| Details for Sickly Sweets |
| Summary: | After losing a bet Medusa tries to give Pringle an anonymous gift of chocolates and a love poem and ends up being caught in the act. |
| Date: | 27 October 1938 |
| Location: | Caretaker's Office |
| Related: | — |
| Characters |
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Detention seems to be a thrill for the current Caretaker. Chains hang from the ceiling, some with vice like clamps for manacles for hanging someone by the thumbs. Ledgers overflow the one bookcase, as there is room for only one among the file cabinets holding the records of all detected misdeeds within the walls of Hogwarts, along with confiscated items. Behind the small desk is a piece of black parchment that is written in red ink, rumoured to be the blood of the student who's name is written. Caretaker Pringle's infamous 'List' of n'er-do-wells that don't get much of a second chance if there's even a whiff of trouble.
Medusa hates losing and hates other people knowing she has lost. So with this in mind she is trying to sneak into the school caretaker's office, small wrapped package in hand. She even swapped her heeled boots for flats, but Medusa isn't used to being sneaky. Her reputation is more solidly build upon people running from her not sneaking up on them. The idea was to get in while Pringle was off dealing with some kind of emergency or other.
There is a small line of chalk on the floor in a perimeter around his desk, done in black so it's practically invisible within the grout-line of the stone on the floor. The moment her flat crosses over that line ropes and light chains that dangle from the wall and roof shoot out and like striking constrictor snakes they shoot out and bind the invader. She is left there, iron and hemp twisting tighter with every move for about a minute until Pringle arrives. "Ah-ha! What in the bloody fiery pits of Hades do ye think yer doin Girly!?"
Realising she is in for it Medusa tries to throw the box onto Pringle's desk but misses spectacularly. She watches in horror as it falls onto the floor on the other side of his desk entirely, landing near the bookshelf, and even worse the slip of parchment which had been tucked into the ribbon falls out and unfolds itself. Eyes wide she turns towards the sound of the caretaker's voice, trying to look as if she were the angelic creature she appears to be, golden Magijugend pendant clearly visible.
Pringle like a bolt comes dashing right up to the bound girl and points his wand at her face, he might as well be about to pluck out her eye. "Deaf and dumb? I asked you a question girly, if you value your freedom you will get it out. Or do you need me to help squeeze it out of you?" He gives his wand a little twist and the ropes constrict even more uncomfortably righter.
Medusa does a lot of things she shouldn't but she's never been one to get into trouble for them for some reason, divine intervention perhaps. "I wanted to ask for some ad- advice." She winces as the ropes tighten, trying to hold her own in the face of the ruthless caretaker and his wand. Maybe, if she is lucky he won't notice the box until he's dealt with her and sent her on her way. Licking her lips she nods, "Yes, advice. Headmaster Flint has made me an Overseer and wants me to conduct the other Magijugend, to make sure people behave in an appropriate manner but we can't break the rules. So…so I wanted to know what we could do to encourage prop-proper behaviour of the right kind."
Pringle snaps his wand in a dismissive gesture and the ropes suddenly retract dropping her down the few inches they had lifted her up in their harsh coarse cocoon. "First I would make sure that you make sure they know exactly what snooping around my desk when I'm away will bring them. Now sit." He points the wand to a closed crate that scrapes along the floor to be before his desk. Usually he doesn't get many visitors, let alone the kind that will be sitting and talking with him in a sociable way. He goes around the desk and sits down. He probably wouldn't have noticed the box or letter. But in the topple some chocolates tumbled out of the box and a couple of very gooey ones landed on the seat of his chair. It's clear he's begun to feel the seepage through the back of his pants and he begins to stand. "What in the pits of all things dark?…!!!"
Freed Medusa rubs her hands over her arms trying to get the circulation back into them. She sinks onto the chair, nodding with understanding. "I was going to leave a note." She pulls a piece of parchment and a quill from a pocket as if to prove it. When he stands her eyes widen, to be honest she hadn't realised some of the heart shaped chocolates had landed on his chair so her surprise is genuine. "Mr Pringle? Should I come another time?"
Pringle snaps his fingers not looking at her and then points down at her chair. "Sit." He commands like she was some poodle. He reaches behind himself and pulls off the squished chocolate and then sets it on the desk closest to her. "Drop somethin' did ya Girly? Go on, have it." It's not a request by the sound of his tone as he bends over to pick up the box and the letter. "I don't believe it's Valentine's Day Miss Malfoy…" He puts on a strange tone, effeminate his voice in a mocking coo and batting his lashes as he starts to open up the letter.
Medusa tries to carry on with her story, hoping the fact that it is marginally true might carry some weight. She does want to know what the Magijugend can get away with. Reluctantly, but knowing an order when she hears one she reaches for the smallest chocolate. "That's very kind of you, Mr Pringle. They're safe to eat I hope." Revulsion rippling across her features she takes an infinitesimal bite of one of the butt squished chocolates. "So the Magijugend…" Medusa blinks. "No, sir, it is not Valentine's Day," she agrees.
That little note…well it is nothing. Just a few scratches on parchment. A poem if you will:
Consumed
what have you wrought?
a dark black shadowy cloud of chaos as affections creep.
once we savoured paradise,
hand in hand and untainted,
but your desire paled.
a feverish morass of agony -
drops of blood follow pain, follow memory,
love consumed.
in a torrent of righteousness,
i still love you.
Pringle crinkles the paper in his hand crumpling it up into a wad in his palm of a fist that is rested knuckles down on the top of his desk. "It warms my heart to know that you feel that way. Let me assure you we will be spending much more time together… IN DETENTION!" He points to the chocolates he crushed with his arse. "Now eat up, not a crumble left before we go talk to your Head of House. Do ye think this is funny Girly? Playing a man for a fool? Do you? We'll you've got another thing coming girly. Now EAT!"
She should have just gone for the chocolates. The poem was smug. Medusa forces herself to think beyond what she is being made to do, it is the only way to get through it without vomiting. Her eyes flit to the list behind Pringle's head and she wonders, a thought forming in her head, if she can shift the blame to a more likely candidate. Another chocolate goes into her mouth.
Pringle's list is rightside down, if she can see a name it's probably a student from a decade ago. He leans more on his hands so he can leer closer to her. "They look delicious…here, why stop just there…" He reaches back to take up the chocolates box and slams it down on the desk. Some more pop out and fall on the ground. "Oh dear, clumsy me. Better pick those up before they get stepped on. Dinnae wasn't to eat any more squashed chocolates." Meaning that if they aren't picked up and eaten by the time he comes around the desk and purposefully stepped on the chocolates - by complete accident of course. Which at that point she will still have to eat them, that much is clear in the menace in his brogue.
It isn't often that Medusa Malfoy has someone get the better of her, when it does happen it is always an adult. Moments like these are formative. She grabs at the chocolates, thankfully it was only a small box and quickly shoves them into her mouth, cheeks stretched out as she forces herself to chew rapidly. While she swallows the sickly mass of caramels and truffle creams the girl sits poised on the precipice; she could lump it and decide to never misbehave again or she could see the beauty in the power of someone like Pringle and decide to emulate such behaviour, tweaking it to suit her own personality of course.
Pringle doesn't even give her the chance to swallow. He forces the box into her hands and with sharp gestures guides her, cheeks still pooched out, chocolate on her lips into the hallway and down into the Dungeons towards the Potions Classroom.
Medusa shoves her quill and parchment into her pocket as she is given the empty box and marched out of the caretaker's office.
Pringle takes her right in to the classroom and sure enough, there is a class going already, first years even. "Professor, I have a student of yours that would like to read something too ya as soon as she's done chewing the chocolates she brought me. I should also mention she was in my office, meddling where she ought not ta. She is entirely inappropriate. Ready it Girly." That's right, in front of the First Years!
A class on a Sunday? Medusa remembers well the Sunday morning remedial potions lessons for the least brightest students, thankfully she has improved since then. She eyes the small group of First Years, this year must be brighter than her own was because there is just a handful of students present. Swallowing the last mouthful of chocolates Medusa winks at them and with as much dignity as possible reads out the love poem. She even gives it a bit of welly, emphasising the dark gothic poetry with the appropriate woe. If you are going down, you might as well go down with style.
Pringle leans in to whisper into her ear after she's done. "Ye want to put flare on it, two can play at that game. Ye continue to dig yourself deeper Girly. Keep diggin'." There's a menace in his voice that doesn't make it sound like he's talking about only lengthening her punishment, instead she's just provoking him to show her his own person 'style' and 'flare' in the Dungeon as well and lengthen their time together.
Slughorn listens to the poem still looking quit confused as to what's going on all together. His head bobs in time to the cadence of the poem and his walrusy whispers twitch as he repeats the words with his eyes slowly closing. When the poem is finished the only thing that keeps him from applauding is the look he's getting from Pringle. "Ahhhemmmmm yeeees. Highly inappropriate." The way he says it perhaps includes Pringle as well, admonishing the Caretaker for making this such a spectacle. "I don't see the harm in a little crush Mr. Pringle. Though Miss Malfoy. He's entirely much to old. You might wish to focus on a younger selection of beaus." The professor does jump a little when Pringle gnashes his teeth. "Detention, Miss Malfoy. One full week…" He adds after a glare from Pringle. "…ahem…and another week for good measure! Now please excuse me. I have a class."
Pringle once more leans in to whisper, "I'll be seeing ye real soon. Don't pine for me too much until then. Dinnae get in too much of a 'feverish morass of agony'. I'll see yee soon."
Medusa drops the box and the slip of parchment into the bin near Slughorn's desk. "Thank you, Professor," she says to her head of house and then looks at Pringle, something cold glinting in her eyes. That precipice is behind her now. Mr Pringle has shown her the err of her ways, not likely in the way he hoped, but nevertheless a lesson was learned. The new Medusa Malfoy has't quite emerged from her chrysalis but when she does she'll be a far nastier version. "Thank you, Mr Pringle."