Mad World Mods (madworldmods) wrote in madworldrp, @ 2007-10-16 23:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | meghan mccormack, peadar macdougal |
Peadar & Meghan
LJ-SEC: (ORIGINALLY POSTED BY highland_keeper)
Who: Peadar MacDougal and Meghan McCormack
What: Hogwarts' first Formula Duck race.
When: 16 October, just past dinner
Rating: Maybe some mild swearing. This is Meg, after all.
Normally, the sort of boredom that Meghan had been inflicted with could be cured by a bit of a broom ride, but one look outside had shattered that idea before it even got half-formed. In the absence of fresh air, the wheels in Meg's mind had started to turn, before she'd leapt out of her chair and ran out of the common room like her hair was on fire, stopping only to wheel around and come back through the portrait hole for her journal and a couple of butterbeers she had stashed in her dorm.
She was currently near the prefect's bath, having snuck inside to nick (innocently, with all intentions of returning them) two rubber duckies. They had, however, been altered quite a bit to meet Meghan's high standards of boredom relief. Normally very Muggle rubber ducks, they had been given the power of movement via bars of soap stuck to their bottoms, wettened with a dampening charm which she was nearly sure wouldn't dry up soon.. The piece Meghan was particularly proud of was their new magical vocal chords: they were actually quacking softly, and they sounded pretty damn lifelike. She watched them chase each other around the statue base, circling it quickly and quacking merrily all the while.
Where the hell was Pea? She didn't imagine that he should be that far away, really: she had given him decent directions. Part of her didn't feel like being alone, anyway, given her recent incarceration in the hospital wing, Meghan had no desire for a repeat performance. Tilting her head, she lifted her wand, tapping the one closest to her and turning it purple and gold - Pride of Portree colours. "You're a handsome duckie, aren't you?" she cooed to it, grinning from ear to ear at her own cleverness.
Peadar MacDougal was never the sort of boy who was ever destined for stealth; if Meg had any question as to his location before, his quickening steps quickly managed to sound his presence long before his face caught up. When he did, there was a bit of a winded look to him, but there was an undeniable bit of anticipation and glee as the one free hand the boy had quickly fished for an awkward looking wooden whistle to place to his lips and blow two stacatto notes through to the open air. The small quacks, although loud, did nothing to compte with Meg's ornithological duet, and Pea couldn't help but laughing a bit as he pocketed the duck call to look on his cousin's handiwork, absent-mindedly handing her a rather substantial biscuit tin in the process.
"Brilliant bit of guidance you gave me there," he said, as if he was trying to be a bit offended but failing miserably. "Honestly, 'statue of that one bloke'? Then again," Pea offered, wholly incapable of scolding at the sight of the little wiggling, slipping toys, "if I was a wee bit busy jury-rigging this bit of brilliance, I fancy I'd not be focusing much on gorgon balls or summat. Merlin, where'd you get these?" There was the look in Pea's eye that children usually had in their first encounters of something truly fantastic as he held the uncoloured duckie in his hands, grinning a little wider when the toy quacked in his general direction. "I hear they make these with those plash-tiks and shite, this is brill." Placing the toy back down again, Pea considered it with new and more serious eyes before, nonchalantly, deciding upon a violent orange with small blue spots. The duck's only response was to wiggle a bit more than previous, and even then, Pea suspected it to be entirely in his head.
"Knowing you, Meg," he said with a head-cock in her general direction, "we're not here just to stare at wee ducks on soap, though. What's the plan? And," Pea added upon standing up properly, "how're you finding the biscuits?" A hand dipped in and found a smaller one, not nearly as iced, and Pea began to chew. "Maybe it was just the first one I checked for arsenic that was a wee bit crisp, aye?"
Meghan's face only managed to brighten when she saw Pea, and the large tin of biscuits did nothing to dampen her mood. Popping the lid open, she quickly stuffed a biscuit in her mouth, crunching down on it with the satisfaction of one who enjoyed her sweets crunchy and over-coated with frosting.
"'M jus' surprised," she started out thickly, pausing to finish her biscuit (and pass him a butterbeer) before continuing on, "that ye actually gave yer homework the shrift ta join me," Meghan said, flicking a crumb at him. It was so much better to be around another Scot, even if it was Pea - no worrying about your accent, no worrying about fitting in, no worries period. "B'sides, I clearly said he was holdin' the Gorgon's head." Meghan flicked her glance upward to the statue, which was indeed a stylized Perseus celebrating his victory over Medusa. "No bollocks, ta, but if ye're focusin' on them that could be a bit of a worry for yer parents. S'pose I'll 'have to send yer mum an owl aboot it when I thank her for these biscuits. 'Dear Auntie Isobel - " for over the years, she really had earned the title, despite being a cousin - "your son is thinking of large stone bollocks. Please advise! With love, yer favourite, Meggie. Also, thanks much for the biscuits, they are gorgeous."
Meg paused long enough in her teasing to drop him a wink, the thought of ratting on him disturbing her more than the unfortunate colours he'd changed his duck. "I got 'em in the prefects' bath. Frank showed me in there one day, an' they still hadn't changed the password from then, I reckon, so I got a couple and some soap." Meg popped another biscuit in her mouth, crunching it quickly, but not so quickly that she couldn't appreciate the icing. "Figured we'd have a race with them. Use our wands to send 'em all through the floor." Another thought struck her, and she paused mid-crunch. "Could shet up obshtaclesh!"
"Oi!" Pea managed after a swallow of butterbeer, "I can manage not to be a stick in th' mud every once in a while! Besides, this might just fit brilliantly into a Muggle Studies project, so there ye are." He carefully left out the part where a good deal of his delay lie in the fact that he had to finish flagging the most recent batch of notes and placing them into his specific desk folder. Organisation, Pea found out early in life, was never anything you wanted to mention to Meghan McCormack on fear of getting the utter piss taken out of oneself. Then again, he supposed that having the piss being taken out by Meg was something he was entirely used to, for the one comment he managed for anything even remotely upon the subject of granite gonads was, "Ye know she'd only ask you to clarify as t' whether you were talking about the stone bollocks of the physical world or whether these're a transcendental, cosmic pair a' stone balls. She always does."
With a swig of the butterbeer and another sneak of a biscuit, Pea nursed a bit of silence (and, perhaps, covetous thoughts in the general direction of any and all prefects) for a while until, slowly, a bit of a grin spread across his face. "Well, we've at least the tin for one, but do you have anything else? I was expecting a night of textbookless fun," he said with a faux-scolding expression, the bottleneck waggling in Meg's general direction, "and here, they would've fit in fine! A bit mistreated," he said as a foot note to his very conversation, "but altogether fine, aye? Anyway, you've got anything to vault these things over and around, or will we have to get creative?"
The unfortunate thing about being friends with Pea was that sometimes, he came out with real tosh instead of something that even had the thinnest veneer of sense about it. "Muggle Studies?" she asked, eyebrow arching. Muggle studies. Sometimes her family amazed the hell out of her, even after nearly two decades of their... eccentricities. "Pea-dearest," she said, only the shadowiest traces of sarcasm in her voice. "What does a charmed rubber duck have to do with Muggles? This thing's about as Muggle as a broomstick. Sure, Muggles use them, but we use them for quite different purposes, don't we?" And on that great tidal wave of logic, Meghan decided to skip the rest of the conversation regarding stone bollocks. She had gotten better at picking her battles, but for pride's sake, a remark had to be made regarding Auntie Isobel: "I love your mum. Love her. Why can't she adopt me and disown you?"
Mulling these greatly unfair questions over, Meg kept munching on her biscuits, casually sliding the tin away from Pea and huddling over it with a protective stance, most usually seen on defensive mother bears. "Ye're not usin' this tin! This is the first home-made thing anyone's sent me all year. It is a treasure. I do think, though, we'll have to skip the obstacles. Dunno how well the ducks would jump, anyway."
Despite Meg's mild dressing down, Pea was entirely unphased, bending over to poke at his particular toy with curious wand and a grin. "Actually, you'd be surprised how much Professor Wallace likes to do toy analysis in the classroom in the N.E.W.T. levels. Have you ever seen Slin-kays? Sleen-keys? Bother," he muttered, "forget how the daft things're pronounced, but they're mad brilliant! I had to do a comparison project on that and, er, bother... something else, oh, it doesn't matter." Surprisingly, it didn't; even Pea felt that he was wasting time on this particularly brilliant venture, and so he pointed to a few bricks before both Meg and himself and muttered something under his breath. A neat line appeared soon afterwards, as if the floor was a chalkboard, fat and nicely visible in the dim lighting.
"Merlin! I've not a death wish, Meg! Th' biscuits're safe," and Pea said this with a bit of a cheeky grin, a laugh, but his eyes told of his honesty in this. "Besides, I only meant the tin itself, not the contents. Even so, you're right. Wouldn't do. We want speed, aye?" He nudged his little bird into its place behind the starting line, smiling when he found the wee toy to be in perfect alignment. "Does up the corridor, around the suit of armour, and back sound alright until we've got the feel of our little racers?"