized house after seven or eight years on the job. He would have to work long, hard hours, but probably would just as in-shape given how healers moved around all day.

The truth was, Cameron didn't know what he wanted. Luckily enough, he didn't have to decide now. He would study harder so he had the chance; the worst he could do is be an overeducated quidditch player. He smiled at the little jab and gently swatted her arm.

"Do I strike you as the self-sabotaging sort?" he teased, knowing full well he'd opt for something like Spell Damage or Artifact Incidents. Maybe Creature-Induced Injuries, but that was a bit gruesome. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of gaping holes in people's faces, or whatever injuries people came in with. "If you do magizoology and I do the creatures ward, I could be there to patch you up for once." He liked the thought of being able to care for her, but even more than that he liked the thought of her still being there. With him.

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Though Sloane couldn't fully understand his debate, she wanted to be supportive of whatever it was he chose to do. Quidditch, healing, the ministry, whatever it was he thought would be best was what she would support. Just because she was set on quidditch and he had been previously didn't mean he couldn't change his mind if that was what he really wanted.

With furrowed brows she nearly threatened to hit him again if he was going to continue to think himself stupid, but she held her tongue, barely. "You do actually, that doubt will bite you in the behind if you aren't careful." She warned. Okay hadn't been able to contain herself.

"Well there's that. One of us is always hurt, you'll be able to handle it instead of Alice." She teased lightly. Sloane really wasn't sure what she could truly do with magizoology outside of the zoo in Irvingly, but that was probably a good place to start. They had to have internship programs right?

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Cameron balked at her, opened his mouth to retort, then closed it in silent acceptance. Fine, maybe he did have a habit of being a little too hard on himself. That's why he had friends who kicked him to study, to work harder. Still, it wasn't like he was being overly critical of his flying technique or his appearance; he was stating facts!

"Yeah well," he said and made a face, realizing that the prospect of actually having to heal Sloane was more scary than exciting. What if he accidentally took her arm off? She'd definitely break up with him then. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I don't think I know one single healing spell. I do know how to realign a broken nose now, though." He'd had his broken enough, to say the least.

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Sloane childishly stuck her tongue out at him, but she'd gotten him there. His reaction said it all.

"Yes well, you're only in fifth year, you've got time to learn." Hell he had plenty of time, he just needed to put in the effort to get there. "It's a tough choice, crazy we have to think about it so early in life though." In the middle of their schooling, barely teenaged, trying to make decisions that could impact the rest of their lives.

In many respects, Sloane had always thought life would be easier as a boy, but right now she didn't envy him. She had the benefit of a middle class upbringing that afforded her the leeway to pursue quidditch seriously and to have a fallback. Not to mention there always the comfortable marriage route. Meh.

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Plenty of time to learn, but not plenty of time to prove that he should have the chance to. What classes did they even teach healing spells in? Charms? Or was it more of a post-graduation sort of education during the hospital internship? Maybe these were the things he should be asking Alice—in a way that suggested he was more interested in her path than his potential one, of course.

"Hopefully I'll get the opportunity to make the choice myself." Rather than having his grades do the choosing. He hadn't been aware that Sloane was thinking about alternative careers; it didn't seem like the things fourth year girls ought to be worried about. Fifth year girls, maybe, but not fourth. He wondered what had prompted her considerations to begin with, but wouldn't pester her with questions. Except... "And here I was thinking I'd get to watch you suffer through a debutante ball or two," he teased, a wide smile on his face. Sloane had never been the debutante type of girl, and it was one of the reasons he was so close to her rather than, say, Sisse. Still, he couldn't deny that the thought of her wearing a pretty white gown with her hair up was alluring.

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"You'll figure it out." Even if he had doubts, Sloane was confident everything would work itself out. He would figure out. All he had to do this year was pass the right classes to keep his options open. They'd figure it out.

Sloane visibly gagged at the words debutante ball. "You can't be serious." He had to be kidding. The mere thought of this ridiculous dresses, the corsets, the dancing, everything about them repulsed Sloane more than she was willing to admit. Her time in corsets was coming, she knew that in the next year or two they would be thrust upon her by her mother and her sister-in-law, but she'd fend them off for as long as possible.

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Cameron had to cover his mouth with the back of his hand to prevent his laughs from drawing the attention of nearby students or the librarian herself. Her expression said enough, but the fact that she thought he might be even a little serious was funny enough to keep the smile on his face.

"What? You wouldn't like to take a turn with half a dozen thirty-year-old gentleman who judge you as harshly as Professor Benwick?" he joked in a low voice, perching his elbow up on the table so he could rest his chin in his palm. He looked at her, trying to imagine what she might look like in four years—or even what she might look like without the double-braids. He couldn't remember seeing her without some sort of braid.

"For the record, I think you'd look very pretty in a frilly dress. Even if just for an hour," he whispered. Know was probably a better word than think; with her dark hair, freckled fair skin, and bright blue eyes, he didn't think there was a single color that wouldn't look pretty on her. (Was he being soppy? He should probably stop before he made himself sick.) He stuck his tongue out teasingly. "Then again, I don't want to be at a debutante ball either. They sound terrifying."

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   Sloane Bixby

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Sloane quirked an eyebrow at him and said in a hushed tone, "Would you like it if I took a few turns with some thirty-somethings?" Somehow she rather thought he'd like it even less than she did.

Leaning back, a smug smile pulled at the corners of her lips. "Maybe I'll let you see it, maybe. One day." Just the thought of the fabric and the discomfort had her pulling a face, but who knew, maybe some day there would be some quidditch function she had to look decent for. Her Pa had a couple this summer than he and Ma had gotten all gussied up for. Even Rufus cleaned up nicely when the situation called for it.

"No debut for me though." Of that she was confident.

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Her question gave him pause, and the image of a dressed-up Sloane dancing with some thirty-something filled his head. It probably wouldn't bother him too much, but there was always that chance that the thirty-something gentleman was handsome, rich, a better dancer than him, and—for maximum annoyance—happened to be able to change his hair color at will, too. Oh, and if he also played quidditch. That would annoy him.

"Hmph. Maybe no debutante balls for us," he uttered, indignantly flipping the page of his textbook. He'd find some way to see her all prettied up; as long as they made it through the next few years without everyone finding out, he'd have the opportunity eventually. Even if she didn't think she'd debut, he'd always gotten the impression that Sloane's mother had been trying to tame her for years. "We'll see about that," he said, smiling up at her from his book.

"Maybe I should see if Professor Valenduris has any potions-related internships or extracurriculars over the summer. That way I might be able to convince him to keep me in his Potions class even if I flunk," he suggested. "I think Mr. Bell and my mother have been talking about moving closer to Hogsmeade, anyways. That's what it sounded like in her letter yesterday morning."

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Sloane could only let out a noncommittal little noise of derision; she'd avoid it altogether if she could. Certainly there would be the one at Hogwarts and she wouldn't mind attending for her friends' sake, but if she could get out of participating, she would try her hardest. There was no point really. She wanted to play quidditch, she had Cam, even if they had no idea what the future held, three and a half years away at this point. They had to get to that point first, she had to get through a whole year without him first. The thought of it already panicked her a little and so it was easier to focus on the now instead.

"You won't fail Potions." She'd get better at it if she had to, just to get him through. She'd practice and get the hang of it, then she could help him. Sloane was nothing if not stubborn. The biggest reason she didn't do well in Potions was because she didn't like it; if she put her mind to it, like Charms, she could get decent enough at it. This would be a good push. Who knew getting together with Cam and fighting with Sisse would have been such a good boost for her grades? "The internship is a good idea." She admitted. It would be good for him, maybe outside of class, in a more practical setting.

The news about the Gillenwater-Bell household moving closer to Hogsmeade brought a delighted smile of surprise to her face. The closest they could get was to Irvingly, considering his mum was a muggle, but that was an easy floo trip. Under the guise of visiting Maddy... The holidays and summer just got a whole lot more interesting. "You think?"

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