CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
the return of kettleburn

𖦹 ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ˚⋆˚ 𖦹

   WHEN IT COMES TO CARE OF MAGICAL creatures, there are few pros and many cons.

Pro: Kettleburn is back from probation, meaning that Rigby has been sent packing and they can finally start doing more interesting assignments than writing essays every other week. She's missed being outside in the  unpredictable elements, accosted by the crisp autumn air and finally getting the chance to study the creatures up close after a few months without them. She'd take augury spotting in torrential storms over writing essays any day, especially with the unfair marking scheme Rigby seemed to follow. Sometimes, Cove would even get marks off for trying to sympathise with the creatures, which made her all sorts of angry. She swears that Rigby was just out to get her for no apparent reason, thankful to hear that she's gone for good. Or rather, Cove hopes that she is.

Con: Seeing as she's sat next to the boy she's trying her hardest to push away, there's a tense atmosphere of unadulterated awkwardness growing between them like a Venomous Tentacula sprouting from the soil. Enjoying the company of bowtruckles and jobberknolls isn't nearly as pleasant when there's so many unspoken things hanging in the air between them. It doesn't help that Kettleburn hasn't made any altercations to the seating plan seeing as he's preoccupied putting himself in danger for the thrill of it, sealing their fate as class partners until graduation.

So, to summarise:

Pro: She loves the creatures!

Con: She has to fucking sit next to Remus!

  Cove had been tossing and turning all night with that weighing on her mind, kept awake by her own guilt. When the alarm clock sounds, her night is solely marked by dark circles from the countless hours spent awake, worried about something Fallon continuously reassures her isn't going to be a big deal. To say the very least, she hasn't been looking forward to first period. Skiving class did cross her mind at one point or another, but she's a ball of nerves whenever she actually goes through with it and came to the conclusion that just sucking it up would be her best option yet.

  At breakfast, her eyes burn with exhaustion and she practically ends up asleep in her bowl of frosties, just barely propped up on her hand. Her friends are evidently worried about the state of her, making concerned eye contact across the table as they talk about the upcoming Halloween party. Fallon clears her throat obnoxiously loud, eyebrows jumping up and down as if to usher Mary into saying something comforting. She only rolls her eyes in response, adjusting her pristine robes, which stand out as a splash of crimson in a torrential sea of yellow.

Mary squeezes Cove's hand across the table, bracelets jingling. "It'll be fine," she reinforces, letting go to slather butter onto her toast. "You won't even know that he's there."

"Yeah," Fallon agrees through a mouthful. "He probably wants to avoid you just as much."

Mary kicks her shin under the table.

"Ow! What was that for?"

She makes a disgusted face. "You know fine well. And chew with your mouth closed, you minger. Do you have any manners?"

"No, I seem to have forgotten them at home," Fallon deadpans, spearing more bacon onto her fork.

"Oh, har-har. You're a proper comedian. Look," Mary turns back to Cove, "it'll be over in a flash. Chances are you won't even have to talk to him."

  "Let's hope you're right." She knocks on the wooden table dejectedly. "Touchwood."

  The rest of breakfast blurs past her bleary eyes in a haze of knives, forks and scrambled eggs. Her scalding hot green tea managed to waken her up a little bit, but there's still that yearning for her bed nagging at the back of her mind. She has to be hauled outside by Fallon when the bell goes for first period, tripping over her own two feet all the way downhill. The sun is peeking past the wispy clouds, gossamer and velvety, as the frost upon the grass begins to melt. It'll be Samhain in a few nights time, but Cove feels that she's hardly ready for winter. It makes her anxious to think about it, honestly. Where did the year go?

  She takes a deep breath to ground herself, and steps closer towards her desk.

  Kettleburn's loathing for the classroom inside the castle is evident to everyone, living and dead, so the class has gathered outdoors upon the makeshift desks crafted from uneven, gnarled slabs of wood. Cove tries to discreetly pull her chair as far away from Remus' as is humanly possible, teetering on the edge of their desk like her life depends on it. He hasn't so much as glanced at her in the last fifteen minutes, twisting the frayed edges of his friendship bracelet with indecipherable feeling.

She knows that she's supposed to be avoiding him, to be hating him, but when the feeling is reciprocated it's like a knife to the heart. Cove swallows her remorse and casts her eyes away from his freckled side profile, tugging at her little niffler earrings as a distraction. Luckily, the silence doesn't last for much longer.

"Attention, everyone!" Kettleburn calls out, looking quite pleased with himself. "I have an announcement."

Cove's happy to have him back. He seems at home at the front of their outdoor classroom, teetering between his prosthetic legs as the chilly autumn breeze tousles his salt and pepper hair, which is looking whiter by the day. His angular face may have been handsome once upon a time but it is now wizened by age, patchy stubble and a graveyard of scars. He leans upon a cane that looks like it's been picked straight off of the forest floor, laughing to himself at the intrigued looks of his students. He loves to keep them on the edge of their seats.

"You will partner up with your desk mate to raise a juvenile kneazle between yourselves," he announces. Mixed responses echo out around the field but he shushes everyone quickly. "This will be your main assignment until the summer when you are all to graduate, though you will have to continue with the other work I happen to issue in class. This course will not be an easy pass! Don't you go expecting this assignment to be a walk in the park, either, ladies and gentlemen. This ought to teach you some responsibility before you're sent off into the real world."

At first, Cove is over the moon that she gets to take care of a kneazle kitten for the next few months, but then it dawns on her that she's having to co-parent it with Remus. Her heart sinks under the heavy anchor of dread, and rubs her eyes firmly as if she'll wake up from this nightmare. He doesn't seem too keen on the idea either.

Soon after his spiel, Kettleburn comes around to their table with a basket of kneazles under his arm, scooping one out and gently laying it down on their desk. He's gone as quickly as he came, trying to whisk round every pair of students before the bell rings.

Cove peers at the kneazle apprehensively, offering up her hand for it to smell. The kitten sniffs her cautiously, eventually deciding to rub its little face against her fingertips, nuzzling into her close. It has silken fur the colour of gingerbread, with sooty stripes and tufts of snowy white around its face, paws and underbelly. She thinks it's almost like a little tiger. It paws at her hand playfully.

She can't help her laugh. "Aw, bless."

The kneazle kitten mewls in response. It catches sight of its bushy tail, hypnotised by the way it swishes back and forth so rhythmically. Suddenly, the kneazle starts chasing it in wild circles, rolling in all sorts of directions to try and pounce on it.

Cove grabs it gently to cease its incessant tail chasing, fumbling with the pink collar to try and see what Kettleburn had named it. Or, rather, what Kettleburn had named her.

"Pip," she mutters out loud. The kneazle meows, head tilted. Cove smiles. "Is that your name?"

Pip begins to purr.

She giggles, scratching behind her tufty ear. "It suits you."

Cove can feel his eyes on her. Studying, dissecting. Putting her under a microscope. She doesn't like it.

Pip draws away from her hand, padding across the table to the side where Remus is sat. Tentatively, he reaches out to do the same as Cove, a look of adoration his face when Pip snuggles into his hand. He strokes her fluffy cheek like she's made of glass or ceramic, lips pulled up in a grin when she flops down in front of him.

He looks up, eyes meeting hers. They linger for a moment too long before darting away, back to watching Pip as she twitches her wiry whiskers at nothing in particular. Cove fiddles with her rings, perplexed by the hurt on his face contrasting with his reddening ears. Her eyes flit between him and Pip and back again, finding the two so endearing together.

Kneazles are renowned for bearing an incredible judge of character, and it seems that Pip has established her deepest trust within the two of them.

author's note!

they're officially parents yw everyone