WHO: Wayne Hopkins & Morag MacDougal WHEN: BACKDATED to Thursday evening, during Astronomy. WHERE: Astronomy Tower SUMMARY: Fixin' things and chatting. RATING: PG STATUS: Complete.
Wayne was more than happy to attempt to help Morag out with her telescope issues - indeed, he was a little bit excited about it. Not that he was happy that she was experiencing technical problems - not in the least bit! - but it wasn’t often that he got a chance to prove his worth at anything. He was not as well-read as the Ravenclaws, nor as gutsy as the Gryffindors, nor as ambitious as the Slytherins, but two things he did have were good old Hufflepuff patience and hard work, which were probably the most important of those attributes for an apprentice clockmaker and amateur tinkerer to have, anyway. He had a slightly more confident spring in his step as he climbed the stairs up to his Astronomy class, although he tried to suppress it once he had actually reached his destination lest anyone think he was being smug. He tried to approximate whatever downtrodden expression he usually wore, and when he spotted Morag, he walked over and greeted her with a deceptively sheepish smile.
“Hey Morag,” he said casually. “How are you today?” He set down his things near hers and with them, her telescope case. He nudged it toward her without mentioning it, then set to taking out and setting up his own instrument.
Pleasantly surprised to see that Wayne was returning her telescope already, Morag scrapped the excuse she was framing in her mind for Professor Sinistra. Her expression betrayed how impressed she was… and the small curiosity that wondered if it could really already be repaired.
“I’m not without the implements to complete tonight’s assignment, apparently. That was fast.”
Wayne felt very proud of his work, but he tried not to look it. He shrugged and stuffed his hands into his robe pockets. “Nah, it wasn’t that fast. I don’t have much of a life, and you need it for your work so… “ He gave her a shy smile, and shrugged again. “I guess maybe you should try it out first, make sure I didn’t screw it up further.” He was sure that he’d gotten it working much better than before, but he didn’t want to seem like a braggart.
“If I can even see through it, that will be an improvement,” assured Morag, eagerly unpacking the various pieces of the telescope from the case and assembling them with the haste of someone so familiar with an instrument they don’t need to look at it to know what they’re doing.
Closing her left eye, she bent to peer into the eyepiece with her right, fingers alighting on the little knobs that controlled the focus and swivelling to Vega, shining brightly in her favorite constellation, Lyra. The focus was crisp. Even Beta Lyrae winked as the two distinct stars Morag knew they were, but hadn’t been able to discern between for at least a year.
“This is brilliant, Wayne,” she breathed, her tone completely absent of her usual sly veneer.
The Hufflepuff beamed with triumph - it likely would have been a look those close to him were not accustomed to seeing, although he didn’t let it linger for long. “Oh, don’t mention it. It wasn’t a big deal. I was just glad I could help out, so if, you know, you ever have any more problems with it, feel free to let me know, yeah?” he offered. “I don’t know how you managed to do all your work with it for so long. That’s really impressive.”
Morag snorted, pulling away from the telescope and opening her notes for that evening’s lesson.
“When it’s all you’ve got…” She let the sentence go without finishing it, grounding her delight at having a highly functioning piece of equipment for the first time… ever… in remembering that Wayne didn’t know anything about her. And if he was being this nice, she didn’t want him to. Morag changed the subject swiftly.
“Are you going to work for your father, when you graduate?”
Wayne was glad for the change in subject. He continued to set up his own things absent-mindedly as he spoke. “Yeah, I think that’s the plan. I’ve been apprenticing there during summers, and people are always going to need clocks, so there’s that. Also, I’m not that great at anything else. My mum’s a cursebreaker, and I definitely don’t want to do that, so… here I am. What about you? Do you have any plans yet, or are you still deciding?” he asked. He didn’t know a lot about Morag, but she seemed like the kind of young woman who would do something far more exciting with her life than charming gears into place.
A brief look of envy flitted across Morag’s features as Wayne outlined his plans for after graduation, as she imagined what it must be like to have parents who actually did things you didn’t have to be ashamed of.
But she looked away, busying herself with reviewing the first series of coordinates, and her expression settled into something more familiar.
“I’ve got no bloody clue,” she said quietly, eyes on Professor Sinistra on the opposite end of the tower, renewing the warming Charms that protected against the cold. “Seamus thinks I ought to go out for the Harpies, but he’s nuts.”
In Wayne’s mind, the only reason for Morag to be indecisive was because she had too many options open to her. She seemed intelligent enough to be anything, she wanted, really. His eyes widened at the mention of playing for the Harpies, and he ignored her reticence.
“Are you kidding me? You’d be a shoo-in for the Harpies. You could be the next Gwenog Jones, you could!” he said excitedly, although he was careful to keep his voice down so as not to disrupt their fellow classmates or draw attention to himself.
“Obviously you and Seamus have been drinking the same mouldy pumpkin juice,” Morag said dryly, but she grinned despite herself. It was hard not to relish a compliment, even an outlandish one, when you received them so rarely. If it had been anyone else, she would’ve assumed they were toying with her, but Wayne was far too earnest.
“Why don’t you want to be a cursebreaker?” She asked suddenly, again finding herself shifting the conversation. The answer seemed obvious, but she was curious all the same.
“Maybe you’ve been the one drinking the bad juice if you think you’re anything but Harpies material. Clearly, we have you outnumbered.” Wayne said wryly. He was a bit disappointed to not get to give Morag further encouragement on the Quidditch front, but he understood the impulse to deflect personal questions when they started to become too much.
In response to her question, he decided to skirt the obvious answer that he was far from adventurer material, and so instead opted for a different response.
“I hate Arithmancy,” he said, then added with a grin, “and besides, my idiot brother sucks at fixing anything, so someone has to take over the not-so-illustrious Hopkins legacy when my dad retires.”
Declining to comment on the fact that two to one were not outstanding odds, Morag just bent over her telescope again, holding off speaking until Professor Sinistra had made her rounds.
“I’ve got two of those,” she offered by way of sympathizing. “Idiot brothers. The other’s not so bad.”
Wayne pretended to steal a glance through his own telescope, then jot down a note until Professor Sinistra was safely out of earshot. “My condolences,” he said, with a solemn expression. “I can’t imagine having more than one. Or even one that isn’t a prat. Are they at school now, too, or have they left to make the real world more awful like mine?”
Wayne didn’t really have any major issues with his brother, but like many siblings, rarely turned down an opportunity to make fun of him when he wasn’t around.
“Magnus is in fifth year, in Slytherin. He’s the idiot. Patrick’s in fourth year, in my house. Not as much of an idiot. And Errol… yeah, he’s making the world a more awful place.”
She only wished she were joking, suspecting that Wayne almost certainly was.
Wayne, assuming she was joking, laughed out loud - perhaps a bit too loud. He caught himself, though, and cast a furtive glance in Sinistra’s direction, hoping she hadn’t noticed him. Fortunately, she appeared to be helping another student with their charts.
He rolled his eyes. “I guess maybe I should do some actual work, or something.” he said, looking annoyed in hopes that Morag would not think he was trying to avoid talking to her.
“Yeah,” Morag mused, smirking at Wayne as she bent over her telescope again. “It’s not like we’re in Muggle Studies.”