(1937-12-12) Sweets for the Sweet
Details for Sweets for the Sweet
Summary: Dalaigh has an early birthday present for Eibhlin… A box of Christmas Creams from Kaboon Choco Ltd. Then the pair head down to the Great Hall to join the others for supper.
Date: 12 December 1937
Location: Corridor then Great Hall

Midweek and most classes are through for the day. It's still before supper, and there are students going hither and thither, about their business. One student with a mission is Dalaigh. He's heading toward the owlery, a rolled parchment in one hand, whistling as he walks. It's a jaunty tune, and if Colton were around he would likely be singing the somewhat bawdy lyrics. Thankfully, Dale isn't much of a singer. Well, neither is Colton, and that never stops him, actually.

From one of the classrooms steps Eibhlin, having stayed behind to ask a few questions about the assignment. She pauses just outside the door, tucking a few things — like her book, quills, and parchment — into her satchel. The whistling draws her attention adn she glances up. "'Ey," she offers towards Dalaigh as he waltzes on by.

Dale is already veering his path toward his red-headed housemate, "Oi, Evie! Need a hand there?" Keen eyes keep a watch, the boy ready to reach out if it looks like she's going to drop something. He glances up at the classroom she'd emerged from, then back to her face. "Get kept after?" It's his first guess because it's his own common reason for being late out of a class, but surely not such a good girl like her.

"I just wanted to confirm some things about the assignment," Eibhlin explains, smiling a bit at Dale. She gets everything tucked into her bag without too much trouble. "So many things to remember with the OWLs coming up and I want to be sure that I've got all I need to work on and study over the holiday."

The boy nods in commiseration, "Aye, I'm findin' it a bit of a muddle lately, tryin' tae get prepared enough." Dale stuffs his empty hand into his trouser pocket, tapping the parchment lightly on his leg with the other. "Ye headin' back tae th' commons?" he questions, brows lifting with the question.

"Yeah. Need to drop everything off before I go to the library…" Eibhlin adjusts her satchel on her shoulder, making sure the strap doesn't obscure her Prefect badge. "Where're you headed? Isn't time for dinner quite yet."

Despite the scroll in his hand and the fact that he was walking the opposite way, Dalaigh nods in the vague direction of their common room. "I was headin' back as well. Carry yer bag?" he offers, holding his free hand out expectantly.

Having long-sinced learned that it's best not to question what Dale keeps himself up to, Eibhlin slides out of her satchel and offers it over his way. It's not light, by any means, but it's thankfully not too heavy. Evie is nowhere near being a buff girl. "Thank ye," she replies with a bit of a grin. "So how are OWL preparations coming along for ya?"

Dale takes the bag and shoulders it easily, holding the strap to keep it in place as he turns to begin walking Evie back to the dorms. "Aye, lass," he replies to the thanks. His shoulders… well, one of them at least… shrug at the question. "I think I've got a fair hand on most of it. Potions, at any rate," he amends honestly, with a grin. "Maybe not most of it. An' ye? Doin' alright?"

"I think I've a better hand on potions now," Eibhlin admits with a small smile. "Been practicing quite a deal more and I think I can handle the testing." She falls into step with him, but largely allows him to take the lead on heading back to the tower. "Transfiguration is the trickiest bit now. Apparently I'm not… focused enough?"

The boy matches his lanky stride to hers, so he's not rushing her along, and he nods. "If ye need any help, give a yell. Our Simza an' myself worked on potions a lot t'gether, 'fore she graduated." Transfiguration, on the other hand. Dalaigh makes a face at the mere mention of the class. "I've been told that's my problem as well. I can't help it if the whole rat wants tae turn into a human ear, an' not just it's ear." That was not a stellar moment in the boy's school career.

"I might," Eibhlin says of the potions. She fusses a bit with the sleeve of her robe. "but I think I'm well enough on potions for now that I won't need to focus on them." Hand lifts to cover the grin that shows up as he recalls the rat turning into an ear. "Nothing so bad as that for me, but I just can't seem to… override the object's will with my own, as it were."

"We could work on it together," Dalaigh suggests. "Unless yer already workin' wi' someone else. Cuz then ye wouldn't need tae work wi' another person an' all." Shut up, Dale. A sideways glance, and he notices her covered grin, and it brings one to his own lips. "It's alright, lass. It was a rather spectacular thing tae see."

There's a few blinks from Eibhlin and the grin turns into a smile. A shy one, perhaps, but genuine. "Dale, I think that's a fantastic idea. I often work better with someone who is struggling just as I am. Then one person's success is often everyone's success. Thank you."

There is a fleeting look of surprise that crosses Dale's face, eyebrows lifted as Eibhlin agrees to studying together. But his face relaxes into an easy grin again. "Grand. Maybe, between the two of us, we'll manage tae save a rat's life." He hikes the bag up on his shoulder as it starts to slip. "Ye got a dead body in here? It's a wonder a bit of a lass like ye doesn't hurt herself carryin' it." The tease comes easily, a banter he's enjoyed with Evie since they started first year.

Though she was going to reply to the saving of a poor rat's life, Eibhlin instead finds herself reaching out to smack Dale on the arm. It's not a heavy thing; more along the usual light bap. Physical reaction for his teasing. "Ain't nothing other than my books, parchments, quills and all…" A pause and a shrug, "Plus candy, of course." Because she stocks up -every single- Hogsmeade weekend on candy.

Which is not a fact that has gone unnoticed by Dale.

He laughs quietly, raising his arm defensively in front of himself. "Please, Miss Prefect, don't beat me! I'll be good, I promise!" Dalaigh might have not played it up so much, had he not noticed the approach of some of the younger students, and it's perfectly timed just as they pass by the pair of Ravenclaws. There is a gasp from one of the gullible group, and raised eyebrows, as they pick up their pace to get away from whatever beating is being doled out. They didn't know Prefects were allowed to do that!

"Mind yourself or I might use the sap next time!" Perhaps his demeanor is infectuous or Eibhlin does have a wicked streak hidden away. She offers this loudly as they continue pass the pair of younger students. She's grinning, almost mischievously, as they pass out of sight. "I'm sure if word of that gets back to Bennett, he'll have quite a fun time of it."

Dale manages to hold his laughter until the younger students are gone, then he lets it free. "Ah lass, that was so perfect. They'll be wettin' their beds for a week, afraid of the Prefects." This thought sends him into another fit of amusement. Torturing the younger years is a learned behavior, and he learned well from his elders through the years. "Brilliant."

There's a grin that comes to Eibhlin's features as well, glancing over her shoulder to the departed students. "Aye. Hopefully they spread the word, too. Prefects can box your ears if ye misbehave." She's unable to contain it and lets out a light giggle.

"How'd ye ever get tae be a Prefect? Yer near as bad as me," Dale jokes, veering a step sideways to lightly knock arms with Eibhlin as they walk.

Hand goes to chest, fingers splayed across breast. "/Me/?" Eibhlin affects insult. "I'll have ye know that yer a bad influence." She nudges elbows back against him. "I'm never so bad as I am when yer around, O'Hara. I ought to dock you points for tempting a Prefect to misdeeds!"

"Oi," Dale protests, "If temptin' was a crime I'd never be outta Pringle's thumbscrews. Besides, Shine," he goes on, "ye need some misdeeds in yer life. Everyone does." This last is added more as an afterthought as the pair approach the entry to their commons. "Bugger," he says softly, "Was the password changed? If so, I've forgotten it." Not the first time he would have had to wait for someone to come along so he could get in.

"It's always a riddle, O'Hara," Eibhlin says with a light roll of her eyes. Still, being a Prefect, she's always on top of the current password and provides it handily so they can step through. "You ought to get a few riddle books from the library. Maybe if ye learn some, you won't have this trouble." She's smiling through. "I ought to keep my misdeeds more private-like."

She thinks a good Irish boy doesn't know riddles? Dale looks wounded to the very core, protesting as he steps after her, "I ken riddles, lass! There once was a woman from Hunt…" Thankfully, before he can get any farther with that, they're interrupted by some of their housemates already heading down for supper. Nearly getting bowled over, Dale puts a steadying hand on Evie's shoulder, chiding the others, "Oi! Prefect comin' through here, mind the way!" He's lucky they just leave after shooting him an informal two fingered salute.

"Riddles aren't limericks!" Eibhlin is starting to turn a bit red, having only assumed what he might be about to say. The hand on her shoulder is nearly protested, but those rushing their way out are gone soon enough. She makes a slight face. "Ye'd think we never eat the way some rush to the Great Hall for meals."

The bag slides down from Dalaigh's shoulder, ending up smoothly with the straps in his hand, and he offers it out to Eibhlin. "Hey, would ye wait for me before ye head down? I've got tae grab somethin' from my trunk."

"Sure," Eibhlin says, taking the bag back. Knowing the weight, she's not too affected by grabbing it. "I wanna grab my Transfiguration book to take with me anyway, so I'm gonna run this back upstairs myself." She gives him a brief smile, before heading for the stairs to the girl's dorm. Fortunately, she is rather quick about it and back down soon with just the book in hand.

Dale takes a minute longer, and when he comes back down it looks like he might have even smoothed his hands through his hair. Not run a comb through it, mind. Let's not get nuts. He gallops down the stairs lightly, his feet making an odd rhythm, and when he appears at the bottom there's one hand held behind his back. "So, Evie, I know it's not until tomorra' an' all…" The just lets the words drift off, bringing his hand out to offer the girl a box wrapped in red paper and tied around with a green ribbon.

If Eibhlin thinks his hand-smoothed hair is passing odd, she doesn't comment on it. It's not as if Dale isn't often engaging in strange behavior. The girl /does/ look surprised, however, when the box is revealed and there's a stalled moment before she reaches for it. "Dale," she says, glancing to him. No jest here, just a pleased and surprised expression. "Ye didn't have to get me anything."

Dale shrugs, "Jus' a little bit'a somethin' for yer birthday. Don't mind the Christmas wrappin', it came done up already." Clearly, it's too neat a wrapping job to have been done by him, but at least he admits it. If Eibhlin chooses to unwrap the box now, she'll see that it's an assortment of the Christmas Creams, from Kaboon Choco Ltd.

"When ye have a birthday so close to Christmas, ye get used to the wrapping," Eibhlin says, voice light-hearted. It helps that she likes the color green, at least. The redhead sets her book down and unwraps the packaging, revealing the chocolates. "Oh! These're some of my favorites!" She actually does beam at her fellow Ravenclaw, then. "Thank ya!"

Dale looks very pleased at the reception of the chocolates. "I thought ye'd like 'em," he says. Then, of course, he's just got to push his luck and see if it holds. He turns his head and tilts it, tapping his cheek with one finger as he offers it toward Eibhlin. "Proper thanks?" he asks cheekily. Literally.

"Mmf?" Eibhlin loves candy. She was just gifted a box of it. Of /course/ she's going to eat one right then and there. There's a slight widening of eyes at the cheek-tapping and she sets the box aside, getting to her feet. Ample time to finish the one sweet she's already partaken of. "Ye ain't getting away so easily," she decides, stepping closer to the other Ravenclaw with the intent to put her arms around him in a hug and kiss not one, but both cheeks.

Dale may not be smooth, but he's no idiot, and he's actually pleased as Eibhlin steps closer, and his arms go around to hug her back. As each cheek is kissed he laughs, and jokes, "I'll have tae buy ye candy more often, if yeh like it this much."

"Oh Dale," Eibhlin says, cheeks coloring as she steps back. She doesn't step that far back, though. "It ain't just the candy. You're just so sweet to think of me like this." Chin lifts and she beams at him, "Thank you!"

Well, he didn't expect her to appreciate it this much, but he's not complaining. Dale tries to look all humble, but he's pretty proud of himself for choosing such a great gift. "It's just the first. I'm sure yeh'll get a lot of nice things. Everyone likes ye, Evie." Just some perhaps more than others. Like, surely Dale likes her better than that quiet little firstie girl who almost gets scared by her own shadow still.

"I'm just gonna put these up," Eibhlin says, stepping away to grab up the chocolate's. "Don't go without me! I want ye to walk me down." Apparently chocolates are the way to a woman's heart. Or at least these chocolates and, for the moment, this woman's heart. She rushes upstairs, taking just a bit more time than perhaps expected. The reason why is clear when she returns: she's combed her hair and tied it back in a ribbon.

Dale leans against a study table, arms crossed and whistling that little ditty again as he waits for Evie to return. When she does he smiles, "Tha's a pretty ribbon, lass. Lets go then, so we get there before Colt's eaten the food off all the tables." He steps aside, motioning with his arm for her to go first.

The arm gesture is mistaken. Whether by accident or on purpose is unclear, but Eibhlin steps up to loop her arm through his. /Clearly/ he was offering it to escort her to dinner, right? "Oi! I'd hope not. I share with ye enough as it is."

He's got no problem with that mistake, that's for sure, and Dale lets Eibhlin take his arm without complaint. Her words bring a laugh from him. "When ye stab me with a fork, lass, I'll know that yer serious about it." There's a good natured wink with the words, and he means them, even though he hopes she never actually stabs him with a fork.

"Stab you?" Eibhlin looks a bit offended, clutching her Transfiguration text to her chest. She squeezes her hand on his arm a bit. "Dalaigh O'Hara, don't you -ever- think I'd stab you." Lips curl into a pout, "I may hate when ye take my puddings, but I'd never do anything to harm ye."

It would take a stout hearted man, indeed, to not melt at that pout, and Dalaigh is not a stout hearted man. A fifteen year old boy, on the other hand, is now putty in Eibhlin's hands. "Aye lass," he says with an odd gentleness, "I'll never take yer puddin' again." Boy is he gonna be disappointed when the chocolates wear off!

It will rather depend on how quickly Eibhlin goes through them! Is she the sort to go through a whole box in an evening, or draw it out? Maybe Dale will be lucky and she'll draw it out, supplemented by the rest of her candy supply. "If ye ask nice," she says as they head towards the dinner meal, "I might be willing ta share with ye."

It takes Dale this long to realize that Eibhlin is carrying a book that he ought to offer to carry for her. He reaches to relieve her of it's burden, something he would do any time for a girl. His sister did teach him well. But he's especially solicitous to help the pretty ginger on his arm. "Lemme take that," he says easily. Without even the help of questionable confectioneries, it's pretty clear that Dale doesn't mind this situation in the least.

"Oh!" Eibhlin relinquishes the book and her eyes widen a bit. Any more and she might start swooning. "How nice of ye. Thanks, Dale." She beams broadly, "A girl could get used to such attention around her birthday," she decides, grinning still.

Dale looks sideways at Eibhlin, perhaps thinking, for just the barest moment, that it might be a little bit odd, the way the girl is acting suddenly. Sure, they've always been friends, but she's never seemed particularly interested in that way before. But who is he to question it? "Yeh ought tae be treated to such attention all the time," he says, standing just a little bit taller, escorting her along through the turn onto the main corridor.

Maybe all it needed was a gift. Eibhlin can be awful dense, can't she? Or it's those hormones! It's always the hormones. She flushes quite a bit at the compliment, leaning into him. "Aww, ye flatter me." But she's clearly pleased with it, so who's to complain?

The Great Hall is starting to fill for dinner, and among those arriving are two Ravenclaw fifth years. It's not unusual to see Daliagh and Eibhlin arrive together. It's a little bit odd that this evening the young lady in question is holding the arm of the young man in question as the pair enter. Dale leads them over to the Ravenclaw table, talking as they go, and he pauses to let her sit first.

Leander is looking a bit thinner than usual after the past few weeks. The reason why happens to be in evidence; the boy is toting his bookbag around with him, and he's got so many texts crammed into it that it looks vaguely reminiscent of Father Christmas's sack of presents. The Sixth Year makes his way over to the Slytherin table with a harried look on his face, and after he sits, immediately tugs one of the books into the open and sets it down on the table.

There's no books in Eibhlin's hands. In fact, Dale is carrying one and she accepts it from him as they sit. She doesn't make any move to go sit with anyone else: she seems quite content to sit with the person that usually thiefs off her plate. She titters at something the other Ravenclaw says, starting to load her plate with food.

Gabrielle comes in, with a small stack of books. She'll glance around, looking for some one…or some-ones, after the scan of the room, she'll settle at the Ravenclaw table near the door. She'll open the top book and start peering at it as she slowly fills her plate.

Warren is stepping into the grand hall, bearing his usual bag, which is probably filled with books. Like all the good Ravenclaws. He moves for the table in short order, tossing his luggage down with an audible thump on the floor before it's kicked under the table. He drops down after, leaning forward and taking brief glimpse over the room before he gets to digging out a few notes.

Dale gets settled in next to Evie, reaching to take up a bowl of mashed turnips and spoon some onto his plate. "Oi, Gabby. Oi, Warren." Greetings go out cordially to his housemates as they arrive, and he offers the bowl to Evie, "Turnips?"

After flipping through the pages of the book in front of him for a few moments, Leander reaches absently for a glass of hot cider and takes a sip. Despite all of the food in front of him, he simply reaches for a biscuit and nibbles lightly at it, his brows furrowing as he thinks. The nearby group of Ravenclaws that appear at roughly the same time catches his attention, and when he spots Gabrielle, he raises his hand and gives the girl a quick, friendly wave.

Though Gabby and Warren receive nods of acknowledgement and greeting, Eibhlin seems a bit distracted. Maybe he's the transfiguration textbook she's flipping through, or getting food on her plate. "No thanks," she tells Dale, but snatches a bowl of pudding from nearby to shove towards him after putting a dollop on her own plate. "Here! This way you don't have to worry about taking some of mine."

Gabrielle looks up from her book as Dale calls out her name. She'll throw the other Ravenclaws a smile, but doesn't say anything. She'll glance over to the Slytherin table, and will tilt her head and smile softly back to Leander.She'll glance back down at her book and shake her head, finding something amusing.

Warren bobs his head around at the various Ravenclaws, the Prefect offering, "Hello, how are you?" To everyone in general, apparently. He seems mostly focused on scratching out a few more quick notes on his paper, making circles and lines, and then beginning to fold it up. Very intricately, apprently trying to make it into some sort of shape.

Dale glances over to the Slytherin table, noting Leander there. His voice is low, but he wonders aloud, "That's the one what's our Champion, innit? Leander? Shouldn't he be… eating more or somethin'?" He didn't really ask that of anyone in particular, so he looks around to see if anyone has an answer up for offer. Meantime, he takes the pudding from Evie, chuckling, "But yers always tastes better, lass. Maybe it's the sweetness of ill gotten gains?"

There's a flicker of eyes to Leander, but Eibhlin seems disinclined to actually look at him for long. Her attention returns swiftly to Dale. "Maybe it's a special tactic," she offers, brushing it off handedly. She looks to the pudding, brow furrowing as she considers this conundrum. "What if I just put extra on my plate, just for ye?"

Leander's hand quickly goes back down, and he seems content to return to his studying. He stuffs the biscuit in his mouth and chews mechanically, clearly not enjoying it to any great degree, while his dark eyes continue to skim the text in front of him. When Dale and Eibhlin exchange words about him, his head suddenly snaps up, and his gaze travels from one to the other. His lips are thin, his expression severe. Eventually he picks up his fork and stabs a nearby poached egg, and raises his cool, soft voice to address them. "Have you got something to say to me?"

Gabrielle 's head comes up at Leander's words. She'll look around a bit confused as she reaches for a drink. Her eyes flicker over to Dale and Eibhlin, wondering what they could have said.

Warren also peeks over at Leander and the other two Ravenclaws, the boy's head tilting slightly. He peeks over at Gabby, since she's probably uninvolved in whatever it is, and leans over to ask, "Do you know what this is about?"

Dalaigh looks over at Leander, his own face much more placid than that of the surly snake. "Oi, Fox," he tosses out in greeting. "Nah, I was just thinkin' ye ain't eatin' over much. But that's likely trainin', aye?" There's no animosity, despite the other boy's glare. Eibhlin gets another flash of a smile as his attention slips easily back to the girl, and he chuckles. "Nah, I'll leave yer food be. For t'night."

"What he said," Eibhlin backs up Dalaigh, seeming more confused by Leander's reaction than anything. She gives a little shrug, "All eyes are on ye, we're gonna notice things like weight changes or other results of training." Maybe he's on the verge of bulking up! Does he even lift? She beams brightly at Dale, easily distracted by the other Ravenclaw. "Iff'n ye wish. Just ask and I'll share, if ya miss anything."

Leander seems to relax, marginally, when the two Ravenclaw students explain themselves to him. He even offers a prim little smile, and after stuffing the poached egg into his mouth and chewing slowly, nods. "Ah, I see. Sorry for being curt; a lot of people have been whispering about me lately." He sounds rather tired when he makes the admission, and after lifting his cup of cider to his lips, scoots a bit further towards the Ravenclaw table so he doesn't have to speak with so much volume. "It's not training, though - I've just been busy studying about past Tournaments. Nutritional considerations are less important."

Gabrielle will shake her head softly at Warren, and then roll her eyes when she realizes what everyone is talking about. She'll take a deep breath and say to any that are listening with a shrug, "There's all types of training." She'll close her book, which is a Care of Magical Creatures book(which she is not taking).

Warren, at the topic of conversation, helpfully chimes: "Should be easier for you to win now, what with one of the schools withdrawing. It's like flipping a coin now, instead of-" He pauses to consider. "Flipping something with three sides!" The boy smiles brightly, adding, "So, I'm sure it's nothing but good will."

Dale waves a hand expansively, dismissing the need for apology. "S'alright, mate. 'Course people are talkin' about ye. Like Evie says, all eyes are on ye." He looks curiously at the Slytherin. "But, if ye aren't in the best physical shape, might tha' nae be bad for yer odds of winnin'?" Granted, he's not really into the whole competition and hasn't bothered to find out that much about it, but there's a physical aspect to it, isn't there?

"But food keeps ye strong," Eibhlin says, nodding emphatically to Dale's assessment. "Like he said… there's physical aspects to it all also. Ye'll need ta be strong and quick. Isn't your entourage meant to do all the studying for ye?" Perhaps he should have chosen more Ravenclaws. A mass research team! Evie doesn't mention that though.

Warren receives a nod of agreement from Leander, who takes another sip of his cider and then sets his mug down. "True. It does increase my chances of victory significantly - though I was looking forward to finding out what the Beauxbatons champion was like." The Slytherin doesn't sound especially disappointed about it, anyway. As he turns back to Dale and Eibhlin, he frowns. "That's true. I'll eat enough to keep myself physically competent. Physical prowess isn't my strong point, though - magic is going to be my edge." Despite that, he spears another poached egg and forces himself to eat it. It's true that it won't due to be starving by the time he gets to Durmstrang.

Gabrielle will play with the edge of her book while she sips on her drink. She'll take good look at Leander's lesser weight , prolly noticing for the first time, and then nod to herself and reopen the book and start scanning pages.

"Well, I think you'll do fine." Warren offers this to Leander, adding shortly, "If you need any potions, you can feel free to ask." After that he goes back to folding his paper, turning it into a roughly bird-like shape. "Strength isn't everything," He murmurs in agreement, "But it does tend to help, I suppose."

Dalaigh has been doing fairly well, managing to eat enough to kill a wildebeast while talking and casting sideways glances at Eibhlin next to him. It's not until he sees one of their housemates down the table stand and leave that he realizes there's a quidditch practice! He scrambles up, bolting down a drink of pumpkin juice. "Evie, darlin', I've got practice, I've got tae fly." Literally and figuratively, as it happens. "Balance in life, Fox, that's the answer," he tosses out, like some freaky Irish Buddha. "See ye later, all." A mad dash will have him heading for the stairs, to go get his things together for practice.

Eibhlin appears satisfied enough with Leander's attempt to eat more. She nods and turns back to her plate, starting to partake of her own food. Best to do before it gets cold! She stops, mid-chew as Dale gets up to depart. The girl looks almost heartbroken about it. "Ah! I forgot about quidditch… Maybe we can study after ye are done?"

"Oh… speaking of Quidditch, I need to go find Ripley," Leander murmurs, looking down at his things and then gathering them up. He takes another biscuit for good measure, then hoists his bookbag and nods to the others he's been speaking with while producing another one his thin-lipped smiles. Then, at the same harried pace he'd entered the Hall with, he shuffles towards the stairwell in pursuit of his twin.

Jackson steps into the Great Hall, his own quiditch practice session having just finished. He looks beat to hell, up to the point of not even having taken his uniform off yet. He commits sacriledge, bypassing the Gryffindor table and walking over towards the Ravenclaw table. On the bright side, he didn't walk OVER the Gryffindor table to get there. He slides into the bench next to Gabrielle, his back leaning against the table. He sighs, looking towards Gabrielle, "You're in Ravenclaw. Do you have a muscle between the wedding catcher and the buttocks?" He seems to come to his own conclusion as he looks up towards the ceiling, "It only stands to reason that there is, because it hurts."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License