Wayne Hopkins (hiphopkins) wrote in caged, @ 2013-10-08 08:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! 97-10, [ log ], seamus finnigan, wayne hopkins |
WHO: Seamus Finnigan & Wayne Hopkins.
WHEN: Backdated to Thursday, October 3rd.
WHERE: Library.
SUMMARY: Too cool for free booze; talk about how stuff sucks and mock people instead.
RATING: PG
STATUS: Completed log.
An entire day of no classes, and bottomless all-ages drinking permitted in the Great Hall. Somewhere, Albus Dumbledore was rolling over in his grave, and somewhere else Minerva McGonagall's blood pressure was likely driving her a few minutes closer to her own. For all that he had no problem with the idea of missing a class on occasion or tipping back a few, even if it was still before noon, Seamus was mistrustful of the source of their newfound liberty and libations. He had already sent a warning via the coins that it might be better for DA members not to imbibe lest any of their tongues fall victim to the loosening power of alcohol; or worse, whatever might have been added into that alcohol. He knew he ought to be out setting a better example and encouraging the younger years not to partake in the beginners bacchanalia, but frankly Seamus wanted to escape the party atmosphere for a while. The library would most likely be suffering gross neglect for the day, and so he took his Charms textbook with him, having asked Professor Flitwick for the day's reading, and proceeded to find somewhere to take the day's lesson on himself. The library was near deserted, but of course Wayne Hopkins would come here rather than stick around a party where he would again be forced to deal with the decision to drink or not drink. The last outcome hadn't gone exceptionally well, and Seamus chose to take the seat opposite the Hufflepuff and ask in a jovial whisper, "Not interested in all you can drink butterbeer, Hop to it?" Wayne was, unsurprisingly, not much of a drinker, but his lack of fondness for alcohol was one of the least of his reasons for choosing not to partake in the inevitable debacle that was currently occurring in the Great Hall. Sure, he could have talked to his friends about his reservations, but he didn’t really want to ruin their fun if he was being paranoid and was actually just a tremendous stick-in-the-mud, and so he had decided that the stand he would take was not to take a stand. Wayne, his Ancient Runes books, his sinking feelings and his guilt, all made their way to the mostly vacant library to mull things over without the added pressure of having to explain himself. He had not been expecting company, but he was pleasantly surprised when Seamus Finnigan joined him at his table. At Seamus’ comment, he let out a quiet chuckle and shook his head. “Nah, I can’t shake the feeling that they’re only doing it so that they can make us hex each other, or sicc dementors on us, or something.” he said. Wayne said it like he was joking, but he wasn’t entirely kidding. “Besides,” he added, lifting his textbook. “I like books. Books are safe. What about you?” "Pretty much the same, actually," Seamus admitted. He wasn't going to mention Veritaserum, lest he give the impression that he wasn't comfortable speaking truth. Wayne's suspicions weren't paranoid to Seamus - it was more suspicious to close school to drink than it was to wonder if those responsible for the hiatus from learning had more sinister motives. "Thursday's my light day anyhow, only Charms," Seamus cracked open the book. "But I'm not looking forward to the fallout later, when I have to mind a few dozen drunken kids who overindulged." The Fox and Hare might not have been strictly by the letter of Muggle law (Seamus had lied and said he'd already turned eighteen if anyone asked), but they certainly didn't give eleven year olds a pint. "Thought I'd better get a head start on the reading now." Wayne was more than a little bit relieved that he wasn’t the only one discomfitted by their current situation. He felt slightly more validated by the fact that it was Seamus agreeing with him, since Seamus generally seemed to have a better head on his shoulders than many. “I don’t envy your job, mate. Or Ernie’s. Somehow, I doubt that Slytherin… “ (he considered his words carefully, then chose the most gentle word he could think of) “ …person is going to come over to Hufflepuff to help him clean up spew.” He smoothed the pages of his book idly, making a face. His opinion of the girl who had taken Hannah’s prefect position was likely clear, but he decided not to dwell on it. What would be the point? They all had more important things to be concerned about. “Yep. Getting a head start on reading seems like a more sensible plan than getting sloshed.” Wayne said conversationally, unsure of what else to say that wouldn’t sound paranoid or negative. “At least Charms class probably hasn’t gone all weird.” "Regina Avery's a cunt," Seamus muttered. Where Wayne lacked the backbone to issue admonishments and insults, Seamus flung them like pairs of dirty underpants. "I hope Susan calls her over there and throws up on her." He scratched his head and flipped his way through the Charms text in search of the chapter he was meant to study. Wayne and Seamus shared four classes this year, but Seamus couldn't recall what the other two Wayne took were. Charms and Transfiguration were the same as ever, but Flitwick and McGonagall seemed to be the last bastions of sanity in the castle, these days. "What's gone cockeye besides the Carrows?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder before he spoke to make sure Madam Pince wasn't lurking. Wayne let out a loud snort as Seamus muttered what Wayne had been thinking, though it was unlikely he ever would have said as much, and so bluntly. He stifled his laughter by covering his mouth with his hands, and his eyes quickly searched the area to make some Madam Pince had not been alerted. At Seamus’ question, Wayne shrugged. “Dunno, I suppose most of the other classes are just peachy compared to those two.” he said, though after a pause and some consideration, he added, “Hagrid’s been off, I guess. Magical Creatures is nothing like it used to be. That, not to mention everything else that’s shit.” Wayne was probably one of the least foul-mouthed students in his year, but as far as he was concerned, there wasn’t a better way to describe it, really. This year was shit. Complete and utter shit. Seamus held his tongue and refrained from questioning if Hagrid had ever been on. Harry and Ron and even Hermione had always been defensive of him, and though Seamus didn't consider him to be that skillful as a professor, it was difficult to deny that he was both good with magical creatures himself, and a well-intentioned soul. "Yesterday was complete rubbish," Seamus agreed. Both classes had been particularly miserable for him, but as he knew that no one had enjoyed dissecting teddy bear hands, Seamus chose to focus on the fallacies he knew to be wrong. "Nothing about that Muggle Studies lecture was on. Or if it was - I mean, if you're a dope who can't read a simple gauge and run out of petrol, you just walk a bit and call someone, don't you? The rest of it wasn't even about trying to live an everyday life as a Muggle. I don't have to deal with nuclear missiles, working in a bloody pub, and the odds of being in an airplane crash are probably the same as splinching yourself." He scowled at Wayne, though none of his frustration was the fault of the boy across the table. “Heh. Yeah. It’s hard to believe anyone could be so stupid,” Wayne agreed. He laced his fingers and stared at them thoughtfully for a moment before adding, as though it were a secret he’d been holding in for a long time, “My granddad was a Muggle. My grandmother was a witch. They had more in common as writers than they had differences in terms of blood. It’s really hard to bite my tongue, and you know, pretend I’ve never seen a toaster.” Wayne, too, was frowning, but it wasn’t at Seamus. He felt horribly guilty whenever he had to feign agreement with anti-Muggle and Muggleborn sentiments, but what else was he to do, really? He’d managed to stay out of trouble so far, so he wasn’t about to start outwardly antagonising probable Death Eaters or casting suspicion on his own family. “I’d rather have a go at living as a Muggle than having to put up with this rubbish,” he muttered. "Me mam and da are fine like that too. Living like Muggles isn't hard," Seamus sighed. "'specially if you know how to use electric appliances and read a transit map." He didn't admit that Apparition was more convenient than the bus, but the rest was fairly true. Cooking was difficult no matter what means you were using (he favoured the microwave personally even though the results weren't always the greatest), and the times Seamus attempted housework using magic, he tended to exchange one mess for another. Everything was dust free to be sure, though it had also been tipped over or tumbled onto the floor. "I'd miss me broom, since footie just isn't as great as Quiddich no matter what Dean thinks, but they've got telephones ya don' have to stick your head in a fire for, so there's ups and downs both." Wayne listened with interest, trying his best not to acknowledge that sickly feeling of familiarity down in the pit of his stomach as he was reminded of some of the stories Justin Finch-Fletchley used to tell his housemates. He tried to stifle those memories, but he felt guilty for even trying. Justin - his friend - was gone, and here he was, trying to push him out of mind just like everyone else. What kind of friend was he, anyway? Wayne swallowed his guilt and smiled and let out a sad little laugh of agreement. “Yeah, it kind of makes me wish I’d taken more of the, you know, real Muggle Studies class. Or you know, actually experienced any of it, which would have been even better.” he said, running a hand through his mousy brown hair, a nervous tic. “The rest of us, we’re like ostriches with our heads in the sand… as if ignoring something simply wishes it out of existence. It’s idiotic, really.” Seamus smiled. He didn't hate ignorance of Muggle life - Wizarding culture was secular in the extreme most of the time, regardless of purity - though willful blind loathing wasn't something he couldn't forgive. "You can ask me stuff, if you want to know what something's really like, or what they're getting wrong. I mean, not in class," amended Seamus, who wasn't keen on drawing any more attention from the Carrows than he already had. "But if there's something you're sure is bullshit, you can ask and I'll tell you whatever I know about it." “Well, um, thanks, Seamus. I appreciate that, you know.” Wayne said, genuinely grateful for the offer. Perhaps the greatest tribute he could currently pay to his missing friends was to make an effort to set the record straight on their former lives, even if it was just for his own reference. “I’m sure Dean would be happy to know that the great footie-Quidditch debate continues in his absence,” Wayne joked. "No," Seamus said, holding up a hand to stall Wayne should he want to proceed. "It doesn't. If you're another West Ham fan you can take up his side when he returns, but that's one of the few good bits - Kestrels rule, West Ham drools, and he can't say anything about it." It was a joke, though without the full level of enthusiasm Seamus was able to offer on things that didn't involve the absence of his best friend. "Debate settled, Disillusionment Charms yet to master." His grin was wry, and he ducked his head, turning back to the text to finish his day's lessons in advance. |