Who: Morag and Mandy Where: Ravenclaw Common Room, a sneaky hallway and the sky. When: 6 January, quite late. What: These friends expend a little rage, together. Rating: PG-13 for some curses Status: Finished
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The fire danced merrily in the fireplace, warming the bottoms of Mandy's socked feet as she stretched in front of the fire. Her feet were always the first to grow cold in winter, but she refused slippers, preferring the adventure of slipping around in socks. Head propped on a sofa, she was intent on her reading, reaching up when requested to pass a book to another, or raising her voice to answer a question with the deliberately wrong answer.
Morag sat in silence upon the other end of the couch, shrouded in a massive book and a fluffy quilt. Her cat perched upon her feet and purred, though it seemed that the girl did not register it's comfort, no nor the presence of anyone else in the Common Room.
Idly, Mandy stretched a hand towards the cat, finger rubbing a paw gently. Her eyes lifted to Morag's face, and she sighed, not liking the brooding of her friend. Dumping her book upon the rug, she climbed to her knees and shuffled in front of her, and rested her chin against the inside of the arm rest. "Knut for your thoughts."
She snorted at Mandy and gently pressed her warm palm against her friend's cool cheek. "It'd take more than a knut, I'd say."
"I've a Galleon upstairs, then." She sighed, tapping a finger against Morag's palm. "Tell Mandy your problems, and then we shall take them to the stars."
"Supposing, Mandy, you saw the bulletin annoucing the roster for the duelling competition?" she said softly, keeping her voice low. She wiggled her toes and observed Sappho's attempts to reconfigure her large body more comfortably.
Understanding dawned, and she nodded. "I did, and it's rubbish. Shall I hex one of them for you?" No mention that she hadn't even been considered for alternate, though. Morag would have been the best choice, regardless. "I'll hex all of them, if you like. Put ink in their pumpkin juice. Knock Finnigan on his admittedly nice arse during a Quidditch match?"
She grins a little, leaning forward to kiss Mandy on the cheek. "Well, friend. You do what you will. I'm going straight to the top."
"You're hexing McGonagall!" Voice pitched low, for even that joke was a tad tasteless, she matched Morag's grin. "Let's sneak to the broomshed."
" ... well, I was going for Williamson, but she'd do in a pinch," was whispered as she shifted again, finally unseating the cat and swinging her legs over the side of the sofa. "It's worth two detentions."
"Hm. But he's an Auror, right? So..." She paused. "It might also mean a stay in the Hospital Wing. Auror reflexes, and all."
"Auror, shit. I've got a little more ... rage. And a family history of fighting," she said and rose with a little flourish of her hand.
"Rage can be distracting. Remember Fifth year, during our match with Slytherin? Malfoy pissed me off enough that I didn't pay attention to their Chasers, let too many quaffles in. Helped us to lose." She stood as well, smoothing down her uniform skirt. "Perhaps ask Williamson his reasoning before hexing?"
" ... Malfoy is a dishonourable blackguard," was said offhanded as her arms crossed and she looked to Mandy's skirt. "You fly in that?"
She glanced down. "No. S'cold out." She frowned. Then grinned. "Accio Mandy's jeans!" It was only after they'd flown to her, hitting two second years and a fifth year in the process, that she realised her quandary. "Aha. Ha." And from there, giggles.
She snorted, pointed and then guffawed at both Mandy and Mandy's jeans. Being a little less likely to wear a skirt, she glanced down at her own trousers and then donned her heavy outerrobes. "Ready?"
Wishing that she would have worn trousers, she shook her head. "A moment." Using Morag's dicarded blanket as a shield, she slipped the jeans on and the skirt off. Grabbing her robes and cloak, she jumped to her feet. "Now!" She charged through the doorway, quieting enough to slip through the quiet castle.
On the tips of her toes, Morag followed, skirting through the hallway with little more than a faint light glimmering from the tip of her wand.
A little-used door made itself known to Mandy. A tap of her wand and a softly spoken word, and she passed through, holding it for Morag. Only a short distance then, and they burst outdoors. An unerring sense of direction led her towards the Quidditch pitch and the broomshed. "What shall it be? Shall we frolick with the stars, or simply scare some firsties?" Her own broom in her hand, she stepped back to allow Morag to choose her own.
Morag followed her friend, choosing a simple Cleansweep to make the journey with her. "I am not in the mood for scaring, or for people. Cold, immortal light." She breathed. "This is what I desire."
"That way, then, over the Forbidden Forest, and do not fall off. They aren't as forgiving as Hagrid, if you do." Stated in all seriousness, she climbs on board, soon barrelling upwards enough to hover far above, wishing that she could pull them down to her.
Placing a steadying hand upon the handle of her broom, she did as Mandy asked. The feeling of nothing but air beneath her feet was disconcerting, but she revelled in the pure discomfort for for moments before pushing it aside to open her eyes and feel the stars, just as much as she saw them.
Turning her broom, she maneuvred it over the Forest, glancing down into the dark shape. Fires sparkled up at them: Centaurs. "Wish we could visit them." She had no doubt that her words were lost to Morag, but a wish such as that needed to be spoken. And then, it was forgotten as she started a circuit around the grounds.
But Morag heard her, glancing plaintively at Mandy. "I don't see why we couldn't -- " She did not know fear in the slightest, only an innate curiousity about the natural things of the world.
Swinging around to come beside Morag, she considered. "If they start shooting arrows, we leave. I don't know if I could best a Centaur." She flashed a grin at Morag. "You go first, fearless leader."
" ... not if you're frightened," was a truth softly spoken. "We don't have to."
Mandy grinned. "I don't fancy an arrow through me, but I'm not Gryffindor to go first," she laughed, lying only slightly. "Go."
"No, no, let's stay with the stars," she insisted.
Reaching out to tug on a lock of Morag's hair, she nodded. "We'll stay with the stars." Completely at ease with her broom, she drifts in the direction she'd started in before. "This way, but we'll stop before we get to a spot easily visible by Aurors."
She batted idly at her friend's hand and flew a hazy circle around her. Silence agreed with Mandy as she took her place beside the other girl and floated into the night.