Who: Morag and Theodore When: 28 January, 1998. Where: The Lake What: Well, they've never really talked. Rating: G Status: Complete.
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The last time Theo had ventured down beside the lake, it had been on the day he'd learned of his father's death. He recalled sitting on the bench with Daphne, blithely skipping stones across the water's tranquil edge while she worked on her Muggle studies homework, oblivious to the fate that was to befall him. Since that day, the location had held something of a somber aura for him and he had avoided it entirely.
Months later, it occurred to him that it wasn't healthy to remain in the castle for so long. He'd mended fences with Blaise and was resolved to wallow no longer. His hands tucked in his slack pockets, he idly wandered down the cobblestone path to the lake, pausing only when he spied a familiar figure sitting by the lakeside. He knew her more for her friendship with Daphne, but he had no qualms with Morag, unusual a girl as she was.
"Good morning," He said politely.
Morag, in a thoughtful repose, had not noticed Theodore walk up behind her. She turned her gaze upon the young man and smiled softly. The tops of the brown grass tickled her cheek. "And a good morning."
The amiability in her greeting prompted him to take it as an invitation to sit on the edge of the stone bench, silently gazing out over the surface of the lake. He was equally apt to speak when engaged in conversation, but silence held its own appeal, particularly because it yielded the opportunity for deep thought. After a long moment, he turned to look upon the unique girl relaxing upon the grass, tilting his head slightly to the side in curious regard. "Not many people would brave the cold this early."
She observed his calculable movements from beneath her thick mop of curls. "This is your English blood talking, to be sure."
Theodore smiled to himself at her words, tucking his hands deeper in his pockets for warmth. "Am I to take it that the Scottish are accustomed to it?"
"This weather," said she, "is a little more like a Highland summer."
The thought of cold weather didn't frighten him nearly as much as it did some, but even he couldn't fathom the idea of this being the warm season of the year. "Are you secretly a polar bear?" He asked, suspicious.
A laugh echoed across the lake, as though the whole frozen world shared in her joke. "If I were a polar bear, you would indubitably be dinner!"
A hand rose to his lips to stifle the laughter inevitably evoked by her exclamation, managing to restrain himself to a small chuckle despite his sincere amusement. The comparative warmth of his breath to the coldness of his hands made him regret not wearing gloves. "Surely I don't look like a fish?"
"Polar bears have been known to feast upon human flesh!" A growl, here, to accentuate her point.
Amused rather than frightened by her threat, he dared to lean closer to the wild beast. "Am I to take it that you're a carnivorous polar bear, then, and that I'm a piece of appetizing meat?"
"No," she grinned. "You're for Daphne to devour."
"Am I, now?" The thought was particularly entertaining. "I'm not entirely sure she wishes to consume me."
"Would you be consumed?"
"By her?" A thoughtful pause. There were few better ways to go than consumption by Daphne, as odd as that sounded. ""I suppose so. If she'd have me." A suspicious glance. "You're friends with her, you ought to know if she would."
The tip of her index finger tapped twice upon her lip. "I can relay the message, if you'd like."
"No, no," Theodore was quick to interject - the last thing he needed was for Daphne to know he was speaking about her fondly with one of her best friends. "I was merely curious as to your perspective on the matter."
" ... you can hardly expect me to answer that," was her ever so coy reply.
"And why not?" Cobalt eyes were most persuasive. "It's hardly as if I'm asking for classified government secrets. I merely wonder how my girlfriend speaks of me to her friends."
A quirked brow. "Daphne speaks fondly of no one," was quiet, a truth for him to swallow. "But of you, I think that her thoughts bend more gently. She will not say badly of you."
Theo smiled. It was hardly glowing praise, but when one considered the girl in question, it was meaningful nonetheless. "I suppose that'll have to do, then, Morag."
Morag, in turn, jerked her thumb back toward the castle. "Isn't it getting on in the day for yourself, Theodore?" she asked, a little fond of the young man, already.
He cast a wistful glance over his shoulder at the castle, realizing that it would, indeed, be advisable to return to the multitude of homework that awaited him. With a reticent sigh, he rubbed his hands together for warmth and rose from the bench. "A wise suggestion. Very well, then," Another suspicious glance, "But no speaking to Daphne of this beyond polar bears."
She tapped her nose, raised her shoulder and mustered a mock haughty stare. "Oh, I suppose. Good day, Mr Nott!"