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Sage Laurent and Sir Cadogan have become mortal enemies, it seems. It all started when she told him off for switching the password forty-two minutes after he'd last changed it. She was with Neville, who she was actually quite friendly with, and they decided to set up camp outside until he let them in with the previous password.
So now, they're enemies. Sage is okay with it. Sage has always wanted an enemy.
Except now, for possibly the eighth time that day, she's locked outside of the Gryffindor tower, she's running out of time until her next class, and she's considering taking after her almost-uncle and slicing the shit out of the painted knight.
"Que cabrón," she hisses, kicking the canvas with a booted foot. "Let me in!"
His oil-paint face grimaces at her in sick amusement. "Nay, Madam, for you lack the correct password!"
"You changed it thirty seconds before I arrived! How am I meant to know what it is?!"
"A true knight should always know what is right."
"Right, for starters, I'm not a knight," Sage shouts, finally losing her temper, "even if you think I am because I wear trousers instead of a skirt. I'm a thirteen year old girl who's going to throw your stupid painting over this balcony if you don't let me in!"
The staircase behind her shifts, and then Hermione and Parvati are walking upstairs. "Hello," Hermione greets with a wide smile.
"Do you know the password?" Sage asks tiredly, leaning against the portrait and ignoring the knight's protests.
"Er, yeah," Hermione says. "Scurvy dogs, right?"
The knight bows down to her and swings open. Sage wants to put her fist through it.
"Bloody thing's being so horrible to me," she grumbles. "He keeps not letting me in."
"Oh, he's not that bad," Hermione replies with a smile, but then they hear Cadogan shout something along the lines of, 'I see the young scallywag has returned! Never did I see a knave so unwise as the blasphemous as the one before me!' and she changes her tune. "Actually, he is quite bad."
"Told you so," Sage grumbles. Hermione hears her, and they share a grin. "Are you going down for Quidditch tomorrow?"
"Harry's playing," she answers, and it's all Sage needs to understand. "Are you?"
"Sure," Sage chuckles. "Gryffindor and Slytherin. What could go wrong?"
"Isn't your friend on the team?"
"Stevie?"
"No, the Slytherin one."
"Yeah, Stevie," Sage says with a laugh. Hermione's eyes widen in horror. "No, it's fine. People forget she's green-and-silver because she's such a lovely person. But, Merlin, that girl's a Slytherin through and through."
