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christmasspiritchapter 18, seething, part b
Characters: Harper Hutchinson, Daphne Greengrass, Ginny Weasley, Ella Wilkins, Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Pomona Sprout, Seamus Finnigan, Flora Carrow, Jack Sloper, Dhanesh Devi
18 September, 1998. Herbology is lively. Harry has a questionable idea, Ron has a terrible one. Ella flirts with a stroke, while Draco has a fit. Flora knows her stuff, Harper has a plan, and probably a crush; Ginny's very likely developing one, too. Neville has cause to mentally run through most of the curses he knows, magical and otherwise, none of which helps. Professor Sprout may not treat all her students equally, but several of them at least have a good laugh before dinner.
Originally Published: 2024-05-22 on LJ / DW
Words: 12.3 k
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
The original version of this chapter exceeded livejournal's maximum post length. It's been split in two parts.
THIS CHAPTER IS A TWO-PARTER.
**SCROLL DOWN AND READ THE OTHER PART FIRST** (18a LJ / DW)
The Quidditch pitch and the Slytherin and Gryffindor changing tents, after classes, Quidditch practice
Draco quits practice a little before the others and withdraws to the changing tent. He's eager to leave without the rest of the team, on the off chance the wrong people are watching and friendship with him puts any of his acquaintance at risk. It's a difficult approach in that he can never know to what extent it's successful - or fails - but at least if something does happen to one of his Housemates again, he'll know he's done what he could. It wouldn't change the facts, obviously, but there was still some comfort to be found there.
That's how he comes to be sitting alone on a bench, removing his shoes, with his back to the wall their tent shares with the Gryffindors. The Moggies who quite evidently think all barriers - no matter how insubstantial - are equal, and to whom it very apparently never occurs to put up a Privacy Spell.
Perhaps they don't know any.
And so he becomes ear-witness to a conversation between Potter and Weasel, who seem to be alone for the moment. As their practice follows the Snakes', that's very likely to change soon.
Draco was tired, but in a fairly good mood. Practice was strenuous of late as they struggled to train all their new players, but despite his self-imposed isolation - or more likely because of it, as he now spent a fair amount of time perched on his broom off to the sides - he'd picked up on an exchange between Daphne and Hunter, where they were, sat in the stands, that had amused him. Quite. The elder Greengrass sister was clearly trying to convince the younger Hutchinson brother that Ella's nerves were shot, most definitely, and something needed to be done. Hadn't he said the very same thing to Harper just hours ago? Ella was blaming herself for her over reaction last night that had led to her, more or less, Hexing Granger, and had spiralled into a worrisome meltdown since. They were lucky, he supposed, that Granger hadn't wished to report it, not that he felt Ella's actions weren't eminently reasonable under the circumstances, but he knows better than most that justification does not equate to exoneration when swish comes to flick.
From the sound of it, Daphne had Hunter nearly convinced, and unless Draco's very much mistaken - which: ha! - the whole thing had Harper's fingermarks all over it, which ultimately the blond views as a success of his own for having spoken up earlier. So, yes, he's tired, but self-satisfied as Potter's purr and Weasley's higher pitched warbly whinges begin to register, not that he can really do anything for his voice, Draco supposes. Weasel could recite Gamp's laws - if he knew them, that is - and would still sound a whiny little arse, of this the Malfoy heir is sure.
As best the Slytherin can reconstruct, Granger had gone to the library, quelle surprise, and Dhanesh Devi had then gathered a small troop of Moggies together and left the dorms shortly before Potter and Weasel to confront her there. Draco assumes from Potter's tone that the proverbial pitchforks were implied even at this early stage. As Potter was once again the team captain now that he'd returned, having replaced poor Ritchie Coote who'd had the spot last year, and they'd practice, Potter had felt the thing to do was grab Weasley and... leave for said practice. Early. As opposed to helping the third in their trio, say... Draco has a few derogatory things to think about that, which only improves his mood. There's a good deal to be said for feeling superior to the golden trio, regardless how much help two of them had provided in front of the Wizengamot last summer.
The reason Potter had dragged Weasley to their changing tent rapidly becomes clear, as he very plainly seems to suspect Weasel may have somehow played a role in inciting the nascent mob against Granger. Too funny. Draco's pleasure at realising he's worked that out before the ginger in question is great - Weasel's a fool - tempered only by the thought that, whatever else, Granger certainly hadn't earned that. Moggies were such idiots sometimes, most times, and far more likely to eat their own, he believes, than the Slytherins ever were.
What a disloyal pack.
Pride.
Potter seems to feel there's not much changing Weasley's opinion, which certainly aligns with everything Draco knows about him. His approach instead seems to be to try to spend more time with the irritable ginger, and to this end he's decided to they need to resume their late night flying sessions. With a bit of amusement, Draco chuckles at the thought Potter's becoming unfaithful, what happened to asking him if he'd join the Moggie later that night? The notion Potter might quit pestering him about it, however, boosts his mood further. It was rather tiresome.
Weasley begs off, time and again.
Draco assumes Potter knows as well as he does why Weasel hasn't been joining him much lately, and it's because of the bloke's very crowded schedule of rendezvous with assorted witches, which clearly he's keen to keep secret. Order of Merlin, Second Class, notwithstanding, if the witches were aware of just how often and with how many he attempts to get a leg over, Weasel's rate of success was doomed to plummet.
And still Potter persists, with his Weasley-appropriate version of 'come fly with me,' over and over, laying it on ever thicker as the ginger fails to relent.
The thing is, as long as Weasley refuses to acknowledge his reasons for not joining his friend, it becomes increasingly difficult to make his excuses. Draco's begun openly chuckling at their exchanges by the time some of the other Slytherins begin appearing in their tent. He waves for them to be quiet, to which Harper replies they'd naturally set the House Privacy Charm when they'd first arrived today, as usual, but Draco quickly clears that up, "Yes, but I can't hear Potter and Weasel over you mob," which was obviously true.
Soon the rest of the team has joined him on the bench, eschewing the dressing booths today to better hear the Moggies. It wasn't as though their undergarments were more revealing than bathing kit, they used the booths mostly from habit, and they're agreed, Amplification Charms in combination with Privacy Spells are an iffy mix. Best to try to just keep the noise down on their side.
It isn't long before the others have begun laughing, too.
"But, Ron, we hardly get to see each other anymore..." Potter begs.
"The Moggies don't have private rooms, do they?" Millie asks, just realising she's never wondered about that before. She wasn't the most curious of her House.
Blaise shakes his head. "Those two have lived together for the better part of seven years now," he responds with conviction. If any of them are apt to know the sleeping arrangements of the other Houses, it's most definitely Blaise.
"And they spent much of last year sharing the same tent," Draco adds. Everyone knows better than to question his sources.
"Then you'd think they'd know better and soundproof the thing," Val shakes her head in disapproval.
Harper disagrees. "Granger would have been with them." That makes perfect sense, she'd have sorted all the practical aspects. It was basically learned helplessness.
Weasel turns Potter down, yet again, but the Chosen One remains undeterred and redoubles his efforts.
"Potter knows he's got a date tonight, right?" Blaise asks.
"He must," Harper replies. "I can't see him being this persistent otherwise. When someone says they're busy, you just choose a different night." He has a point.
"Yes, but I think he feels there's some urgency here," Draco explains the situation with Granger.
Harper shakes his head, "Then you'd find a different activity. He isn't planning on talking this out. He just thinks Weasel will relax on a broom, and Potter's hoping to play off that. To create a sense of closeness without the exposure." Yes, that actually seems a likely explanation.
Potter's 'It's not like you're seeing anyone, so you should have plenty of time,' arguments send them into positive fits. Millie is having difficulty catching her breath from all the laughing.
"Oh, Potter knows alright," Gregory adds a little unnecessarily, he's not the fastest of the bunch, but Draco smiles at him encouragingly and pats his shoulder in a comradely manner. Gregory's had a rough time this year. He's been a bit lonely since Vince...
Demelza Robbins' voice becomes audible she greets the two Moggies, and as she apparently disappears into one of their changing booths, Weasley begins to whisper, Potter automatically responding in kind.
"I take it he's seeing Robbins?" Wilfred asks, amused, but with no further opinion as to their suitability. He's new to the reserve team this year, only a fifth year, and he really doesn't know Weasel or even Robbins particularly well. The others shush him so they can hear the Moggies more clearly.
"I thought he was seeing Brown?" Blaise's voice is little more than a murmur, but he still manages to sound genuinely confused for a moment.
Draco laughs and gives his friend and occasional paramour a meaningful look, "That hardly precludes him from seeing Robbins as well..." Which was so obvious as to almost make Blaise blush at his spot of foolishness. Almost. But Draco's silent 'as you of all people should know' only succeeds in drawing a rakish smile from the boy. That's part of what the blond likes about him.
A couple of the others chuckle at Blaise's expense, but his grin only broadens. Blaise will always be a character.
"Amongst others," Hestia smirks. She and Val, their House's Lycanthrope victims, are getting something of a reputation for their resultant voracious appetites. Both are rather comfortable with at least this aspect of their new roles.
Eventually Weasel exhausts his excuses, his ability to offer them greatly impacted by his desire to go unnoticed by the sixth year Chaser changing close by. He finally relents and agrees to go flying with Potter, largely putting an end to the Slytherins' eavesdropping pleasure. More and more of the Gryffindors have arrived, and Harper turns to their own long since dressed captain and asks, "Draco, if you want to leave before the rest of us, you should probably get going." Here again, he has a point. Draco grabs his broom and tells the others he'll see them back at the dorms before heading out.
In the relative silence that follows they hear Weasel whisper for Robbins to join him, and as the rest of the Moggie team files out to the pitch, the Slytherins are able to listen to the Keeper's convoluted excuses as to why he won't be able to see her later that night. Complicated, evidently, when he can't reveal how he hadn't told Potter he was meant to see her in the first place. He finally settles for some variation of 'Potter is in crisis and desperately needs to spend time with the ginger, and clearly it would have been out of place to mention his plans under the circumstances...' Given the Chosen One is right there for all to see, that seems a stupid ploy. Goodness knows, Ella's nervous breakdown was as obvious as they come, and even it was largely failing to convince people help was needed. What's Robbins to think of their thoroughly unperturbed hero?
"Unforced error on Weasel's part," Harper shakes his head in disapproval. "There was no need for half of that."
"It's a shame Draco missed it, though," Blaise nods.
"He'd have enjoyed that," Gregory agrees with a wistful smile. There's a good chance he's thinking of Vince, too.
The Library, before dinner
Hermione is having a lot less fun. She'd sequestered herself in the library, but some of the Gryffindors have appeared and are beginning to hassle her, as well as they can anyway, while trying to fly under Pince's radar. They finally settle on availing themselves of all the empty seats in her vicinity, crowding around her table in a very obvious and latently threatening fashion, in the otherwise relatively empty library and sending volleys of spitwads her way. It's a quiet means of harassment and difficult for even someone like the sharp-eyed librarian to spot from a distance, especially when so many present are willing to stand look out. While Hermione can Vanish them from the floor and desk before Madam Pince is likely to notice, when they get stuck in her wild hair, it's a different issue. She doesn't have a Charm for that.
She probably should.
It wasn't the only bit of now too obvious magic she didn't know that had recently come to her attention.
Last night when Wilkins had Ferulaed her and she'd lost balance, her cheek had struck Malfoy's Protego. She's quite certain another had protected her teeth and chin, but hasn't quite worked out who cast it. Harry shouldn't have been able to, as he was behind a Protego of hers, which left assorted Slytherins as the likely suspects. The same applied to Malfoy, who couldn't have cast it either given his Protego was between them... It had given her some food for thought.
Beyond the matter of who had cast the Spell, one of the things that occurred to her was that, in a way, it had served almost like a tooth guard, which is fascinating. She can't believe they haven't got a Charm for that, or that if there is, it isn't known to her, and she really can't believe she'd never noticed that before. That seems the sort of thing that should have registered first year when Harry had joined their Quidditch team. The Wizarding world relies too heavily on their ability to regrow and repair things, discounting the pain that shortsightedness so often gives rise to.
At any rate, last night's Protego had been this small, precision, thin little thing of pure beauty.
Right now, it inspires her to try casting one of her own to protect her hair from the wet paper onslaught. It takes a few tires to get it mostly right. It's close to her head, just on the other side of her hair, and subtle, although not quite as subtle as she'd like. She's pretty sure the bit towards the top of the back of her head pushes her hair down in an unflattering manner, although it's difficult to say given she can't see it, and the part below her shoulders stands out a little too far, as becomes increasingly evident, she feels, when the paper sticks to it and appears to lend her something by way of a hump.
Definitely not her best look.
Still probably better than being covered in spitballs, though.
By and large her little Charm is doing its job. The pile of wads that have failed to land continues growing at her feet; she Vanishes them regularly. She even has to replace the Protego a couple of times as the bits of saliva soaked paper adhere to the Shield Charm instead.
She hopes it's saliva, anyway.
When it's time to finally leave for the meal, she's ever so grateful.
Why she thinks that will be any better is anyone's guess.
Written with oodles of love for lostangelsoul3 and
erexen.
(no subject)
Date: 2024-05-24 04:23 am (UTC)That pack of moronic lions, I just wish that Pince had caught them and nailed their hides to the Library walls. Of course Hermione picked up on the saving of her teeth/ jaw from fall. Cool that she eventually worked out how to use that knowledge for protection from the ludicrous lions spitwads.
I can only fear that more shite will follow when the meal commences.