| Details for Unwritten Rules and the Grand Alliance |
| Summary: | It is lunchtime and there are, as usual, political machinations afoot. |
| Date: | 11 October 1938 |
| Location: | Great Hall, Hogwarts |
| Related: | — |
| Characters |
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It was lunch break in the Great Hall. That meant an overwhelming cacophony of noise; laughter; screaming; shouting; protests; and occasional vain attempts to hush it all down. There were the occasional out flaring of magic, too, hopefully avoiding notice from any watching faculty. Alphard Black was seated with his usual crew of Slytherin and Magijugend sycophants, lending them his presence without really being -present-. They were talking about Chocolate Frog Cards, which the sixth year had at some point decided that he had outgrown. Or just become too cool for. Instead he doodled in his notebook in between eating, looking bored.
Now that she knows Alphard will help her without flirtation being required Medusa hasn't ventured to the area of the Slytherin table that houses sixth years. She is, after all, the undisputed Queen of Slytherin. She snaps her fingers and one of the seventh year girls next to her leans in, listening as Medusa whispers to her. The tiny girl with the ginger hair gets up and dutifully walks down the table until she comes to Alphard. "Alphard, Medusa would like to invite you to come sit with the seventh years at the top of the table," the girl says loud enough for him and his cronies to hear. This is near unheard of, of all the houses Slytherin is the one which has the most unwritten rules when it comes to table etiquette. Rule number one: younger students do not sit above their station unless invited. This does not stop older students from deign to grace younger ones with their presence, but that is patronage and an entirely different thing altogether.
Alphard glanced up from an infantile depicting of.. things best left unsaid, looking at the girl with an unreadable expression. Almost as if he hadn't heard her at all. But gradually his attentions transferred, running down in the direction of Medusa at her perch on the top of the social ant hill. He grunted, arrogant features shifting into a thoughtful expression. When he finally started to ease his way up from the bench, it wasn't at all like an eager puppy being given a treat. No rush, no enthusiasm. Instead he drifted unhurriedly along like he was the one doing a favor.
Flop. Down next to her, with a bit of an in-lean so he could murmur: "You know, I really like it best when you come visit me." Also, he liked it better when the people around him treated him with appropriate deference. Seventh years were more likely to meet his gaze like they thought they were his -equal- or something! The horror!
Seeing as how Medusa also made that girl give up her seat to Alphard the poor redhead now has to squeeze in between a few others. "I am showing them how the balance of power will shift next year," states Medusa as she pours a glass of juice and sets it down in front of Alphard, knowing all the while that his friends are watching. "Don't be obvious about it but look down at the sixth years."
"Yes, yes, I know," Alphard said with a droll tone without actually looking. "They're in whispering and in awe." Truth was he was more interested in looking at the red head who had vacated her seat. Crunch, crunch, crunch went a piece of carrot, before he picked up the kindly offered juice and took as sip of that, too. "They actually believe which year you're in matters. What -I- realized when I made a second year cry just a couple of months after arriving, was that if you're -better-, then you're -better-. End of story." Non the less, he did finally humor her and make a subtle glance down the table. Sip, sip.
Of course it isn't just sixth years looking, several others are too. One ore two are even pointing. Medusa is used to all of this however. "Making people cry is easy. Making them truly need you, worship you — that is a challenge." She picks up her fork and spears a bit of food on it. Raising her voice a little she says, "We were just discussing how best to deal with Janette's betrayal." The redhead sniggers and says, "She had better learn and learn fast. You will not let her live it down I hope, Alphard?"
Alphard's brow furrowed at the suggestion that the other students of his House -didn't- already worship the ground he walked on. As opposed to merely cowered in his presence and then sent him dark looks if they thought they could get away with it. What was there -not- to like? He was good looking, smart, brilliant! He had impeachable pedigree! Non the less she'd caught his attentions, and he listened a bit more closely than before. Even if his demeanor remained that of smugly languishing feline. "Blacks never forget."
Wiping her mouth with her napkin Medusa says, "I sent my letter to Mr Abbott, showing my concern for Janette. I of course made mention of her using his tailor and how she turned down Victor Proudmore's offer to attend the dance with him." There is a ripple amongst some of the seventh years as they look at blond haired boy amongst their ranks. "Certainly Victor is an arse, but he is not tainted with muggle blood."
"Just like we talked about." Not shy about taking his fair share of the credit, was Alphard. Some of his beautifully projected aristocratic boredom faded, replaced with interest. He smiled. It could've been a nice smile if it didn't have that nasty edge to it. He finished the rest of his juice. "I didn't know Victor Proudmore had asked her. What the hell is wrong with him? Well, a lot of things, obviously."
"Victor likes to collect things, girls especially. Maybe this year he is collecting freaks." Medusa shrugs, she doesn't like Victor and like many a Slytherin her loyalty is to Lucian. "Now, did you send that letter to your mother Alphard?" She turns her head towards him; her the light to his dark. "I ask because I think it is important that you do so."
"I said I would, didn't I?" Which was not at all the same thing as him having actually -done- it yet. "It was my idea, after all." Idly he finished up the last of the carrot, too, crunching and chewing until there was just that little green bit at the end. He distastefully left it to clatter against the table, then wiped his hands clean. With a sigh he turned towards her, humor in his dark eyes. His hand reached out to brush against the side of her face in a playful-comforting gesture. "I promise. See? Once made, I never break it." Wink. It was even the truth.. more or less. If he thought he could find a way to wriggle out of his word, he might. But he'd always live up to the letter if not the spirit.
Medusa grins cooly at Alphard. "I do love it when we all work together." She glances over and notices the redhead is watching Alphard still. "Alphard, Beatrice is gawping at you. I think she might like you." So much for Slytherin working together, poor Beatrice's face is flooded with colour and she tries to hide her embarrassment by eating some more of her lunch.
"Why wouldn't she?" Alphard asked, even going so far as to crack one of his more beatific smiles in the redhead's direction. The sort that said that he wasn't entirely against the idea. After all, an extra year did leave a girl the sort of additional assets that a boy of Alphard's particular age group tended to find very interesting. "She's sort of cute herself. Likes attract." With a little scrape of his seat, wood on wood, he started to get up.
As he rises Medusa says quietly, just for Alphard to hear, "She doesn't have a date for the dance. She's been hoping you might ask her." Which might also be why Medusa invited him to the top of the table.
"I sort of figured," Alphard murmured just as quiet. He paused, half leaning towards the still seated Slytherin Queen. His hand settled against her shoulder, a small squeeze of his Beater's hand. His face was closer still, with it the scent of his hair and the moist warmth of his breath. "The only thing I -can't- figure for the life of me.. if why -you- seem to have stopped. Makes someone wonder." Really wonder. He lingered close for a second longer. "Anyway, I think I need another plate." And perhaps ask a girl out for Halloween. "I'll be right back."
Who knows why Medusa does anything? If she has a plan she plays it very close to her chest. Smiling at Alphard she nods, regally as if accepting his intent to move over and sit with Beatrice. She picks up her glass and sips her juice, gaze lifting across the room it flits from face to face until it touches upon a few at the Gryffindor table.
It was just a flicker in his eye for now, hidden beneath depths of abyssal arrogance. It hadn't yet become a proper all-consuming and life-threatening conflagration. But on a very primal level, it burned him. Even so, he was all suave confidence when he passed Beatrice, leaning in to murmur a few words in her ear like he thought he was a gift from Sally Slytherin himself, delivered into the 7th year girl's lap through an intervention by god. So lucky you are! See! I'm talking to you. Touching your shoulder with my hand! Letting you smell my thick dark hair!
Medusa watches Beatrice and Alphard out of the corner of her eye, smirking when the redhead laps up Alphard's attention and offers him her own simpering devotion in return. Medusa Malfoy worships no one, but Beatrice Nott clearly has no problem in worshiping at the altar of Black.
The whole 'Beatrice Nott thing' is lost to Gerald from his spot at his own table. Since when is Black NOT gracing someone with his very presence? Color him ecstatic..not. Slumped over the table, a spot which has been cleared already, he watches the room carry on with a look of pure, undiluted disinterest. He yawns subtly..or was it a sigh? Whatever it is, it draws his eyes upward again, and this time they land on one particularly troublesome blond..who gets a wave and a small arch of his brows as to say 'bleh'.
Back and forth, trading giggles with smug smirks. It was instinctual the way Black not only made sure to broaden his shoulders and puff out his chest, but lower his voice a couple of notches as well. Make it flow like a black silken purr! In the end it seemed he'd traded up to a Nott from his earlier 'sort of' agreement to go with a Fifth Year Ravenclaw. Alphard didn't even think it a move that he aught to be ashamed of, as long as he hadn't -explicitly- promised anything to anyone before.
Medusa plucks an apple from the bowl in front of her and rises to her feet. She steps over the bench and walks around the top end of the table, fingers trailing along people's backs as she makes her way over to the Gryffindor table. A fair few heads swivel in her direction, wondering just what the Gorgon is going to do. The sound of her booted heels is drowned out in the din of lunchtime noise. As she makes her way to the Gryffindor table she stops near a certain seventh year boy and amidst a few guffaws and good-natured ribbing gives him her apple with a wink then claims the orange from his plate and walks over to sit near Gerald. "Boo," says Medusa.
Gerald watches the blond, his expression relaxing as she approaches the older student, only..she doesn't stop there. Licking his lips, he allows a small chuckle to slip past his lips. Of course! The rumors continue! Then again, as she steels near him, he doesn't manage to look all that tortured about it. Instead he offers her an easy enough smirk, "Afternoon Medusa." He allows with all the casualness he can muster. "I believe you're at the wrong table. What will people say?" No, no he doesn't expect her to care. "Keep it up and it's going to end up being /my/ baby you're running away with Douglas over." You know how people are. "Cause you know, I'm all about heaping up in the broom closet with hot blonds." Insert sarcasm here.
"Please," says Medusa, voice dripping with sarcasm. "As if I would ever go with a sixth year." She begins to peel the orange, dropping pieces of peel and pith onto the plate in front of her. Who did the plate belong to before? No idea, but they are out of luck now. "Look, I helped Alphard get a date." She nods towards the Slytherin table where Beatrice Nott is cosying up to Alphard, stroking is arm as if he were a prince amongst boys. "I was thinking," she pops a segment of fruit into her mouth. "It must be the thing to have Gryffindor-Slytherin couples this year. Well, I suppose Gus is a Hufflepuff."
Gerald chuckles, shrugging. "It's not stopping me from having to defend myself around every corner." He mumbles that much, but his attention is easily turned toward Alphard and his new….person. And he arches a brow. "You had to help him. Amazing. You mean the rest of the world didn't know he was so great?" It's a joke. He even chuckles through it, but he also watches for a moment longer, doing his obvious best to ignore Medusa's musings. In the end, his lips aren't as locked as he'd hoped. "Who said I was a couple? I have a date to a dance I don't actually want to go to." So there. He doesn't sound angry at all. Ahem. "Is Gus the gay kid?" beat, "Wait..maybe I'm confusing him with someone else." So. Many. Blondes!!!!! "I'm so bad with names." The last part is mumbled rather than spoken.
"He doesn't need help, she did. She's insufferably shy." Medusa doesn't exactly explain how Beatrice overcame that shyness to now be comfortable offering to feed Alphard grapes if he wants her to. Knowing Medusa it cost dearly whatever it was. Her head turns towards Gerald, "Augustin is not a homosexual. He is dating Lillian. You are thinking of Adie, the one who dances everywhere. He's like Beery really." But hey, who doesn't love Professor Beery? Another segment goes into her mouth. "Why are you having to defend yourself?"
Gerald blinks, "Oh..right. Yes the one that dances around like a mor…" he coughs, his expression shifting for a moment before he looks away, watching the couple across the way. Does he comment on his opinion of the coupling? Oh hells no! Alphard is almost kind of nearly a potential possible friend…maybe. He forces a chuckle in place, glancing back to the blond. "Because for some bizarre reason people can't stop confusing us. We're not event he same year..and I don't look like a vagrant. And I have aspirations for the future and.." Almost..careful Gerald, your /real/ opinions are showing! Eventually he does manage to laugh, resigning to himself (and the strange looks coming from his housemates). It's not normal for Gerald to talk this much. Certainly it's not normal for him to talk down about anyone. That's what internal musings are for! "I still haven't slept..I'm sorry Medusa."
After an epic journey beneath the surface of Beatrice Nott's wondrous attentions, the Black finally emerged. Unscathed for the most part, except his hair was a little bit more mussed up. Had that been his hand combing through it, or hers? Regardless, he was chewing on a pealed grape and humming to himself. Leaving the Seventh Years completely behind, he returned to his usual pack of followers to pick up his notebook where he'd left it earlier. Once it was in his possessions he cast out a searching gaze over the Great Hall. Spotting Malfoy and Cornfoot together, he tried to catch their attentions by the power of his gaze alone. Feel its weight and cower! Or, at least acknowledge it so they could see him make a jerk of his head in the exit direction. That ageless message that said: C'mon guys, this place has ceased being awesome, let's walk the halls like cool kids instead.
The idea of Gerald being confused for Douglas strikes Medusa as being hilarious for some reason. Maybe it is all of those reasons Gerald himself has laid out. "It will be obvious at the dance, but if you can't wait that long I'll deal with it." She notices Alphard's look and chuckles. "We are being summoned. Shall we play nice and go see what he has in mind or leave him to suffer?"
Gerald shrugs, "I'll get over it." He mutters, though it takes very little to prompt him to his feet, "Normally I'd choose option B, but I need the air." This earns a small chuckle, and he even reaches to help Medusa to her feet as she stands..her sticky hands and all. "I supposed we can start more rumors for the fun of it. Maybe Sunny will actually be around. Or I may end up with a red headed date. Who knows?"
Really, making him wait?! Alphard gave them the most long suffering of expressions. As if every second it took them to reach him as a second he would never ever get back in life. And his life was far too wonderful to be -wasted- waiting.
Medusa's hands are sticky, but not for long. She dips a napkin into someone's water glass, not caring who, then wipes her hands clean so that when she does take Gerald's offered hand she isn't leaving citrusy residue on it. "Don't worry, everyone expects me to have a harem. It is unusual for me to stay with one boy for so long." So long? What, a week? She starts towards Alphard, walking with Gerald at her side. "Air would be good. Just so long as that stupid Caitlin Connor doesn't decide I've stolen either of you from her too."