[sep mp] not shy • { phillip }

SEPTEMBER 2003

Tomie tapped her foot impatiently, then glanced around the library, her brown eyes checking for the rather intense librarian before she reached down into her bag. Pushing aside a dirty sweater, and what felt like an apple core (ew!) Tomie’s hand closed around a plastic box. Success! With some more manouvring, the young witch pulled out three-quarters of a broken cookie and shoved it into her mouth before sitting up straight in her seat.

With a hand over her still-full mouth, Tomie leaned forward a bit, keeping her voice low because, well, they were in a library. “So aren’t you s’posed to like…” She paused to swallow. “Tutor me or something.” She raised her eyebrows at him expectantly. They’d been sitting here for like five minutes in total silence. When she’d signed up for the SNAIL thing, she’d been hoping to get someone cool from her house. Clementine, maybe, or Donna. Or Josie or anyone who was actually cool. Her dormmate Betty had ended up with one of the cool fifth year girls in her house – and she was well jealous of that, wasn’t she?

Look at who she’d gotten, she thought, her unimpressed expression matching her thoughts as she waited for him to speak. Her fingers had been crossed for a quidditchy type of mentor – hadn't she written that on the little questionairre thing? She was half convinced her name had gotten swapped with someone else by accident. The guy in front of her didn’t seem to like her at all, and he certainly didn’t seem to actually want to be here. All he’d done the whole time was write notes in a little black book.

Phillip had very little patience for anyone, let alone a wiry tween witch who hadn't stopped bouncing since they had sat down. He knew signing up for this was a bad idea, but if he could go back in time, there were far more important things he'd be worried about changing. After setting his book bag on the ground, Phillip had pulled some blank parchment, a beginner's textbook, and his journal out of his backpack. In his imagination (maybe it was hope?), he thought she'd work on some assignment quietly, and he could just help quickly here and there as she ran into a problem. He certainly hadn't thought they would be actively interacting, or that 'mentoring' meant he'd actually have to talk to her.

Pulling open his notebook, he'd started scratching away to Billie, telling her about the weird Gryffindor he had been assigned to help, and the fact that she'd just eaten a cookie right in the middle of the library. The Ravenclaw in him knew the rules of this sacred place; also, there was a flashing sign at the door that very vibrantly read "NO Food in the Library." Nearly forgetting all about the little witch in the seat across from him, Phillip checked his watch. Billie was in Charms class right now, not that he had her schedule memorized or anything, which meant she might have been busy doing actual classwork.

The frown on his face grew when Tomie spoke. With as little effort as possible, his green eyes lifted from the page and up to look at her. Shrugging, "Don't you have homework or something to do?" Phillip really did not understand (nor did he care to) this mentor program. He wasn't there to give her the answers and be on his way, he'd actually have to talk to her, maybe even learn her name (a wild thought!), and he was completely and utterly unprepared.

Tomie stared at him for a moment, half expecting him to crack a smile or something after he’d sounded so rude. Apparently it wasn’t a joke, though. “I… guess...” She said, leaving big gaps both between her words and after them. She leaned back slowly, brushing some crumbs from her mouth and casting another furtive glance over her shoulder. When no hawk-like librarian appeared from thin air, the brunette breathed a sigh of relief. One covert cookie-snack-mission succeeded.

She sat there for a moment, thinking about getting out her potions textbook, or the new arithmancy stuff she’d been assigned that she didn’t understand one bit. It didn’t help that she hadn’t listened at all in that class; she was only taking the class because her parents expected her too, and there was no saying no to them. Instead, though, she leaned forward again, elbows on the table this time, her legs – they didn’t quite reach the ground – swinging impatiently.

“What’re you writing?” She asked. “Is that like, a diary…?”

Blinking slowly, Phillip expected her to jump on that homework she guessed that she had, but instead, she just sat there. He watched her brush crumbs off and onto the floor and took a steadying breath. The seventh year was already on thin ice with the librarian, and if this Gryffindor got him kicked out the library again, Phillip would be even grumpier than usual. They'd been here less than ten minutes, had barely exchanged three sentences, and he was already at his wit's end. How was he supposed to do this every week?

Because he wasn't keen on falling into an epic staring contest with a twelve-year-old, Phillip turned back to his notebook and resumed ignoring his mentee. There was a little pause, the tiniest moment of peace and quiet before she was at it again. He felt her elbows hit the table, and even though Tomie might not have noticed, he could feel the slightly unlevel table moving every time her little legs swung back and forth. As much as he wanted to pretend she wasn't there and keep writing, he was starting to get the feeling she wasn't going to allow it.

Sucking in a loud breath, Phillip sat back sharply in his seat and slammed the cover of his book closed. "It's a notebook," he told her dryly. "You know, to write notes in," His annoyance at the word diary was more transparent than Phillip had wanted. He wasn't a snobby teenage witch, he didn't have a diary, but at the same time, he wasn't about to tell her what it really was. The magically bound notebooks were something he kept relatively secret, not wanting anyone else to know about what Billie and he shared. It felt more special that way.

Wow, rude again! Tomie felt a dash of anger ripple through her. It wasn’t as if she was galumphing around on the table or anything – it was just a harmless question. The brunette leaned back again, crossing her arms, and she almost said as much – the words were on the tip of her tongue before she told herself to calm down. It took some effort to keep a retort inside, but maybe he’d just had a bad day or something? Failed a NEWT or got dumped by his girlfriend, or whatever it was that made seventh years mad. When Tomie had bad days, she could get a little snippy herself.

Especially if she hadn’t eaten anything.

"Cool..." she said, trailing off. Maybe that was it? After a moment of silence, she picked up her backpack and plopped it onto her lap. She could get right mad as a hatter if she missed a meal. “You... want a cookie?” she asked, lowering her voice conspiratorially, arranging an intentional, hopeful smile on her face. It was a last ditch attempt at a peace offering. If he was rude again, she didn't know what she was going to to, but Tomie had sooooo many things she'd rather be doing than her homework, in silence, with an inattentive "mentor" ignoring her all afternoon.

Phillip had honestly hoped his last answer would keep her from asking anymore, but he hadn't put a lot of stock into it. He'd seen witches like her before, bouncing, and chipper, and they always had something to say. A cynical part of him wondered if the portmanteau for a teenage witch was more fitting because it made others twitch with annoyance.

After he'd closed his notebook, he resigned to the fact that he'd actually had to talk to Tomie this afternoon. He tucked the little book back in his bag and pulled out the blank parchment instead. When Phillip was about to ask her what homework she needed, Tomie caught him off guard. He had been nothing but rude and dismissive of her since they had sat down, but she offered him one of her (so clearly coveted) cookies.

One eyebrow raised; he took a moment to look around them, always on guard for the infamous librarian. She'd be a dodo on a warpath if she knew about the number of crumbs that had already been dumped onto the floor. "Careful with those," He warned as he reached forward to sneak one out of the plastic container. He put the whole thing into his mouth, no crumbs - no evidence, and chewed silently. "No food in the library," Phillip repeated the rule like it was a mantra, but the sarcastic shrug of his shoulder's revealed the lack of seriousness. He didn't care for the rules, regardless of whether or not they made sense. Maybe that was some common ground for the two of them, not that he was looking for any.

"So, about that homework?" Leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, nearly mirroring her a few moments ago, Phillip waited.

No food in the library.

“Riiigghtt,” Tomie said. She only knew who Phillip was when she’d received his name as her new “mentor” because he’d been a prefect in her first year. Tomie didn’t know if he still was one; she didn’t pay much attention to what was happening in other houses, though she probably should, she thought distractedly… But, whatever – contrary-wise to the fact that he wasn’t wearing a prefect’s badge at the moment, he clearly cared about rules. At least enough to recite them to her, if not enough to follow them himself.

“You’re welcome,” she said pointedly, now a little upset she’d offered to share at all, and lost one of her precious foodthings. She’d sacrificed a whole cookie for nothing! Nothing really mattered to the Gryffindor girl quite the way that food did, and he hadn't even seemed to enjoy it! Tomie didn't want to focus on all of this, though, because it was like an emotional rabbit hole; the deeper she went, the more mad she got, and the madder she could get. She couldn't really help it, though.

Subconsciously, she copied his pose, folding her arms across her chest again. She felt like he was challenging her, and honestly, why did he have to be so rude? If he didn’t want to do this whole thing then why had he even done it? If cookies couldn’t soften him, then she didn’t know what would. The brunette raised her eyebrows when he spoke again. “And are you gonna help me?” she asked, a bit of sass in her tone, “Or just sit there writing in your diary the whole time?” She flicked her eyes to the book, closed on the table.

What was the opposite of a chortle? Phillip was so far from laughing when she mentioned his diary again, it was almost funny. His posture remained the same, distant and cold, not finding Tomie the least bit amusing. He nodded anyway, though, because at least if they started talking about school work, she would be less likely to ask him something personal. Like about the real world or boys or how to braid her hair (he had zero knowledge about what twelve-year-old witches were interested in). "Yes, I'm going to help you, Tom," Wait, did she say her name was Tomie? That didn't sound right, and Phillip hesitated half-way thru saying it. "Tomie?" He asked again, another eyebrow shooting into his frowning forehead lines.

Sitting forward in his seat, the Ravenclaw kept his arms folded across his chest and peered down at his watch. Only nine minutes had gone by, they still had another forty-one to go in this period. How would they ever make it through? "What homework do you need to work on?" An exhausted sigh escaped his lips as if they had been talking about this for hours. He had less patience than a March hare in April. Less than ten minutes, that was all he had, and honestly, he didn't even have that much. He wondered if being a mentor would really look that great on his resume and specifically if there was a way to get out of it now. Pessimistically (and realistically), he figured signing up and quitting would look even worse than never joining in the first place.

“Tomie,” She repeated assertively. Well, at least he knew her name now. That was something, wasn’t it? She watched him check his watch, feeling more and more angry at him. Did he feel like she was wasting his time? For something that he’d signed up for? There was an ink stain on the table and Tomie scratched at it with a short nail. “People call you “Lip”, right?” Tomie said, scratching away absentmindedly. “Isn’t that kind of a weird nickname for “Phillip”?” She glanced up at him to check.

“Did you pick it yourself…?” she asked. After a moment, she stopped scratching the table to pull her backpack back to her so she could rifle through for her arithmancy workbook. The brunette flicked through a couple of pages, feeling suddenly self conscious about him looking over her work. There were a few questions in there that she’d already answered, and some that she’d answered incorrectly in pencil and tried to erase. She didn’t really enjoy asking for help most of the time anyway, let alone from someone who looked like he’d be anywhere but here.

“Ignore that stuff,” she said, waving one hand over a page of incorrect answers. “It’s mostly this stuff…” She pointed at a couple of questions. These ones came with equations and she just couldn’t get her head around it.

Not that he would remember it in a few days Phillip nodded anyway when she reminded him of her name. Tomie, like Tommy, and wondered how she'd landed with that sort of a name. It wasn't typically a feminine name. but maybe it was a family one or something. He spent a few seconds thinking about it before he decided he didn't really care to find out. Unfortunately, she was more curious (invasive, in his opinion) than he had been and shortly after she was asking about his name. "Yeah, Lip," The teenager had always gone by either Lip or Phillip, never Phil, so it didn't seem strange to him even a little bit.

Shaking his head and frowning a little more Phillip replied, "Uh, no, people don't typically give themselves nicknames," He blinked a few times at the thought, finding it strange that she thought he might have picked it himself. Had she picked hers? "Its always just been Lip, easier to say I suppose, people are lazy." As he got older and hated everything more he'd started to hate the nickname too. It was what his mother had called him, so there was a tiny bit of personal grief attached, but also he'd convinced himself that no one took him seriously. Lip was the shortened name of a little kid, not the name of an intelligent capable wizard.

Billie called him Phillip. He liked that.

When she passed over her assignemtns, finally, Phillip was relived. Scanning over the work he immediately saw some errors here and there but they could have been far worse. It had been a while since he'd worked on this set of arithmancy but it was easily one of his best subjects and he remembered it well. Pointing at an equation he passed it back toward her across the table, his finger tip still to the side of the equation. "This is your problem, right here," His voice was softer now, not exactly friendly, but not quite so dismissive. They were talking about arithmancy, something important, he could do this.

"You've carried over the wrong number making everything after incorrect. With these you have to work from the inside out, not right to left, otherwise you won't be working with the right numbers." Arithmancy was one of those subjects that was equal parts practical and absolutely abstract. Like Magical Mathematics and it took a very specific situation to balance the equations. Even though the parchement was upside down now, facing her, he could still make out the next set of numbers and he nodded. An impressed 'hmph' sort of sound came out of his mouth, "This is right though," Phillip told her, a slightly surprised look on his face because that equation seemed more difficult than the one she'd gotten wrong.

“Don’t they?” she said, but it was rhetorical. Or antagonistic, maybe. She didn’t know – he just made her want to argue, for some reason! Too lazy to say Phillip?? Sounded like nonsense to her. But, whatever. “Uh-huh,” she answered, leaning in, looking for what he was pointing at. She wanted to remind him that she was twelve, and that she’d never done arithmancy (or even mathematics with any sort of depth) before now. “So I’m supposed to carry the.... four?” it was a stab in the dark.

Addition and subtraction, sure. They’d learned the super basics back in the little mini-school she and Benny had gone to that consisted of all of the kids that lived in their block, held by a former teacher in one of the apartments. But even multiplication was iffy, and even division was… Eh… needless to say, there were a lot of new concepts here for the young witch. Tomie gave him a quizzical look when he pointed out an answer that had been correct. Or, more accurately, she gave him a quizzical look when he looked surprised at her correct answer.

“Right but what about these?” she asked, pointing, “It’s the charts I don’t get. Like how am I supposed to fit this equation here…?” She flipped through the pages to a confusing and dense numerical chart, “Into this chart?”

He could have answered her 'don't they' question, but even if he hadn't gotten the sense that she was sarcastic, he still wouldn't have cared enough to reply. Phillip figured the smallest amount of words possible was the best course. Maybe he did have to talk to her, but he didn't have to talk to her a lot. "Uh, no," he said slowly, replying to her question about carrying a four and taking another look at the parchment. He wondered where she got the four from but didn't mention it. Arithmancy wasn't easy for everyone; he was compassionate enough to understand that, but not enough to make her feel better about it.

"I guess, think of it as a tree," He tried to remember the little tricks he'd taught himself when he was her age. Things that had helped him understand the fundamentals of Arithmancy. It wasn't just math, it was magical math, which was inherently more complicated. According to Phillip, it was somethings needlessly so. Phillip sat up a little further in the seat to reach across the table and point things out. "You start here, at the trunk, and work your way out, like branches." Tracing the charts on her page, he wondered if this was even helpful. It wasn't like he'd put much thought into this ahead of time; he didn't have a lesson plan or anything.

When she flipped the pages and brought them to a numerical chart, Phillip sighed. Not because she didn't understand, but because he'd have to get up to read the tiny numbers she was looking at. Looking from across the table wasn't cutting it. Sliding out of his chair, he moved to the one next to her and slumped a little into it. "Okay, so," He stopped for a minute, realizing that if she didn't know the numerical charts yet, then she was just starting to learn Arithmancy.

"Wait, what year are you?" He asked, the disdain all to clear in his voice. Phillip spoke before it crossed his mind that he should have known. After all, he'd been given a memo with some general info about her when assigned as his mentee. Of course, he hadn't read it.

Uh, no.

She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or if that was just how he spoke – with a tinge of superiority, all the time. Tomie sighed, feeling frustrated. She wanted to just write the whole thing off – she didn’t even care about arithmancy, for Merlin’s sake. But her parents would eviscerate her. She didn’t just have to pass, she had to do well.

“A tree?” she repeated, with growing impatience. It wasn’t making any sense, and she could feel herself getting more irritated with the whole situation. She hadn’t been mad ten minutes ago, but she was now, and she blamed him for it. When Phillip sighed, she frowned at him, not bothering to be subtle anymore.

He slid into the seat beside her and she waited to see if he’d actually start being useful or if he’d just go between mocking her and writing in his stupid diary some more. Tomie didn’t like feeling like an idiot. “What year am I?” she asked, defensive now. Maybe she felt like he was about to tell her she should have been better than she was or something, but whatever the reason, Tomie was feeling self-protective.

“Second?” she answered, the word a rhetorical question. “Shouldn’t you know that?” One eyebrow raised, she crossed her arms again. "Did you even read the sheet thingie we all got?"

"Second?" He repeated, an exasperated little sigh escaping his lips, and then he sat back. At least her not knowing much made more sense to him now, not that it would help Phillip be a better mentor or more patient with her. Those were things he just wasn't really equipped to do. "What do you think?" The sarcasm in his rhetorical question was as evident as the roll of his eyes. Phillip hadn't read it, of course, he hadn't, and was he ever planning to? Nope.

Sitting back in the seat next to her, Phillip crossed his arms over his chest again. He was trying to think of a better way to explain Arithmancy basics to her. It had been so long since needing to studying them, but they were the foundation of everything else she'd learn over the next five years. While he was annoyed to have a mentee and seriously lacked any skills to help her, Phillip wasn't going to actively confuse her. If he couldn't help by putting forth the bare minimum effort, he assumed not helping would be best. Better than just making everything more complicated for her.

"Did you learn math before Hogwarts?" It was crazy to Phillip how many Pureblood students lacked proper math skills. They had all of these private tutors and governesses, but it seemed like half of them could barely read. While he had no idea if Tomie was a Pureblood or not, but it didn't really matter, he still had to ask the question. "Like at primary, or anything?" Phillip hadn't meant to sound rude by basically asking if she knew how to count, but he hadn't quite sugar-coated the words either.

It was his exasperated sigh that did it.

“Sorry for being twelve,” Tomie said sarcastically, no longer able to hold any kind of teasing smile on her lips as she spoke. It wasn’t quiet, muttered-under-her-breath sarcasm, either; there was no one around she needed to stay cool for, and she didn’t have the patience to tease. His pose copied hers now; with their arms crossed over their chests, they didn’t really look like a mentor/mentee pair, but rather two adversaries... albeit adversaries of very different heights.

He was asking more insulting questions – the kind that weren’t insulting on paper, but definitely were when accompanied by that same air of superiority he’d had about him the whole time they’d been here. Tomie was fuming. She didn’t stop to consider that her irritation made her interpret everything as if it was an attack, or snide comment. “Weren’t you a prefect last year?” she asked, rudely speaking over the top of him. "No offense, but I can see why you're not anymore. I think prefects are supposed to have more people skills?"