(1939-10-17) Making New Friends
Details for Making New Friends
Summary: Sierra and Hattie enjoy a little harmless mischief - while Abraxas rains on Sierra's parade.
Date: October 17th, 1939
Location: Hogwarts Courtyard, and the path to Hogsmeade

Hattie lays across a bench in the courtyard where the season is beginning to prove a deterrent. She fiddles with her scarf as she reads from her textbook, and occasionally lifts a hands to practice the hand-movement side of this charm or that. "We're all alone, no chaperon can get our number," she sings softly.

"The world's in slumber - let's misbehave!" Sierra exclaims as she arrives on the scene - moving through one of the roofed archways. She swings around one of the pillars - gesturing dramatically with one arm as she does so. "Wilkins, isn't it?" the girl asks. "It's the weekend! What're you doing reading? Let's misbehave!"

Abraxas Malfoy is also out and about this evening, his cloak and scarf pulled around him, the cool wind ruffling his platinum hair. "No misbehaving. Go to Hogsmeade if you want to let off some steam." he says, then waves to Hattie, "Hello, Wilkins."

Hattie lays her book against her chest on her way up to her feet, laughing, "But we can't! Not until after breakfast in the morning!" She seizes at the swinging Sierra's hand as it comes round the pillar, to real her in for a few jitterbugging steps of dance. She smiles toward Malfoy and says, "Its too cool to steam, anyway." Fully aware her words make vapor in the air.

Sierra has no qualms about being swung into a jitterbug - and happily joins in. "Oh, don't get your britches in a bunch, Malfoy," the girl says cheerfully. "No one said anything about rule breaking. The two don't have to go hand in hand." They just… often do.

"There's something wild about you, child, That's so contagious, let's be outrageous! Let's misbehave!" she sings cheerfully.

Abraxas grunts, and rubs his forehead, but he doesn't want any trouble either, and goes to sit down on the bench that Hattie just vacated while the two girls dance, "No? That'd be a refreshing change from the way things are going lately." He really wants to say something about Muggle-style music and dancing, but he just says, "If Flint or some of the others see you doing that, there will be trouble. Don't you know any Wizard dances?"

"It's getting late, and while I wait, My poor heart aches on," Hattie sings on, though her singing is more reserved in volume, for the spate of giggling that overtakes her. She leaves off the rest of the verse to finish off the measure of Lucky Lindy steps, lots of swing. "I do, but none of them are quick-step. You, Higgins? Abraxas, your family has lots of parties. You must know lots of dances."

"Dancing and singing are not literature! Dancing and singing are not against the rules!" Sierra responds in a sing-song voice. See? Mischief. No rule breaking. She is loving this! "Why keep the brakes on? Let's misbehave!" She continues to dance with Hattie - all smiles and glee.

Abraxas stands, and looks up at the clock tower in the distance, "We still have time to go to Town for a butterbeer before curfew. Why don't we do that instead? And yes, I know some quickstep wizard dances I could teach you. I'm not a great dancer myself, though." He /really/ seems to be trying to avoid trouble. Why must everyone tax him so? Poor, put upon Abraxas Malfoy.

"He's just trying to make sure we maintain decorum. The Headmaster doesn't want to see me in his office tonight anymore than I want to see him on a Friday night. I hate Monday morning howlers. — It's alright, Higgins. Lets dance on through the gates toward the village. Malfoy can teach, you and I can work up a thirst… if they're any good, these steps, we can mix them in." Hattie actually makes an attempt at tossing Sierra out into a tethered spin.

Sierra rolls with it - and makes Hattie look good while she's at it, spinning playfully and letting out a happy laugh. "Oh, come now. Everyone knows the decorum rule's about snogging and shouting," Sierra counters. "But - fine. I need to stop by Colton's wagon anyways - if you don't mind a brief stop," she asks. It is on their way, after all - not parked far from the school's gates.

Hattie is herself not used to leading, but when the boys don't dance or there are too few, better the floor than the wall! She suffers a little trip, though and has to stop, as she runs the risk of colliding with the Slytherin Prefect. "Sorry! Sorry!" she laughs and bends over her knees to catch her breath. "I don't mind! I think I've seen it last time…"

Abraxas catches Hattie when she trips, a deceptively strong arm putting her back straight. "Don't worry, Wilkins. You looked quite fine. I can't remember a step at the moment, though." He sighs at the mention of whether they want to stop, and he says, "I suppose, if we must."

"Great!" Sierra declares. She twirls a few more times - her style morphing out of the jitterbug, and into a different sort of foot-stomping fun. The stuff she's more used to in her camp. "Alright," she declares suddenly, twirling one more time before coming to a sudden stop. "We doing this?" she asks, before she starts to lead the way.

Hattie is grateful to be righted, but looks wistfully after the place where she lost the rhythm. "Well I must have someone to talk with, if the Higginses forget about me," she says teasing Sierra and her Pavee dancing with a gentle smile. "-and start in with Shelta. I don't speak a word, you know. And the horse could eat me." Exposure to non-magical equine creatures? Noooo. "Without the two of you, I'll probably end up having to wand-light my way home. It will be full dark by the time curfew threatens." She jogs on a few steps into twilight.

"Don't worry, even *I* wouldn't take anyone to a professor for a simple wand-light charm. Though you might want to keep an eye out for Eibon." Abraxas says, releasing Hattie after she's righted and then heading down the trail with the others. "Horses don't eat people, do they? It's not like they're dragons or something."

"No, no, no. Luskan's completely harmless. He only eats kittens," Sierra deadpans. "And puppies. Besides, he's probably out to pasture and not anywhere near the wagon. Which is a shame, he's really a lovely beast," she remarks with obvious fondness. She quite likes her brother's horse. She moves alongside the pair - keeping Abraxas on the opposite side of Hattie from her. Couldn't seem to be stepping out with a gent - now could she?

Hattie has only one brother at Hogwarts, a relentless little social climber of a Firstie, and unlikely to try and get between her and a Malfoy on the road. Hattie though just jostles along the path, commenting, "I can't wait until I don't have to worry about curfew anymore. The horned slugs come out to eat my plants as soon as I leave the gardens."

"Almost another three years for that to happen." Abraxas notes, "Even after we're 16, we still have curfew while we're in school. Unless you're leaving after OWLs, which I doubt, right? I can't see a Wilkins going home and sitting the WOMBAT like some sort of home-schooled hedge magician."

"You're welcome to all that NEWT and WOMBAT nonsense," Sierra remarks. "Though the curfew's not bad. Got to get up early anyways - tend to the critters, get breakfast laid, all that," the girl remarks. "You can't imagine how much work there is - all those mouths to feed around the camp!"

Abraxas notes dryly, "That's why civilized people have house elves."

Hattie sticks her tongue out with a laugh, and says, "I must be positively running wild then! We haven't any house elves either. Grandfather and Grandmother Wilkins probably still do. I wouldn't know." She swats at her arm, repelling an insect, and asks Sierra, "You have to do it ALL?"

"Yes, well, it's good that you're coming to our Christmas Party, then. You'll get to see how much better it makes things." Abraxas remarks, to Hattie, more or less ignoring the rest of Sierra's statement as they work their way down the path.

"Well - my mom helps of course," Sierra answers. "But the next oldest," the next oldest girl that is, "is only six. Still, that's old enough for the little things - like seeing to the chickens and gathering the eggs and such," she remarks. "So it does help." She rolls her eyes before adding, "It spoils you - you know. You ought to know how to do things with your hands. The effort it takes. Teaches you real appreciation - maybe even gratitude. There's nothing more honest than a little hard-earned sweat."

"Malfoys do not sweat. Everytime one overheats, a veela gets a blemish." She smiles toward Abraxas, to demonstrate she is only joking. "I don't think he's going to be spoiled. Different people take on different kinds of work that is hard for them. Its good, or else we'd not get to make choices, just following along in someone's brooming slip-stream." Hattie turns about to walk backward a few steps so she can see them both.

Abraxas snorts, "I prefer to think of it as liberating myself for more important work. The Malfoys have always been leaders in the wizarding world. I think that's a bit more important than… milking chickens or whatever it is that you do to the beasts. You think Hattie's father better spends his time healing the sick at Mungo's, or growing eggs?"

Sierra scoffs as he speaks of 'milking chickens.' "Oh, healing the sick," she responds without hesitation. "But that doesn't mean he wouldn't benefit from a single day of real labor. The hospital can spare him for a day. And you too, for sure. You need it desperately. You wouldn't survive an hour in the countryside, on your own, without a wand. It's a little sad."

Hattie laughs into a hand at the image of Leon Wilkins, trying to figure out which end of a chicken to look for eggs under. "We go lots of hours without, being underaged, and none of us have keeled over yet this year. Anyway, I make my own bed and it doesn't hurt me… but I don't deny that its nice that someone cleans up the common room."

"Of course you don't. Because if you had to dust the windowsills, you'd have that much time less for studying herbology or tending your garden. That's why the Headmaster's plan is so brilliant, because it prepares the muggle-borns for meaningful work." Abraxas remarks, as he continues to walk, with the casual bigotry for which he is so well known. "As for surviving without a wand, why would I want to do that? Wandless labor is for muggles and criminals. I'm not afraid of endeavor, or hard work. But magic is the tool that has been honed by generations of Malfoys before me, and it is the one that I intend to excel at. You can walk the cows and saddle the horses yourself if you want to, but it's just a waste of time and takes away from the study and perfection of the magical arts."

"And you're too good for 'meaningful work'?" Sierra responds with a disdainful roll of her eyes. "No one wants to survive without a wand. But if it comes down to it - if you ever find yourself caught in that sort of situation - you sink or you float. It's better to know and not need it, than to be caught in dire straits.

"And you'd see just how much of a 'waste of time' it is if you were suddenly without cream and butter."

Hattie has to work hard at her relentless placative efforts. "I bet that you're splendid at Care of Magical Creatures, and Herbology," she says to Sierra, a sideways way of reminding Abraxas about wizarding work that requires more hand than wand. Not that she looks like she expects it to make a dent. But she's a try-er, Harriet Wilkins is. Trying to keep the peace. "Oh! My book! I left it!" She glances back the way they came, and looks stricken. "I need. And I'll get in trouble if I summon it… Can I catch up at the Three Broomsticks?"

"As I said, my talents lie elsewhere. What makes muggle-borns entitled to all that magic offers anyway? Their parents and grandparents haven't labored to build our world. They haven't done anything except get lucky that somewhere in their family tree is a filthy squib or two. They come in here, and they pollute our world with all their love of muggle things, and their muggle attitudes and blood lust, their complaints about how the muggles are so much better." Abraxas harrumphs, and then stops and tugs on his jumper, "Fine. I'll walk you back, Hattie. Higgins needed to stop at her wagon anyway."

Oh, something Abraxas has said has quite abruptly gotten Sierra's dander up, as she wheels abruptly towards the boy. "Don't you dare say another word about squibs you-" And then she lapses into what may be Shelta - or may be Irish Gaelic - but it's certainly full of invective and ire. She also has her right hand balled dangerously into a fist - which is probably what prompts Hattie to step in between them.

Still furious, Sierra stops ranting long enough to spit at the ground in Abraxas' general direction, before turning her back on him to continue on towards Hogsmeade. That prissy, cowardly, ignorant, worthless prick thinks he has the right to insult the likes of Rylan? What does he know?

Hattie takes hold of Abraxas's sleeve, gently by also firmly turning about. "I'll see you later, Higgins!" she calls to the ANGRY and departing girl, as gaily as saying goodbye on a streetcar. "We can misbehave then! ? Come on then, Abraxas. Its getting dark." She walks quickly. Very very quickly.

"This isn't over, Higgins!" Abraxas says, but he smooths his robes as Hattie takes his elbow and allows her to lead him away, averting disaster for the time being.

"You bet it ain't you-" Yes. Sierra prefers to shout her insults in Shelta. Deal with it.

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