| Details for Look Down, Have Mercy If You Can |
| Summary: | Julian and Donovan share detention |
| Date: | February 4, 1938 |
| Location: | — |
| Related: | Harsh Discipline |
| Characters |
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It'd been a couple of weeks since the incident with Julian and Deven's ordeal. And only a couple of days after the Street Brawl in Hogsmeade. Julian had been assigned Detention - cleaning, sweeping, and generally assisting Pringle - for few weeks, during his downtime. It was the first time Edwards had -ever- had to serve any kind of detention… but given it's only house chores… without magic…
Okay, so maybe it was a little bit harder than normal for him. Unless he's spending time for his father, he's never really had to do housework!
Right now, Julian is quietly scrubbing on a stain on the cobblestone floor, trying to make it go away. Lots of water, and lots of soap, but the stain is pretty much not ever going to come out. With his robe sleeves and shirtsleeves rolled up, Julian reaches up, wiping his forehead with the effort of doing what he's doing. Of course… he knows he's not alone.
Julian is scrubbing the floor, so Donovan probably isn't obviously apparent. He is hanging from the ceiling off to one side, he seems to have pulled on the chains enough that he is holding himself up rather than being held up by the manacles on his wrists. Either way though… the tall Gryffindor doesn't appear to be enjoying himself. It's only after a few minutes that the cramping in his hands cause the blonde lion to release his grip on one of the chains swinging him lopsidedly around and causing the iron to bite into his wrists painfully. He bites down whatever sound tries to escape his lips. His eyes closed.
The rattling of the chains had been apparent to the slightly younger Ravenclaw. Julian had furrowed his eyebrows, disconcerted with this. He had heard rumors that some detentions were like that… but he never knew if it actually happened. Well, now his worst fears are confirmed. With the most recent rattling, the scrubbing comes to a stop, and Julian looks toward the Gryffindor student quietly. For a moment, there's an unreadable expression. A sting… then… relief. But then, concern. He quietly dips his scrubber back into the pail he's using, before going back to it… but eventually, he can't really ignore the elephant in the room.
Looking around, Julian tosses the brush he's using into the pail, and he quietly looks around one more time. Pringle must be making rounds elsewhere for the time being, so he should probably be quick. And so Julian begins to move, quickly, with his pail… toward Donovan, and he reaches into his robes, taking out a small vial. It's… some kind of mixture of something, and when Julian uncorks the vial, the smell of chalomine and several other medicinal smells are apparent.
"My mum mixed this up for me an' sent it to me for my bumps and scrapes and cuts from Quidditch Practice, but this looks as good as any of an opportunity to use it." And so, Julian gets a dab of it out, and he reaches for the cuffs around Donovan's wrists… prodding his finger into the clasp the best he can, wriggling it… and smearing the mixture against Donovan's wrists. The action is repeated until he's circled around each wrist… And then the vial's put back away, and he drops to the ground to get back to scrubbing somewhere nearby. The soothing properties would probably pretty apparent to Donovan, with any luck.
Donovan's eyes pop open as soon as he feels Julian's hand's on his wrist. It's a look of confusion on his face as the other boy begins to apply the unguent. His grey eyes follow Julian's throughout the entire process, but he doesn't say anything, sounds might attract Pringle… and quite frankly Donovan is trying to do this whole, big man thing where he doesn't cry out. The mixture on his wrists certainly helps relieve at least some of the pain he is experiencing, a large portion of it is in his arms and chest as well from the actual act of hanging. When he is done, he mouths 'Thank you.' Before shifting his weight enough to try and grasp the chains in his hands again.
Looking toward Donovan, Julian nods slowly, as if understanding the mouthed thanks. "Nothin' of it, mate." Scrubbing along, Julian continues to scrub… but it's slow. His eyes are narrowed. "Pringle's not here," he remarks quietly. "… I hear footsteps walking away. I have really good hearing," he adds softly. "Mum blames m'dad for it." He then takes a deep breath, rubbing his face a little with his free hand… and he looks toward Donovan. For a second, there's a quiet war going on in his head… does he talk to Donovan, and try to clear the air? Or does he let it hang there, unspoken?
He takes the other route. "Man to man here, Gallagher. Are you going to treat her right? And don't play dumb." He continues to scrub, listening, and waiting.
Having managed to pull himself up so that he isn't hanging by his wrists again, Donovan pulls up his arms straining to get the weight off his chest and shoulders a little arms bending at the elbow. He holds it there. "To the best of my ability. I… I know I'm not perfect but she is part of me now." If he could shrug he would, but there it is. His eyes meet Julians. "I would rather experience this… a dozen times than see her crying again."
"On your honor, Gallagher. You swear it."
Julian's stopped scrubbing. He's looking up again, toward the hanging man. Part of him… he furrows his eyebrows, consider the Gryffindor for a moment. "You hurt her and you will regret it. I'll see to it." He pauses, then, furrowing his eyebrows. "After seeing that… though… what you did to Lewis… I know you'll protect her and do right by her, I think."
A pause. "But I want to hear it from you."
"I can't promise that… I'm going to make mistakes Julian, and some of those are probably going to hurt her. All I can promise is that I will do the best I can." He relaxes down, trying to go slowly so as not to pull the chains from his hands but clearly unable to maintain the held up position for more than a few seconds of free breath. His eyes close again. "And that I will promise." His breathing is slow, controlled but shallow.
"Do right by her. Do right by her, and make her happy. Do that, and you'll be right in my eyes." Julian's eyes watch him still, and he furrows his eyebrows at the distress the Gryffindor's in. "We're all human, so we make mistakes." Oh, boy. Do we make mistakes. "… Just do right by her."
And then, fast footsteps. "Ah, bollocks."
Julian goes back to scrubbing, and is quick to turn away from Donovan.
"… you can shake my hand when you're not dangling, Donovan." His first name. He gives him the honor of actually using his first name.
And then, an unseen voice, but a harsh one… the groundskeeper. "I DON'T HEAR ENOUGH MOANIN' OR ENOUGH SCRUBBIN'! BUT I SURE HEAR PLENTY OF TALKIN'!" There's a visible flinch in Julian's face at the scream… but he maintains his composure, and scrubs.
Opting to simply stop talking and continue the hanging motion. Donovan nods his head to Julian, not that the boy can see him given the lowered nature of his eyes. He glances towards the door, ready to stare down the Groundskeeper when he enters. He hasn't screamed yet, he isn't going to start now.
Listening for a time, Julian furrows his eyebrows a little bit, shaking his head. "Fool's nothin' but threats and hot air," he mumbles… just loudly enough to carry. Huffing, he keeps scrubbing, but makes a natural progression to turn around. He forces a bit of a smile toward Donovan, and he shakes his head… "Footsteps," he whispers, waiting… continuing to scrub. "… what you did to Lewis was spot on, and bluddy brilliant. If you hadn't gotten to him first… oho." He breathes in… scrubbing, it brings an odd catharsis to the boy. "While hitting him and pretty well beating him to a pulp is a personal statement… your magic can be just as personal. People say emotion is a factor in how effective some magic is in that regard… and I'm willing to believe it."
He pauses, looking up toward Donovan. "You're strong, Don. And you're not -bad- at what you do in your classwork," he explains. "You've got good potential as a wizard." He doesn't bring up bloodlines or heritage.
"Yes… but, if I had cast at him… I'd be in a whole different set of trouble. Underage… out of school…" Donovan shrugs slightly not wanting to get into it much more than that. He watches the boy scrub, after all… it's not like there is much else for him to do while hanging there. Donovan doesn't consider himself stupid… he is sure that if he applied himself he could do better, and he has been doing a lot more applying himself of late.
"It's uncivilized, though, mate." Julian just shakes his head a little bit, and chuckles lightly… unable to help himself. "Surrah, surrah, and to each their own," he comments softly. He nods, though, appreciatively. "I can respect another who sticks to their principles, at least." He scrubs, quietly, taking in a breath and just shaking his head, chuckling. "We may be in different houses, but we're not that much different at the end of the day," he remarks quietly, shaking his head still. He looks up toward the boy, tilting his head. "Do you think you're going to make it?" he asks the other boy, quietly. "That's a long time to be hanging like this… and don't be proud. This is just us."
Donovan chuckles softly at the idea of being uncivilized, it's not much mostly just a slight change in his facial expression. "I don't imagine I'll die up here… if that's what you're asking." It's only a couple of hours after all, "It's just pain and they'll probably send me to the ward to get my wrists fixed." He shrugs slightly, or tries to before he remembers that his arms are aching so badly. He swings a little trying to get a better grip on the chains. His knuckles are white and his arms are trembling but he hasn't given up yet.
"You did what was right. Don't let 'em see you cry, Donovan."
Julian continues to scrub quietly. As he looks around, he sighs a little bit, grumbling. "Footsteps. Look… lively, or pained," he whispers.
It doesn't take long for Julian to begin looking busy again. The voice goes unseen, but is heard resoundingly from somewhere close by…
"OY! Boy! I need someone to come help me clean up a mess Peevsie made in the Boy's Bathroom! Get off that lazy-ass duff of yours and get movin'!"
Julian huffs. He looks toward Donovan for a moment… and then toward the direction the voice came in. He's not in eyeshot. Slipping a hand into his robes, he takes that vial out again and quickly moves to stuff it into Julian's pocket.
"You're gonna need it more than me, mate… and obviously it must've worked a little." He glances toward him. "I'll try to come back down here again, if I can."
"Be strong." The Ravenclaw meets Donovan's eyes for a moment, those hazel-emerald eyes flaring for a moment with a proud sort of fire. "And look toward tomorrow, Valjean."
With that, Julian begins to take his scrubber and pail, to move out.