| Details for Trophy Room Interlude |
| Summary: | Claire and Lorraine get a little mushy after Claire beats Mabel in a duel. |
| Date: | February 26th, 1938 |
| Location: | Trophy Room |
| Related: | — |
| Characters |
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Duelling Mabel was tougher than Claire had anticipated, but her overwhelming offense carried the day. Amazing success always put her in a good mood, and she'd have gone to any lengths to arrange a meeting with Lorraine tonight, even so far as acknowledging her presence and talking to her in public. Claire sits leaning against one of the trophy cabinets, knees bent with her long arms resting on them. She looks completely relaxed, far more relaxed than Lorraine has ever seen her. All the tension is out of her spine and her eyes are shut in contentment. Two bottles of butterbeer are in one hand, one open and slightly less than full.
Lorraine is suspicious…as anyone ought to be when they're not used to public acknowledgement and Claire in a good mood…those things don't happen often. She shuffles into the trophy room and approaches the ravenclaw with the caution one affords a sleeping rattlesnake. "How did you get butterbeer?" she asks, somewhat surprised when she identifies the bottles in Claire's hand.
Claire grins, opening her eyes at the sound of Lorraine's voice. Which is sloppy, considering there's a fair amount of trouble awaiting her if it was anyone other than Lorraire approaching. "You forget who my prefect is," she says, holding out the unopened one. For a moment she's silent, rallying up some courage. "You know, it's funny. I had a whole common room full of adoration, and all I could think about was sneaking out here and celebrating with you."
Lorraine gives Claire a strange look. "You've got 6. Which one are you speaking of?" Then she bats her hands to wave further talk of prefects off and takes the second bottle. "Why's that funny? I'm obviously better at adoring you than all of them. Unless you were planning to make out with the whole room." A sharp look is cast at the tall blond as she slips in beside her. "You weren't, were you?"
"Would you relax?" Claire says, still grinning. Nothing can get her down right now. "I am trying to talk about my ~feelings~ here, which, historically, is not my best subject. And presently you are not exactly making it easier-" Claire cuts herself off and takes a deep breath. She holds out the hand closest to Lorraine, palm up. "I really do like you, Lorraine Nott," she says, gauging the redhead's reaction of the corner of her eye.
Lorraine does her best to give Claire the Serious Face. Which, unfortuntly, is cold and steely. Not a great 'talk about your feelings face'. "Oh do you?" she says, Serious Business. "Well that's good. Because I really like you too."
Claire exhales heavily and assesses her condition. Huh. Verbalizing that did not actually kill her. Who could have predicted such a thing. The steely Serious Face is not as bad as the possible reactions Claire cooked up in her head while overthinking this to death, and the matter settled Claire is quick to change the subject. "Do you want me to heat it up for you? The butterbeer."
Lorraine loses the Serious Face and grins at Claire. "Do you need something?" she asks. "A paper bag to hyperventilate into? The second butterbeer?" Teasing aside, she darts forward to kiss Claire's cheek and then smirks with satisfaction. "If you want. It's fine at this temperature too."
Claire nudges Lorraine with her shoulder, chuckling nervously. "I think I'll live." Claire pulls out her wand anyway, and warms up Lorraine's drink; she likes being able to do that. Claire raises her own bottle, and says, "Cheers."
Lorraine smiles and lifts her bottle in response. "Cheers," she replies, clinking bottles together gently before taking a drink. "So. How would you like to celebrate? Besides getting unexpectedly mushy on me."
Claire sips in time with Lorraine. She leans against the other girl just a little, enjoying the closeness. "Just this isn't nice? Just hanging out? Basking in my unbridled excellence?" She grins smugly.
"Can you feel the waves of adoration emanating off of me?" counters Lorraine, increasing the pressure against Claire's side as she leans more weight into her and then lets her head droop against her shoulder. "I'm glad you trashed that mouthy Gryffindor. She's a smug little git."
"She's not as good as she thinks she is. She wastes so much time showing off. Leaves an opening in her defenses." Which is hypocritical coming from Claire, who has no defenses to speak of whatsoever in a duel. She scoots down a little, to put her shoulder at a more comfortable height for Lorraine.
Lorraine nods her head in agreement. She's in the dueling club too! Even if she doesn't participate in the tournaments. "Either way, I'm glad you beat her. I'd have liked it better if you'd thrown her several feet in the process, but beggars can't be choosers."
"Get your request in earlier next time, then." Claire finishes off the butterbeer and sets the bottle down. She reaches for Lorraine's hand to hold it. "Would you like me to break her arm for you in quidditch? Such a brutal game, all kinds of injuries happen. Not even anyone's fault."
"If you broke her arm, that would practically be a declaration of love, in my book." Lorraine sighs dreamily. "If you broke her face though, I'd have to marry you."
It shows just how good of a mood dueling puts her in that Claire does not immediately freak out and withdraw again. She does tense reflexively, but with effort forces herself to relax. "I'm going to marry someone very rich who will leave me alone," Claire says definitively. "But I'll see what I can do."
"I'm very rich…and I leave you alone most of the time, don't I?" says Lorraine with enough teasing in her voice to hopefully /not/ scare Claire off. "I could leave you alone more if you wanted, even. Like on Sundays, and at meal times."
Claire is not freaking out, not freaking out, through sheer force of will NOT FREAKING OUT. She laughs nervously and fidgets with the empty bottle. "I actually thought, maybe, not ingoring you — which I know is my fault, so, em, sorry — not ignoring you so much might be kind of nice."
A thoughtful sip is taken of her butterbeer and Lorraine smiles slightly, a slow secret smile that says she thinks she's starting to win..just a little. "It would be nice, yes. Does that mean… you'll be my girlfriend, then?" Pushing her luck now, she is.
Claire feels the nervousness crawling up her spine. For a moment she's conflicted between her old habit of denying she feels anything at all, and admitting what she actually wants. Then she gives it up, lets Lorraine win. Claire lets her head thunk back against the trophy cabinet. She nods silently, then forces the word out. "Yes."
To her credit…Lorraine does /not/ yell triumphantly. She just smirks and takes a drink of her butterbeer. "Good. When you're a famous quidditch player, breaking people's faces for a living, I can tell people I dated you at Hogwarts. They'll be impressed. I'll be like a celebrity myself."
"I don't want to play professionally," Claire says. "It's fun in school, but the professional circuit is such a hassle. Besides, it's more fun if you know who's face you're breaking. I was actually thinking about trying to be an auror." It's an idea that's just started percolating, but she's warming up to it.
Lorraine groans. "You can't be an auror. I won't get any fame for that." And she'll probably have to arrest Lorraine at least once. Oh well. They'll have an exciting life, at least. The redhead takes another long drink of butterbeer and then a second before setting the nearly empty bottle down. "I suppose I'll figure out what I want to do eventually… For now, I believe we were celebrating." She tilts her head upward and grins. "Celebrating should involve kisses, don't you think?"
Claire doesn't bother responding, because why talk when there could be kissing. Clearly that is a far better use of lips.