| Details for Forts and Quidditch |
| Summary: | Eoin is building a fort while Donovan seeks out flying practice. |
| Date: | February 4, 1940 |
| Location: | Training Grounds, Hogwarts |
| Related: | — |
| Characters |
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It’s cold outside, and with the sun hiding behind the clouds seeming a bit dark as evening strolls in. Eoin had stepped out of the castle as soon as the last class finished. It was still before dinner, the snow falling around the young boy, who is dressed in a warm robes, scarf, and wool hat covering his hair. His mittened hands work at packing the snow - already there was a nice wall circling around him, left open in the back - as he works at digging down in the snow. Occasionally Eoin glances up when another student passes close to his fort, but returns shortly after to his task.
It is not without cause that Donovan is known as the Giant Lion, he has reached what is likely to be his full height, six and a half feet off the ground. His blonde hair just barely peeks out from under the grey knit hat he has on. His older broom thrown over one shoulder as he makes his way through a set of footsteps too far apart to be any student's but his own. A well worn path from somewhere on the grounds that is apparently near the Gryffindor common room. He whistles softly to himself as he makes his way to his daily broom practice. Others might complain about the cold, but a true champion will venture out in any clime.
The tall blond boy glances over at the fort for a moment, before deciding that it's not likely to interfere with his routines.
Eoin digs down into the snow, using the loose snow by packing it into closing up the wall. He does look up, a quick glance towards Donovan, before looking back to his fort making. Except that he lifts his head again, locking his deep green eyes on the tall seventh year. He blinks, shifting in the snow as he shakes his head, unconsciously slipping his hand to pack some snow against the white wall. The child doesn’t like to bother the older students - why would they want to be bothered by the young ones? - but he watches Donovan with a keen interest as he recalls his face. A gasp escapes him when he realises that he’s remembering seeing the seventh year in the quidditch match and a grin automatically tugs out across his face. “Um,” Eoin lets out quietly. His hand smacks more snow against the wall of snow, his gaze only briefly looking to it, before returning it onto Donovan. “Hello,” he offers.
Donovan indeed doesn't seem pleased by the interruption the light isn't going to hold out forever after all. But he looks down, and then down some more at the firstie. "Goodness, they make 'em any smaller than you?" His accent is still the thickish Welsh of his upbringing although his years at Hogwarts have evened it out considerably.
Eoin recoils slightly as he notices the seventh year’s look. He bites down nervously on his bottom lip, looking back to the fort as he barely pauses from packing the snow. He shifts uncomfortably as he lifts his head again. As he tries to find a position to kneel in - he doesn’t seem bothered by the chill of his damp robes - he blushes at the comment, though that’s hidden by the fact that his face is already flushed with the cold air against his face. “Sorry,” he says quietly, as though it was his fault he was a small first year. He looks back to his fort as he packs more snow into the wall, slowly shrinking the opening. After a moment Eoin looks back up, watching Donovan with an eager look as he eyes the broom in the other boy’s possession. “Is that a Silver Arrow?”
Ahh, if there was ever a few words to set Donovan at ease with someone it's mentioning Quidditch, brooms, and the phrase: "Here, eat this." As the firstie mentions his broom the big seventh year smiles fondly at the broom, "Aye that she is." It's no longer, 'new' no broom of Donovan's would last 'new' for long, but it's well taken care of and heavily used. "Modified her a bit myself. She's a bit faster than the normal." He appraises the little Hufflepuff for a moment, "You play?"
Eoin returns his attention to his fort after asking his question, focusing on closing up the wall, clapping a hand against the solid snow. His focus is heavy on building and there is only silence after Donovan’s question. But Eoin did hear the seventh year, and he blinks as he lifts his head with an, “Oh,” as if just realising that the Gryffindor had, indeed, replied. “Modified,” he echoes thoughtfully, eyeing the broom with interest. “The school brooms don’t fly too badly. No,” he adds in, answering his question with a slow shake of his head. “Well, not officially,” he tacks on in explanation. “I like to fly; I joined the broom club so that I can do more flying. I hope I can play eventually. You were really good in the game,” he compliments eagerly, sounding like quite a fan.
"Well, we always do well against the snakes. Always just a bit more satisfactory to grind their little heads into the dust like the bible says." Donovan answers with a grin, clearly happy about the team's performance as a whole during the game. "Yeah, they're not terrible, just never know when one might not be quite up to scratch you know?" He confides in the younger kid. But then again, Donovan is in a league where a half a second of climb faster matters. "Broom club is good, you get up on one at home?" He knows most wizards do, and judging by how well he was at riding the broom he couldn't be anything but at least a half-blood.
Looking up from patting the walls of his fort, Eoin watches Donovan for a moment as he thinks, blinking. He shifts a little, perhaps a little bit nervously, and looks back to building the snow fort. “It was an interesting game,” he decides, thick lips twitching into a smile as he builds before pursing, concentrating on his fort as the walls begin to connect, leaving the snow at the base looser and unpacked. He grins at the question, nodding his head as he looks up to Donovan. “I ride at home sometimes.” The boy returns his focus onto the fort, but he replies after a bit. “I don’t get to play a lot of quidditch though.”
Donovan glances about for a moment, considering his options. "Well, I need to do a few drills, but if you're interested, go grab one of the house brooms and we'll have us a little impromptu broom club activity. Never can get a proper practice in this weather without at least someone to fly about."
The wall forms together as Eoin pats it solidly before his attention turns to the previous area where he dug down a bit. He blinks, looking up briefly - a quick glance at Donovan - before stooping his head behind the wall. An entrance appears in the base of the fort, and Eoin pokes his head through, his gaze trailing up to Donovan as he looks genuinely interested. “Yea?” He looks down, weighing the idea thoughtfully. Practicing with a seventh year? His excitement surfaces even as he feels a little nervous. Could he even keep up with the Gryffindor? But the boy nods his head eagerly, crawling out of the fort and picking himself up to his feet. “Okay.” He regards Donovan and his broom for a second before he whirls away, moving as quickly as he can through the snow to seize a broom.
Donovan watches the little firstie run off and smiles, wondering if he was ever so small and eager. With that he puts his broom between his legs and running a hand down the shaft with a smile he kicks off climbing quickly before doing a few dive bombing runs at the deck trying to drag his fingers across the snow during each dip. He'll continue this and other maneuvers until Eoin returns doing them at speed without time for breaks between.
Eoin moves quickly to grab himself a broom, eager to practice with the seventh year. It takes him a bit, but the boy eventually returns, huffing with his face perhaps even redder. Apparently he hadn’t slowed down to walk for even a second - though he isn’t a very fast runner, he did run the entire way, and only now as his eyes find Donovan up in the air does he slow, breathing deeply as he tries in vain to catch his breath, clutching one of the school’s Silver Arrow’s. He shifts nervously on his feet, his eyes widening slightly as he watches the Gryffindor, waiting uncertainly for the older student’s okay before mounting up. While he waits, Eoin’s attention turns onto the broom, examining the broom.
Donovan seeing the Huffie come back does a last loop-de-loop and settles down on the ground his broom leaning against him. The older boy doesn't seem more than just a little out of breath, "Alright, get up there and we'll have some snowballs chase you." He says with a wicked grin, getting his wand out and pointing it at the snow while flicking it about to create two bludger sized pieces of soft snow.