(1938-10-25) These Are A Few of His Favorite Things
Details for These Are A Few of His Favorite Things
Summary: Medusa grills Augustin about Douglas.
Date: 1938-10-25
Location: Library

A freakishly tall first year brings Augustin a note between lessons and then runs off. The note reads: Want your help with something. Find me near the charms section of the library after lessons. MM

Medusa is, as promised, seated at a table in the charms section of the library. Peculiarly a chubby fourth year Slytherin stands nearby, poised like a soldier on alert while Medusa appears to be studying. There are a multitude of books on the table several of them are about Gringotts and business, but there are the usual seventh year texts as well.

Augustin ambles up, takes one look at the fourth year, and raises his eyebrow. "Scoot," he says with a little grin. And he utterly expects the other student to do that. He stands at ease, obviously waiting for the chubster to go before joining Medusa at the table. "Hullo," he greets her.

The student looks at Medusa for permission and she nods. Then the chubby fourth year walks off, not running because it is the library. "Hello Gus. Thanks for coming." She slides over some of her many books to make room for him. "I wanted to pick your brain about Douglas. I have compiled a list of questions."

Gus slides into the seat next to Medusa and raises his eyebrows. "Well… what for?" he asks, grinning a bit. "I mean, can't you just ask him? You're both so cute and in love and all." He's not even teasing when he says that - it's just an accepted fact that he's even somewhat happy about.

"Because at breakfast earlier he pointed out there is a lot we don't know about each other." Medusa looks through her various papers until she finds the one she wants. "For instance. When is his birthday?" She looks over at Augustin, clearly serious about this question and answer session about his best friend. "And what is his favourite food?"

"Er," Gus says, screwing up his face. "May, I think," he says. "Early on, if I'm right. Yeah. Pretty sure it's the first week in May, some time." He answers the second one much more quickly. "Oh, easy, stovies. You know, that Scottish potato thing with the beef and the oatcakes." He sort of mashes the air a few times in front of him as emphasis, at an imaginary something about the size of a bowl.

Medusa writes down his answers. "Stovies?" This particular Scots delicacy has passed her by, but then she grew up down south. Onto the next question. "Favourite colour?" She scans the list of questions and crosses a few off deciding she doesn't want the answer to those any more. As she lifts her head the corner of her golden Magijugend pendant can be seen peeking out from beneath her loosened tie. "He said he wants something to keep his wand warm - as a Christmas present." And just to clarify she says, "His actual wand," in case Gus was getting other ideas. "But do you think I should maybe get him something nicer too?"

Gus watches her write. He catches sight of the golden pendant, curls his lip in disdain, and rolls his eyes while she's not looking. But he otherwise apparently decides to ignore it. Then he goes about trying to read what she crossed off, even if the paper is upside down. "Favourite color?" he asks. "D'you think we sit around and paint each other's nails or something? Just… go with burgundy," he finally tells her. And yes, he was getting ideas, and had perked up and was about to open his mouth and say something best left to the imagination before she clarifies. "Aw," he says, relaxing again and resting his elbows on the table. "Dunno why his wands needs warming," he mutters. Then he shrugs. "Dunno, Medusa, that's really your call. I do know he's put a fair bit of thought into your gift, though. Not that I know exactly what it is - just that there's some effort involved."

The questions are near enough that he can read the ones she has crossed out. Medusa has decided she no longer cares to know who Douglas' first proper girlfriend was or what sized shoe he wears. Presumably she thought about getting him shoes for Christmas. "I think it's because he is outside a lot and he wants to keep it dry so if he needs to use it it doesn't slip from his hand."

"Well… that's not a warmer, then, what he wants is some kind of grip that will be good for wet weather as well as try. Try sharkskin, I've heard it's good. Maybe get a strip of that and wind it 'round, you know." Who knows /where/ Gus heard that particular tidbit? But he demonstrates what he means with his own wand handle, miming winding a flat strip of something about it. "Like a maypole. Only… not-girly."

Medusa hmmms and writes that down. "I wonder if your wand will still work with a cover on it." She has never tried. "I suppose as long as it doesn't limit movement."

"Just on the handle bit," Gus clarifies. He stashes his wand away. "Alright. Got anything else?"

She looks back at her list of questions. "I don't know." Medusa sighs and chucks her quill down on the table. "This is hard. What kind of things do you want to know about Lillian?"

"Lillian?" Gus asks. He blinks a couple of times. "What?" He tilts his head like he doesn't quite understand what she's getting at. "I suppose if there's something she's mentioned wanting, it would be nice to know. But… we talk."

Medusa rolls her eyes at Augustin. "We talk. It's just not about," she gestures to her list, "this kind of stuff. We talk about other stuff. But now I'm…being stupid." She idly toys with her pendant. "And this is the dumbest conversation ever, isn't it?"

"It's not like… we don't just sit around and talk about facts like this," Gus says. "You know, we just slip in tidbits here and there. Like, I'd say, 'Oi, look at this thing.' And she'd say, 'Oh, I love that color!' You know." He laughs a little bit at her and shakes her head. "Not that dumb, no," he tells her. "Dumb conversations might go something like, 'Oh, look at us, aren't we grand because we can do this thing, and aren't those other people beneath us because their parents couldn't?'"

"Cute, Augustin. Real cute," says Medusa drolly. She resists kicking him under the table, but only just. "What are you getting Lillian for Christmas, and don't say more quidditch supplies because I will convince her to break up with you if that is what you are planning on."

"Yeah, I thought it was," Augustin says with a smile. "Ohhhhh, wouldn't you like to know?" he asks in a sing-song voice. "I won't tell you what it is… but it's not more Quidditch supplies. She's got just about everything she needs in that department, doesn't she?"

Medusa snorts a laugh, "She likely does after the last lot you gave her." Canting her head she eyes Augustin. "How serious are you two? I mean you have a whole other year after this but you look quite serious and chummy and lovey dovey." She makes it sound like she is looking out for the younger Slytherin.

"I love her," Augustin says simply. And he smiles.

When he just comes out with it like that Medusa looks a bit suspicious. "Really?" She doesn't ask because she thinks Lillian is unlovable, more because she knows how immature she was at this point last year. "Well, don't mess it up by being stupid."

Now it's Augustin's turn to look a bit irked. "Yes, really," he says. "She's brilliant and brave and beautiful, and all those other alliterative words." He rolls his eyes at her warning. "Thanks," he says sarcastically. "You love Douglas, or what?" he asks.

And it is her turn to look uncomfortable. "I told him I did. He didn't say anything." Medusa lets her head fall to the table, unknowingly getting some ink on her forehead. When she raises her head she has the letters 'ark' backwards imprinted at an angle on her skin. "Maybe he didn't think I meant it?"

Gus is quiet for a few moments while he thinks about that. "Doug is me mate," he begins. "If he's with you, he likes you. He's not one to really talk about his feelings. So… number one," he says, sticking his thumb out. "Just relax. Enjoy being with him. Keep talking and spending time together. Number two," and he sticks out an index finger. "Don't say it again. You may've scared him. Just give him time. Believe me, he heard you. If he's gonna say it back, just let him do it when he's ready. And number three," he counts, with his middle finger joining the other two. "You have ink on your forehead."

Medusa nods, listening to each point in turn and wondering if she should write it down but then Gus mentions the ink on her forehead and she groans. Licking her hand first she rubs it against her forehead trying to get the ink off herself. "When did you become some sort of cake-eating-guru?" Medusa thinks the only good things about being a Hufflepuff are cakes and Beery.

"What's a guru?" Gus asks, totally clueless. He pulls out a handkerchief and passes it over to her.

For some reason Medusa laughs as he hands her a handkerchief. "Thanks." She rubs her forehead with the handkerchief. "A guru is a mystical person who gives advice. Kind of like an oracle." She lowers the handkerchief. "Did I get it all?"

"You're welcome," Gus tells her. He nods a bit at her explanation. Then he glances up at her forehead. "Yeah, almost," he says. "Just a bit more." He props his chin on his hand. "So what are you doing after you graduate?" he asks curiously.

She puts a bit of spit on the handkerchief and rubs at her forehead again, rubbing harder this time and removing the last of the ink, although her skin is a bit red from the pressure that will fade soon enough. "If we can swing it, we're going to go into business together. If not he'll keep his ministry post and I'll do whatever." Medusa doesn't feel she needs to explain who she is talking about.

"What kind of business?" Gus asks curiously.

"If he hasn't told you then I'll leave Douglas to do that." Medusa tucks the hankerchief into her pocket. "I'll return it after it is laundered." She looks down at her list of questions and then over at Augustin. "Thanks. For helping and not making fun of me and the handkerchief." Because she probably would have let him walk out with ink on his forehead. No probably about it, she would have.

"You're welcome," Augustin says. He grins and stands. "I'm off, then. Good luck with your Christmas shopping."

"I think I need it," mutters Medusa, turning back to her books.

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