September 19th, 1890 — Gryffindor Tower

This might single-handedly be the silliest thing he'd ever done in his life. Never had he ever stressed so much over one single assignment, but ever since Professor Shacklebolt had given it he'd been worried about who he could ask. Sisse would have been the easy option, if they'd been permitted to choose a partner from within their class. But they hadn't been, and now Cameron was left to pick between his other friends.

Alice was a solid option. She would be proud that he'd at least taken the initiate to do an assignment without constant reminding, and she would probably be straightforward enough with it. But Alice might also take it too seriously, which left little room to make jokes during the whole awkward ordeal of holding her hand for thirty minutes while he tried to figure out if she was going to die young or not.

Ned was... no, Ned wasn't an option. Ned was also too serious with academics, and there was a fine line between friendship and weird between him and the now-prefect. Besides, Ned might totally write off any of his predictions as silly. (Or maybe Ned knew more about Divination than Cameron did, which seemed ridiculous but would figure given that Ned seemed to know everything. The last thing he needed was a constant critique.)

Maddy and Greta were both options, but they were his sisters and that was no fun. Calla was also out of the question because he probably wouldn't take any of his work seriously while she questioned him through the entire session.

Sloane was an option, though... wasn't she? She likely knew nothing of Divination and wouldn't question his evaluations. She had a good sense of humor, too, so he could joke and tease with her to lighten the mood. But, he told himself, she was also Sloane; a new and different tension had arose as they attempted to repair their damaged friendship, and Cameron was still learning to cope with it.

Still, she was right there, and she was his best bet.

"I need your help with something," he said, taking a seat beside her on the large sofa. He had his book in hand tucked it between his arm and his side as he turned to face her. "It's Divination, and Sisse can't help me with it this time."

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Sloane Bixby

  

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Half-asleep with her potions textbook in her lap on the sofa near the corner of the room, Sloane was not absorbing anything she was reading. It was by far her worst class and the one she was going to undoubtedly get a T on OWLs next year, but what else could she do? Not even Ned or Alice were going to get her through it with any grace. Ah well. Between the boring passage in her text that she'd read nearly three times without taking any of it in and the mere fact that she felt like she was going flat out between school and quidditch, she was truly exhausted.

Maybe it was the lull of the fire dwindling in the hearth or the lazy chatter of people around her, or maybe the large fuzzy cat cuddle up cozily beside her, but she was nearly all the way asleep when Cam plopped down beside her and suddenly she was quite awake. Her potions text easily forgotten, she was relieved to set it aside on the table next to her. Quirking an eyebrow at him curiously, she tilted her head to the side, frayed braid falling over her shoulder as she stretched her arms out to try and rid them of the heaviness weighing down on her body.

"What makes you think I can help if Sisse can't?" She didn't even take Div, he knew that, they'd fought for almost a whole year because of it, but here he was, asking for her help with. "I mean I'll try, but I really don't know the first thing about it."

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The corner of his lip tugged into a half-smile as she stretched. She was sleep, then—perfect. Less awkwardness, less awareness, even. The perfect victim. He pulled his book to his lap and began flipping through the pages until he found the palm-reading chapter. Merlin, who had stared at their palms so long that they decided there were meanings for every line and mound? (Oh, the answer was, of course, on the second page...)

"Lucky for me, this assignment calls for a partner who knows absolutely nothing" he said confidently, now that he was sure that this wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. "Professor Shacklebolt told us to pair up with a non-Divination student for a palm-reading session." As he spoke, his eyes dropped to her hands. They were small and softer-looking than his own, but even from a distance he could see the rough spots where she held onto her broom.

"So, in short, I need to stare at your hands for half an hour and then write down what I see. Help me, please?" He gave his best puppy-dog look, his bottom lip jutted out into a pout.

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"Lucky for you, I know absolutely nothing!" Sloane chirped, clearly amused by this whole thing already. Palm reading? What a load of... Well she wasn't going to say as much. He already knew how she felt on the subject as a whole, but if he needed help and she could do it, she would.

Reaching over the snoozing cat between them, she looked down at Splash with a chuckle. Holding out her hands toward him she shrugged a little. "Read away." This had all the potential to get awkward fast, but since it was for school maybe she could keep herself together. Maybe. It was a long shot, but she would try her best. 

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Her hand held out to him, Cameron hesitantly reached out to take hold of it. "Um," was all he could muster at first as he tried to remember the hand shapes and their individual meanings. Sloane's hands were small; face up in his palm, the tips of her fingers didn't quite reach the second joint. The callouses were smaller and not as rough as his own, and they ran across in a band between the first and second finger joints.

"You've got square-shaped palms," he said eventually, with a tentative glance up at her face. "It means you're energetic and enjoy being busy. Surprising," he explained, a smile spreading on his face. "You've got short fingers as well. You can be impatient, but you have a lot of interests. You might not be an expert in one specific subject, but you dabble in a handful of subjects." All of that was right, wasn't it? If everything fit so perfectly, he might as well write his essay on Sloane.

(Briefly he considered that it would be easier and more entertaining than palm-reading.)

"Short palms and short fingers make Earth hands. People with them are reliable and easy to get along with, but they have their violent moments just as the Earth does."

(Yep. This was becoming a Sloane essay in his head. Fast.)

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The urge to pull her hands back was just as strong as the flush threatening to creep into her cheeks. To say she was already regretting this was a little too strong, but in her haste to help, she hadn't quite realized what she'd signed herself up for. Being in close proximity, basically holding hands, was doing very little to help quell this blossoming crush she was harboring.

Nodding along to his apparent findings in her palms, Sloane had to wonder if all of that was written there, or if he was just spouting out information that he already knew about her. She was growing ever-thankful for the fact that she could control her hair. She didn't know what confused or embarrassed would do to her hair color, but she was pleased she couldn't find out at this very moment.

"I'd like to say some of that isn't true, but we both know better." She chuckled nervously.

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He chuckled nervously in response, because it was true. If the basics were true, he could only imagine what other truths lied in her palm. He shifted her hand sideways to cradle it between his thumb and four longer fingers.

"This is your heart line," he said, mindlessly tracing the deep line that started between her pointer and middle finger and drew down to the edge of her palm. "It represents your emotions. Yours is more straight than curved." With his free hand he flipped the page in his book and scanned the page. "That means you sometimes find it hard to express how you feel. You're sensitive; you get hurt easily. Your frustrations can come out as anger, hm?"

It was more of a statement than a question because he knew it was true. That was her. That was Sloane.

"It ends between your first and second finger, meaning you have a complex way of handling problems. You sometimes use your head; other times you use your heart." He looked up at her, feeling a blush beginning to rise on his own neck.

Maybe he'd have Sisse read his palm anyways. He needed the help.

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She was holding her breath without even realizing. There must have been a deep rosy hue to her cheeks now, in addition to the goosebumps littering her skin as he traced the lines on her hand. Nothing he was saying was news to her- though he also seemed to be in agreement with what he was saying. It was no secret that he knew her pretty well, she'd brought that up quite a bit in their last fight, but this was hitting a little too close to home. She felt like she was on display, transparent even and it was making her squirm.

"Hey Cam? Are you almost done?" She mumbled, trying not to sound too eager. Helping him with his homework was one thing, thoroughly embarrassing herself in the process was not quite something she was willing to elongate if she could help it.

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He hadn't gotten very far, and now she was already wanting it to be over. He didn't miss the pinkness in her cheeks, but he didn't think about it too deeply. Who wouldn't be embarrassed by having someone tell them about their strengths and flaws, especially when it was so accurate? He'd always maintained a healthy amount of suspicion towards Divination class, but this was one of those rare occasions where everything seemed spot-on. He had everything he needed for the hand shape, texture, and heart line sections, but was missing a lot of the information needed for the assignment. He concealed his book with his free hand and crumbled the checklist in another moment. He'd figure it out.

He allowed her hand to slip out of his and nodded. "Yeah, I'll deal with the rest. I didn't mean to bother you," he said, though he couldn't muster a smile beyond the disappointed half-smile he managed. Professor Shacklebolt wouldn't be able to examine Sloane's hand herself, so she'd never know if everything he wrote was accurate or fabricated. Besides, he could just read through the book and pick out descriptions that best fit Sloane.

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Ah rats. "Not bothered sorry, it ah, just tickled a little." Her whole body was screaming at her run far and fast, but she couldn't just yet. She could do this, get through his one assignment. Then she could reasonably avoid him for a couple days after this right? Maybe?

Taking a deep breath, she held her hands back out towards him, palms up. Merlin she hoped it was quick.

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"If you're sure," he said quietly, gaze flickering between her face and her palm. He knew her well enough to know when she was bothered, and although he couldn't tell why, he was determined to keep the rest of it quick and painless. The reading had said Sloane was a sensitive being, so there was that. He took it in his hand and gripped it a bit firmer than he had before, opening it so he could see the line he was looking for.

"This is your head line," he said, tracking he line that started above her thumb and ended—rather abruptly—a few inches above her wrist. "It's shorter than average, which makes you a quick thinker. A seeker's head line," he said, trying to be more encouraging than awkward this time. "The way it follows your life line here at the beginning means you have a strong bond with your family." Which made sense, given that she was the baby in a family mainly comprised of older brothers.

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All she could do was nod along. Keeping her eyes downward at their hands been them, Sloane was convinced that she could survive this somehow. The mix of emotions running through her was overwhelming her control on her hair however, the strands of her braid shifting colors slightly with each passing moment; a kaleidescope effect of colors, thought thankfully subtle in tone.

She hardly heard what he said over the blood rushing through her ears, but kept nodding when appropriate. Or so she hoped.

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Cameron left her hand resting in his palm as he scribbled down his notes. He only had a few sections left before they could end this: the life line, the fate line, and the... marriage and children line. Got it. He glanced back up at Sloane, expecting her to find her half-asleep or bored out of her mind, but conversely she looked wide awake and... colorful. The switch was subtle, but there was no way he was imagining the kaleidoscopic effect her hair was producing. There was orange and yellow and blue and pink; it was an array of colors, some that he'd never before seen, and now he had no way to determine if it was purposeful or not. He wanted to comment on it, but didn't. It's pretty though, he thought as his gaze dropped back to her open palm.

"This one is your life line." It was the line that curved between her thumb and the base of her palm. Hers was long and deep—one indicative of a person with a lot of energy and enthusiasm towards life. He scribbled that down. "It's got some worry lines on the inside. There's not too many, which means you probably only worry when there's something to worry about. Otherwise you're carefree," he said, nodding to himself as he wrote that down, too.

She hadn't been responding, so he gave her hand a little squeeze and looked up at her again. "You alright, Sloane?"

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She'd tuned him out unintentionally once she noticed her hair was shifting colors on its own. She made a concentrated effort to get it to stop, but it wouldn't, the mix of emotions running through her was too chaotic for her to really control it.

He kept going on, and if he noticed the hair, he didn't say anything, which she was grateful for. If she could focus, she would be impressed by his concentration, the effort he was putting into the assignment, but she was too wrapped up in her own panic to see it.

The squeeze of his hand on hers brought her out of her reverie, eyes wide as she looked up at him again. His question caused the panic to bubble over and finally the urge to bolt couldn't be denied; she made some half-hearted excuse that didn't make much sense and practically ran out of the common room into the corridor.

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She wasn't alright. She looked up at him with wide, panicked eyes, and though he'd normally assume he'd done something wrong, he'd been so careful not to upset her that he knew it couldn't possibly be him or his reading. She took off with a mumbled excuse, not towards the dormitories but the exit to the common room, and Cameron quickly dumped his things on the sofa to follow her.

His own eyes were wide and panicked as he followed her into the corridor, and despite her attempts to disappear it didn't take too long to find her.

"Sloane," he said, his hand encircling her wrist just as he caught up to her, giving her no way to flee. His brows furrowed together with worry, he scanned her face and her hair, which, to his confusion, was still changing colors. "Something's wrong. Did I say something?" She'd promised honesty once, and though they'd agreed not to fight over the smaller things, this sort of jumpiness didn't strike him as small.

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Moving through the hallways almost blindly, she realized her feet were carrying her outside on their own. Good, the pitch or the lake would be a good place to hide for a little while until after could get herself to calm down. Anywhere she could tuck herself away and just be alone. She was being ridiculous and she knew it, had to come up with some excuse for her behavior...

Then, much to her surprise, she felt his hand on her wrist and heard the concern in his voice as she was pulled to a stop just short of reaching outside. Damn him and his long legs. She hadn't anticipated him following, but in retrospect probably should have. Her exit had been very quick and without good excuse; he would naturally assume something was wrong, well because there was.

Thankfully there didn't appear to be anyone else around at the moment to see her meltdown. "No, you're fine. I promise, it's definitely me." It was barely above a whisper and she couldn't quite meet his eyes. She didn't know what else to say, but at least that was true.

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