(1937-10-04) Lemon Drops and Ponies
Details for Lemon Drops and Ponies
Summary: Llewellyn and Nicki cross paths in the cold Slytherin common room.
Date: 04 October 1937
Location: {$location}

One of the few disadvantages of Slytherin House: the common room really does get kind of cold at night. Hence the fire— and hence Llewellyn, who's curled up in a chair nearby, practicing. "Evanesco!" he declares, pointing his wand at a Licorice Snap sitting in a cardboard box. Right on cue, the Snap disappears from sight. Much to his dismay, so does half the box, the rest fluttering over and landing amidst the flames.

From vaguely behind Llewellen, the direction of the girl's dorms, comes a quick padding of feet on the stone, and Nicki dashes in, past her housemate and all but jumps into a nearby chair. Her feet are bare, and she tucks them up under herself immediately, pulling her skirt over her chilled legs. "Well, you've almost got it," she comments lightly, pulling her sweater a bit closer around herself.

Llewellyn sighs and nods. "I know, it's just— How do you /not/ think about a target? I should ask Phae, she'd probably come up with something." Wand stowed once again, Llew turns to regard Nicki more fully. "I see we're still missing July, hmm?"

Leaning against the arm of her chair so she's more facing Llewellyn than the fire directly, Nicki's hand comes up and tucks her hair behind one ear. "Don't your feet ever feel like they're just being strangled in socks? Mother would have a fit, but sometimes I just hate them. Especially on warm summer days." This last is said a bit wistfully, because there really is nothing like sun warmed grass between your toes.

Llewellyn considers it, then shakes his head. "Not really. I mean, once, but that was just because they were too small— a quick growth charm took care of it. Besides, flying beats walking any day, don't you think?" He's been on a bit of a broom kick ever since they picked him for Quidditch— but then wouldn't anyone?

Nicki gives the question of flying consideration for a moment before answering. "Flying is fun. Falling off a broom isn't very much fun," she adds with a smile. "Have you ever been on a horse?" Shifting in the chair, Nicki pats the side of her skirt, then her hand disappears into a pocket in the seam. It comes back out holding something, and after taking one with her other hand, Nicki holds the treasure from her pocket out toward Llew on her palm. "Lemon drop?" she offers.

"Oh, thanks," Llewellyn replies, reaching out for one. "Don't think so— unless I was too young to remember. Horses throw you off if they get mad, don't they? A broom'll only do that if it's cursed or something."

Nicki pops her lemon drop into her mouth, and the two left in her hand go back into her pocket. She tucks the sweet into her cheek to answer, grinning, "Just don't get a horse angry then. They're enormous, but ours are all very good tempered. And we have a couple ponies as well." She shifts again, not sitting still for long tonight, and stretches her legs out, feet toward the fire. Her toes wiggle in the warmth radiating from the stone hearth. "Maybe you can come visit on break, and we can have a ride."

Llewellyn has never been all that big on Care of Magical Creatures, never mind muggle ones. Or Herbology, for that matter. (When it comes to the animate plants, is there really a difference?) "I'll think about it," he replies, which is /technically/ true. In the sense of 'and then decide not to'.

"Brilliant," Nicki says cheerily, tucking her legs back under her skirt. She leans back in the chair, moving her arm to absently sweep her long hair up so she doesn't end up sitting back on it. "It's always so cold down here." It's an absent observation. "Do you ever wonder if the other common rooms are this cold?"

Llewellyn shakes his head. "I doubt they are. It's useful, though, keeps you on your toes if you need it." What's that say about him, then, hanging out by the fire? "The ponies are the special ones they breed for speed, right? Heard a muggle talking once, something about going to a racetrack to bet on the ponies."

Remaining a bit slouched in her chair, Nicki frowns lightly at the question of ponies. "Really? Betting on ponies? They're just smaller horses, really. I can't see what fun one would get out of that." She falls silent for a moment, considering. "Huh. The daft things they get up to." She's had very little dealings with muggles, herself, but they seem a bit of a strange lot.

"Well, that makes sense. I'm just a smaller wizard." And they sure didn't put him on the team for his brute strength! "I didn't ask. Guy smelled like sausage and stale beer, anyway, I'm not sure he was even making any sense to his muggle friends."

The thought of such a smell is enough to wrinkle Nicki's nose, but she grins. "You are sort of like a pony," she comments, her voice absent of any malice, just observant and light. "People underestimate them." She doesn't explain her comment, but she springs to her feet with a light bounce. "I've got to study my charms notes before bed. Sleep well, Llewellyn."

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