Jonathan Nott (pondersome) wrote in feinted, @ 2012-02-19 15:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | !thread, celima-dolinskaya, jonathan-nott |
Who: Jolima!
What: Jon tries to ~console~ Cel by bringing her a hot beverage naked lololjks.
When: A few hours after the Hogwarts v Durmstrang game.
Where: Entrance to the Durmstrang dormitories.
Rating: G, like a Disney movie.
Status: Complete.
Jonathan wondered if he was doing the right thing. An hour or so after the game, he had gone down to the Kitchens and fetched a pot of Early Grey tea and some scones, quite unsure what he was meant to do with them. He dithered there for a bit, casting charms on the pot so they would remain at a reasonably hot temperature--but not too because that’s just unpleasant--and debating with himself. She probably didn’t want company. But she’s probably also hungry. Was she? Maybe? After another minute or so, he finally decided. Jon would go. And if she didn’t want company, then he’d... be crushed. But still physically alive. He’ll be fine. Maybe. So he made his way towards the Durmstrang dormitories, his resolve crumbling more and more as he carried the tea tray closer and closer. Merlin. What if she didn’t like scones? Maybe he should have gotten sandwiches instead? Did sandwiches look more platonic? He didn’t want to come on too strong, after all. But it was too late to turn back. He had reached the door and he was... knocking. Maybe he should just leave the tea tray there and run. But with his luck, one of the boys would probably answer the door and eat everything, leaving nothing for her. No. No, he had to do this. Twenty feet. Those two words blazed through her thoughts moving in a repetitive motion - when she’d flown down after the match, while visiting Katja and Roald, definitely when writing her congratulations to the Hogwart team. Twenty feet wasn’t fifteen, it wasn’t five, and it certainly wasn’t one. Although, in all fairness and honesty, she would have found fault in anything short of catching the snitch. A number of things - other than those two words - had flown past Cel’s mind as if written down on a list to be checked off as she experienced. Self-disappointment, paternal disappointment, team disappointment (because why shouldn’t they be? She had let them down twice). They only served to further darken her mood. Contrary to popular belief, low self-esteem wasn’t the only nature that led to uncertainty. Her arrogance of how she should have helped her team win, she should have caught the snitch, brought the question of what she had done wrong since she hadn’t. Self-doubt reared it’s ugly head and the second it did Cel simply clamped down; she wasn’t inclined to rehash the entire bout of uncertainty she’d had after their lost loss. She had done her duty, in congratulating Hogwarts and checking up on her teammates (reassuring those she had caught that they’d done well and in her way she was proud of them), although the latter had come from genuine concern. She had one what was required of her and then sort of … drifted. Cel didn’t go to lick her wounds but she didn’t jump on regrouping either. She would do it tomorrow. As selfish as it might seem, she hadn’t been in the mood to plan their next mode of attack as taking the time to do so only led her to thinking on thoughts that she wanted to avoid. She had barely entered the common room when she heard the knock on the door. Coach Krum had caught her, thankfully their conversation hadn’t taken long, and that - combined with showering and visiting her injured teammates - had delayed her return to Durmstrang’s common room. Cel considered ignoring it. She couldn’t imagine who would bother knocking. It wasn’t as if the team received many visitors. In fact, Cel couldn’t recall the last they had. There was another knock, this time more tentative. Curiosity ended up getting the better of her. She supposed it could be a teammate; especially with the way Vlad had seemed eager to ply Katja with something that she highly doubted was water. With an exasperated sigh, Cel swung her bag over her shoulder and went to open the door. Who she found - what she found - actually had her blink slowly once, in utter surprise. “Hi, um hi,” Jonathan greeted, his face automatically breaking out in a grin and then realising that this was probably the inappropriate response, his face dropped to a more polite smile, “I hope I’m not interrupting.” He looked beyond into the Durmstrang common room and sighed with relief to see that the section he could see was empty. Jon liked the Durmstrang team well enough and he actually got along quite splendidly with Roald but he didn’t know how they would react to see him carrying what he was carrying at the present time. “I brought you tea,” he said quickly as he realised that Celima was probably wondering why he was there in the first place, “I figured that you wouldn’t really want to go to the Great Hall with... all the people and, it’s nearly lunchtime, so...” Cel continued to look at Jon in a manner that could only be dubbed as staring. Celima wasn’t a person who often bothered with small talk. She had no problem with silences; after all Jana was her best friend and her father - the parent who had done most of the raising - wasn’t what one would consider gregarious. However, Cel couldn’t remember the last time she had been struck dumb. It must have happened in the past. Given how her family was (a mix bags of personalities, nearly all contradictory to her own). Furthermore, even she couldn’t manage to go her entire life without being taken by surprise even for a few seconds. Nevertheless, this was …. this was the last thing she would have expected. Quite honestly there were a number of things she would have expected before this and even Garrett Flint standing in front of her - for whatever reason (except, perhaps, with a tea tray) - would have come before this. She didn’t know why, she thought as the situation settled more in her mind, as Jonathan had been rather insistent on handing her bruise cream when she didn’t need it not all that long ago. This was … however, this was terribly and fully unexpected. Even with their past history Cel would not have seen her coming. Perhaps because no one had ever done this for her. Not even Rapunzel or her grandfather. This was … kind. Right. Cel wasn’t certain what perturbed her more. That it was Jon. That it was being done. Or that it was the tea. It had to be the middle one. The last was likely as well. A bottle of vodka would have gotten a glance, a look, but never something as long as this. She was being rude. That was the first thought that occurred that caused her to snap out of it. Actually, her first thought had been for someone who hadn’t wanted to let things loose she was certainly spending quite a lot of time breaking open Jonathan’s simple enough gesture. If it had been anyone else she would have been suspicious. “... Thank … you.” Cel said slowly. The disbelief joined surprise for a small linger only a moment before Cel filed it away. She looked behind her. He wanted to enter. Cel focused on that rather on her rudeness and Jonathan’s gesture. Durmstrang didn’t invite people into their common room. It simply wasn’t done. She ignored the fact that she had briefly considered doing so before she recalled how well that such an invitation wouldn’t go over. Especially after all loss, when she knew a few - if not most - of her teammates wouldn’t appreciate the intrusion while desiring privacy … no matter how well meant. “You cannot come in.” Cel mentally winced. While the words were far from harsh, she knew that they could be taken the wrong way. Jon stood there for quite a while as Celima gathered herself. Maybe this was a bad idea. When she spoke again and thank him, he let out a breath that he didn’t realise he was holding. He knew that Cel didn’t really think of him in that way, which made a small part of him shrivel and die a little each time. This part shrivelled and died a little more when she told him that he wasn’t invited inside. Blood immediately rushed to his face and he struggled to find the right words in response. “Um. No, of course not,” he mumbled, and tried to hand the tray over to Celima, “I just wanted to, um, uh, give you this. I guess. I should have thought that--you would be busy and stuff. I’m sorry, I’ll--um, yeah.” “Wait,” She stated, her hand moving to the tray to still his actions, most of it - her hand - brushed against his without her thinking about it. In fact, she asked him to wait before she knew what she was doing besides the fact that she wanted to stop his apology. She had felt wrong the second his face flushed with color from what she guessed - and quickly had confirmed - was embarrassment. Cel was at a loss for words as she was not quite sure what to say to assure him. It .. mattered to assure him because he was her friend. Cel found that she didn’t like the thought of him leaving thinking the worse. Especially after all his effort. Not that she was all that found of Jon upset, going about as if he’d his tail tucked between his legs or kicked mercilessly. Cel couldn’t find it in her, even with her bad mood, to not care if he went about feeling like the latter. She let out a sigh - not quite exasperated, not quite frustrated, but not just a simple sigh. “It is only that we do not often invite others inside” She explained quickly, after a very brief pause. “Today might not be the most opportune time to start doing so, especially if someone else might wish to use the common room.” Cel wasn’t of the mind to kick someone out at the moment, not just to spend some time with Jon. The potential bad moods and inevitable explanations would just exacerbate the situation. “Perhaps,” She started, her fingers spreading, brushing up against more of his as she pushed the tray more firmly back into his hand. …. Perhaps what? She couldn’t be possibly considering this tea, this tea in another place. Except she was. “we could have this tea outside.” Her mouth quirked up slightly, it wasn’t quite a smile - in fact it was rather pathetic as smiles went - but it was certainly more relaxed, even something similar to friendly. Jonathan started a bit when their hands touched. He gulped but tried to keep his composure as he still had the tea tray in his hands. It would be rather unromantic to spill hot tea on Celima and pelt her with bits of scone; that would be very bad indeed. Jon wondered what made her stop him from going and possibly hiding in the Ravenclaw dormitories for the rest of the day. Cel usually did not change her mind. But then he slowly realised as she seemed to be finding the words to say that maybe he misinterpreted it all. Maybe she didn’t not want him to be in the Durmstrang common room. Maybe it was a bad time. He understood that quite easily. If a Durmstrang player came into the common room and found their Captain having tea with a Hogwarts student after that match, well, the reaction would certainly not be cordial despite the professionalism they displayed. “Oh. Okay,” Jon nodded, and was about to suggest that she just take the tea tray and have it inside and that he understood--no hard feelings, friends and all. His words got all tangled and stuck in his throat though when her hands didn’t just brush his, they were actively touching his. “Um,” his cheeks started heating up, but this time it was completely different from embarassment. “Um, sure, we can do that, certainly,” Jon smiled back, stepping aside to let her through from the doorway. “I know one of the courtyards are particularly quiet at this time of day.” “All right.” She said, accepting and agreeing his words. Her eyes fell on his still reddening face but she didn’t say anything about it, or even spare it much of a thought. She did, however, let her hand drop and shifted a bit closer to him, in order to pull the door behind her. Tea. This was far from how she wanted or had planned to spend the rest of her day. Cel wasn’t certain if that was a good thing or not; however, another almost smile tugged at her mouth. It certainly could have been worse. Her smile spreading just slightly, as she gave her stammering companion an exasperatedly fond look, she decided that it definitely could have been worse. As she moved past him, Cel twirled absentmindedly the quidditch bag in her hand. She hadn’t put it down and she didn’t consider leaving it behind. “Lead the way.” |