Who: Seamus & Tracey Where: From the grounds to an empty first-floor classroom When: Tuesday after COMC What: A truce of sorts Rating: PG- Seamus uses the B-word once.
Tuesdays had never been Tracey's favourite day. Especially not when she had to end it with Care of Magical Creatures (with Lavender bloody Brown and Parvati sodding Patil gabbing the entire time). She was only still taking the class for its connection to Potions and for the secret reason that she was keen on animals in general. Finally, the class ended and everybody drifted off in the direction of the castle. Tracey hung back, not wanting to be forced to socialise. When two nearby students brought up the news about Oliver Wood, she just rolled her eyes. Was nobody going to forget about that git? It wasn't like he was Harry Potter or anything.
For his part, Seamus had thankfully been rid of C.O.M.C after he'd (miraculously) achieved an A on the OWL. Dangerous creatures like dragons were all well and good, but he didn't much fancy hanging around unicorns or pixies. Still, he had more than a few friends who insisted on taking the class and any excuse to avoid the stacks of homework waiting in his dorm room for him was worth taking up. He'd been strolling toward the classroom with no target in particular when he overheard Wood's name mentioned, prompting him to open his mouth in preparation to pipe up. Before he could, however, he caught sight of her, once again dishonoring the former Gryffindor's name with a haughty roll of her eyes. "Fancy meetin' you here, Davis," He said coolly, folding his arms loosely about his waist and leaning against the wall. "Wouldn't have expected a bint like you'd like warm fuzzies, but I s'pose even you've got ta' take a break from your bitchiness and act like a girl once in a while.'
Her first reaction was to just transfigure him into a flobberworm and stomp on him. Stopping her from doing this, though, was her meager Transfigurations talent and the fact that doing so would likely get her expelled. Strangling him with her bare hands was also out of the question then. Tracey glanced to him, then sighed. She was outnumbered by the Gryffindors that were watching. "Finnigan. Stalking me, now?"
"Flattering yourself, now?" Seamus bit back, narrowing his eyes on the girl in front of him. He had to admit she was easy on the eyes, but the bint within ruined whatever beauty she might have had. "Case you hadn't noticed, there're a lot of Gryffindors 'round here. Makes more sense that I'd be here for them, don't you think?"
"Of course. Because Merlin forbid you spend your spare time studying," she retorted snidely. Seamus was a tosser. He'd be attractive, if he was a Slytherin. Otherwise, his looks only made him more irritating.
"S'more to life than studying, believe it or not." She was a brat, alright, but he couldn't muster the venom he'd have given her had she been a boy. Still, there was nothing friendly in his bright green eyes, still narrowed suspiciously upon the girl. "You seem to think you ought to spend it slandering the injured."
Her mouth opened, but her blue eyes quickly shifted to the Gryffindors listening- while pretending not to- to their conversation. "Come with me somewhere, Finnigan," Tracey said after a moment, "Somewhere where your..." her gaze flicked back to the others significantly, "friends aren't spying."
He was tempted to tell her to sod off. Did she really think him stupid enough to walk into some typical Slytherin ambush? Unfortunately, giving an excuse on that basis would make him seem a coward - and he'd rather be beaten to a pulp than that. "Alright, Davis," He finally said after a long moment, eyeing her like a snake was about to bite him at any moment. "But if I see one of your thugs, I'm out."
"Do you really think I want them to see me with you?" Tracey pointed out. Just inside the castle, while the others seemed to go straight, she led him down a hallway off to the left towards classrooms. "I just don't like having conversations with an audience."
"You're not exactly the kind of girl I want to be seen with either," He said spitefully, unwilling to let her get one over on him even if it meant being a little petty. But he followed dutifully, albeit glancing around warily in the process. She may have had a point, but he wasn't about to trust her.
Fighting the temptation to make a face at him- Tracey had to remember to be classy in front of the Slytherin lest he find reason to tell his mates she was odd- she led him to the empty classroom several doors down the hall. Opening, she stepped inside and lit the lights. "If I were to do anything to you, I'd get a detention- or, worse, expelled. Neither option I'm keen on facing."
"Doubt that'd stop you," Seamus replied skeptically. You could never trust a Slytherin. "You'd get some of your thugs to grab me after hours, beat me to a pulp, and I wouldn't be able to prove it was you." It was just speculation, of course, but he wouldn't put it past her. Still, he had to admit that he was curious what she wanted to talk about. Scratching his head absently, he steadied his gaze upon her. "So? Where's the death threats? That's what you wanted, right?"
Tracey smiled. "Maybe, but I wouldn't do it now- your friends saw me with you and would automatically blame me." She hopped onto one of the desks near the front, crossing her legs and folding her hands on her knee. "Death threats come later. Right now, I want to forge a truce."
Seamus wasn't good at hiding his emotions, particularly when it came to anger. Surprise was no exception. "A what?" He didn't even bother to try to conceal his confusion, looking at her as though she'd sprouted a second head. This had to be some sort of elaborate trap. Problem was, he was too curious to call her on it and leave. "What kind of truce?" He said cautiously.
"How many kinds are there?" she asked. "I'm not going to apologise for anything you assume I said about Wood- he wasn't mentioned in my entry and neither was his unfortunate accident. You jumped to conclusions just because I mentioned Flint- who, by most standards, is now considered successful with his well-paying position on a team that does generally better standings-wise than other teams." Through this, Tracey remained calm. She had nothing to lose with this. "If anyone has anything to apologise for, it's you. But," she pressed on, "I'm not asking for any apologies. Just a full-stop on direct harassment."
Oh, she had to be a bitch about it. What a shock. "Yeah, and I'm the King of England," He snorted. "You were insulting Wood and you know it, just 'cause you didn't say "Wood sucks" doesn't mean you're fooling anyone." Even so, looking around the corner for lurking Slytherins didn't strike him as a particularly fun way to spend his days. He had to admit that it had some merit. "Yeah, alright. Me mam'd skin me alive if I hit a girl anyway."
"To be honest? I don't care about Wood enough to talk about him. But Flint... He's made it on my favourite Professional Quidditch Team, even if he is an arse. You can't honestly tell me you and your lot wouldn't be commending Wood if their positions had been reversed and Flint had been the one to get injured." She sat back, taking a good look at him. Sure, he agreed now, but who was to say he wouldn't change his mind the first second one of his friends started in on her? "You can say what you want about my Housemates- they're all plenty capable of holding their own against you. But arguing with you distracts me away from my studies and things I actually enjoy doing. Things that don't give me headaches."
At least she admitted that Flint was an arse. She was still a hag, alright, but better an honest one than a lousy liar. He did, however, object to her assertion. "As a matter of fact, I can tell you that," He argued, shaking his head adamantly. "Don't get me wrong - Flint can have a broom shoved up his arse for all I care. He's a git and I don't have any sympathy for him. But I'd be disappointed in Wood if he sunk to that level. S'not right, from any side, however much you might not like the victim."
Self-righteous smarmy git, Tracey thought uncharitably. "Fine," she said dismissively, "Merely the difference between you and me, then."
Yeah, the difference between right and wrong, Seamus added silently. "Alright, Davis," He conceded finally. "You lay off Wood and I'll lay off you. Not saying I won't pipe up if you go after one of my other friends, but I'll drop the Wood thing if you will."
Tracey blinked. So he was agreeing just like that? It was almost disappointing that there didn't have to be any hexing. "Well," she said shortly, "and here I'd thought up some rather creative threats to persuade you to agree. I'll ignore you, you ignore me, Wood goes forgotten, and everybody benefits."
"You're a shrew, Davis," He replied plainly, dismissing the notion of sugar-coating. "But you're still a girl. I don't go around hexing them if I can help it. Me mam taught me some manners, whatever your friends might say 'bout me."
"Don't worry- your manners haven't come up." Tracey hopped off the desk and shouldered her bag, looking up at him with a hand on her hip. "You're just the loud-mouthed, crass, Gryffindor who looks better in a Quidditch Uniform than he rightfully should as a halfblood, with an accent that might actually be pleasant if it wasn't always heard spouting complaints or insults. And I think we're done here."
Tracey's words dumbfounded Seamus. Was that an insult, a compliment, or both? Scratching his head in confusion, he struggled to come up with an appropriate response, figuring that "huh?" wouldn't cut it. "Yeah, well, you're just a prissy little Slytherin bint who might not be half-bad looking if she didn't have a bug up her bum."
She rolled her eyes. "I'd tell you not to go regaling your Housemates with our meeting, but I doubt it would do any good- you Gryffindors tell each other everything." It sounded like an insult, coming from her.
"Yeah, I'm going to go back to the common room and talk about hanging out with a Slytherin," He scoffed. "That'd go over about as well as you telling them how cute you think I am." There was a hint of a smirk on his face; she wasn't exactly his type, but to get a girl who didn't like him personally to admit that he was cute was invigorating.
Well, at least he saw that logic. Tracey opened the classroom door. "I don't think I have to say it, but I will. Break the truce and..." her blue eyes went skyward thoughtfully for a brief moment, "I'll send my goons to make Gryffindor pudding out of you."
If her aim had been to frighten him, she'd picked the wrong boy. "I'll be sure to send your thugs back in with ribbons tied round 'em, then," Seamus bit back brashly. He was nothing if not confident and proud.
Smug git. Tracey smiled all the same as she stepped out into the hallway, making sure none of his Gryffindor mates had followed them. "Bye, Finnigan," she said, glad it hadn't gone as badly as it could have.