| Details for Italians Smell Like Garlic |
| Summary: | Before the dance three seventh years discuss their evening plans and their famlies. |
| Date: | 1 November 1938 |
| Location: | Owl Tower |
| Related: | The Non-Party-Party |
| Characters |
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Just after classes for the afternoon, and Douglas is up in the owl tower. No massive surprise there, really. He's just picking up his robes from the floor, dusting them off and sliding them back around his shoulders, trousers and jumper dusty and covered with bits of feather and splinters of wood.
Morgana had a letter to send, and really the only place to send it is the Owl Tower. With the weather getting colder, she's a little more bundled up that usual, wearing her scarf and a heavier cloak. Slipping in, she looks around, trying to find the right owl to send out when she spots Douglas. "Fancy meeting you here." She says with a nod.
Careful to keep the hem of her dress off the floor Medusa enters in a soft rustle of silk and lace. "Leaving so soon Douglas?" She has her woolen over robes on over her party frock and has eschewed her fascinator for now. Amusement twitches her lips into a grin. "Well I feel decidedly over dressed."
"Stalking me, Rashley?" Douglas asks amiably, glancing briefly upwards, then over to the door as Medusa joins them. "Well, who'd have thought you'd scrub up all right. Go on, then. Let's see you? Rashley, you got your frock yet?"
"You know it." Morgana says with a shake of her head, though she'll turn and look at Medusa. "That really is a nice dress." Though she'll shake her head, looking down at her attire. "I have it, I just.. haven't put it on yet. It's not a warm garment, and I didn't want to get it messy." She says as she starts fishing through her satchel for her letters.
"Charms work wonders, warming clothing," Medusa grins over at Douglas, "or drying it." She shrugs off her robes, which means she has to let go of her dress for a moment. "There, now you get the full effect." She does a little twirl and then seeing the filth on Douglas rolls her eyes. "You are always so messy." Medusa looks at Morgana. "You still up for tonight?"
"I'll get my best rags out for Hogmanay," Douglas promises, folding his hands behind his back as he looks Medusa over. "And try not to get them covered in owl shit. Did you get the.. uh… lemonade?"
"I suppose I could go run and put it on." Morgana says thoughtfully. "It's not as nice as yours however, but it should do the trick." Walking to one of the school owls, she'll attach her letter and send it on it's way. "I am, I think it will be nice to just relax for a while.. with lemonade…"
Medusa looks down and lifts up the hem of her dress again revealing the tops of her very unattractive wellies. "I have a nicer dress that I hope to wear for Hogmanay," reveals Medusa. "It goes with my black diamonds." She clearly plans to pull out all the Malfoy stops to look nice for Douglas' parents. "You will look beautiful Morgana, I am certain of it. I don't have ugly friends." It's true she doesn't, mainly because Medusa doesn't subscribe to the view point that surrounding yourself with uglier or fatter friends is the way to look better; she knows she looks amazing.
Douglas leans back against the wall of the tower, half smile playing at his lips. "Don't rush on my account, Rashley. Unless you're going to want help zipping it up, in which case I am totally and completely your man. Anything to aid a woman in need, you know. I'm all heart."
"Well you seemed so eager to see it, but no, I will not run halfway through the castle just so you can zip up my dress." She shakes her head before shrugging to Medusa. "I don't think we're doing anything too fancy for the holidays, so I'll be leaving my frocks in the closet." Medusa's comment makes her laugh and she'll shrug her shoulders. "I'll take that as a compliment."
An owl with a silver trimmed green and black ribbon swoops in and drops a letter onto Medusa's head before taking off again. The letter falls onto the floor and with a sigh that is more heavy than soft she leans over to pick it up, checking the sealed envelope for any tell tale signs of owl droppings. "It's from Cyril, my brother." Medusa sidles over to Douglas, "Hold my dress up will you," then just to make sure she adds further instruction, "and not above my head." His holding her dress means she can pry open the wax seal and read the letter. To include Morgana in things Medusa says, "I wrote to Cyril asking if he might come see me this weekend. I'm hoping he can give me some business advice and possibly a loan for when we start up next year." She grumbles, "And his letter is all too brief and hardly worth the effort of reading." Turning her hand she reveals it to Douglas. All it says is 'I'll see what I can do.' The man didn't even bother to sign the letter he sent his little sister.
Douglas rolls his eyes, moving up to hold Medusa's dress from the floor, gripping it at the waist to lift it those few inches required. "So you think that means he'll make it this weekend, or is that your brother's secret code for 'piss off and stop bothering me'?"
"I'm terrible at deciphering brother speak. Granted, their English isn't perfect, and neither is my Russian, so that is probably where I am running into trouble." She'll frown and dust off her robes before she shrugs. "Well good luck with him, I hope he shows up."
Medusa shrugs and shoves the letter down the front of her dress. "I have no idea. What I know about Cyril would fill a thimble." She presses a kiss to Douglas' cheek, "Thanks. You can let go now," and grabs the front of her dress. "Everyone in my family is ridiculously older than me. He probably was surprised I knew how to write or had forgotten I existed all together." She looks over at Morgana and then up at Douglas, "Shall we walk inside?"
Douglas takes the opportunity for a quick squeeze, while his hands happen to be in the area, doing his best to look completely and utterly innocent. "I'm pretty surprised you can write," he notes. "I mean, I've seen your potions homework, and seriously, that's not writing." Grinning amiably, he offers one arm to Medusa, and the other to Morgana, in best pimp swagger. "Come on, then."
"We might as well, it will take a bit for me to get ready after all." Morgana does want to make the attempt to look nice. When Douglas offers his arm, she reluctantly takes it, and falls into step with the other two. "My brothers are not that much older than I am, but my sister is only four, so I think she'll be in your position."
"Remember I'm coming to get you after, Douglas. With chocolates and my dress." Medusa drapes her over robe over her other arm then raises the hem of her dress again and takes the offered arm. She peers around Douglas to say to Morgana, "Thank you again for doing this for me." Her head falls onto the Scot's shoulder as she lets him guide her out.
"Your dress won't fit me," Douglas tells Medusa solemnly. "But I'll take the chocolates. If I've still got teeth left to chew them." He glances back to Morgana. "How come your sister's so wee?"
"It's mutually beneficial." Morgana says as she falls into step. She does not however rest her head on Doug's shoulder, he'd like it too much. "Ehm, well. My mom fancied this Italian wizard, or at least his large fortune, and decided the best way to secure her future was to have a child. It worked." She replies with a shrug.
"I was planning on hiding you underneath it," Medusa jokes. Her fingers lace through Douglas' as she listens to Morgana explain the age difference between her and her half-sister. "I sometimes wonder if that's why people befriend me," the Malfoy confesses, "for my money. I've become a bit smarter about it as I've got older. Learned ways of spotting it. It must be odd to know your own mum is like that. I hope your sister turns out like you."
Douglas wrinkles his nose, squeezing Medusa's hand lightly. "Why would anyone marry an Italian?"
"I really don't want to think about what he'd do under your frock." Morgana says, continuing with the joke. "I can see where that would be a problem. Just so you know, it's the only reason I ever speak to you, your family's vast fortune." She sighs and shakes her head. "She won't, Violet that is. She's four, and already spoiled beyond repair, she even insulted my grandparent's home." Shaking her head she'll shrug at Douglas. "Money, of course."
Medusa nuzzles Douglas' arm with her cheek and grins over at Morgana, "Don't worry I'll think about it enough for both of us." Her nose wrinkles. "Italians wave their arms too much and smell like garlic." She tilts her head back, enabling her to smirk up at Douglas, "Anybody with sense knows all the clever girls prefer having a bit of Scots in them, isn't that right?"
Douglas nods solemnly. "It's a recognised fact," he agrees. "Everyone loves a bit of Scots. So how come your sister doesn't stop with your grandparents like you, then?" he presses. "Or is she just a little brat?"
"Never had it, though I guessing it's better than having the Irish in you." Morgana says with a shrug. "They do smell like Garlic, and they're arrogant too, or maybe my step father has just given them a bad name." There's a dark look that flashes over her fact at Douglas' question. "That's easy. She's stopped traveling, all of her needs are taken care of, she doesn't need to have a job and provide for her child. Hell, she has a nanny to take care of the brat for her." Frowning, she'll shake her head. "Sorry, I have a complicated relationship with that woman."
"I am sorry Morgana," Medusa lets go of her dress to reach across Douglas with her other hand and hold it out to the Ravenclaw. "Mums are hard at the best of times, but I am sorry your's is so shite. Do you want to come to our Magijugend party on Tuesday? You can make a little Italian effigy and burn it. Might make you feel a little better." She grins at the pair of them, "Morgana can be your guest Douglas. I'm hoping to bring Lucian so I can cause mischief." Her blue eyes glitter with mirth while her grin is decidedly wicked.
Douglas nods quickly to that, turning to Morgana with an easy smile. "I'd be honoured if you would, Rashley. Seriously. Fireworks, baked spuds, and burning a… well, I'm going to burn a Pringle."
"I don't really consider her to be my mother, I don't even call her that anymore.. unless I'm feeling really resentful." Morgana does reach over and squeeze the other girls hand quickly before raising her brow. "They have parties?" She says with a bit of doubt in her voice. "Do I have to join if I show up?" She asks, wanting a little more information before she agrees.
"This is our first party and no, you don't have to join if you come. It is just a social event. Something fun and traditionally British." Medusa's mouth quirks into a grin, "How can you say no to fireworks and burning effigies?"
"It's the best holiday of the year," Douglas insists. "All about some guy who tried to stick it to the authorities! Mind, he got caught, but still. He gave it a go!"
"Ehm, alright then. I suppose I don't have anything else to do on a Tuesday evening." Morgana says with a shrug. "Is it casual, or do I need to owl my grandmother to send another frock?"
Medusa laughs, "No it's casual, or rather it's a come in your coat because it will be bloody cold outside event."
"Wrap up," Douglas agrees. "Much as I love seeing you in your finest with your… uh… with your bits and pieces out, it's going to be freezing. Probably it'll rain, too."
"Very well." Morgana says with a nod of her head. "And you sir, have never seen my bits and pieces out, so I don't want to hear it. But I'll bundle up." Making sure she has everything she'll gesture toward the door. "Shall we?"
"Lead on McDuff," Medusa tells Douglas, since he is the one escorting them back inside.