InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "They're all wasted!"

Edmund Urquhart. (violencing) wrote in buggerallrpg,
@ 2009-09-19 14:39:00

Entry tags:

edmund urquhart, lillian mclaggen

WHO: Eddie Urquhart and Lillian Bush.
WHAT: WHO KNOWS.
WHEN: Late. After curfew...ish.
WHERE: Corridors and empty classrooms.
RATING: PG-13 for Eddie's severe case of potty-mouth.

On a good day, it was usually around four hours or so before Eddie started feeling the tugging in his subconscious that he needed something beyond the satisfaction of a sandwich or the scratching of his quill against parchment. Once the end of classes came, it usually took all of ten minutes before he found somewhere to charm a spare chair into a more comfortable one in an empty room somewhere, and light up. And if there wasn’t any practice or anywhere he needed to be? Eddie didn’t care if he wasted all his time, before and after dinner, in an empty classroom, smoking and listening to music on his portable wireless. It was a good way to pass the time, and he wasn’t the type to care much for curfew, so it began and ended on his own terms.

Not tonight, though.

With his wireless in one back pocket and his packet of smokes in his other, Eddie walked in his usual lazy stride through the corridors of fourth level. It wasn’t that exciting, but he didn’t mind walking. It was better than leaning against a wall and waiting for Lillian to exit the Ravenclaw commons with nothing but his toothpick to save him from complete boredom, as he’d been doing not five minutes beforehand. With his thumbs tucked into the leather of his belt, he led the way through the halls with visible, sleepy nonchalance, that didn't require conversation. The toothpick was literally thrown away as he replaced it with a cigarette.

And he stopped only when he reached the door of one of the unused classrooms. His arm swung out and he pushed it open. “Bush,” he tilted his head and gestured for her follow him in, turning and taking slow, backward steps inside the dark dust-village. “In here. Probably not a good fucking idea to walk around with this thing lit, right?”

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mclagg
2009-09-19 05:35 am UTC (link)

Damn Eddie Urquhart and his damn journal banter were the two things Lillian could blame for her being out of bed so late. She had finished all her homework (what little had been assigned by the professors who weren't so willing to give this weekend's Quidditch players a break) before dinner, and had settled into bed with her journal and the current book she was reading for the Book Club. She could have just kept her journal closed on the nightstand and read until sleep found her, but as fate would have it, the book was a piece of rubbish. Which led to snooping in her journal, which led to continuing a conversation with Eduardo the Terrible, which somehow led to her agreeing to meet him for a midnight stroll.

It wasn't the concept of being out past curfew that was intriguing to Lillian. Instead it was the reason Eddie wanted her company over the countless others he could have picked along for his little midnight smoke. Smoking was an atrocious habit, and that, combined with the fact that it was Eddie - the boy who dubbed her "Bush" - motivated Lillian to take her precious time in hauling her arse out of her warm bed, down the stairs, and out of the common room. She didn't bother changing out of her pajamas, just simply threw on a hoodie and pulled her curly hair back. Urquhart or not, Eddie was still a boy, and she had no intention of going for a walk looking like a cavewoman, for crying out loud!

After a bit more fussing, Lillian finally met up with Eddie in the corridor outside the common room. He had nothing on his person but his sodding toothpick and that bored look of arrogance, to which Lillian silently responded to with a haughty expression of her own before following his lead down the halls. Their walk was short-lived when they halted in front of one of Hogwarts' many empty classrooms. Lillian glanced apprehensively into the dark room, then crossed her arms and decided she'd take her chances following Eddie inside.

"Mmm," she commented sarcastically. "Cozy." There was barely even as much as a brief raise of the eyebrows at the mention of her new nickname, but Lillian narrowed her eyes noticeably at Eddie's last comment and soon her lips were curled into an odd little smirk. "Right. Big bad Eduardo afraid of professors and prefects?" She snorted softly and hummed momentarily to herself before taking a seat upon what she could only assume was a desk or table of some sort.

"Do you always smoke your cancer sticks in god-awful dark places like this? Or did I win the lotto on creepy walking destinations?" Her question came out a lot louder than she had intended, causing her to flinch inwardly at the way her voice slightly echoed in the room.

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violencing
2009-09-19 06:14 am UTC (link)

“Yes, you won the fucking lottery. So speak quietly, for fuck's sakes.”

As was typical of his mind, it inwardly fired a thousand catty replies that he could’ve used to answer Lillian’s last question; ’no, I usually smoke them on Ogden’s fucking desk.’ being his favorite. But, deciding quite simply that he was too lethargic to bother initiating an argument over something as small (and adequate, at least for him) as the location, Eddie’s attention remained on his cigarette. While she walked to front table, he moved immediately for the desk in the front row, center, a place he wouldn’t have otherwise been caught dead if class had actually been in session. Eddie Urquhart belonged in the back row, to his own decree as well as others. Lowering his chin, his hand disappeared into the pocket of his dragonhide jacket to produce his lighter. Similar to a muggle’s zippo, but all wizarding engineering; Eddie doubted muggles were smart enough to create lighters with blue flames that required no fuel to run. The spark lit the tip of his ‘cancer-stick’, as Lillian had put it, and he sucked in a deep, deep drag.

What was he doing? He had a vague idea, but hadn’t done anything yet. “Not afraid, just can’t be fucked,” he belatedly responded to her earlier remark in his usual, throaty monotone, his lips contorting into a lazy scowl as he took another inhalation of his smoke. He let it hang there, set carefully between his lips in the corner of his mouth as he spoke, as his fists rested in the pockets of his trousers. He eyed the floor disagreeably before allowing his stare to cross the distance between the two of them. Squinting in the dark, he peered her over in his secretive way, looking, but with little suggestion as to where or why. “Are you in your pajamas?” he eventually asked, and his shoulders bounced slightly with a snicker. He let out a quiet, scoffing laugh. “You should’ve worn your fucking slippers too. But only if they were pink, or had fucking animal faces, then you’d have looked a pretty fucking piece.”

His left hand pulled out of his pocket so that he could finally remove the cigarette from his mouth, locking it between his forefinger and thumb. The plume of his most recent breath exited his lips and nostrils in an unhurried, winding trail of white. He cleared his throat, then after a short silence, let his shoulders shrug. “Take your shit out.”

Using his hand, smoke secured between his long fingers, Eddie made a vague circle around his head. By shit, he’d meant hair.

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mclagg
2009-09-19 07:38 pm UTC (link)

Lillian emitted a quiet gasp. How rude! Surely if she kept talking the way she had been talking, some professor or perhaps even the caretaker would be able to hear their conversation two corridors down, so she begrudgingly obeyed by pressing her lips together in a thin line and shutting up. With shoulders arched and arms hugging her sweatshirt closer to her thin frame, she glared reproachfully at Eddie. His statement alone caused no offense, but the way it was laced with cuss words certainly did. All this boy ever did was swear! Fuck this and fuck that, fucking fuck yourself, and let's fucking go for a walk, Bush. Without really meaning for it to, "Well, fuck," slipped past her lips and settled in the dusty air around her. If she'd been a few years younger she would have blushed, but instead she just made a sour face and made a mental note that "fuck" was not the curse word for her. Eddie could have it.

Observing someone light up and take drags off a cigarette as if their life depended on it was nothing new to Lillian. Still, she cast a scornful look at Eddie as he did so, a look that never made it across the dark room and was interrupted by the need to cough. She stifled that need as the drifting smoke from his cigarette filled her lungs, then successfully averted her attention from her intolerance to smoking to his desire to not be caught. Honestly, what did he have that was so important to lose should he "be fucked"? Quidditch? As far as she knew, his little brother had gotten into more trouble than the rest of Slytherin combined and somehow still managed to secure his spot on the Quidditch team. One cigarette and one detention (a well-deserved one, she thought bitterly) was hardly going to harm him. Lillian opened her mouth, sarcastic retort on the tip of her tongue, but was cut off by the mention of slippers.

"Slippers? Please, I'm not five years old, Eduardo." Lillian was aware that her pink pajama bottoms were barely visible in the dim light of the classroom, but upon their mention she still cast a self-conscious glance down at their silk material. She frowned. They were cute! But obviously he didn't think so. "And for your information, my slippers are blue, and they certainly don't have animal faces on them. They don't even fit me anymore," she snapped in triumphant tones. Even in the dark it was quite apparent that in the topic change from slippers to shit, Eddie was referring to her hair, which warranted the self-aware raising of one hand to the top of her head. "My hair? No. Why? It's too dark in here, you can't even see it to make fun of it, thanks very much."

The table she was sitting on was becoming increasingly hard and uncomfortable under her bum, causing her to squirm a bit. Without warning she hopped up and cautiously crossed the space between desks, then made herself comfortable on the one next to him. Welcome or not, she put her feet up and crossed her legs Indian style, staring expectantly up at Eddie, fully prepared for whatever witty remark he had next.

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violencing
2009-09-20 01:56 am UTC (link)

The flesh under Eddie’s eyes pushed upward, cynically deepening his squint, when Lillian declared that she wasn’t a five-year-old. As if he didn’t believe it. A lot of people forgot the importance of expressions; Eddie on the other hand enjoyed having the ability to argue something without the use of words. For a boy who got aggressively annoyed when he was surrounded by people who tended to talk, talk, talk all the time, not having to speak to get his point through was a handy skill to have. His latest inhalation seemed coated his vocal chords as he murmured in a low grunt, “And that’s not my name. Do I look fucking Spanish to you? Call me Urquhart, if you have to.”

When she refused to take her hair out, Eddie didn’t release much of a response, but his eyebrows bounced slowly in surrender. Fine then, they seemed to say, as he watched her through his slanted glare, shuffling from her table to the desk beside him. His posture comfortable and lazy, Eddie tilted his head forward so he could still regard her with a sidelong look. The hard material of his jacket crinkled as, after a moment of consideration, he stood up and adjusted himself to sit on the side facing Lillian’s desk with the same visible ease.

He placed his cigarette back in the corner of his mouth for another puff, but considering the depleted distance, he had the politeness to momentarily turn his head when he let the breath out. He didn’t care much if Lillian had to deal with the smoke as a scent or as a harmful substance to her lungs, but Eddie only blew smoke in people’s faces when it mattered. And taking her strong suggestions that she was definitely a non-smoker, he didn’t feel like having to deal with her superficial whines about his addiction.

“It’s not that fucking dark,” he said with a scowl. Recognizing her cautiousness to be near him, he remained slouching and physically unobtrusive as his left leg stretched out to kick the wooden poles that kept Lillian’s desk upright, turning it around to face him. With the angle edited, Eddie was able to regard the girl directly, which he did without pause or shyness. “Unless you don’t like your hair anymore,” he mused with a bored snigger. “We could always cut it off. Figure out how you’d look bald.” A moment passed before he gave a tired sigh, and asked, "Why'd you come? Bored?"

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mclagg
2009-09-20 03:36 am UTC (link)

If he got to call her "Bush", then it was only fair that Lillian get to call him something, and Eduardo seemed to fit the bill rather perfectly. An annoying little diminutive of his given name, something that no one else called him, but still nothing too severe or harsh that was going to make him want to stab her repeatedly with an instrument from the Potions classroom. Truthfully Lillian feared any sort of violent backlash spawned from their exchange of insults. She feared it for the same reason that she approached Eddie with a cautious demeanor whenever she was forced into face-to-face interactions with him. He was Eddie Urquhart, duh, and the reputation that went along with that name justified Lillian's apprehension. But did she fear his reaction to her calling him Eduardo? No. "Actually, yes. You do look Spanish. I think it's in the eyes," she declared slowly, pointing to his eyes with two fingers. A genuine smile spread like molasses. "Olé, papi! If you got it, flaunt it." She bit down on her tongue to stop the flow of overenthusiastic chatter escaping her lips, preventing her from saying the last part of her thought - Spaniards were gorgeous, after all!

That cigarette hanging from the corner of Eddie's mouth, however, wasn't gorgeous. For a brief moment Lillian considered snatching it away from him and the severity of the repercussions for doing so. She assumed he had a full pack stashed away somewhere and she could only predict he'd just light up another, leaving her with a lit cigarette between her fingers. Would she smoke it herself? Probably not. She'd tried it before and hated it, but the term "social smoker" popped into her brain. Doubtful that he'd take her seriously as a smoker anyway, especially after she had very clearly turned up her nose at it. Lillian was many things, but a smoker was not one of them. And there was no way in hell she was going to knowingly turn herself into a hypocrite just to win the approval of one of Slytherin's finest.

She squeezed her eyes shut and ceased to inhale as smoke drifted into her little area of breathing. Not on purpose, she figured, but she made no further fuss. Eyes now fully used to her much darker surroundings, Lillian could make out the details of Eddie's face and not just the outline of his rather tall frame. Wrinkles formed on her forehead and she chewed absently on the inside of her cheek, her attention focused on him and his odd fixation with her hair. Honestly, it was silly. She was guilty of being vain, and she probably spent more time styling her hair than most girls, but it was just hair. It was curly, dirt blonde hair. And at the moment it was probably frizzy from being pulled up into a loose ponytail since after dinner. Lillian shrugged, groaning a little, and finally reached up to undo the ponytail. "I love my hair, you twat, don't you dare touch it." The curls fell down and around her shoulders as she slipped the ponytail around her tiny wrist. "I would be fucking gorgeous bald too." Upon realization that his nasty swearing habit had somehow rubbed off on her, she paused, hand run halfway through her hair, and made a face.

She quickly recovered by lowering her hand and answering his last question with another question. Chin in hands, elbows on knees, she leaned toward him. "Why'd you ask me? Lonely?"

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violencing
2009-09-20 04:57 am UTC (link)

“Language.” After years of having fuck, and its variants, as constant members of his everyday language, Eddie noticed when people who ordinarily didn’t swear became loose-lipped from being around him. He noticed Lillian’s slip-ups and, still picky about his battles, didn’t mind chiding her for it. In fact, the corner of his mouth, the one further from the filter of his cigarette, seemed to rise at the girl’s impressionable vocabulary. His amusement, if that was what it was, spread through him from the swearwords as much as the reference to Spaniards. Eddie wasn’t the sort of guy who stared at himself in the mirror longer than he had to, but he took pride in knowing exactly what he was at any time, and that was hardly ever ugly. Worse for wear, sure. Rough around the edges, yes. But not ugly. “Not tan enough,” was all he said to express his disagreement with her judgment, his dark eyes following the fingers that had pointed at them to her lap before returning to her face.

He didn’t care much about hair, but he took some interest in finding the things that people treasured most about themselves. Eddie figured Lillian took a lot of pride in her hair as an extension of her looks, so, sure, he enjoyed taking an interest in it in any kind of negative light. Why negative? Well, it was more amusing that way, Eddie supposed. It was a reflex of his to break down what people liked most, just like how it was another person’s reflex to lather compliments. He was quiet as she tidied her freed mane with her hand, burning the tip of his smoke down a few more centimeters, passed its mid-way point. “Why would I touch it?” He didn’t understand her fear to that point. He was physically aggressive, but not toward women. The most she’d get would be a verbal lashing. His tone remained unflappable as the hilarity slowly seeped from his features, and his hand lowered so he could extinguish the depleting cig against the side of his desk. He flicked the butt away with his middle finger, only to take out a fresh one from his back-pocket.

“I felt like it,” he answered her question evenly with a considerate purse of his lips. He stared at her openly, knowing well that she must’ve found something about him to study herself, but it wasn’t in his nature to see that as strange. They were sitting in an empty classroom, after curfew, it’d have been weirder if he wasn’t looking at her. Or she, him. “Do me a favour...” he said, at length, before holding his hands up like a lazy criminal caught red-handed. He glanced back and forth between her hands and her face, very pensively, before he began to lean forward as well, leaving the edge of his perch. “... keep still.” Eddie wasn’t worried. He could take his share of punches, that was the truth, but still.

He stretched slowly across the distance between the desks, too confident to dip his gaze as a gentleman could’ve done, to invade Lillian’s personal space. He purposefully kept his head angled too far to the side for her to think that he was going to kiss her, although he did eye her mouth at one point, but it was sufficiently close that when he leaned over far enough, he was able to tilt his head slightly to the side and breathe in the air close to the curls she liked so much.

One breath, and then he leaned back. “Put this in your mouth, but don’t light it,” he said, following another pause. He held his hand out, cigarette positioned with the filter pointing her. “It’s bad for you.”

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mclagg
2009-09-20 05:37 am UTC (link)

This much was true. Eddie was not tan at all. He was as Caucasian as herself, with her fair skin that burnt so easily in the sun. The same skin that was quickly turning a smidgen too red in the cheeks after making the mistake of swearing in his presence. Blushing in shame was habit. As a child her mother would critique her, claiming it to be unladylike, and her father would simply glare daggers at her until she blushed and got teary-eyed, muttering apologies. There was no reason for her to cry or apologise now, but she uttered a silent thanks that the two of them were not sitting in broad daylight. The last thing she needed was Eddie teasing her for blushing. She chose not to say anything else, not about her slip-up and sudden transformation into a potty mouth, and nothing more was said about Eddie's non-existent Spanish heritage. His disregard for her Spanish nickname for him merely meant that she would have to find a new one, but she would not bend to his wishes to just call him Urquhart. Perhaps Urq. Mentally she flipped over Urqy and stored the new name away in her memory.

Joke or not, Eddie had previously mentioned putting out his cigarette in her hair, which had triggered her to go into self-defense mode. She occasionally raised a few fingers to push her bangs away from her face, tucking them gracefully behind her ear, and she made it a point to keep a close watch on that burning cigarette of his. As if burning it was not bad enough, he had mentioned cutting it. It had taken her six years to get her hair this length, with the exception of a few trims (necessities in proper haircare!), and she was definitely not letting anyone, especially Eddie, near it with a pair of scissors. Not even a wand.

Shaking her hair back with a slight nod of the head, Lillian narrowed her hazel eyes at Eddie and frowned in obvious frustration. "So you felt like it. It still gives off the impression that you want something. Especially when you could have dragged anyone else out of bed to smoke with you. Your brother, perhaps? Or one of your Slytherin...mates..." She trailed off as he raised his hands and commanded her to sit still. "What are you...doing?" The boy's sudden movement had caused a flurry of alarmed thoughts, many of which led to the visual image of the wand stuffed into the back pocket of her pajama bottoms, but she kept her hands in front of her. Adrenaline had caused her heartbeat to rise, but curiosity lowered it just as fast. Lillian studied Eddie's movements carefully, gaze following his face as he titled his head to the side.

Did she have something in her hair? Or was he just luring her into a false sense of security before he yanked an entire section of her beloved curls out? Her fingers fluttered anxiously in her lap, and the muscles in her arm contracted, readying for that swift movement to grab her wand, but then Eddie leaned away and Lillian felt herself relax. Her eyebrows automatically arched. Did he just...sniff her? Confusion written all over her face, she reached out and open palm and grasped the cigarette between two fingers. "Why?" was all she asked, refusing to place the thing between her lips.

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violencing
2009-09-20 02:06 pm UTC (link)

If Eddie had been aware of Lillian’s fears about her hair, his face would’ve probably screwed up into his most incredulous sneer of the day. All he saw from the time he was leaning over her neck to the time he slouched back against his desk again, was a girl that was extremely suspicious. Nothing strange to him. Considering the situation, he’d have probably had an animated reaction if a virtual stranger decided to smell his hair, not that there’d be much for them to actually discover beyond a trace of soap and his favorite wax. “Saying that I asked you here because I want something implies that I had planned it out before I did it,” Eddie reasoned, letting his voice sink back into nonchalance and bitterness. “I didn’t.” It clearly irritated him that Lillian was bringing up potential motives, regardless of how abnormal their circumstances were. He usually complained at anything she ever had to say on the journals and had avoided finding himself in close physical proximity for lengthy periods of time up until now. “Women are the ones that do that sort of shit. Not every time, but a lot of the time. Me, not so much. I deal with shit as it comes.”

He doubted that she would take his words as factual, since dramatic girls had a habit of believing radical ideas... and ‘Bush’ was definitely a dramatic girl from what he could put together. However, it felt better to verbally defend himself than to simply scowl or frown, as much as the implication of him being some kind of strategist seemed to not truly offend or bother him at all, since he was still there. His face had barely changed, remaining neutral with his usual frown of consideration smacked on his forehead, as he studied her fingers wrapped around his cigarette. It amused him when non-smokers held cigs, mimicking celebrities from their magazines and posters. “What do you mean, why? There is no reason why,” he countered with a lazier version of Lillian’s pitch, matching her petulance effortlessly, “Because I asked. Is that a reason? Does that fucking count? Or how’s about because there’s nothing else to do? This room is fucking empty. What else do you have to do, knit? Look at the fag: you put it far back between your lips that you can feel the tip against your gums, got it? That way, when you talk, it doesn’t fall out. Understand?” He held still a beat, then glanced away, disinterested. “Good, you learned a new skill.”

As always, he barely reacted to the mention of his brother. It was Peter who felt compelled to distance himself from his siblings; Eddie on the other hand didn’t feel it was necessary. But that was the good thing about being the eldest; he was the one who cast the shadow, not the one who had to find a way to escape it. “My brother and I have separate lives; we don’t need to be on each other’s ass all the time. I’d rather smoke alone than have him watching me; I don’t really see the point in that. And my friends, I’ll see them when I get back.” He leaned his head to the side and ruffled the back of his hair with his fingers, messing the haphazard texture all the more.

He seemed to enjoy lapsing into long silences, which weren’t uncomfortable to him at all. His choppy sentences faded to black again as he simply sat there, watching the journey of his misplaced cigarette and pulling his hand down from his hair to give the side of his neck a tired rub. When he ended the quiet, he did so with a shrug and a shadowy stare that bit into Lillian’s face with new and confusing appeal. He reached out with his arms, holding the corners of her desk with his hands, and pulled the whole thing forward a bit, enough that if his legs weren’t stretched out and Lillian wasn’t sitting up, their knees would’ve probably collided.

“You smell like apples and soap,” he told her with a snort. “And smoke. You going to the Halloween thing?”

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mclagg
2009-09-21 03:45 am UTC (link)

Lillian stared at the fag held between her index and middle fingers for the longest time as if trying to compute the solution to a logarithm in a calculus class, until finally she shrugged and did as Eddie instructed. She swept all of her frizzed curls over her right shoulder with a free hand and with minimal hesitation placed the fag between her lips, casting an arrogant glance of triumph at Eddie. New skill or not, it was certainly a foreign feeling that she had no intentions of getting too comfortable with in the near future. Nevertheless, the cigarette stayed in place in the corner of her mouth as she spoke. "Congratulations, then. On teaching me a new skill and separation from your brother." There was a little nod of approval followed by a wink. Briefly Lillian's thoughts centered on Pamela and William and the lack of similarity between her siblings and herself. She was the only true McLaggen of the trio, Pamela and William were Zellers at heart. With the remains of a pensive frown on her face, Lillian added, "Individualism is paramount. I strongly dislike your brother anyway."

Silence filled what little space was left between them, interrupted only by the sounds of Lillian shifting in her place upon the desktop. She was trying her hardest not to let her legs fall asleep, and despite the excellent topics in conversation, her naturally antsy body wasn't used to sitting in one place for too long. Pulling somewhat of a U-turn in their conversation, Lillian's attention backtracked to Eddie's miniature rant about women and their motives. "Okay, then. If you're such a smartarse expert on women, care to venture a guess at my motives? Why am I here?" Unwilling to bear the alien feeling of the cigarette between her lips and even more concerned with the way it probably appeared to Eddie on the outside, Lillian removed the fag and twirled it slowly between her fingers.

Her stance returned to normal - chin in left hand, propped up by the bony elbow resting on her knee, resulting in hunched shoulders and a slouched back. Years of motherly critique sent the command "Sit up straight!" through her brain, but instead of obeying, Lillian slouched further. A flattered grin accompanied Eddie's second to last statement, and if it was meant to be an insult, it was lost on her. She giggled once, a short, breathy giggle better classified as a snicker but still girly in nature, then scooted forward so that her face was just inches from Eddie's. "You smell like smoke and cologne and...a boy," she concluded in a soft whisper, as if she was telling him some deep, dark secret.

And then she leaned back an inch or so, flipped her hair in place of a shrug and replied, voice quieter and lacking in the enthusiasm that could be expected to go along with the subject of a Halloween ball. "Dunno. I've got a costume. I told Ags I'd go with her if no one asked me."

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violencing
2009-09-21 03:44 pm UTC (link)

Eddie’s response was minimal when Lillian spoke of Peter. He was as vulnerable to people disliking his brother as a stone wall was to pebbles, barely surprised or offended that there was someone else who wasn’t on his younger brother’s list of fans. It’d be hypocritical for Eddie to have a problem with Peter being hated when he wasn’t exactly Mr. Popularity either, but still, he was responsible for his younger sibling when it mattered. And when he could be bothered. “If you say so,” he released as a vague gesture of agreement, “It’s not a separation, it’s just... whatever it is. He’s my brother, not my Siamese twin. I only wipe his ass when I have to.” His eyebrows lifted faintly as he noticed their enclosed proximity, but he didn’t move. If he’d never been in close quarters with a young woman before then, he probably would’ve, but that certainly wasn’t the case. He hardly seemed to find anything strange about it at all, his eyes lowering to study her lips when his smoke found a temporary home inside them. Eddie hadn’t done anything to deserve this level of familiarity, but no one looking in could’ve ever guessed it. “And you hardly know him.”

He had made a good point, but Eddie kept it to himself that he doubted that even if Lillian knew Peter better that her opinion of him would be any higher. She wasn’t the type. And he didn’t even have to ask Peter (and he never would: he didn’t need a second opinion from anyone) to know that his perspective on the Ravenclaw was probably equally unflattering. His shoulders rolled forward as some of his weight transferred onto his hands that lingered on the edge of Lillian’s desk, his chin turning sideways in thought. With slight hesitation, he gave a tired sigh. He didn’t want to answer her question, and another minute passed before he found the energy to bother, speaking slowly and dryly. “Because you were intrigued at the invitation. Bickering is close to flirting for you, and we bicker. It probably annoys you, but not that much. I’m guessing it’s been a while since you’ve been anywhere with a guy you weren’t related to, or who didn't wear glasses.” He eyed the fag in her fingers, ignoring the impulse to reach for his lighter when the voice in his head began to complain that one hadn’t been enough. His chin had to lower in order for him to see it, so the shadow cast over his eyes from the hair that fell over his forehead gave him an impish gleam when his stare rose back to meet hers. “And you don’t think I’m ugly.”

The crooked grin reappeared as he contemplated that thought, and it almost spread into a full smirk when she described his odour. “What a relief,” he mumbled sarcastically when she added the boy part, however all he gave her plans for the Halloween dance was a bland “uh huh”, suppressing the urge to scowl when she name-dropped Agatha, one of the few girls he could say he’d have rather never seen naked. As she pulled back, Eddie’s hand rose from the table, his finger wrapping around the ends of one of her curls; he tugged gently on it, trying to guide her back to where she’d been before as he also pushed slightly forward.

He was going to kiss her. He didn’t have the shyness to pretend he wasn’t as he stepped onto his feet, inclining his face so there were only centimetres between their mouths and he had to expertly tilt his face to the side to avoid bumping her nose. “I’m not going." As he murmured, Eddie was aware of the warmth of his breath when it bounced off her skin, and then he shifted. If he was going to kiss anything, apparently he decided that her neck was a better location, and he moved slowly enough for her to stop him if she wished. If she didn’t argue or shrink from him, her jaw would’ve received the light graze of his mouth, just as her fingers felt the slide of his cigarette as he took it back from her. It took a moment, but then he began to pull away. “You should ask Nott. Wear the rest of his Quidditch uniform. Grunt.” He placed the cig in his mouth, nudging it into the corner with his tongue, and snorted. “Make sure Agatha’s costume stays on. No one needs to hear the oh-fuck-I’m-naked-wail again.”

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mclagg
2009-09-25 04:03 am UTC (link)

Peter Urquhart was both better and worse than his brother in the most extreme ways, at least based on what Lillian had gathered about the boy. He was far cuter than Eddie in the sense that he was the younger brother and he almost made a person want to ruffle his hair for being such a naughty boy. But at the same time, he was horrible and incredibly daft because he never learned from the outrageous mistakes he made, such as locking people in closets for days on end. This was unlike Eddie, as far as Lillian was concerned, because no matter what he was doing, Eddie seemed to always keep his arse in check. Or out of sight of authority, anyway. Despite all of this pro-con reasoning, Lillian wouldn't have bothered to get to know Peter if someone paid her to. Well, maybe if there was money involved, but there wasn't. And this led to Eddie's next valid point.

That the more interesting - more interest to her, at least - Urquhart brother was sitting here in a dark classroom with her, just barely an inch from her face. She processed his little analysis of her motives and actions, biting on her lower lip all the while. It was true, Ravenclaw really had slim pickings when it came to compatible company of the male persuasion, but this was Hogwarts. And whenever Lillian wanted to flirt, she could simply run down to the library or the Great Hall or up to the Astronomy Tower to see Professor Fancourt. She didn't need Eddie for that. Her mind wandered briefly to Fancourt and if Eddie could read minds, he'd have heard the words 'Sweet, fit, handsome Professor Fancourt.' Two blinks brought her back to Earth. "No..." she started cautiously, trying to cast the impression that he had been wrong about her. "I suppose I don't find you unattractive. Ugly's such a huge label to brand someone with. Mainly I was just wondering what the hell you wanted."

She shrugged. "So yes. Intrigued." Her eyelids fluttered shut when Eddie's finger intertwined itself in one of her golden ringlets. She felt his breath near her lips, then her neck, and as quickly as she realized exactly what he was attempting to initiate, he was leaning away from her once more. Eyes still closed, she sighed, clearly irritated. "She said she was moving on from that. Assholes like you apparently don't want to make it easy for her," she spat fiercely, a flicker of Gryffindor-like compassion rearing its head at the insult of her closest friend. Silence crept into the room, save their quiet exhales, and Lillian grasped to save the conversation from sinking into angry tension. She reached her now cigarette-less under Eddie's jacket and clutched the fabric of his shirt, giving it a little tug.

"Nott'll never go with me unless he gets to do the asking. And he won't ask," she explained, her voice growing softer as she spoke. "But you could go. Might not be as bad as you think." Her fingers drummed lightly on his stomach and then, inevitably, words fell out of her mouth before she properly weighed their consequences. "You could take me," she added. It wasn't a question, it wasn't a command, just a suggestion given to him in the weirdest of ways.

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violencing
2009-09-25 05:17 am UTC (link)

Eddie couldn’t read minds, but he recognised a lot more with body-language and speech patterns than people gave him credit for. Patience wasn’t an Urquhart trait, but to have been impatient as Lillian was finding a way to dismiss his assumptions would’ve implied that he was somehow inactive when that definitely wasn’t the case. She found her footing on coy ground as he remained standing, still and tall, mauling over the little things that her noncommittal replies might’ve been camouflaging. Despite her suggestion that he was wrong in some of his theories, Eddie’s expression and air of unfazed certainty went unchanging. He knew what he believed and he had already described some of it; and nothing she had said had changed his mind. He didn’t feel the temptation to say so, an argument of ’no, I don’t’ ‘yes, you do’ made his temple ache just to imagine it.

“Generous of you,” he remarked neutrally, when his comment about his looks came and passed. More of his hair that fell forward, over his forehead and eyes, as he remained standing with the angle of his face set on a downward angle. If he’d cared more, perhaps Eddie would’ve flicked his head back like a dog in order to clear his face or used one of his own freed hands, but he didn’t. Although his fingers did shortly rise to the side of his skull, it was to ruffle the side of his hair, not adjust it, as his gaze wandered over her shoulder to some of the other dusty pieces of furniture that occupied the room. Edmund Urquhart was a lot of things, but a pretty-boy wasn’t one of them. Before he had a chance to lower his arm, the tone of the conversation changed completely when she took offence to his sarcasm finding a victim in Agatha Higgs.

No grand reaction from Eddie came from the lashing of Lillian’s sharp words, unsurprisingly. In fact, he didn’t seem to react at all; his hand stalled against the patch of hair at the nap of his neck, and his eyes locked on a faded poster on the far wall. It took a couple beats, and then he shifted, casually lowering his limb and turning a dark look back to her. He didn’t move, but he regarded her closely and carefully and guardedly as a heavy moment passed and, finally, she sought to fix the small injury to what had been a pretty calm, if not strange, atmosphere thus far. By staying where he was, he was impassively allowing her hands inside his jacket, and didn’t seem bashful or unfamiliar at the gesture. The room, like a lot of the areas of Hogwarts at a certain time of night, was cold and dark; if her hands sought more than simply to feel the firmness of his stomach or to crinkle his shirt, branded by the emblem of an obscure wizarding rockband, then they’d have body-heat at their disposal also.

Her softer words landed on him as they were intended to; as a suggestion, a request, not a demand. As if anyone could order Eddie to do anything. He gave her his silence and his body that didn’t shrink from her or her affection, and after a moment of deliberation he seemed to lean against her even more. He pressed his weight into the hand that remained locked to the edge of her desk, making the old wood creak, and his pensive frown left his eyebrows.

And then he said, with his baritone in its huskier regions, “Assholes like me don’t attend school formals.” He used her words pointedly, lingering for a moment and casting her mouth a final, slanted peer, before he slipped away from her. Steps back brought him out of arms reach, and his rough hands ripped the labels of his jacket to clear the space that’d once been occupied by Lillian’s hands. He took a couple long strides away. The stare that’d been placed on her was now on the lighter he brought out to ignite his cigarette, and he slapped the lid of it closed as if it’d offended him somehow. His voice softened slightly as he casually said, with a nod that guided Lillian to the door, “You should go to bed.”

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mclagg
2009-09-27 07:46 am UTC (link)

"You should go to bed"? That was it? That was all he had to say? Rejection wasn't something that Lillian easily coped with, considering half of her existence was based on other humans and the attention they gave her. Despite it being a mere suggestion and not a request to take her to the ball, Lillian's ulterior motive for dragging her arse out of bed and trekking halfway across the school with Urquhart was her suspicions that he had planned to ask her to the Halloween ball. When he hadn't, she suggested it, and he flat out dismissed her with almost a dozen words and nothing more. Prick.

Lillian sat with her mouth slightly agape, eyebrows arched in a manner that suggested his words had created some amount of pain or discomfort. There was no way he had actually been offended by her sharp tone regarding Agatha. He was the truest definition of apathetic, and with or without her attempt to salvage their conversation, Lillian was certain his ego wasn't bruised in the slightest when she called him an asshole. So what gave with the blunt rejection? Confusion, embarrassment, and eventually a mild bitter rage settled into her nerves as she slowly recovered from the blow. Before there was time to second guess herself, she stood, pressed both palms to Eddie's chest, and exerted one hard shove.

Then there was the trademark Rose Zeller look of disapproval. That disgusted sneer followed by a roll of the eyes, a look Lillian had only mastered after being on the receiving end of for so many years. After casting the dirty glare in Eddie's direction, Lillian moved with grace also inherited from her mother and furiously stormed to the door, careful to weave through any desks blocking her path. She held her chin high and slammed the door behind her, hoping that the caretaker or someone would hear and maybe, just maybe, Eddie would "get fucked". Once she was outside into the open, chilly corridor, she quickly pulled her hair back up, nearly ripping a few strands out in irritation.

"We'll see if I ever get out of bed for you again, you sodding scum," she hissed out loud. Ego bruised, Lillian headed for Ravenclaw Tower.

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