WHO: Jack Sloper, Ananda Hooper and Patrick MacDougal WHEN: Sunday evening WHERE: Library SUMMARY: Hogwarts' Spiderman (Jack Sloper) apprehends a budding criminal mastermind, as per the plot calender. RATING: PG-13 for things that appear more suggestive than what they really are. You'll see. STATUS: Complete!
“Here? You want to do this here?” A feminine whisper, a near-hiss with its speaker’s outrage, was coming from behind a bookshelf in the Divination section. “Oh my god, Patrick, what if we get caught?”
“Can you think of anywhere else?” Patrick’s voice was deeper, more assured in its delivery. “Divination’s a lame duck of a class. Everyone with any sense has dropped it by now.”
“Excuse me,” the girl protested. “I take Divination!”
“Well, exactly.” A muffled oof - the lady’s young swain had apparently earned her ire. “Don’t hit me, Ananda!”
“Well, don’t insult me if you want me to help you! And of course it’s a lame duck of a class; why else do you think I’m taking it? I am not going to be that Ravenclaw who fails things. Merlin.”
“So why did you hit me if you agree that it’s a dumb class?”
“Because I wanted to, idiot. Besides, who says I have to do this for you anyway?”
“Because you did it for Cauldwell and Whitby and Peakes and those three aren’t even in the same house as you!” The boy’s voice, caught on the cusp of manhood, slid up an octave along with his indignation. When he continued, it was back under control, but with a slightly abashed air. “You owe it to your house to help me.”
“I’m not sure that I want to do this for too many people.” Ananda’s voice was softened with unease. “I could get into trouble.”
“I won’t tell. Just this one time, please? And I won’t say a thing to anyone else ever.”
“Okay, fine.” Ananda was finally worn down. “But if you ever tell anyone I did this for you, I’ll stab this quill right through your balls.” There was the clicking of buckles, the rustling of cloaks, then things grew very quiet.
He recognized the voice - you didn’t get to know Geoffrey without also getting to know his gaggle of sisters - but Jack didn’t immediately swoop in to see what sort of trouble they were getting into. If Ananda wanted to make out with a boy whose voice he didn’t immediately recognise, Jack wasn’t going to stop her. He paused outside the stack and pressed his back to the adjacent corner.
’Just this one time, please? And I won’t say a thing to anyone else ever’ Jack overheard, his eyebrows frowning as Ananda’s reply was buried somewhat under the sound of someone getting undressed. It was one thing to find a corner to make out in, but he felt some loyalty to Hooper to keep his sister, if not a virgin, then at least from being pressured into blowing someone in the Divination Section.
Jack came around the corner. “Oi, Hooper.”
“Bollocks,” Ananda muttered, hurriedly stoppering her ink pot and shoving it back into her satchel. The ink on Patrick’s forged permission slip, while showing a convincing likeness of his guardian’s signature, hadn’t even dried yet. Quickly she shoved it face up and high onto a book shelf above her, hopefully out of Jack’s line of vision.
Although Ananda wasn’t exactly the tallest of girls…
“Don’t call me ‘Hooper.’ That’s my brother,” she shot back with feigned nonchalance. “What can we help you with?” She slid a look at Patrick, wondering if it was better to be caught for faking signatures, or for apparently snogging a housemate. This housemate. Patrick wasn’t half-bad looking, for a fourth year, but he was a bit odd.
Jack looked non-plussed as Ananda attempted to bullshite him, but when his eyes came upon Patrick MacDougal, he sighed. It seemed the whole clan was aiming to lose house points this week, what with Morag and Magnus’s Evening Out. With a quick ‘Accio’, he shot the secret document over to his outstretched hand. His eyes scanned over it and concluded the activity with a snort. Then he blew over the ink, trying to set it further.
“I can tell you what you can no longer help anyone with: forged permission slips. Either of you going to cop to this?” Jack asked, holding the page aloft for the both of them to see.
Patrick blanched visibly. Getting caught having a snog would have been preferable, as he’d at least get something out of it besides detention.
“You’d have done the same thing,” he sniffed importantly, but he didn’t sound entirely convinced.
The look on Jack’s face clearly asked if Patrick were kidding him. His eyes swiveled over to Ananda, the snotty look she was trying to keep on her face. “And what are your famous last words, Ananda?” he asked.
“I am providing-” Ananda began, trying to maintain her haughty tone even as her guts plummeted “-a much needed service since some idiots get their permission slips signed, then lose them.” A loaded look at Patrick made it clear to Jack just who the idiot in question was; Ananda Hooper had inherited about the same amount of subtlety as her older brother.
“So it’s not like his parents didn’t agree for him to go to Hogsmeade,” she ended on a final pleading note.
Jack continued to look incredibly non-plussed. “As much as I appreciate you admitting to forging other people’s signatures on legally binding documents, Ananda, I think it’s still going to be detention. Let’s go see Flitwick and see whether or not you’ve merited detention during the Hogsmeade visit itself or before. Ten from Ravenclaw a piece and I wouldn’t be surprised if he tacked on a detention for you too, Patrick.”
After a pause, he gestured over to her bag. “Seriously. Get your things, let’s go.”
“Oh. My. God,” said Ananda once more, those three words conveying just as much raw emotion as an Academy Award winning speech. She snatched up her bag with a moody ‘harrumph,’ barrelling past Patrick as well as she could manage with her petite frame on the way out.
“This,” she opined to no one in particular, “is why I never date prefects.”
“We’re all just devastated,” Jack rolled his eyes as he followed suit, giving Patrick one last forceful look.