"It's in the ABC of Growing Up. 
Now now darling, oh don't lose your head, 
cause none of us are angels, 
and you know I love you, yeah."
~ Imogene Heap - Speeding Cars
Yeah so…story out of order again…hehe xD
Whatever, I’m inspired at random times to do random things 
So, the Twins’ 18th birthday party hehe
Some of this story touches on what the other people are doing, not just Nymie and Imogene lol
Sorry if some of this story is a bit…dark xD I didn’t intend for it to be that way, but that’s how it ended it up lol 
Also – like Bianca’s wedding, all of this is just one long continuous story, so it will be written that way. 
{The two frames {with Bonnie Wright and Scarlett Johannson} are Imogene’s hair and make up :D}
Oh, and this is Imogene’s room http://www.polyvore.com/megapost_de_mansiones_parte_taringa/thing?id=23156549 

As always, if I write anything out of character, don’t hesitate to tell me
@hurricanehaley - @nutz4lutz - @much-better-now 
Song for the Set:
Imogen Heap - Speeding Cars
{I’m obsessed – yes obsessed – with this song. It has to be my favorite song ever} 

Sunday had always been a day of relaxation for most people; a day to unwind, or in a student’s case a day to actually do the homework they were assigned over the weekend. This particular Sunday, however, was devoted to a handful of things and those were things that were anything but relaxing. 

Most of the Hogwarts students were all packed into the train on the way back to school with their newfound Christmas gifts, their trunks and their pets; some, unfortunately, had to get up rather early – a few far before dawn – to make it onto the train before it left the closest station. Shia and Noah, as well as a select few, had been on the train for practically twelve whole hours with where they had come from Australia; though it did not making a /lot/ of sense, as to how the train could cross over an ocean to pick up students so far out of the way, there of course were magical tunnels like wrinkles in time that more or less skirted around such things as giant bodies of water and the brilliant ruby steam engine was bringing them back to a place they could relatively call home. Ash Davis had convinced the ticket puncher to let him sit /away/ from his house’s prefects and the Head Girl, citing it would be in his best interest for him to keep an eye on his house’s car to keep down any /rambunctiousness/ that may occur; in all honesty, that only his cousins and his inner circle of friends knew was that – of course – the ginger girl was not on the train this time around, so he had /very/ little interest in waiting time by himself in the main train car. 

In fact, more than just /she/ was missing from the Hogwarts Express; the two Constantinoples, the Branchs, the ginger girl’s sisters, both Viviaras, Daffie Poe, Drizzle St. James, Paisley Cunningham, and Mathies Grimm were not to be seen as well. Ash paid this no mind – because a few of those people he didn’t know of remotely except via drama and chorus classes, but as he saw Shia and Noah, followed by another student with a Mohawk and a girl with lilac hair, heading to the carriages by themselves, he found the absence of so many people relatively curious. Both of Ash’s cousins, Autumn, Scorpious and Albus were all piled into their own carriage that followed behind Shia and Noah’s, but Ash held his tongue as to ask why they were /alone/; he didn’t want Ana and Autumn to have yet another thing to snip about with him – their distaste for Imogene was enough without them thinking he was growing curious with what was happening with people that weren’t his friends. 

What was even stranger was how their carriage pulled off out of the way to park just inside the path up to Hogsmeade. Ash just barely caught sight of Shia and Noah and the other two jumping out of the carriage with their things to get into a large horseless sleigh headed by Imogene’s uncle Jareth before the carriage he was on pulled too far away for him to see much more. 

The main hall of the school was a mess of students, everyone mumbling and conversing as they headed towards their common rooms, but one thing he overheard – not through eavesdropping, just some of the school’s students were relatively louder than others – mentioned that of the Gryffin twins’ birthday party. Ash had already known what day it was – New Year’s Day and Imogene’s birthday – but hearing some random girl of Asian decent chat on excitedly about it bewildered him; how /many/ people did the twins know? Ash brushed this off too as he headed with his friends down to the dungeon common room. 

The future Broadway boy was quick to head off to his dorm room, not before Ana and Autumn put in their two cents about him running off to see ‘little miss gingie upon a moments’ notice’; they had always been like this with other girls he had dated or fancied, but they added another layer onto it because it was /her/ that he was now fancying. He showered and got dressed in nice, dark suit, sporting a silk tie and even a pocket-square in his suit jacket. A full-blown smirk crossed his lips as he looked at his own reflection; he looked good, damn good. From off of his bed, he pulled on the immense wool coat Imogene had gotten him for his Christmas, and felt its warmth encase him in a fraction of a second. Due to the snow outside, he pulled on his boots again, tucking his dress shoes under his arm which he would put on when he got to the house. His trunk lay open on his bed – he would unpack tomorrow on their last day off before school resumed – he plucked out a small box; Imogene’s present. Though he was fond of the ginger girl’s twin sister, he doubted she was all that concerned with receiving a present from /him/ as well, aside from the fact that he didn’t know her or care for her /enough/ to get her a present. 

After making sure his cat Wendla was fed and comfortable, he headed down the common room, hearing from his cousin Damon a joking ‘be back by midnight’ as if he had ever heard anything more hypocritical out of all people, /Damon/ saying it. Glancing at his watch, it was half-past seven; Ash wasn’t sure of how long he would stay at the party, but luckily he didn’t have to get up at the usual early time of morning for school. 

Down the many halls and through the front doors of the school, Ash was followed by five other students – all of them a little too nervous to talk to him. They, like he, was dressed up – girls in pretty dresses and boys in somewhat nice attire, both in massive coats – as they chatted to themselves. He heard them say his name once, but not at him and he decided not to listen in or fool with them any. Yet, before they got to the carriages, there on the snow-covered ground was another ginger – a woman – wearing giant black cloak; next to her was the sleigh he had seen earlier. “Hi-yah Italian Bred.” She shouted. 

The Slytherin boy was somewhat discouraged in approaching her after being referred to as such, but he went to her, somewhat confused, anyway. “Why do you keep calling me Italian Bred?” he snipped in a hushed voice. 

Normandy, like Imogene, seemed to roll off his slightly bitter tone and rolled her eyes. “/You/ are Italian Bred. That geeky little boy is white cracker, Imogene is ginger snap, and so on. All of you have nicknames.”

Ash’s brows furrowed. “…but you already know my name.”

“I’m calling you Italian Bred, deal with it.” In a fraction of a second, she went from appearing like she wanted to throttle him to cheery with a bright smile; he considered the possibility that if Normandy wasn’t crazy, there was the potential that she may be bipolar. “Now, get onto the sleigh.” She waved him over as the others jumped into the back seats, mumbling things to themselves, stealing glances to Ash and Normandy as she sat in the in the front. “You can stay here if you want, but the path to the house is covered in several inches of snow, and I doubt you want to wade through /that/ if you don’t want to miss ginger snap’s birthday.” Waning to avoid conversation with the others, Ash sat next to Normandy with a roll of his eyes. 

This sleigh, like the other, did not look as though it was being propelled or moved forward by anything except that the reigns that were hooked to what looked like thin air. Once or twice he had been told by his aunt that it was in fact an animal called a thresel that moved the carriages back and forth between the school and the small village. She had also told him as to why /he/ couldn’t see them; everyone that /could/ see them, they had been met with the misfortune of seeing someone die. A million questions that floated around in his head all came down to one – who had that person seen die that allowed them to see the thresels? He dared not to ask his aunt knowing that she obviously could see the creatures, for he really, truly didn’t wish to know; there were things about their family that he had luckily been spared of and he knew how dark some of those things he didn’t know could possibly be, so he was glad he didn’t know. But Normandy saw them, and for a fraction of a second, he wondered if his own ginger girl could see them as well; a blink of a memory flashed across his conscious mind, Imogene noticing and seemingly even feeding one of the invisible creatures and Ash shivered – not from the cold, the coat he was wearing blocked out all of that, but for he knew that she must have seen someone die as well. 

A sickening feeling twisted his stomach; what if it had been Yvaine that she saw die? Or Liam? 

“You alright?” Ash turned his attention to Normandy who observed him with furrowed brows. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” The Slytherin boy shook his head and threw off Normandy’s confused expression, keeping his eyes on the darkening path ahead of them. Why, /why/ had such a thought entered his mind? His face was flat for the rest of the sleigh ride, and had jumped out of the sleigh when it had stopped without really saying anything. 

“There you are!” Ash’s attention was pulled away and his mind cleared when Yvaine called out to him; but in seeing her ghostly form, the thought entered his mind again. “I know you’re obsessed with looking like you do every morning but I wish you would have been here a few minutes ago.” Now /she/ was a bit snippy, rare, since she had died, but there had been times where she was. 

He scoffed. “I know people /want/ me but why do you need my presences so urgently?” She walked with him inside of the house but stopped not far into the foyer to give his full attention to her. 

Yvaine sighed, sitting in one of the chairs in the foyer; Ash did the same and took the time, as he listened, to take off his coat and switch out of boots for the dress shoes under his arm. “My conversation skills must be becoming ineffective because Imogene refuses to listen to me.”

The future Broadway boy’s brows set into a heavy furrow as Yvaine scowled. “What’s wrong with Genie?” Now /this/ distracted him from the thought he didn’t want to be thinking.

Yvaine sighed, rolling her eyes. “I /know/ you heard about what happened at Noah’s house, and the day after she got into it with Gen as the Constantinople house, of course…” The ghost girl muttered angry under her breath about the bitter, green-eyed /child/ that she had always so greatly disliked – no, Yvaine would more than honestly state that she hated Gen. 

“/Some/ of it, at least I got the sense that things didn’t exactly go…/well/- -wait, something happened at /Aella’s/ as well?” he admitted, he was the slightest bit shocked; never before had he heard of Imogene getting in such massive trouble with several people, on more than one occasion, so closely together. 

“/She’ll/ probably tell you if you ask her, but as it stands, she doesn’t want to come downstairs because she believes quite a few people in the ballroom are upset with her. Nymie included.” Eyes widening, the narrowed back down as he growled. 

“Honestly, what could Genie have done so badly that she believes /that/ many people, and her own sister, are mad at her? /Merlin/, I- -” he paused before he said the word - /the/ word that he wasn’t quite ready to say – correcting it with another. “I care about her a lot but why does she have to be so nosy and care about what everyone else does…or how they see her?”

“Imogene didn’t start the fight at Aella’s house. Gen did. She always- -” Yvaine snapped, and Ash’s eyes narrowed at her. “Sorry…” Yvaine muttered, glancing away quickly. “but Aella /and/ Daffie told me that Gen went after Imogene and that Gen was acting like a disrespectful little brat to her own mother and grandmother as well, so the fact that Imogene feels the blame for something /Gen/ did pisses me off…” 

“Hold on,” Ash held up a hand to make Yvaine stop her rant for a few moments. “Daffie was there too?” 

“Yes.” Yvaine nodded shortly. “Gen wasn’t just fighting Imogene, she was fighting with the four of them – her own mother and sister, Daffie and Imogene. For the life of me I don’t understand why Gen- -”

Ash grumbled as he rubbed his face with both hands. “I rather not hear about /Gen/ right now.” 

“Well, Daffie’s not as upset with you two as she could be.” The Slytherin boy’s brows furrowed but the expression on Yvaine’s translucent face hinted to no sarcasm. “Now is the time that I shut up. You can ask /them/ about whatever later.”

“Daffie’s /here/?” 

“Don’t ask /me/, just /go/. Shoo.” Yvaine smirked. “Imogene doesn’t need to waste her birthday in her room. Half of the guests in the ballroom are there for her, if that helps to convince her any…” 

Getting up, Ash then walked over to the closet to store his coat and boots, and in straightening out his jacket and tie he glanced to Imogene with an exasperated sigh. “I’ll see you in the ballroom, Addie.” There was a lackluster smirk on his face as he winked at his ghostly best friend. 

The Slytherin boy climbed the grand staircase up to the second-floor landing, now searching for the ginger girl’s room. There were two sides to the very long hallway that were on either side of him, and both seemed the same, aside from the fact that only one – the left – had a table against the wall with a vase of flowers on it; he didn’t have to guess that down that hall was the girls’ rooms, and subsequently, Imogene’s. He followed the rows of rooms, glancing to each of the names on the doors, rolling his eyes at how many names he was passing – too damn many people lived in that house, and he was surprised that /anyone/ could suffer being surrounded by more than a small handful of people at a time, let alone having to live with nearly a dozen of them for many years. At the end of that hall, it turned off to the right where there sat three rooms, and one had a very sad boy sitting in front of it. Ash’s brows furrowed again and the boy perked up with a big smile when he saw Ash. 

“Oh good, she’ll listen to you!” 

“Um, okay…?” Was he supposed to know who this boy was? He didn’t look much older than a first year but had some familiar features to his face that Ash knew he had seen before. 

The boy rolled his eyes as he got up. “/Hatter/, my name is Hatter, remember?” Ash recalled hearing the name, but not the significance of it. “I live in this house.” Still, nothing, and Hatter’s face went flat. “I’m Mie-Mie’s cousin? /Victoria’s/ grandson? I go to school with you now.” And there it was; this boy’s eyes were the same dark brown that his drama teacher had, and his face same shape and had the same color hair as that girl Dorothy that tended to play the drums for all of the songs that required her to in chorus. 

“Oh- -”

“Just, please talk to her. No one is really telling me why she won’t come out of her room, but she hasn’t bothered to really talk to anyone, and she won’t let /me/ in…” Little Hatter sighed and trudged away, past Ash and quickly disappeared. 

Although, again, Ash was some level of curious as to what Hatter meant exactly, he shook his head and went up to the door, but didn’t knock. “Genie,” he spoke clearly. “I do hope you realize that I’m only here for you. I could care less about everyone downstairs, and I’ll be honest, I refuse to suffer the awkwardness of dull, annoying conversations for your sister’s sake.” 

“Then why don’t you leave? You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to.” Imogene was a bit muffled but he heard her speak.

“You’re being ridiculous, I hope you know that.”

Silence came for a few moments, but soon the door came to open to relieve Imogene; the tears in her eyes were not the first thing Ash saw, but how curly her bright red hair was. Her make up was mirroring that of a china doll, accentuating her features and the dress in which she wore seemed very doll-like, as did her shoes and the tiara in her hair. None of the make up was smeared – girls and their water-proofed ‘war paint’ – but he could distinctly see there had been a few tears that had fallen down one of her cheeks. The ginger girl resembled a broken doll, very much like the same one he had seen when they had met years ago as children. The future Broadway boy thought, as she stood before him, that the ginger girl - /his/ Genie – was breathtaking, and he wondered how she was able to do that, twice, in less than a month. 

“They hate me downstairs, Ash.” She let out an exasperated breath. “Why should I go down there? My sister would be happier if I just stayed in my room.”

Ash sighed, taking a few steps forward and she stepped back to let him in. He closed the door quietly then turned back to her. Taking her face in his hands very gently, he brought his lips to hers and kissed her softly. In pulling away, he wrapped his arms around her to hold her; when she wrapped her arm around his body in return, there was that sinking-feeling that he could melt into and have no qualms about it. Even when distressed herself, she was comforting /him/ when she had no reason to and had no idea that she was doing it. She closed her eyes, shutting out everything else, just to feel him and think of only him with his arms around her. “Genie, what am I going to do with you?” he chuckled lightly.

“I’m glad to know I’m not easy to deal with…” Imogene mumbled.

“No, you’ve always been quite difficult.” Ash’s smirk came to his face and she let out a breath as she pulled away just enough to look at him. “If you were easy, Genie, you wouldn’t be all that /attractive/ to me as you are now.” 

“Oh, so I’m impossible.” She muttered bitterly, rolling her eyes. 

“I didn’t say impossible.” His smirk softened as his brown curls shook. “Yes, you are difficult, but you’re not impossible.” Leading her over to her bed, there was a momentary pause as he took in the entirety of her room; it was massive, to say the least, but he wasn’t necessarily surprised that it was. 

The Slytherin boy was use to manors and villas, after all with his father’s money and the family business, he had grown up in one, but a room of this magnitude seemed it should have belonged to the headmistress, and yet, he believed it suited the ginger girl perfectly. Everything was very light cream, nearly as pale as her skin, with gold and deep red. Her bed, the one in which he lead her to, resembled a king’s thrown, and he was reminded of a day not very long ago when he had overheard Noah, Shia, Nymie and that dorky boy that was Noah’s best mate giving everyone Alice in Wonderland nicknames; Shia had been labeled the White Rabbit, Noah the Mad Hatter, he as the Knave of Hearts, and Imogene as the Queen of Hearts. All of those fit their personalities incredibly well – aside from the fact that, although Imogene possessed the capacity for violence, she was like the White Queen in how she chose to act as mediator in most situations. Then it occurred to him, even /then/ it seemed slightly obvious to the others – even if subconsciously – that Imogene and he were to be near each other, and with each other in some form; he the knave to her queen. Glancing up to the ceiling, he saw a chandler, too. 

A scoff came out of him; in her room, from the vanity to the row of bookcases against the wall, she had created a world of her own and /everything/ here was as if she splattered her soul against the walls like creating a doll with one’s own hair. And then he wondered why she would want to leave all of this behind for New York; as of now, it was less than six months, maybe a bit more with summer, before they would actually be living there. The room was impeccably clean too, not that a little magic didn’t help. The idea of what she would probably do with an apartment pleasantly made him curious, or what she would do if she ended up possibly living with him…

“Ash?” he ripped his gaze away from observing her room to Imogene sitting in front of him, her brows furrowed, and he found he was holding her lace-glove covered hands. 

He smirked wide again before he spoke. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been in your room before.”

“I should say not.” There was a very mild tone of amusement in her voice. “You have never been given reason to be in here. As it stands, if my father comes up here to see that the door is locked he might not be so civil with you.” The ginger girl did her best not to smile. “He may believe you’re doing something in here with me that you shouldn’t be.”

Ash squeezed his eyes shut with a groan. “/Genie/,” he warned. “that is one of those things you really shouldn’t be saying to me.”

A short giggle left her and his eyes flashed open with a devious smirk twisting his lips. “Again, I apologize. /Never before/ has a boy caused me to say /such things/.” She winked and he rolled his eyes. 

Reaching out, Ash plucked a tissue from a box that was sitting next to a pile of already used ones, careful to dab away the line of tears that had fallen down one of her cheeks. “You do know it bothers me when you cry. For some very strange reason, when you cry it makes me want to…” he jokingly sounded somewhat bitter, but her red-stained lips turned up into a soft smile. 

“I apologize for that too, I suppose…” still the subtlest form of amusement. 

“Maybe it isn’t /me/ you should be apologizing too.” Imogene’s face with flat, maybe even somewhat hard, as the happiness and amusement washed away. “Yvaine shared with me some of what happened.”

The ginger girl looked away from him, shaking her head. “Don’t you dare say it.”

The Slytherin boy did his best not to smirk, trying to keep his face flat as well. “Say what exactly?”

Her blazing sapphire eyes narrowed as she looked into his. “/Why do you insist on being so nosy?/” 

“Well…you took the words right out of her mouth.” And he couldn’t hold back all of his smirk, so he let some of it appear onto his face. 

She grumbled under her breath. “/Lovely/…”

“Genie, listen to me.” He tossed the tissue onto the bed and took her other hand again. “You /can/ be nosy – incredibly nosy – and according to my zia Trace, your mother’s the same way. I know, it comes naturally to you, like how I tell people off when they get on my nerves, but- -”

“You suggest that I change myself because of /others/?” Her brow rose and he shook his head, but paused and nodded.


“What?” There was genuine shock in her voice. 

“You care…/far/ too much about what people think about you. Most of the time you don’t show it, but that’s why you’re up here now. It is /your/ birthday, Genie. Your sister may be mad at you, but you only turn eighteen once. Screw what a handful of people say, even if they’re your friends – they’ll get over it eventually, like Autumn and Ana and Damon will get over their distaste for you. Sometimes you will stand alone, /and/ sometimes, you /can/ be wrong, Genie. I understand you’re not most of the time, but you /can/ be. /The/ miss ginger Genie Gryffin isn’t completely refined or flawless every single moment of her existence.” 

“So then, what exactly do you /suggest/ that I start doing to avoid feeling belittled for having to scoop my pride off of the ground to apologize to two sets of parents because I believed for a moment their were a bunch of bigotry arse-holes.” She bitterly muttered. Ash couldn’t help it as he snorted and nearly burst out laughing. “Stop that!” The ginger girl snapped, ripping her hands away from his.

Ash held up his hands and shook his head with a large smirk. “I’m sorry…but,” he looked into her eyes with some bit of pride. “maybe that wasn’t /the/ best thing to say to your sister’s boyfriend’s and best friend’s boyfriend’s families – especially during Christmas dinner, but for once, I’m a bit impressed. I thought you’d never be mean to anyone.” 

Imogene folded her arms and rolled her eyes, practically sneering. “And you see /exactly/ where it got me.” 

“There in lies why /one/ of us is the good one,” she turned her head back to look at him as an incredibly devious smirk came across his mouth. “and one of us is so very, very /wicked/.” Tugging on her hand, he freed them from her own grasp and kissed her fingers. “I believe you know which is which.” 

“Yes, I do…” a bit of his smirk reflected back in her face and a heat flushed him under his collar; why was her being even minutely /wicked/ be so teasing and tempting to him. Maybe it was, in that entirety of being the goodie-goodie, honestly, untainted girl that everyone knew her to be, there was a shred of sin in the saint. 

“Then I suggest we keep it that way, and then things like /you/ believing there are people downstairs that actually do /not/ hate you, will not happen.” Ash pecked her fingers again and she smiled. 

“Alright, you suggest that I always be the good witch, correct?” He nodded sharply, amused by her playful tone. “In what you say my other flaw is, being nosy, what do you suggest I truly do with /that/?” 

“Even if it’s not really my place to say…I know you’re miss ‘girl on fire’ but you do far too much for everyone. Clubs, homework help, probably even more around the house – to be incredibly honest; I’m surprised you even have time to sleep with everything you do. In less than a year, /everyone/ else will be on their own. You can’t be their /mother/ after that.”

Imogene sighed, glancing away as she shook her head. “It is what I have /always/ done, Ash. Do you expect me to stop /everything/?”

“Not /everything/, amore, just most of it.” Shifting in his spot he turned his body more towards hers. “You are only just turning eighteen today. I know that how you are is how you’ve always been, and I’m not /suggesting/ that you change that…it’s why I like you so much.” Imogene could have been mistaken, but she swore a smile had come to his face for a few seconds. “Be /Imogene Temperance Gryffin/, all by yourself, not your /mother/…”

[more to follow on another set...'
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