Who: Morag and Daphne Where: The Library; the Entrance Hall; the Slytherin Corridor When: 10 January, 1998; early afternoon What: Mischief, is what! The girls get up to something artsy Rating: G Status: Complete
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A saturday afternoon found Daphne lounging in some odd nook in the library, decorating a bit of parchment with a mixture of her distinctive handwriting and assorted doodles. She was hardly invisible in sunshine yellow, and, having taken to wearing sundresses over the break despite the highly inappropriate weather, was prone to attention from passers-by. Perhaps more unusual than her decor was the general aura of contentment that she exuded; even the rare smile spilled across the delicate features that hid behind a large history book.
The Duelling Club disaster in the past, Morag felt the ability to smile return to her. The pale sun and bleak winter landscape drew her cheeks flushed in excitement and breathless anticipation for nearly everything surrounding her. In a thick knit sweater and denim trousers, she set to wandering the library in search of a text she could only remember viewing once in her seven year term at Hogwarts, but was determined to finally read.
And over the edge of her book did Daphne spy the only someone worth a pause from her doodling. Susan Bones's effigy would have to wait for detail, for Daphne's quill abandoned awkward stick figures to write a short note at the corner of parchment. Torn, then, it was rolled and projected across the room to catch in the wild curls of one Morag MacDougal. Daphne wondered vaguely if she should have been a chaser, then took to peering intently over the top of her book until noticed.
Feeling the gentle plonk of the parchment nestling in her hair, she plucked it out with two simple movements and turned in the direction of its origin with narrowed eyes. That is, until she recognises Daphne and a grin splits her face. She tosses it back to her friend. "What's it say?"
Daphne laughed (loud as she was able with Madame Pince glaring around nearby bookshelves) as the crumpled bit of parchment bounced off her book-shield. "Turn around." A nose wrinkle, and she shifted several inches to make room in her niche for the other. "Come sit, I shall regale you with stories that will bore you to tears."
The laughter was infectious, manifesting snorts and guffaws hidden behind Morag's hand. "Fabulous!" came the reply as she bounded the short distance and settled in next to her friend.
It was clear why Daphne had chosen this particular little cranny to thrust herself into - the space behind them was particularly warm, perhaps insulated by books, by ghosts, by some poor creature trapped for all time in the hollows of wood. She took advantage, however, of this new source of warmth, and promptly latched her arm around Morag's, sliding the book between them. One side detailed the modern day fall of the giants, the other covered in parchment which was itself covered in unflattering pictures of numerous students, particularly Hufflepuffs. "This is Susan Bones." Unmitigated glee as she pressed her finger to the page. "And that beast, Seamus."
Promptly plucking the quill from Daphne's slender fingers, she wet the tip upon the end of her tongue and drew devil horns in the bush of hair drawn for Bones. And a moustache. "Beastly," she agreed, drawing singe patterns across Seamus's eyebrows.
Daphne snickered from behind the book, her knees propped to keep them well hidden behind it. "So. Who has to have an accident for you to take their place?" Although the trickle of jest still spilled through her syllables, the glance cast to her friend made no secret of Daphne's sincerity.
"Neither one," was a quick flick of the quill tucked into the parchment as a student passed them. She leered long enough to send them skittering into another aisle before shaking her head. " ... humbling, but, perhaps I need to learn humility."
"Humility is best left for those with no other virtues, Morag." Daphne curled into the other's arm and leaned, peering at the scratched doodles with some vague sense of offense on her friend's behalf. But, if Morag chose to take the high road, so be it. "I believe he needs a tail as well."
Idly, she considered her friend's words and how they would be acted upon. "I recall far too much bloodloss enacted in the name of one pride's wounding or another." Pause. "Too much blood -- " But with a flourish, she drew a fancy horse's tail on Seamus. Complete with bow.
"Sometimes pride is all we're left with." Words so softly spoken, Daphne almost wondered that she uttered them aloud. Her fingers swept over the page in consideration of that far-too-appropriate equestrian flourish. Perhaps she wondered if the blood spilled was worth it; perhaps she wondered if the blood spilled was worth anything to begin with. She was not a compassionate creature. But she did care for Morag.
She kissed Daphne's temple and tapped the parchment. "This needs a more public viewing."
Philosophical wonderings dashed, then, as a wicked grin swept delicate features. "Oh, yes." A glance around. "Shall we go off to make some mischief?" Morag was a far too dangerous catalyst for Daphne's already eccentric nature. She reveled in the knowledge.
"With the vainglory that we shall not be caught! Oh, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff need to be taken down a peg or two," says she, gently disengaging to pry herself from the nook.
"Consider me the hand of righteousness!" The snap of a book and Daphne followed, arms bare and expression plain with delight, ready for a fare of mischief and revenge.
Their intents declared, Morag casually makes her way between the shelves and students. Hands (with parchment) in pockets, she waits in the deserted corridor for her friend.
Daphne took her few moments to collect her things; book in arm and bookbag over shoulder, she preened vaguely to incite the attention (negative and positive, she loved it all) of several students before following on the heels of her wild friend. Into the corridor, the same wickedness glittered through her eyes. "Somewhere outrageous," she whispered, delighted.
An idea sprung fully formed to her mind. "Where the House Points are tabulated. Life-sized."
Approval was plain on elvish features and appreciation for Morag's brand of deviousness inspired her. "Shall we go assess the situation, Ms. MacDougal?"
"Come along, Ms Greengrass," she said in a mock peevish voice that juxtaposed her mincing steps. She saw favour in the weekend and hour, hypothesising that few if any would currently be in the Entrance Hall.
Arm in arm, the twin devils made their cunning way through halls and down stairs; Daphne sneered appropriately at those who passed, and it was not until they had nearly reached the Entrance Hall that she released her friend and slid quietly ahead, in all appearances the well-versed spy.
As this happened, Morag took to the doors and with a few waves of her wand created a barrier charm that would keep people from entering for the few moments they needed. She sprang behind Daphne, motioning to the hourglasses and then indicated a side stairway. "We should be able to escape through there."
"Perfect," a whispered sentiment despite these moments of isolation. Heart pounding, Daphne set her trust in her lookout and quickly moved forward. It was with a frown that she noted Slytherin's points second to last only to Hufflepuff; but she had other concerns. Wand from bookbag and she realized the parchment was with the other. "Rip me off Susan's part. An expansion charm will be faster," voice hushed in collusion, but the eyes still glittered with excitement.
She did as she was told, floating the parchment to her accomplice. "Done."
Beneath her breath, "Engorgio" whispered with the flick of a wand, and to her surprise Daphne noted how her spellwork seemed to improve with sullied motives. A smile, and she was wrestling an oversized doodle, pasting it to an hourglass with carefully placed sticking charms. She left Morag to the other.
... and so she did, expertly using her wand to seal Seamus's portrait upon the hourglass in such a way that little more than the jaws of life could pry it loose. "Finite," she sang merrily, stepping back to enjoy their handiwork.
They had little time to enjoy those atrocious sketches before the faint rattling of doors heralded the time of their departure. With a wild giggle, Daphne swept up her friend's hand and tugged her straightaway to the dungeon staircase; if there was anywhere that criminals such as they wished to hide, it was near the Slytherin den.
Springing after Daphne, she gained control of her laughter until they reached the Slytherin corridor where it was quite safe. She exploded in laughter, falling against the wall to brace herself. " ... we, my love, we are brilliant."
Full of vindictive triumph, Daphne glowed with an unwholesome delight, hugging her bookbag about her; the coldness of the dungeons was a relief, even in her current state of dress, after the thrill of possible detentions and the sprint downward. A tinge of color even threatened her cheeks, and she beamed at her friend, fighting insidious laughter. "And so you see, my fair Morag, humility is not for the likes of us." A wicked grin.