| Details for Some Slytherins Play Nicer |
| Summary: | Helene happens upon Randy sleeping in the hills. Randy starts sending signals she can't even read herself. Medusa "Snog-blocker" Malfoy finds out that her best friend won't share everything (yes there is a little snogging in this, but everything is PG-13). |
| Date: | Fri Mar 08, 1938 |
| Location: | Grassy Knolls |
| Related: | — |
| Characters |
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Grassy Knolls, Hogwarts
It is a winter day. The weather is cold and overcast.
The Hogwarts Campus grounds are expansive and just how much so becomes very clear in this area where grassy knolls spread out for over a square mile. Just vibrant green groomed grass densely covers the small hillocks and spans of flat areas. When the weather is right many a picnic blanket - often sporting House Colors - can be found spread out here and there for picnics, studying, socializing or simply rest and relaxation watching the sky above.
It's winter, which means it certainly is a chilly day. The wind whips about every once and awhile, but it isn't a constant presence. Still, it's enough to keep most people at bay from the hills, but that means it's the perfect place to grab some alone time. The grass is forgivingly drier today, and tucked away in one of the crevices, under a mound of blankets, is a snoozing Randy. Not a piece of her is showing, but next to the mound of blankets is a book on advanced Transfiguration. She can never be caught studying!
After classes on a Friday is perhaps the time when Helene is out of her uniform the quickest. Sure she's still in a skirt and blouse, but they're certainly not to the regulation standards of the uniform. The skirt is shorter and the blouse tailored in such a way to fit to the Slytherin's curves. Though she wears stockings — the flash of metal of garters just visible beneath the skirt — and ankle boots, it's clear they do little for warmth. A heavy cloak is worn and pulled tight across midsection to defend against the winds that tug at her hair. The brunette seems to be searching for -something- as she walks, one hand tangled up in locks and she stops still as she aims to crest the hill, squinting towards the pile of things. She's not normally one to pilfer things, but… where there's temptation, there's a Slytherin. Helene begins to make her way over, hazel eyes casting around to see if the owner of the pile is visible.
The mound of blankets seems to be just that. Around the hills there is no one relieving themselves or returning back to gather their things. In fact, the place and surrounding knolls look eerily deserted right now in the pale winter light. Upon closer inspection, Helene might see the subtitle of the book as, "The Odd Ones," and detailed etchings of animals surrounding a human figure. Then suddenly, in the quiet whistle of the wind, the pile shifts just slightly. Just a moment and then still as it ever was, the only difference being the exposure of the sole of a black work boot.
With no one in sight, Helene assumes the pile must be abandoned. Or left for later. The brunette becomes a bit braver and strides in, steps careful against the grass. Dry as it may be, there's always the risk of mud. She leans over and snatches up the book, flipping it open to review a few pages. The motion does capture her attention — can't get away with things if you aren't observant — and hazel eyes drop to the pile. She notes the boot and lips spread in a bit of a smile. Flash of teeth behind gloss-colored lips. "Ah-" she breaths softly, closing the book and taking a step back as she considers what her next move will be.
The book is on human transfiguration. It has one portion dedicated to transfiguration of other humans, and a much fatter portion is dedicated to the theory and practice of the animagus transfiguration. The inside pages are scrawled with notes, sometimes written in the shapes of drawings of animal silhouettes, but there are no papers in it. It's like the inside of a Bible belonging to a pious soul, something they'll have forever and a place they preserve their thoughts about the contents preciously alongside them. It must have been smuggled in or pilfered, because there's no way a professor would let Randy have access to a book like this. Oddly, on the inside cover is "To my darling Marie." By the way, that's a masculine boot. How sweet.
This is something to remember. Helene opens the book again to the further section, on animagus transformations, and flips a few pages. Taking note of some of the things scribbles in the margins. The boot is eyed for a moment as Helene inches back in and puts the book back where she found it. It may even be in the exact right spot, but who knows. Does she pay that much attention? The brunette leans in and tucks fingers around the edge of the blanket. Likely expecting to find this 'Marie' and her beau under the blankets, Helene whips them back.
Well, that's not quite what Helene finds. Instead, it's really just that Macmillan girl, only not in her uniform and curled up on her side. She's wearing some polished yet worn black boots, dark thick socks, nearly black men's jeans with the cuffs rolled up and suspenders hanging freely, a fitted red sweater with a gold ring on each cuff, and the golden gryffindor crest on it. Peeking out from the top is her Oxford shirt, probably from earlier in the day. Next to her is her House scarf. And when that blanket is stripped away, it's actually a good few moments before the next gust of wind sweeps down into that crevice and wakes the girl. She shivers, reaches for more blanket…finds her scarf and then blearily opens her eyes. Blink. Rub, blink. The blanket must have just blown off-but when she catches the figure out of the corner of her eye, she jolts onto her back, completely startled. "Bloody! I almost /hexed/ you." Except her wand is not in her hand.
And, her hair is back in a low now loose from sleeping ponytail.
It's far, far from what the Prince girl expected when pulling back that blanket. But she almost enjoys this more. Helene's lips have spread in a broader smile and she looks from the sleeping Gryffindor to the book nearby. There's a hint of a grin when Randy wakens and falls back. Helene crouches gently, keeping knees together so the entire of the hillside doesn't see her bum. "Sure you did," she teases softly. "Last I checked they hadn't started teaching us wandless hexes."
Randy is certainly not known to hate Slytherins for just being Slytherins, but for some reason, recently, she's developed some ire towards Helene's best friend. She looks at Helene with a hint of suspicion. "Oh shut it," she says surlily, but without any real bite. She can't help the miniscule curl at the side of her lips and it destroys any effect of her earlier look. Helene's /pretty/…last time Randy checked. "Can I have my blanket back please?…and what in Merlin's beard are you doing out here?" She's trying not to succumb to the soft teasing, pulling herself back into a casual air.
"Only because you asked nicely," Helene says, a soft laugh in the undercurrents of her voice. Unlike her best friend, she tends to stay out of the limelight of gossip. Whether this is Medusa's doing or the Princes's own ability to run under the radar has always been unclear. She pulls the blanket back up, second hand joining the first to perform a facilime of tucking the Gryffindor in. "Can't a girl just go for a walk?"
It's like tucking in a stubborn little boy. Randy's wearing a little scowl like she doesn't know what to make of it all. Though, at Helene's actions, Randy lets her guard down finally. "Oh yeah, sorry. That was pretty daft." She reaches up to rub her head a little after pulling herself into a seated position, reclining against the hill. She reaches out to grab the Slytherin's hand and tries to pull her down further, no respect for boundaries and no acknowledgement of them either. "Come, you must be freezing."
The scowl just makes Helene grin more. White teeth on display for all to see, it would seem. "Just a little daft," she agrees with a small nod, brunette locks falling past her shoulder in the mild tangle caused by the cold winds. "But that's the point, isn't it?" Lips quiver as they threaten into a broader smile, but it falters when her hand is grabbed. The Slytherin seems rather surprised at this, but once she's regained her balance she doesn't resist. "Just a bit," Helene admits, tucking into the blankets alongside the Gryffindor. "This isn't a bad…" searching for the word, "nest you have yourself here."
The Gryffindor's mood seems to warm up a bit as Helene joins her. "Nope. Not bad at all. It's charmed, but not too toasty." Because when you're snogging, things can get a little heated. The blanket seems to always be larger than who is underneath it so that the occupants feel swamped with blanket. She just reclines against the hillside, her hands behind her head. "Comes in handy," she says with an all knowing grin, glancing at Helene. She then leans over to tuck Helene's hair back in place. OCD or…? She pauses and then returns to her spot, hand pinned back behind her head again, safe and sound. "Yeah…so why are you walking alone?"
While the Gryffindor reclines, the Slytherin sits more upright. Letting the blanket drape around her shoulders. Helene turns slightly so she's viewing Randy rather than just the rolling hills around the school. Lips do slide into that easy smirk of hers at the insinuations about the blanket and its charms. She does look sidelong at Macmillan's hand when she tucks the hair back and there's a slow intake of breath. Regarding the question. She takes a moment to answer- what to reveal? What to hide? What to tease at? Finally she opts for a languid shrug of shoulders, "Deciding on the next piece I want to work on for Arts club." She's been less active in recent terms, but still attempts some time devoted to the stage.
There's a touch of relief in the Gryffindor's frame when Helene speaks, giving the girl a moment to pass over that awkward impulsive gesture. "I didn't know you were in the Arts club?" Actually, she did. It's just, Randy's trying to gather her wits. She had a moment there and is unintentionally passing off as a bumbling idiot. "What medium to you work in?" Oh god…just keep it up until this weird feeling passes. So hard to listen. She locks eyes with the Slytherin, maybe to show that she's paying attention?
"Medium?" Helene looks over towards Randy with a touch of surprise. Lips press into a line, but it's a fleeting expression. She's soon wearing that easy, languid smile once more. "I act," she offers, simply. "Never had the patience for drawing or painting, unless I'm the subject." The brunette lifts a hand towards Randy's cheek, intending to brush fingers along the Gryffindor's jawline. "Other than napping beneath blankets on a cold day, whatever do you fill your time with?"
Lips slightly parted, eyebrows knitted, then it dawns on the girl, "Oh. Yeah, of course." Of course. The light bulb goes on. "I don't think I've ever seen you act," but why should it matter? It's not like they're friends. Randy suddenly picks up on the oddness of her own statement and looks slightly sick with recognition for just…just a moment, but it passes. Helene's touch freezes her on the spot, eyes filled with a mite of shock, but more terror like something caught in a trap looking at it's captor. Then, suddenly, she clenches her jaw. "Did Medusa put you up to this?"
"You've never attended any of the shows," Helene points out to the other girl. Not that many do save for fellow club members. Like students want to sit around watching some piece written by a fourth year be acted out… or yet another twist upon Shakespeare's oddities. As the jaw tenses, Helene lets her fingers pass along it towards Randy's ear before her hand drops away. She affects a look of mild insult. Hurt, perhaps. "Though she is my friend, I do not let Medusa.. -put- me up to anything." Nothing she doesn't already wish to, at least.
"I-I'm so sorry-It's just that," the Gryffindor couldn't help but have terrible flashbacks? Whatever, all thoughts of herself are banished from the world when Randy sees that she's made a mistake, that she's made an undeserved slight on Helene's honor. She swallows, shame washing over her features. "Look-" she tries to impulsively grab Helene's hand. "It's just that Medusa kind of knows some things about me and I figured, you two being so chum…It was daft. Please, can you forget I said that?" Randy seems wholly and utterly genuine. Her defenses are clearly down whether she likes it or not. This certainly a side to the Macmillan that gets any public attention.
Helene allows her hand to be captured. Whether by accident or with a purpose is not revealed. Her expression remains the same all the while- a hint of hurt that begins to fade as Randy speaks. The brunette's lips curl in a small smile after a moment. "I can," she assures gently. "I do not quite share Medusa's love of gossip." Really, for those outside of her interest, Helene couldn't care less. Fourth years and their indiscretions, or the silly drama surrounding some Ravenclaw girls. While Medusa may latch onto that stuff, Helene lets it pass by. She has more important things. There's a considering gaze for the Gryffindor and Helene leans in to place a kiss upon her cheek if able. "Consider yourself forgiven."
Randy nods softly, looking down at the hand in hers. It's there now, and she wasn't quite sure what she was going to do with it once she had it. She kind of just, holds it in both of hers as Helen talks. "Oh. Learn something new every day?" she says lifting her gaze back to the Slytherin with a small bashful smile. When Helene leans forward, Randy holds her breath, and at that kiss, the Gryffindor's cheeks flare up into a red almost fit to match her sweater. Speechless and hardly breathing. She closes her eyes softly, "I wish I could disappear," she whispers to no one in particular. It's funny, coming from the girl who's always garnering attention. "Do you-? Was that-?" Well what she's trying to ask/figure out is why the hell did the Slytherin girl do /that/ earlier..that thing, if it wasn't because of Medusa. "Never mind."
Helene seeks power. Power in all ways, all kinds, all situations. It doesn't make her a bad person, per say, it just explains why she is where she is. There's less of the conniving, backstabbing nature to her. She doesn't always see the need for those things. It's just the detachment she affects that usually earns her the moniker of being a bitch. The Prince girl leans back, hazel eyes taking in that blush. There's almost a sense of cat-got-the-canary pride to her expression. Gaze focuses more sharply upon Randy at the half-formed questions and the quiet words. Head tilts slightly. "You looked as if you needed it," she offers by way of explanation.
If there's any way to ruffle a Gryffindor's feathers (so to speak) it's to wound their pride. The blush turns more into a flush of something else at Helene's words, a shadow lurking over Randy's eyes which were so innocent and vulnerable a moment ago…still vulnerable, but more like those of a petulant child. "I don't /need/ anything Helene. Don't toy with me." Yeah, rumor has it, she gets /plenty/…well, of boys. Deniiial. "You don't have any idea what I need." Yet, she still hasn't left.
"I don't," Helene admits, leaning back a bit more. Perhaps trying to cool with distance some. She pulls the blanket around herself, lips twitching into a mild frown. It's not a purposeful expression and she certainly seems a bit unsettled now. Frustrated, even. "I said you -looked- as if you did. Perhaps a hug would have been better, but I chose a kiss." Hazel eyes slide over to regard the other sixth year. "One could say you chose to toy with me."
Randy shakes her head, but can't shake off the line of her brow. "I didn't mean the kiss, I meant when you touched me," because that seems to have been sixty times more unsettling to the Gryffindor, obviously. At Helene's last words, a look of incredulousness sweeps over her. "What?"
"Ah. I couldn't say why I did that." Helene opts for truth for a moment and it's clear it's not an easy task for her. To reveal herself so openly, even for something so small. Her eyes dart away, looking towards the Forest for a moment. The last and the one used brings her attention back and the Slytherin's lips press into a line. "You pulled me to join you," she points out suddenly. "Why do that if you're so closed off to anything else?"
Randy looks shocked by that truth, and as Helene begins to unfurl her perspective to the Gryffindor. Her mood is like the tension of a stiff wire being wound back and forth, and in this case up and down, until released, ready to spring. At Helene's question, silence seeps in and Randy just stares at the girl. Then, suddenly, she shifts towards Helene to kiss her. It's all very quick, the finer reflexes of a duelist, not the brash quick ones of a quidditch player, built for minute shifts and feints. There is a force behind the move, passion.
As a fellow duelist, Helene understands those reflexes. Quick, sharp, often meant to go beneath the gaze and notice of one's opponent. In this case, they do initially and the Slytherin is caught a bit off-guard. The surprise doesn't last long before she's putting an arm around Randy. Pulling the Gryffindor in if she may. And if, yes, she is able to do so, she'll finally lean back against the hillside. Hel is a good kisser — how could she not be by this time? — and affects a certain level between searching and passionate. Her lips soft and inviting, but not spread wider or seeking. Yet.
Randy is easily pulled closer, one forearm ending up propped on the hillside, the rest of her finding it more convenient to lightly straddle. Contrary to popular believe, Randy spends much more time snogging than boffing, and girls aren't any different than boys, except, they totally are, and by Randy's responsiveness, there could be no shadow of a doubt that she is into it. She reaches to pull the rest of the blanket over her back, and consequently, over them both, creating a little cocoon of sorts. Eyes closed, guard down, the Gryffindor is incredibly warm, even before the blanket. She doesn't push the kiss further…just lingering softly, her lips softly brushing against the Slytherin's.
There's much more time spent snogging for Helene as well, but that's largely logistics more than anything else. There is, mind, often more fun in the foreplay than the final event. Especially for the less experinced students. As they settle in under the blanket, Helene keeps one arm around Randy, palm lightly settling in the small of the Gryffindor's back. Her other hand rises to find a place somewhere in the Macmillan girl's hair. Not tugging, really, but perhaps a firm grip here and here. Fingers extending to brush out, before they gently grab. It's a searching sort of kiss, seeking out and testing boundaries. There is a clear bit of guard down for Helene, but how could there not be?
In spite of her warmth, the Slytherin's grasp sends chills up Randy's spine and her kiss becomes more fervent. Her blanket-hand now free, she reaches up to Helene's jaw line, fingertips brushing slightly before weaving around her neck, thumb settling at the jaw, and her fingers tangled just at the hair that meets the back of Helene's neck, tickling slightly. Randy is a cat…and she may not be big in size, but she's still the lion of her House. She takes the initiative to deepen the kiss at Helene's hands questing through her hair.
Upon the hillside, in a crevice that takes less the brunt of the winds, there is a pile of blankets. The blankets undulate with movement beneath where the two sixth years lie. Near tangled in one another. Helene lets out a sound that is a mere fascimile of a chuckle; unfettered amusement. As Randy deepens the kiss, the Prince lass ventures a small bite to the Gryffindor's lower lip, fingers splaying in the other girl's hair to brush through before gathering it at the nape of her neck. Holding her there, perhaps, with a gentle pressure.
There is also a book on the grass nearby…the wind having tossled it. The inscription on the inside cover, "For my darling Marie." There isn't anyone to be seen around the place, at least that's the way Randy and Helene last saw the terrain. The Gryffindor girl grins at the bite, and it's like a lash to a sled dog. There's a gentle surge back from Randy, but then she finds herself held in place. At that, her eyes dance, glittering. She slides her hand from Helene's hair down to try and tug at the girl's cloak, to pull it off her shoulders.
Cold and blustery without, but warm and cozy within. Helene has little need for the cloak now and shifts to let it fall away from her shoulders. The brunette is pleased at the reaction to the bite and it leads to a deepening of the kiss, lips parting to let her tongue free. Tasting the Gryffindor girl. Her hands are the only thing she has on Randy, with the other girl being the one on top. It's kind of a give and take of power at the moment and Helene isn't fighting that. Not seriously, anyway.
Randy shifts her weight so she's full on straddling the Slytherin now that the cloak is off, a slight challenge to the power balance maybe? She wouldn't like to duel if she didn't like to dance. Is it surprising that Randy's good at this? Ever the one to play with fire, Randy's hand isn't done. She reaches down to tug at Helene's blouse from her skirt, her heart racing. She pulls away from Helene to begin kissing her neck with an aggression that might leave some marks if left unfettered.
"Ah-" Helene catches her breath as Randy's mouth moves to her neck. The blankets shift with them and the Slytherin moves both hands to the Gryffindor's waist. Testing out the shape of her body beneath the sweater. "If you move around more… you leave less marks and cover more… ah, territory." Why not share tips and tricks? It's not as if this will be exclusive. Helene has no problem sharing the things she learns with Medusa. Why not Randy, also? Especially if it benefits her. She squirms a bit to make it easier for that blouse to be lifted, the release from her skirt giving drive to tugging and sliding her hands beneath Randy's own layers. It's good they're beneath those blankets, within warming charms- her hands aren't cold.
Randy pauses to smirk and say, "I know," before she just…bites. Then she places a soft kiss where she left her mark before lifting Helene's blouse from her. After, she helps Helene pull off her own sweater and let's the girl deal with her Oxford because, you know, there are now breasts at play and Randy is waaay too distracted to deal with silly things like buttons. The Gryffindor's body is not as curvy as Helene's. She's more petite, but there is /some/ curve. She's not one of those gangly girls with no meat on her. Well, that was two years ago. Anyways, back to distractions. Randy sits up a little to run her hands over Helene's stomach and more, just, appreciating.
In the castle, Medusa's approach is impossible to ignore, due to her heels clicking on the floor. Outdoors, however, she can be quite stealthy, particularly when walking on grass as she is now. There's not even a rustle of dried grass to give her away, and she stalks the shifting blankets the way a cat might stalk a mouse. Her pounce, when it comes, is a very sudden movement, a dancing step forward combined with a lean and a reach, her fingers grasping at a blanket corner and drawing back with a yank. "Well, well. What have we here?"
Those lithe fingers that aid Helene so well in casting are deft with the buttons of Randy's shirt. There's only gentle, quick movements to reveal what lies beneath and even as Randy's hands trace her stomach, so the Slytherin does similar. She's grinning broadly at the bite, watching Randy. When the blankets are pulled back, there's a freeze in surprise… hands pulling the Gryffindor closer. To protect her or herself? Well, that's unclear. It turns to a roll of the eyes as she spots just who has found them. "Medusa," she draws in a teasing lilt.
Randy's stomach is slightly muscled (cough she has really nice abs), moving underneath a softness of it all as she pushes her hands up to-she freezes too, but then melts into Helene as she's pulled closer. Blinks and looks back at Medusa. "Leave us alone." It's too late now is probably the phrase of the year…a true gem of learning for Randy in the last few weeks. Her tone is sour, her look, equal.
"Helene," Medusa drawls, looking vaguely amused for a moment as she makes a show of shaking out the blanket. Her gaze shifts to Randy, and she smirks. "Whyever would I do that? After, all, Helene and I share… everything." She moves to settle on the blanket next to them, shaking the other blanket back over the three of them, now. "At the very least, I would have found out about this sooner or later. Though I much prefer it being sooner."
Pulling Randy in, Helene murmurs something softly in her ear. She then tries to shift the Gryffindor off of her. Not roughly, just… enough. She does keep her arm around the other girl, rolling her eyes absently in Medusa's direction. "You did not share that lovely Ravenclaw boy you went to Hogsmeade with a few weeks back." It's a soft jibe, but something of a reminder more than anything else.
Helene whispers: I'm sorry. I'll try to keep her… handled.
After the whisper, Randy's cackles lower a little, and so she is easily shifted to the side, but she's still looking a bit like Medusa pet her the wrong way. It worsens a little when Medusa just crawls right in. "What the-" But then Helene speaks. Is she supposed to like this? Not? All Randy knows is a moment ago she was getting a snogging, and now she's not. Grrrrump!
"Didn't I?" Medusa looks vaguely thoughtful, then shakes her head. "The messenger must have been distracted. Good help is so very hard to come by, and I do believe the poor boy is owed… something." She pouts very briefly at Helene, then shifts her attention back to Randy.
There's no attempt to cover up by Helene. Why bother? They're all girls. And well, she's seen both of them, so they can see her. It's only fair. The brunette keeps an arm wound around Randy. It's almost protective, perhaps. Or posessive? The way her fingers splay over the Gryffindor girl's belly. "Whoever are you using for a messenger now? He sounds unreliable."
Randy is not used to this…at all. It shows a bit on her face. Her eyes flick to each girl in turn as they speak and she ends up looking Medusa straight in the eyes the second time she looks at the girl. "What?" to Medusa of course, as if to say, what do you want with me? It's that look Medusa has been on the receiving end before with Randy.
"I used one of the third-year girls, but I won't be using that one again." Medusa doesn't often use the same messenger twice in a row, but she does always remember which of the girls she's used for a given message. She eases closer to Randy, sliding an arm around the girl's back from the other side. "Anyway… I believe we were talking about sharing."
Helene bites into her lip. Thoughtful for a moment. Usually, she would be all about sharing. Especially with a boy. But this isn't a boy and she's uncertain. Especially in the wake of things discussed earlier. Instead the brunette extracts her arm from Randy after a slight squeeze to the Gryffindor. She starts working on getting herself properly attired once more. "I think I'm actually due for some dueling practice," she opines, thrusting a hint of remorse into her tone. "I saw how low the sun had gotten and I don't want to be late."
Randy just sort of freezes when Medusa slides her arm around her. "Uh…" Nothing else gets out because there's that squeeze and then she's…yeah. Randy let's out a sigh and rolls her eyes as she leans back against the hillside on the blanket. She lets a little frustrated growl and then says, "Yeah, I'll catch you later Helene." Then silence. Randy sits up after a couple of moments to grab her oxford and start tugging it on.
Medusa looks very briefly disappointed, but her half-lidded eyes track Helene's progress as the other Slytherin dresses. "I'll catch up with you later, Hel." She makes no move to get to her feet, however, instead turning her attention back to the Gryffindor. "We have unfinished business, Randy."
"You could join us," Helene says, facing away for a moment as she gathers up her cloak. Getting it awkwardly around her shoulders as she prepares to face the cold again. "More the merrier in dueling practice, mm?" She does cast a look at Medusa, lips pursed briefly at what the other Slytherin says. Perhaps trying to figure out what this business might be. Helene tugs a bit at her stockings to adjust them before throwing back the blanket to get to her feet.
"Well I have to bugger off to practice," Randy says with a little shrug. Sorry Medusa. You can't control me. "Besides, I don't remember promising you anything." She finishes up her buttoning. "Helene, can you toss me my sweater please?" She turns to look at Medusa and smile.
"Don't you? Where's that Gryffindor honor." Medusa smirks at Randy, but pushes to her feet and waves a hand. "Go on to practice, then, if you must. Our business can wait, but it's best if you don't let it wait too long. I'm not known for my patience."
The sweater is picked up and tossed casually to Randy. If it's inside out, it stays that way. Helene is a bit out of sorts- she's not used to feeling this way with a tryst. Then again, women are new territory to her. They're not quite the same playthings as boys, since she better understands how they think. How she'd think. The brunette takes a moment of the calmed wings to fingercomb her hair out. Brown waves falling as they ought to around her shoulders.
It's not like Randy to miss practice, or even be late. But, for whatever reason, she stops. She catches the sweater and purses her lips slightly. "Alright then. Fine." Her eyes linger towards Helene, watching her straighten out her hair and imagining the mark on her neck. It makes her smile a little bit, banishing the previous expression. "You aren't going to spread that rumor about that poor Ravenclaw right?" She's talking to Medusa of course.
Medusa tosses her head, stepping away from the blankets and resuming her default expression of utter boredom. "Which Ravenclaw? There are so many, after all, you have to be a little more specific, Macmillan."
There is an eyebrow and rather than walk off, Helene turns. She folds arms across her stomach after getting her attire and self back into place. She watches the two. Waiting, it would seem, to find out which Ravenclaw that they are discussing.
Randy looks to the sky for a moment and then chuckles, rising to her feet with her sweater in hand. "Right then," Medusa can't do anyth-And then she remembers that Medusa now has /proper/ ammo not involving herself regarding Randy's sexual…proclivities. "Okay, what do you want with me?" She won't expose Eibhlin again. "You could make up anything you wanted about me and people would believe it, so what do you want?" One hand is stuck in her jeans as she shifts her weight.
"Oh, no, I wouldn't dream of keeping you from your practice," Medusa says airily, waving a hand and turning her back on the Gryffindor. "We can discuss it some other time. I'm sure it will keep." What she's not saying, of course, is that she rather likes having power over Randy, so she's not in any kind of hurry to give that up.
Brows furrow slightly as Helene looks between the two. She's going to have to grill Medusa later. The Slytherin steps aside on her way to depart. She crouches down after a moment and snatches up the book. Yes, that one. Her studying won't be strange to Medusa, who knows the girl only affects her airheadedness to the masses. She tucks it under her arm, cover inward. "I'll see you in the club room," she calls to Randy, wiggling fingers in a wave as she heads off down the hill.
Randy rolls her eyes, and gritting her teeth, she grabs the blanket up. Oddly, it now seems about normal size. She tosses it sloppily over her shoulder, her sweater still in hand, and she pulls out her wand to summon her scarf. This is typical of the girl. If the tree falls in the woods, it won't make a sound in her world. If there's no one to take house points… She begins to walk off up the hillside.