Birds of a Feather

[Galina Dragova]

Galina didn't make a habit of paying much mind to her fellow students unless it was necessary. Even less so did she make a habit of giving a second glance to first years. They were often ridiculous and naive - eyes too full of wonder and brains too empty of wit. But it was hard to ignore one of her new little housemates whose name she had ensured would reach her ears: little Miss Chattoway came from good enough stock as far as Galina was concerned. Upper class and pureblooded she was definitely the type of person who was, at the very least, acceptable company for Galina. While her family was surely not as prestigious as Astraea's - one of the best things to be said about her little pet aside from her obedience - she was at least not of a family that was full of blood traitors and other such scum. At least to the best of her knowledge. But that was hardly what had caught Galina's attention about the little thing who seemed more often to keep to herself than other first years tended to do.

No, what had caught her eye was the paleness of her skin, the unnatural elongation of her canines and the slight way she looked almost more corpse than lively young woman. While it was hardly a starkly obvious thing Galina herself was familiar enough with the tell-tale signs of vampire heritage that it was not something she would not notice. Luckily enough for the young girl (and herself) others were not so keen and much more willing to ignore such characteristics if the person who embodied them asserted that it was nothing. But Galina was not quite so easily fooled. She wasn't entirely certain, of course, why the idea that the young woman could be very much like herself mattered. Galina was not prone to feelings of kinship nor was she particularly known for initiating unnecessary conversation with other people but there was hardly a choice int he matter as far as she was concerned. The little girl's demeanor called to Galina in some strange way. She wasn't entirely certain she felt much kinship for the girl but she was at least intrigued. She'd never met another half-vampire before and while obviously she could not strut right up and start some weird group of creatures such as they she was not entirely persuaded to ignore their common heritage.

All of these contributing factors worked towards explaining why Galina, upon seeing the young first year enter the common room then quickly find a solitary table to study at, excused herself from conversation with her dearest pet and made way to talk to the girl. It was sure to be a strange sight. Her leaving the comfort of conversation with Astraea to seek out a new person to engage in conversation but Galina hardly cared if people thought it terribly strange from her to deviate from her habit of isolating herself to Astraea and Astraea's alone company. Miss Chattoway would surely not be knowledgeable enough by her social habits to find it strange to be approached by her. If anything the girl would surely feel comfort that an older house mate was wishing to ensure she was settling in well. Not that such was exactly Galina's motivation but there was no reason that she had to show the young Slytherin her hand so early on in the game.

That was why, when she approached the young girls table and took a seat across from her, she wore an expression that was quite a bit less cold than the one that usually graced her doll-like features. While Galina even at the best of times could never be accused of being warm, the look of cold disinterest with replaced with one of relative cordiality and she made to gather the girls attention in a firm yet proper way. "Hello there," She started, her tone formal as it ought to have been, "It occurs to me that I've yet to introduce myself to one of my newest housemates. I am Miss Galina Dragova and I do hope you can make the time to have a little chat with me." The smile on her lips was not entirely genuine nor kind looking but she knew the little girls secret and she would hope that she would be clever enough to realize that Galina was of the same racial background as she.

  

[Clara Chattoway]

Clara normally preferred studying in the library to the common room. The library had less people and was therefore less noisy. Plus if she was stuck or had a question about something she could wander the isles in search of a book that could answer her query. Yes, the library was ideal. Less people to bother her. Less people to poke their nose into her business. But she was a bit exhausted at the moment. She’d needed to head outside for class and today was an unfortunately bright and sunny day, barely a cloud in the sky. Unusually warm weather for winter and quite dreadful. The snow on the ground, not entirely melted, had reflected the sunlight. Of course she’d brought a parasol to help shield her eyes and protect her delicate skin from the aching agony that was the sun. As such she’d been able to focus on the lesson and ideally save all her skin from terrible burns but the experience had still been rather draining. Direct sunlight was likely to give her headaches or make her dizzy.

So now she hadn’t felt like dragging her books all the way to the library. She’d settled on the common room. A transfiguration essay was due soon so Clara decided to make more headway there. Transfiguration was one of her favorite subjects, one she found she had a knack for. To her transfiguration was the ultimate reminder that perception was power. You could change something into something else so fully and completely that anyone who hadn’t witnessed your magic would die believing it was something it wasn’t.

And even if someone saw in time they might for forget or not be quite so certain as to what they saw. People were silly, believing minds were sharp and unyielding things. Most minds were fickle and memories impressionable. Speak with bold confidence, get others to join your voice, and soon you’d have someone convinced that they couldn’t be sure of what their own senses had told them. It was so easy to cast doubt.

Transfiguration was impressive, quite thorough in terms of the deception. The molecules of a thing would be changed. But the change need not be permanent. And even if it was it would never change the nature of what the thing had been at the beginning, of what it truly was. The caster of the spell might die and none might be any wiser as to what the thing had been but that would not change the truth of it, the heart of it.

Clara insisted she was a Pureblood. Her mother, father, brother, and governess all asserted the same. They along with perhaps her vampire father were the only ones who knew any different. But that did not make it so. If everyone around her believed she was a Pureblood, if her mother, father, brother, and governess died and her own husband was forever fooled as to what she was, it would not make her a Pureblood. The deception would be complete but what she was could not be changed, could never be changed.

She distractedly wondered what the truth mattered if none could see it. Her truth mattered to her because she knew it and had to hide it. There was a saying she firmly believed. “Knowledge is power. Guard it well.” She intended to. But what if no one knew the truth of a thing? Was it important? Clara wasn’t sure but she’d strive to find the truth in all things for herself.

But she’d gotten distracted. Hardly surprising. The sun…So draining. But she couldn’t allow her focus to wander too far. She returned her attention back to her essay.

Being quite perceptive even whilst she read, Clara didn’t fail to notice a student approach her and sit across the table. However, she was hardly interested in other students and didn’t bother to so much as look up from her papers. She had studying to do and didn’t want to be disturbed. Ah. And then the dreaded ‘Hello there’. There was nothing for it. She was going to be bothered.

Clara was a master at masking her emotions. Her Father in particularl had impressed the importance of donning a mask upon her. Someone like Clara had something to hide. No one could ever figure it out. And she’d learned herself that due to her appearance she had to work harder to secure her position, gain connections. One could not live in such a social world as a hermit. You didn’t need to be popular.

Popularity could scorch you as much as complete isolation. Clara didn’t want to burn bridges but ‘friends’ would expect you to pick sides. Be on fantastic terms with everyone for a time and sooner or later you’d need to choose and then you’d be hated by at least half. But stay by yourself and there’d be no one to stick up for you, no one to speak of your character in a favorable fashion when someone required a second opinion for some purpose.

Clara danced a fine line between friendliness and isolation. You didn’t want anyone to know you too well. That would be a problem. Who could cut and burn, destroy better than those who knew you best, your closest ‘friends’? But associations must be made. The world was connected. But popularity was certainly a problem. You didn’t want to seem as though you belonged to everyone, as though you had no true loyalties. Besides, then you’d be bothered far too often for Clara’s liking.

Most of her hobbies were something done in isolation. She could read and write by herself. She could play piano by herself. She was human so at times company was needed but for the most part she relished solitude. She’d rather not surround herself with fools who’d detest her the moment they made sense of what she was.

She took pains never to appear rude. She merely kept to herself. Someone asked for directions she answered with a sweet smile. Someone asked for help with a question she’d offer it. But she’d never go out of her way to initiate conversation. But because of her little gestures of ‘kindness’ she wasn’t thought to be stuck up. And she wasn’t hated by the students. She was clever and knew it but she didn’t answer the teacher's questions more than most.

Why make herself a target? It’s not like you got real points for answering. (Maybe house points but she cared little for whether her own house one or someone else's. A cup she wouldn't get to touch let alone keep and which would not be attributed to her in anyway was practically meaningless to her.) And the teachers knew she was smart because of her homework. They just likely thought she was a bit on the quiet side. If she had a question she’d ask. Students didn’t hate you for asking questions. You didn’t make enemies that way.

It wasn’t exactly as though Clara was terrified of making enemies but she never believed in making things unnecessarily difficult. Manipulate and control. Polish and shine. Take what you were given and make it better. People weren’t given the same things and you were a fool to throw away what was available to you.

So even though she didn’t want to be bothered, even though she just wanted to focus on her essay and let the slight pounding in her head resign, she looked up from her books and flashed the student in question the most sweet and charming smile imaginable. Warmth she didn’t feel flooded her eyes. “Hello there,” she said brightly.

Only then did she realize who this student was. Galina Dragova. It was good thing the mask of the sweet girl was fixed firmly in place. Otherwise her irritation would have been obvious. Fantastic. She’d been trying to avoid this student as much as humanly possible. Not like it had been that difficult. Miss Dragova was a sixth year while Clara was a first. The two didn’t share any classes and the older and younger students tended to keep to themselves.

Clara wasn’t fooled, Miss Dragova was like her, a half-vampire. She hadn’t been entirely certain at first, never having met another of her kind before. But her scent had been different. And her skin was unnaturally pale. Still, Clara was confused because Miss Dragova typically seemed much less corpse like and gaunt than Clara herself. She’d wondered if she hadn’t been mistaken about Miss Dragova or if the vampiric traits had just been more prevalent in Clara than Miss Dragova. She had no way of knowing, having no other half vampires to compare herself with.

But Clara was cautious and some might say paranoid. She believed it was safer to assume Miss Dragova was like her. And that was a problem. Keeping her secret would likely prove difficult enough on her own but if there were two half vampires in a single house…Now people might put two and two together, particularly if the two half vampires stuck together.

Clara wouldn’t burn bridges, though. And she had to admit she was curious about another half vampire. Were the circumstances the same for all of them or were some afflicted more strongly? Was Miss Dragova’s nose as sharp as hers? Was she drawn to blood just as much? When the scent hit her nose did she have the driving urge to sink her fangs into the cause and drain and drain? Did the sun burn her skin as deeply? She’d been a half vampire longer. What did she know?

She was conflicted between the desire to distance herself from this other half vampire and likely keep her secret safe and the thirst for knowledge, the desire to speak with her kinsman and know what she knew. Did the control get better or worse with time? Did anything drastically change after puberty? What did it truly mean to be a half vampire? Her family didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to admit what she was even to themselves. And as loathed and detested as all touched by vampires were, the clever ones kept their natures secret so even books could tell her little she didn’t already know about half vampires.

In any case, the choice had been taken away from Clara. Clara was not the sort to willingly sever bonds before they were formed. She was friendly when people spoke with her, requested her time. She was slowly building the reputation of someone kind and caring, just quiet. She wouldn’t wreck that work. She needed favorable opinions.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss Dragova,” she greeted like a proper little lady. She even stood up and curtsied like one was supposed to during introductions. “I’d be delighted to chat with you! It’s always nice to meet new people!” Enthusiasm was as thick as syrup in her voice. She wondered if she looked like quite the little fool, a sweet fool but a fool none the less. Oh well. Let people think she was a fool. Then they wouldn’t take her seriously, wouldn’t deem her a threat. And that would make her ever the more dangerous if a time came where she needed to be.

  

[Galina Dragova]

My, wasn't the girl just a sweet little thing. Galina knew better than to think it genuine - and even more to believe that Miss Chattoway wasn't in some way aware of why she had been approached. She was a bit peeved by the girl's lack of introduction but Galina hardly cared because she wasn't truly there to make best friends. She was intrigued and she was feeling particularly...shall we say nice. Though she still thought it amusing - the sickening sweetness to the girls voice, that is. She was so young and while that was hardly an excuse, Galina was less inclined to snap because of it. Galina didn't snap, even less so when the girl was surely not as dim as she was pretending to be.

"It is a pleasure, Miss Chattoway." She said it with a smile that had a more wicked undertone than she'd usually allow. Her words implied a great many things but Galina figured the girl was at least bright enough to deduce what she meant. Of course she would not outright call her out. That would be foolish. But she did intend that - by the end of the conversation - Miss Chattoway would (if she was half as smart as Galina was giving her credit for) know that Galina was talking about their similar heritage. She had to be precise in her wording but still vague enough that any prying eyes wouldn't understand what she meant. It was an easy enough task. Galina had a great many secrets of devious nature that she was good at seeming innocent where she was anything but.

Looking at the things that had previously had Clara's attention, she looked back up to the girl with a smile. "I do hope I'm not interrupting anything too important that the two of us can not speak." She didn't really care if she was interrupting. Galina had the stage so to speak and she had no intention of leaving sooner than she wanted to. "But I figured we had enough in common that I ought to at least extend and invitation of friendship." She had no desire to be friends with the girl but she did wish to know her. If that meant letting the first year think them friends then so be it. That would only make it easier for Galina to get whatever she wanted from the girl if she ever came to need anything at all from her.

  

[Clara Chattoway]

Clara’s blood turned to ice at Miss Dragova’s greeting. The words were right; but, the tone and the smile was all wrong. Yes, this girl knew what she was as much as Clara was certain about her. That was hardly surprising. She looked more corpse like than Miss Dragova most of the time. Still...Such a tone? What did Miss Dragova want from her? To discuss their shared nature? Obviously they couldn’t do such a thing here.

“Oh I was just working on an essay,” Clara chirped. “Transfiguration. But it’s not due until the end of the week. We have plenty of time,” she assured her even though she felt she’d like nothing more than to keep her distance. There was something about this girl that scared her. It went beyond being afraid to associate with another of her kind because someone might pick up on the similarities and realize what they were. There was something genuinely frightening about the older student. Although what it was Clara couldn’t put her finger on. Still, she wasn’t one to needlessly burn bridges. And her first instincts might be wrong.

Clara didn’t get the older student’s purpose, not quite yet anyways. But she knew that friendship was the last thing on Miss Dragova’s mind. Her eyes made it quite clear. Maybe not to everyone but Clara was perceptive. And if she really wished to be friends that smile earlier would have been entirely out of place.

She smiled sweetly, eyes once more filling with warm. “Oh I’d love to be friends!” She wouldn’t not at all. Right now she felt the less time she spent with the girl the better. But she wasn’t about to soil her reputation by turning down an offer for friendship. That wouldn’t mesh with her kind and caring but quiet persona.

“We do seem to have quite a bit in common!” She wanted to make it fairly certain that she got it. They were both half-vampires. There was no need for Miss Dragova to be less subtle and say something careless with so many prying eyes and ears about.