half-eaten | cass

"Look, it was just the one. Scouts honor..." He attempted seriousness but there was a grin threatening either side of his mouth as he saluted the alarmingly handsome man on the other side of the trolley that had sandwiched them in the corridor of the train. Where the fuck had he come from and why was he working on the bloody Hogwarts Express? Surely there was some profession that was better suited to someone of his genetic makeup.

Towns held up his newly empty hands as proof, as if that had merit. The 'stolen' Pumpkin Pasties were taunting him from where they had been carelessly thrown.

"You can check my pockets if you want," He prompted at even the slightest hint of skepticism from his newfound nemesis, confidently patting his uniform slacks. With the distraction secured, it was safe to make his move. "Will take one of these, though," He nabbed a chocolate frog and squeezed by the trolley, immediately searching cabins for some kind of safe haven. "Emma, hi!" His classmate innocently opened her cabin and Towns immediately used her as shield so he could make a proper escape.

The next cabin was filled with a few familiar faces. Housemates, a couple years younger. And they didn't look happy to see him, even from through the frosted glass. He couldn't blame them after the end of term.

"Nope," He skidded to the next door but didn't have time to look at it's inhabitants because the trolley man had started shouting something at him. It wasn't until he had safely secured the doors that he finally turned around to see where he had ended up. "H-Cass, thank God," He pushed back the hair from his forehead, letting out a sigh of relief.

@Cassandra Nichols

It wasn't quite yet her right as a seventh year to get a cabin all to herself, but, like, who was going to stop her?

There had been a bunch of insipid little Slytherin girls in here before, chattering and gossiping and making a mess of the compartment. Cassandra had opened the door and glared and growled. "Move." She wasn't sure what her reputation was these days, but apparently it was enough to make them all scatter. One had dropped a Chocolate Frog packet -- Cass pocketed it. Whatever, they were tiny. You could fit fifteen second years to one compartment if you tried hard enough.

Cass pushed her rucksack up against the wall and leaned back, lounging best she could on the plush bench. Donna would catch up, eventually, if she wanted to. And if she didn't -- well, Cass had the West address in her trouser pocket. She could always Floo there from Diagon, if she really needed to. That probably wouldn't be ideal, but, like, what about this was ideal? It was really nice of Donna's family to put her up, but it was stressful, too, in that Cassandra had no idea how long her welcome would stay warm.

Whatever. It would be -- whatever. Cass ruffled through her shit and pulled out a crumpled copy of Witch Weekly. It would be a long train ride.

It wasn't a long train ride. She had gotten maybe four pages in, barely sunk her eyes into a glossy spread of a new band, when the door slid open. "I told you lot, move," she said without looking up.

H-Cass, thank God. At that she flicked her gaze up. Oh. Patrick Townsend. Her old roommate, current least popular Gryffindor. Why not. "Hi, Towns," she said with a little roll of the eyes. She didn't get up, but there was a whole other bench. She tilted her head towards it. "Hell you running from now?"

With a cursory glance over his shoulder he caught he last of the handsome trolley man who, it seemed, had given up on the chase; there was a small part of Towns that was disappointed with the lack of challenge. The nervous energy was still teeming in his chest. Eventually he turned back to Cass with a grin as he slid into the opposite bench. He hoped that the distraction that was him was enough to brush over the fact that he'd nearly made the Howie mistake (again).

Patrick hadn't ever met anyone like Cass before, and the topic was decidedly not a normal dinner conversation in the Townsend home; people born into a body that wasn't their own. The thought made him feel a bit sad all over again, like he had been when he found out that she had been living as Howie for all those years.

He remembered secretly scouring the library for anything that might help him to understand.

"S'pose I can't help that people like to chase me, Cass," He was careful to use her name with confidence that time, rolling his eyes for good measure. "Something about this, maybe," He tossed over the contraband chocolate frog as payment for keeping him as a fugitive. "Had to leave the Pumpkin Pasties behind..." He sank back into his side of the bench, stretching both arms out on the tops of the plush chairs. "How've managed this set up?" He gestured to the private cabin; an uncommon occurrence.

The thing about Patrick - Towns - Townie, Cass had used to call him, inflicting her own old diminutive onto the boy - was that he was trying so hard. Clearly so hard. But the evolution from Howard to Cassandra had clearly confused him, such that here, over eight months later, he was still catching himself on the name of a dead boy. Cass didn't have to correct him anymore, at least. He had gotten better at catching himself half a syllable in. Even when he entered, the little huff of the H could have well been a Hi or a who or any number of other words. Cassandra let herself believe in that.

At least he treated her normal. Towns smiled at her. Cassandra twitched the corner of her lip up -- she could smile, maybe, if he worked a little harder. There was possibility.

Can't help that people like to chase me. Cass raised an eyebrow, the other corner of her mouth threatening to smirk. "Oh, ladies falling over themselves for you?" Whatever, it was literally the first day of summer hols. Cass could tease her friend she'd known for six goddamn years a little bit. It had a different edge now, the teasing, but it was somehow more comfortable for her. The spectre of homosexuality had been lifted, perhaps, and now she didn't have to second guess every word coming out her mouth.

Patrick tossed her a Chocolate Frog. "Oh, wicked," Cassandra said, throwing her own ill-gotten Frog back at him. "Got that one from the babies I scared out of here. Shame about the Pasties." She rather liked those.  "Should have met you sooner -- bet we could have cleared out a Gryffindor compartment, easy." Cass laid her magazine on her lap, twisting her neck to look at Patrick more closely. "The hell was that stunt you did, anyway?"

"Lads as well," Patrick nodded with a grin, clearly quite pleased with himself. His bright blue gaze flicked to the window for a blink before landing back on Cass.
 
His gaze narrowed as she tossed something back him. After a moment of belated fumbling, he studied the familiar wrapper of a chocolate frog, just like the one he'd offered as payment for his trouble; the afternoon kept looking up and up. With an incline of his chin, he silently posed the question: are you sure? Her prize seemed well won, and he was the one imposing after all. "Scared 'em?" There was no hiding that he was impressed in his tone. "How'd you manage that?" He wondered, ready to take note.

Towns followed the magazine Cass folded in her lap, catching the turned and half-warped faces of a band he vaguely recognized; someone Betty liked no doubt. He couldn't keep up with pop culture. Somewhere along the line, Towns had fashioned himself  an old soul as far as art was concerned. In truth, he just liked the idea of feeling different.

At the mention of 'the stunt' Towns immediately knew what she was referring to. He heaved a sigh as he struggled to open up the candy wrapper, to no avail. "Honestly, I can't believe you're even speaking to me after that..." He half scoffed and half laughed. The loss of house points was never taken easily. "Wouldn't be surprised if next term I've been relegated to Slytherin," He rolled his eyes dramatically. The thought had crossed his mind, though, that he hadn't seen the end of his punishment yet.

Lads as well. Well, fucking, alright then! The spectre of homosexuality was back with a vengeance, haunting this too small train compartment. Christ! Don't grin at me, you cheeky bastard. Tease someone else.

Townie was holding up the packet like she wanted it back. Cass rolled her eyes. "Go on, then," she said, opening the one he gave her. The frog tried to leap away -- she grabbed it with one hand, tore off a fudgy leg. "I'm the new Dark Lord," she said, deadpan, biting into the frog thigh. "Pulling your leg. I'm just intimidating, I am." She didn't want to get in it with Towns right now, not with chocolate melting in her palm. How people who never gave sensitive Howie a second glance were frightened of Cass, somehow, even though the estrogen had evaporated muscles and made her look softer. Townie would try to get it, yes, and then he wouldn't. Cass couldn't bear it.

She bit into the leg again, chewing as her friend failed to explain himself. "Why wouldn't I speak to you?" Stupid cliquey boarding school. "It was right stupid, but you've always been right stupid." She rolled her eyes again, and -- okay, maybe she's smiling a bit! Whatever! Bite her! "They aren't going to rehouse you like a stray dog, anyway. Don't even joke. They'll put you with -- who was the one who smelled all the time?" She cast her thoughts back to dome year, trying to recall. "Whatshisface. Archibald. Arnold. Some stupid A-name, anyway."

Towns, immediately having seen Ho—fuck— Cass' chocolate frog leap from her palms, stared down at his own half opened sweet in his lap out of pure fear. It had to be a defect, he thought, because it didn't move even a fraction of an inch. How disappointing. "Verrrry convincing," He lamented with a roll of his eyes, plucking the frog from the packaging and biting it in half with no particular distinction as to where. Sure, Cass was fucking terrifying compared to Howie, but he was still figuring out how that could feasibly be.

"Why would you?!" Speak to him. Patrick looked to the folding doors of their carriage room to where he imagined the hoards of Gryffindor had their pitchforks at the ready. As a housemate, he would have felt the same toward someone who had so carelessly tossed their shared points down the drain.

They didn't understand.

"Half our year smells all the time..." He said after finishing off the frog. Towns glanced waywardly outside of the train to watch as the world moved around them. There was something intoxicating about being on a train. Most of the time he pretended he was going to somewhere far away. Somewhere far from home. It was enough to get him through most of the journeys to and from Hogwarts. "Did you have a good year, then?" He suddenly asked, curious.

He and Cass didn't keep up all that much since... well, since they no longer shared a dorm.