| Details for A Prefect Storm |
| Summary: | Lucian and Briar have another go at one another. |
| Date: | September 18, 1937 |
| Location: | Shifting Corridor, Hogwarts |
| Related: | Model Students |
| Characters |
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Shifting Corridor, Hogwarts Castle
Relative quiet prevails this near the top of the stairwell. Since there is only one thoroughfare under consideration here, only the rhythmic scraping of the lower stairway reaching the top floor's connective steps as far as the architectural sounds of Hogwarts reach the ears. Fewer students tend to wander all the way up to the top of the stairs unless it's necessary, or unless they are up to mischief. The latter causing the silence to be broken with the occasional cries of students who've become victims of stink-bombs thrown over the railing rising from below calling out the gross unfairness of their treatment.
In the late hours, Hogwarts becomes a place of deathly silence, broken only by the occasional grinding of shifting stairwells, moaning winds, or the passage of one of the many ghosts. Among the few exceptions are Prefects on patrol, wandering he castle halls, looking for students out of bed. The castle is large enough that lone patrolling Prefects might never run across one another. But now and then it happens, such as now, as the paths of Slytherin's Lucian Proudmore and Hufflepuff's Briar Crocker are about to intersect.
Lucian strolls along the hall in near-darkness, a bit bleary-eyed and bored out of his mind. He takes a bite from his half-eaten apple, trying to keep his energy up long enough to finish his shift and get to bed. He's already had one run-in with Peeves the poltergeist tonight, and that's enough to wear anybody out.
Briar is rather on auto-pilot herself, and it's his footsteps that echo down the corridor that drew in the passing Briar's attention. "Oh it's only you." She mutters mostly to herself upon realizing that the student out of bed is actually one that's allowed to be at the moment.
Lucian perks up at the voice, suddenly a bit more alert. He lifts his wand, "Lumos," and the tip illuminates, casting a soft white glow over the both of them. "Oh, hello, Crocker. I figured you'd be outside somewhere, putting down roots." It's hard to tell if that was a jab or a joke…maybe there's no difference with him.
Briar rolls her eyes. "And I thought you'd be in the barn spooning with your girlfriend." She grumbles while turning about face to head in the opposite direction he's going. Which unfortunately means she has to pass him. But that's better than turning around and going the direction he is.
Lucian chuffs a laugh. Bestiality humour. How droll. "For a moment there, I thought she'd come here to see me. But it turned out that it was just you." He shakes his head, letting her pass…but something stops him. He sighs, turning to call after her. "You don't want to go that way. Peeves is about, and he's got a bucket of scraps from the kitchens."
Briar looks like she's truly debating the pros and cons between further being in Lucian's company, or getting garbage flung at her by the worst little thing she's ever met. Lucian versus Garbage is a very close draw in her book and that's quite clear as she takes the time to deliberate.
Lucian shrugs and turns away, heading back toward the Grand Stairway. "It's up to you. I'm sure there's some lettuce and parsley in that bucket. You like plants, maybe you'll look good wearing them."
As Briar considers, a high-pitched cackle echoes through the corridors. It seems faint, but the way sound bounces around the halls of Hogwarts can be deceiving. "…Ickle students out of their beds…Wearing salads on their heads! Heee-hee-hee-hee!" Unmistakably, the taunting calls of the troublesome poltergeist.
Briar turns her head, whipping about her head and pointing to the french braid she's wearing that's laced with very lovely blossoms that don't appear to be wilting at all. As they are still rather alive and actually thriving thanks to her way with flora. "I think s-." She silences herself quickly at the echoing taunt. "Really I don't know why he's not exorcised from this place…" She huffs softly and then turns about on her heels, "God I need a smoke…" is an additional grumble as she starts for the stairs now to try to escape both Lucian and the poltergeist.
"He's not exorcised because he's the best way to keep students from loitering in the halls, or sneaking around at night." Because obviously Lucian knows the mind of the Headmaster on this matter. As she nears as a pace to leave him behind, he chuckles after her. "Right, off with you. Go have a fag so you can look cool for that old man you call a boyfriend," he taunts.
Briar sighs as she continues, "You're so full of shit." She then scowls up at him, "I have never once called him my boyfriend. I've been smoking long before I met Jack anyway. It settles my nerves. Which you are currently fraying as you revel in doing. So congratulations, you pissed me off again, bravo. Good night."
Lucian rolls his eyes. "Bloody hell, Crocker. It's just about impossible not to piss you off. I could tell you 'Happy Christmas,' and you'd think I was telling you to crawl under a snowbank and die. You're welcome, by the way." He jerks a thumb back in the direction she was headed…toward Peeves.
Briar whips around some of the snap dragons that were in her hair snap their petals viciously at the Slytherin. "Yes, probably because that's exactly what you're telling me to do. You've proven time and again how forked your tongue is. Honestly do you even realize what an absolute dick head you come across as? I'm sure you think you're the bees knees and some bloody honorable something. But you're a wicked prick who comes to the defence of other wicked people. So don't expect me to thank you." Once more she whirls around. "Honestly I might prefer Peeves and his garbage to your self-entitlement."
Lucian scowls at that, his tone turning venomous. "Time and again, hm? Do tell. When I did I ever slight you, save for in retaliation for your ill-treatment of a dear friend of mine? It's so easy for you to act high and mighty, pointing the finger at Slytherins every time you break a nail or get a feeling hurt. Yes, we must be wicked and terrible. Everyone says so, after all. But you've never bothered to find out for yourself. You just bare your claws because you assume I'm about to show my fangs. You're a bloody hypocrite."
Briar scowls right back, "That's exactly what I mean, your 'dear friend' is a wicked bitch. But you leap to her defence. It's not my fault she truly sounded like she needed a visual aid to help her understand what the radio was claiming. She thought there was an attack on the Ministry. I was being as nice as I possibly could be to that righteous Purist to lay her fears of there being an attack. So I had a little fun at her expense, so what? She has plenty at the expense of others. A moment later she was trying to have some at mine too. This isn't medieval times, a girl doesn't need you to come galloping in to save her. Ria and I were having a grand old time sniping at each other. Til you barged in and blew everything out of proportion."
"You've got a pretty dodgy memory," he retorts. "You were just peeved that I showed everyone how gullible you were for believing that idiotic news story, when you were trying to make Ria look stupid. Or do you still think you can throw someone through the Floo? Face it, Crocker. You're every bit as nasty and mean as you say we are. But you wear a badger on your robes, so you think you can get away with it."
Briar snarls, "You don't know the meaning of the words 'what the radio was claiming' do you? I don't know, or very much care about the truth behind what the radio was saying, I was putting on a production, however much a work of fiction it might have been to what the radio was claiming. I'm only nasty and mean to idiotic Purists that think they are better than everyone else because they are inbred bonkers. I have a badger on my robes because I'm fearless and ferocious against anyone that would dishonor me, my friends, and my family. It's not my fault you are an idiot that thinks with your dick and doesn't see what a right bitch your dearest friend is. I bet she just loves having you as her whipping boy. Why don't you just throw one of your saddles over your back and let her go for a ride? Might as well already have the way you two carry on."
Lucian laughs again, this time with a somewhat more sinister tone. "I know exactly what kind of girl Ria is, and she's got miles on you, that's for sure. It's like I said. You're a hypocrite, and I think what you really hate is that when you look at us, you see yourself." He steps uncomfortably close, giving her a knowing smirk. "How it must burn you inside to know that you're just like us under your yellow and black. How easily you turn vicious just by being around us. I don't even have to say anything, do I? You just boil over. Well, I've got news, bird. That's not me doing that. That's all you."
Briar growls, "I can't believe I actually used to like you." She rolls her eyes and then lifts up a finger, "You don't get to call me bird. I am nobody's bird. Especially not yours. You blew that chance when you became that Purist's Thug. So if you're done trying to rile me up enough to make the mistake I'm sure you're praying for…I'm going to continue patrolling and stop letting you waste my time."
Oh, the sweet taste of that admission. …I actually used to like you. It's like nectar for his ears. He stops where he is, letting her walk away alone, with a widening grin forming on his lips. "Whatever you say, bird."
Briar flips him the bird over her head as she nearly stomps down the stairs.