𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

" cecilia "

✤ ✾ ✤

. . . FEBRUARY, 1976

IN THE COLD LIGHT of the afternoon, the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor match was roaring. With the cutting wind and sleet, it was sparsely attended by Slytherin and Ravenclaw. But Finn had upheld Hamish Reid's old rule that the entire team had to attend every match. It was sportsmanly, and it was also a strategy. They would play Hufflepuff in the final match of the year, which would likely be the decider of the Quidditch Cup.

Elara, Avanti, and Mimi had elected to stay inside the warmth of the castle. Maeve relished the feeling of the cold wind yanking at her hair. She and Estella were up in their usual spot near the top of the Ravenclaw stands where they had the best view of the pitch.

Estella clapped her mittened hands together. Hufflepuff had just managed to score another point. "Did you see that? I knew their Chasers would pull it off. I told Finn we ought to give the Puffs more credit."

"It's their Keeper that's their issue," Maeve said decisively. She watched the Quaffle bounce through the air and sail through the golden hoops, a meter away from the Keeper's outstretched hand. "She's lucky she has such strong offensive players. Anytime James gets near the hoops it's nearly always in."

"James?" Estella repeated with a loud laugh. "Didn't realize you were friends with that bloke."

"Friends?" Maeve had to laugh at the very notion. "Definitely not."

Sorcha and the other Gryffindor beater, Simon, whizzed by, hot in pursuit of the Bludgers. It was so cold out and the wind was brutal enough that both teams were wearing a bulky layer of clothes underneath their long-sleeved jerseys. Maeve was glad they didn't have to play today. It was far more comfortable to be slagging both teams in the comfort of her wool jumper and thick scarf.

"I don't know how you two can stand to be up here!" William Reed yelled as he stepped into their row. He had been standing a handful of rows down the stands with Finn and Edmund. Kian and Charlie were at the very bottom, leaning over the edge and shouting insults everytime Gryffindor flew past. "It's far less windy at the bottom."

"Yeah, but the view isn't as good," Maeve told him.

"True, but I'd rather not freeze to death for it."

Maeve laughed. "You're too soft, Will. A little cold won't kill you."

He shivered dramatically, rubbing his hands together. "Easy for you to say. You look like you're enjoying this."

"There's something about the cold that makes you feel alive!" Estella shouted into the wind.

Will stared at Maeve, grinning. Maeve felt a flutter in her chest. "Maybe. You going to Hogsmeade next weekend, Maeve?"

"Sure," Maeve told him, adjusting her scarf after a sharp gust of wind. "I always go." She had already been promised to a day in Hogsmeade with Avanti, Mimi, and Elara. Valentine's Day fell neatly on a Hogsmeade Saturday that year. The four of them would be spending it eating far too much chocolate and making fun of all of the couples walking around holding hands.

"Maybe I'll see you there, then," he told her hurriedly, as if he meant to say something else but thought better of it. "Anyway, I'll catch you two after the match!"

As he walked off back to his spot in the stands, Maeve said, "Odd that he came all the way up here."

Estella's rosy cheeks were just visible above the thick knit of her scarf. "Are you truly blind? Will fancies you."

Even against the February chill, Maeve felt her cheeks burn. "Oh, he does not."

"Oi, Maeve, are you going to Hogsmeade?" Estella mimicked, making her voice as low as she could. She hopped around a bit, which was difficult considering how bundled up the girl was. "Maeve, I'm practically in love–"

"Quit slagging!" Maeve laughed. Over the deafening roar of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff and Kenny Paley's increasingly anxious announcing, there was no way anyone would hear them.

Estella hit her with a mitten. "I'm serious! Last week at practice Finn had to tell Will to focus on the Quaffle because he was too busy watching you on the other side of the pitch."

Maeve watched Will as he settled into his spot in the stands six rows ahead of them. His floppy blonde hair was ruffled by the breeze as a Gryffindor chaser sped past. Not for the first time, she imagined the small reality in which Will did fancy her. But then, it was a thought shared by nearly everyone else at Hogwarts. She wasn't the first person to have a crush on William Reed.

Estella nudged her again, a knowing smile on her face. "You should just ask him."

"Ask him?" The idea of approaching Will was both thrilling and terrifying, but a small part of her wondered if maybe, just maybe, Estella was right. Still, it was more of a passing thought than something she would dream of acting upon. "You know what they say. Dating a teammate is a terrible idea."

Estella just shrugged. "He's a year ahead of you. It wouldn't be the worst thing."

"No, it wouldn't," Maeve mused. The idea of a crush was a magical thing. To think that William Reed, the boy that everyone was interested in, might also fancy her? It was a feeling as electrifying as the Invigoration Draught. The game continued, but her focus was elsewhere, lost in the idea of what it would be like to have his attention.

In the end, Gryffindor had beat Hufflepuff by fifty points. Poor Kenny Paley had been in such a state over the loss that McGonagall had to step in and announce the end of the match. As they flooded back into the castle it was a sea of energetic red and subdued yellow. Maeve watched as Sirius and Remus surged to the head of the crowd, trying their best to keep James balanced on their shoulders. James was waving his hands like a conductor, leading all of the Gryffindors in a raucous rendition of what sounded like a funeral dirge to Hufflepuff house. It was, of course, in poor taste.

But even Lily Evans was laughing, and that had to count for something.

"It's not much of a lead, but it still puts Gryffindor ahead of everyone," Will sighed from beside Maeve. She could practically see his mind move, running the numbers on potential scores.

"We'll have to win by quite a bit in our last match," Maeve agreed. She could see Estella grinning out of the corner of her eye. If this was going to happen every time she spoke to Will, it was going to drive her mad.

"Thankfully, the Hufflepuff Beaters weren't very good," Will said, nudging her in the shoulder. A chill ran up her entire body, emanating from where his arm had touched hers. "Though we have the best one out of all of them, anyways."

Estella rammed into her shoulder and Maeve was about to tell her off but another voice cut through the noise of the hall.

"Maeve!" It was Aoife, shouting to be heard over the crowd. A head of auburn hair bobbed up and down before Aoife came into view, gently shoving people to get through. "Maeve! Maeve!"

"What, what?" Maeve laughed, taking Aoife's hands in hers.

Her sister's cheeks were flushed red though she had clearly stayed inside the castle instead of braving the cold. "I just got an owl," she told her, entirely out of breath. "From the Ministry!"

"The Ministry?" Maeve repeated, not following the sparse explanation. Then the realization dawned on her. "The Ministry! They offered you a second interview?"

"No, Mae." Aoife, beautiful Aoife, had tears sparkling in her brown eyes. "They gave me the job. They offered me the job! They want me to start Auror training straight after I'm finished with school."

Maeve threw her arms around her sister's shoulders. She could cry with happiness. Aoife had gone on and on for days after her first interview in London about how she had botched the whole thing. Maeve knew her sister had been wrong. "Aoife! I knew they would, ach, what did I tell you–!"

"Auror training?"

Maeve whipped around to find Sorcha standing behind them, watching with cold eyes. She still wore her red and gold uniform. Her best friend, Marlene, stood warily next to her.

"Yeah, and what of it?" Maeve said, stepping forward. Aoife grabbed at her arm, but Maeve just shook her off.

"I didn't even know you applied, Aoife," Sorcha smarted.

"I didn't want to tell you," Aoife snapped. "I think you can imagine why."

By then, the crowd had thinned. Almost all of Gryffindor house had filtered up to their dormitory where there would surely be a party going on. But not Sorcha. Never Sorcha.

"Quit while you're ahead, Sorcha," Maeve hissed. "Run along."

Marlene shifted uncomfortably beside Sorcha, her eyes darting between the two girls. With her thick Scottish accent, she said, "Sorcha, let's just go."

Sorcha still stared at Aoife, as if assessing the situation. There was something unmistakably sorrowful in her blue eyes. Maeve wasn't stupid enough to name it as regret. "Run along?" Sorcha repeated, her voice quieter, almost disbelieving. Her gaze lingered on Aoife, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. "You really don't get it, do you?"

Maeve stepped forward. "What's your problem, Sorcha? If you've got something to say, just say it. You've never had an issue with it before."

"Maeve," Estella hissed, gesturing over her shoulder.

But it was too late. Minerva McGonagall was walking through the hall, evidently having missed the members of her House that were causing the most noise. "And what is going on here?" the professor said, looking over them with her cat-like eyes. "Certainly nothing I should be concerned about?"

"No, professor," Maeve and Aoife said at the same time. Sorcha said nothing.

"Hm," McGonagall said, incredibly suspicious. "Let's not waste a Sunday afternoon. Miss McKinnon, why don't you and Miss Byrne head back up to your common room and join in the festivities? And remind Mister Lupin that he is a Prefect before a friend, if you will."

"Yes, Professor," Marlene told her, all too glad to drag Sorcha away from the scene.

"And as for the other Miss Byrnes," McGonagall said primly, now addressing Maeve and Aoife. "Congratulations on receiving the offer for an Auror position, Aoife. Professor Slughorn is most proud."

Aoife frowned. "I only just heard myself."

McGonagall waved a dismissive hand. She was in a remarkably pleasant mood. Probably owed mostly to her House's victory in the match. "Horace has more connections than one can fathom. I'm certain he knew the moment the decision was made."

"Well," Aoife swallowed, standing a bit straighter. "Thank you."

"This world could stand more Aurors with good heads on their shoulders," McGonagall nodded. "As for you, Miss Maeve Byrne, I'll see you in my office after Transfiguration on Tuesday."

"But–!" Maeve began to protest. But it was no use.

"Tuesday. Straight after class," McGonagall said again. Then she was off without another word.

"She's terrifying," Will shuddered. "You alright, Maeve?"

"What do you think she wants?" Estella said, eyes wide.

"I hardly know," Maeve muttered.

Aoife grimaced, as if she were already laying flowers at Maeve's funeral. "I'm sorry, Maeve. I'm sure it'll turn out okay."

They all stood there in silence. By then, the hallway was completely empty except for Maeve, Estella, Aoife, and Will. It was as if the Quidditch match had never even happened, as if there had never been a crowd at all.

✤

MAEVE had decided with finality that she would have rather been expelled by McGonagall on the spot than wait with agony to find out what her punishment would be. By Tuesday, she had run through every possible scenario at least twice.

"Maybe she just wants to have a chat," James suggested as they walked to Transfiguration on Tuesday. She had run into him and Sirius after lunch and didn't have the energy required to be rid of them. They were all going to the same place, anyways.

"A chat? Do you normally have quaint chats over tea with McGonagall?"

James ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth, rather obviously messing with the mandrake leaf. It was a miracle no one had questioned it. "Sometimes."

"You must have some idea of what she wants," Sirius said.

"I don't know what she wants," Maeve groused again. It had been her constant lament. Avanti had thrown a pillow at her the previous night just to get her to shut up about it before bed. "She wouldn't tell me."

"It can't be that bad," James said. "She would have given you detention on the spot if it was."

"And it wasn't like you did anything, anyways," Sirius reminded her.

"I don't think it matters," Maeve said, glancing once over her shoulder. "It's always Sorcha's word over mine. McGonagall plays favorites."

"Oh, she does not," Sirius scoffed.

"You're in her house, of course you don't notice it," Maeve said, hitting him lightly on the arm.

"Ouch!" he hissed. "You know, you hit a lot harder than you think you do."

Just before they were about to enter the classroom, Maeve surged ahead, putting distance between her and the two boys before she walked through the threshold. Elara was already at their usual table, and Maeve slid into the seat next to her.

Transfiguration class dragged on, with Maeve's thoughts constantly drifting to the impending meeting. McGonagall didn't give any indication of what was coming; her expression as stern and unreadable as ever.

Today, they were supposed to be turning a pillow into an armadillo, but even when Maeve successfully completed the Transfiguration, she felt no relief.

"Maeve, I know this isn't going to be helpful to you," Elara whispered. "But you have got to relax. What's the worst McGonagall could do to you, truly?"

It was a fair point. Save for her Quidditch probation terms, there was not much McGonagall could dole out in way of punishment that would be worse than anything Sorcha had already caused. But deep in her heart, she knew she wanted McGonagall's approval. She had let so many people down already with her dodgy behavior and tanking grades. Adding one more person to the list was too much.

When class finally ended, Maeve's heart pounded in her chest. The short walk with McGonagall to her office was excruciating, but the room itself was cozy with a blazing hearth. She had just as many books as Flitwick, but they were significantly more organized.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I called you in here," McGonagall said. Maeve kept her mouth shut, not trusting herself to give anything less than a scathing answer. "I wanted to speak with you about your plans for the future."

Maeve blinked, caught off guard. "My plans, Professor?"

"Slughorn speaks rather highly of you and your sister Aoife. He and Flitwick have both mentioned that you have intentions to attend university in Dublin upon graduation. You are one of the most talented Transfiguration students I've ever taught. And yet, you rarely turn in any assignments on time. You perform exceptionally in the practical portions of the course, but your grades are, quite frankly, terrible. Why is that?"

Maeve hardly knew what to say. McGonagall's expression wasn't hostile. This might have been the most friendly she had ever seen the woman. "I'm not sure, Professor."

She gave a hoarse laugh. "You are sure, Miss Byrne. It isn't a stretch to assume that your priorities currently lie elsewhere. I am aware that it takes a great deal of study for a witch, even one so bright as yourself, to attend a Muggle university. However, I am concerned that you might be turning away from your magical studies prematurely."

"I've had conversations with Professor Flitwick about this topic," Maeve said as politely as she could muster. This woman wasn't even her Head of House, and here she was questioning her resolve.

"I'm sure you have. But I would encourage you to think carefully about how you can use that talent. There are so many possibilities for someone with your abilities, both in the magical and Muggle worlds. You don't have to choose one over the other. But if you cannot bring your performance up to the O.W.L level, I fear your options may be limited indeed."

Maeve swallowed her anger. She knew her grades were barely above the level of concern. Reminding her of it wouldn't do any good. "Thank you for the advice, Professor."

"I only brought you in here because it isn't too late. I wanted to make sure you understood that though things may seem beyond repair, there is no reason to think you cannot achieve perfectly respectable scores on your O.W.Ls if you adjust your priorities."

Minerva McGonagall had been in the room that day Maeve had been nearly expelled from the school. The woman had said nothing in her defense. She had no reason to. But in the same way, Maeve had no reason to take any of the woman's advice.

"I know you don't think very highly of me after what occurred last term," McGonagall sighed, relaxing into her desk chair. It was as if she had read Maeve's very thoughts. "But it was a testament to your character how you handled the situation. I'm sure Mister Lupin is rather grateful for it."

"Pardon?" Maeve said, nearly choking on her words. "How did you–?"

McGonagall's eyes glittered from behind her spectacles. "There is a certain student who, though they have chosen to remain anonymous, attempted to clear your name and remove your Quidditch ban. The truth of the so-called illegal potions was explained to me very clearly."

"Remus told you the truth?"

"I am not supposed to say," McGonagall told her in a way that said the answer was yes.

Maeve leaned back in the wooden chair. Her mind was trying and failing to wrap itself around the conversation. "So, you must know, then, about Remus?"

The woman nodded solemnly. "Aside from myself, Dumbledore, and Madam Pomfrey, there are no other staff members at Hogwarts who are aware of his condition. As such, Professor Flitwick could not be allowed to know the true nature of your, shall we say, extracurricular potions work last term. So before you ask, I'm sorry to say that your Quidditch probation will have to remain."

"I understand. I didn't expect that would change."

McGonnagal reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a tin of biscuits. She passed it over to Maeve, who took one gratefully. "I have no doubt that you understand the gravity of the situation with Mister Lupin. His privacy must be protected at all costs. I believe you handled the matter with great integrity, and that is something I hold in high regard."

"It wasn't a hard decision to make," Maeve told her. She was flooded by the sudden need to be honest. "I should never have known the truth to begin with. It was only right that I take the blame."

McGonagall finally smiled. "There is something to be said about Ravenclaw wit. What most do not understand is that it is a dangerous trait when not tempered by wisdom. You seem to have both in abundance, Miss Byrne. Do not waste it."

✤

"SO McGonagall didn't expel you?"

Maeve walked side by side with Sirius down the halls in between classes on Wednesday. She was headed outside for Herbology, and he was supposed to be heading towards Charms. Maeve hadn't yet noticed that he had already missed the hallways he was supposed to turn down. For all of her bluster about not being seen with him or James in public (Peter was, as always, the exception), she certainly seemed to be minding it less and less.

"Don't sound so disappointed," Maeve chided. With her chin raised and hair pulled back in a long braid, she looked like some kind of haughty queen.

"I've never seen you look so worried," he laughed, teasing her. It was incredibly easy to get a rise out of her.

"You would have been too if you had been in that room with her last year. It was Dumbledore, Flitwick, McGonagall and Sorcha staring me down, all accusing me of some half-truth. I've been scared of McGonagall ever since."

"I didn't think you were scared of anything."

"There is a list of things I'm afraid of. Minerva McGonagall is the only name on it."

He didn't doubt that. "So, what about the hawk moth chrysalis?"

Maeve glanced once off her shoulder and pulled a folded piece of parchment out from her bag. The bag, he noticed, was still the one he and James had ripped open with a tearing charm last fall. The canvas was stained with black ink and looked as if someone had sewn it with their eyes shut. "I found this in Elara's book. It isn't very helpful, though. Lots about potato patches."

The matter of the Death's-head hawk moth chrysalis was something Sirius had been dreading. Unlike other ingredients, which could easily be stolen from the cabinets in Potions when Slughorn was occupied, the chrysalis wasn't kept on hand in the castle. It would have to be foraged.

"Potato patches?" Sirius asked as they walked on through the courtyard and out towards the bridge. The chill of the day crawled under the collar of his shirt. He grabbed the parchment out of her hand to read it. "Where are we going to find a potato patch on short notice?"

"It doesn't have to be a potato patch," she said, laughing at his expression. "They just tend to pupate on cultivated lands."

"I hate that word."

"Cultivated?"

"Pupate," he shuddered. "Sounds unnatural."

She rolled her eyes. "The issue is not that there are few places they could be found. They could be anywhere. Hedgerows, abandoned buildings, decomposing material, under rocks and logs."

"You're describing one place."

Maeve gritted her teeth. She didn't want to accept the truth. "The Forbidden Forest, I know."

"We could sneak out there with the cloak," Sirius suggested.

"No," Maeve told him, grinning with a mischievous glint to her hazel eyes. "I have a better idea."

He sucked in a breath. "That worries me."

By then, they were out on the path that led towards the Herbology greenhouses. Maeve finally lost the far-off look that she always had when she was thinking deeply and her full attention turned to him. It was always slightly jarring. "Aren't you supposed to be in Charms?"

"Am I?" he grinned. "Must've taken a wrong turn."

"You're full of it," she chided. There was something about the way her smile tugged at the corners of her lips that made his chest feel uncomfortably tight. "Get to class, Black."

"As if you're such a model student," he called over his shoulder. She just waved him off and continued on down the slushy gravel path.

Maeve's plan didn't become clear to him until later that evening when she found them after dinner. James was busy pestering Evans and Remus had gone back upstairs already. Peter was sitting next to Sirius, and they were deep in a discussion about if it was possible to charm the emeralds in the Slytherin house points hourglass. Maeve made her approach and slid onto the bench across from them.

"I have a way into the Forbidden Forest," she said without pretense. "Hagrid is going to take us on Saturday, but we'll have to skip Hogsmeade."

"Skip Hogsmeade?" Sirius complained. "Are you joking? It's Valentine's Day."

"Why, don't tell me you have a date," she scoffed.

Peter laughed and poked Sirius in the shoulder. "He does, actually."

Maeve looked unsurprised. "Of course you do. New girl?"

Sirius crossed his arms. "No, still the Hufflepuff. Do not sing the song."

"'Cilia, you're breakin my heart," Maeve began to hum.

Peter's eyes lit up and in a slightly off-key voice, he sang. "You're shakin' my confidence daily," he continued.

Sirius cut them off before they could get that blasted tune stuck in his head again. "Are you going to explain to us how you convinced Hagrid to take us into the bloody forest?"

"I may have lied."

"You lied to Hagrid? That's almost a cardinal sin, Maeve," Peter said with wide eyes.

"I know, I know," she winced guiltily. "But we need more time than the cloak will afford us. Besides, Hagrid was just happy to have someone to spend his Saturday with."

"Under the pretense of a lie," Sirius scoffed with fake disdain. "How do you sleep at night?"

"Quite well," she told him, examining the leftover Herbology dirt under her nails. "Lies get easier by the day."

"And how do I know that wasn't a lie as well?"

"That's the trick," she smiled. "Anyway, I'll see you on Saturday. Good luck canceling your date, lover boy," Maeve said, walking off to where her blonde haired friend was waiting. Elara Harvey had a puzzled expression on her face, and it didn't take being a lip reader to know that she was asking Maeve what the hell she was doing at the Gryffindor table.

Peter chucked under his breath. "Cecilia isn't going to be happy about this."

Cecilia was, in fact, not pleased when Sirius told her he had to cancel their date.

"But I got us a table at Madam Puddifoot's! And I picked out an outfit and everything.  You're breaking my heart," she told him.

And Sirius burst out laughing. Cilia, you're breakin' my heart, echoed in his mind.

Before he had come to Hogwarts, music was a fragile, mournful thing. His mother had a charmed gramophone-like contraption in the parlor that played only classical music and songs in French–all music made by known Pureblood musicians. Music was stuffy, reserved for dinner parties and expensive occasions.

But then Sirius had met Peter, who had brought his hand-crank record player with him to Hogwarts during their first year. Because of the limitations of Muggle electricity within the magical bounds of the castle, the bulky thing was one of the few Muggle items that worked. James and Sirius had poked fun at the obnoxiousness of it at first. Then Peter had surprised them all by placing a record labeled The Rolling Stones on the spinning machine. Sirius was hooked by this wonderful thing that the Muggles called rock music. Remus introduced him to most of his favorite bands–Led Zeppelin, The Who, Bowie, Eagles. Anything that was loud, anything that his parents hated, that was what Sirius found he loved.

But this group called Simon & Garfunkel was one that Sirius had never heard of. He was nearly offended that he hadn't. It was of a genre that the Muggles called folk rock according to Remus, who was the person Sirius had pestered to ask Hope and Lyall Lupin if they would please purchase the Bridge Over Troubled Water record and send it by owl a few weeks ago. Remus had been amused by the request.

"They aren't really your speed," Remus had warned, laughing.

It was different, that was for certain. Sirius didn't know what to make of it at first. He also didn't know what to make of the fact that he had been so strongly influenced by Maeve and her ridiculousness. He had been keeping track of all of the references she made to Muggle music, which wasn't something she herself seemed to realize she did rather often. After the whole Cecilia business, then came Joni Mitchell (who's newest album Maeve had received for Christmas) and a man called John Denver (an American who sang songs about places Sirius hadn't even heard of). Maeve and Peter both loved the Rolling Stones, and they had held a twenty minute conversation about it.

But she hadn't been kidding, and Sirius almost hated that he agreed with her. Bridge Over Troubled Water was remarkably good.

But at that moment, the real Cecilia was not moved. "Is this funny to you?"

"No, no," Sirius said quickly. "Shit, it's just the song–you said the lyrics."

"The song?" she repeated. Cecilia Duncan was also a Pureblood and had almost definitely not heard of Simon & Garfunkel. "Everything is a joke to you, Sirius. I hope for your sake you can grow up a little. I'm finished with it."

"Cecilia, c'mon," Sirius said, taking a step forward.

She screwed up her pretty face. "No, Sirius. This is over."

And so that marked the end of another short-lived fling.

"Maeve Byrne, this is all your fault," he muttered under his breath as Cecilia stalked off and away from him.

But it was for the best, likely. The more he thought about the prospect of a Valentine's Day Hogsmeade date with Cecilia or a trip into the Forbidden Forest, the forest sounded vastly more appealing.

✤ ✾ ✤

a/n There is so much packed into this long-ass chapter, so I made a small list to address it all:

- in my head I imagine Estella as Georgiana Darcy in the 2005 Pride and Prejudice. iykyk.

- The William Reed concept is a subplot that's going to continue to develop into Maeve's sixth year. There's so much going on with the animagi business that our girl doesn't have time to waste on boys!! But do not fear, there will be some (read: a lot) romance drama in her future : ) Also yes there is dramatic irony to the inevitable fact that William Reed is Sirius's foil. Sometimes the basic tropes are simply the most fun!

- & a moment for McGonagall! Painting her as a semi-villain was very necessary at the start of the story for the sake of it being from Maeve's POV. Her conversation with McGonagall is going to be a bit of a turning point for informing her perspective of the Gryffindors as well as her options for the future.

- Music! I have spent a very obnoxious amount of time curating playlists for Sirius and Maeve who I feel are classic rock bf x folk rock gf. There is some overlap amongst their favorite bands and at the very center of that venn diagram is ABBA.

-ALSO I've been thinking about asking this for so long but what house are you guys in?? I can kind of tell from some comments but I'm so curious!

- nat < 3