hugo bouse is a motherfathergentleman. (bouse) wrote in thedept, @ 2013-06-01 11:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log, ! threading challenge, hugo weasley, simon dedworth |
WHO Hugo Weasley and Simon Dedworth
WHAT Threading challenge from April: Hugo gets high and causes a scene in Munchie's. Simon intervenes.
WHEN seriously backdated because of my utter fail -- but back when everybody was getting high at Munchie's
WHERE Munchie's
RATING/WARNINGS PG/PG-13
STATUS Done
TO BE AIRED Sure!
Hugo had no idea what kind of organic unicorn-farted rainbows or phoenix voodoo the people at Munchie’s had access to, but the dessert special that he was eating at their cafe right now was a slice of wizarding heaven on a plate. Whoever had made it deserved the Order of Merlin and that Muggle equivalent -- what did they call it again? The one named after the Swedish dude? Nobel Prize? There was no way in hell he would have passed up a hot fudge brownie sundae on any ordinary day, but on most days, he would usually eat something more substantial than a bag of chips and a cup of coffee from this morning. Today, however, was an exception to the rule, as he had been starving all day, so it was of little surprise that once he got to Munchie’s, he had made a beeline for the sundae first, only to remember that he should probably “balance” it out with a bacon sandwich and a can of soda. What he didn’t expect, however, was for the brownies to taste this fucking good. It had to be illegal, right? he thought, as he took the last bite of his ice cream. His stomach filled from the rich chocolate and the multiple scoops of ice cream, Hugo leaned back lazily in his chair and tried to release some of that food-coma bloat with a burp loud enough that would have made Ron high-five him and Hermione scold him with an indignant “HUGO!”. “Goddamn,” Hugo proclaimed rather loudly, to nobody in particular. Perhaps if he hadn’t been utterly high as a kite, he would have paid more mind to the number of stares he suddenly garnered. No matter though, as he gave the table a hearty slam. “This sundae was the best motherfucking thing I’ve ever had in my ---” Shit, how old was he again? “--nine, I mean eighteen years of my life.” However, most people seemed to have stared at Hugo for a mere second, only to resume whatever it was they were doing, and that was not fucking okay with Hugo. People needed to hear his message. He could always let bacon finish, but these brownies were the best thing of all time. Vaguely frustrated with the lack of attention he was getting, Hugo grabbed the spoon that had been laying idly in his sundae bowl, and began to hit it loudly against the outer surface of the bowl. Ding ding ding! went the clang of the metal against the porcelain. Hugo remained fixated on the sound of his little drumming session that it didn’t occur to him when somebody sat himself down in the seat across. Apparently there was an incident underway at Munchies. One that might require his unit to intervene in addition to Ministry security. People were floating. Or at least in this case, one person was floating. One Hugo Weasley. And Simon could already figure out the cause. It was too similar to the billywig case from earlier to not be the same thing. At least the young man didn’t seem all too bothered by his current state. So, Simon casually sat down in the seat across from the man, glancing upward at him. He was characteristically calm, even as the floating young man was gaining quite the audience. “Is there something you would like to say?” Simon quirked an eyebrow, pausing just a moment before continuing on with his next question. “Or shall we get you sorted out?” Calm as Simon may have been, Hugo had not expected anybody to even speak up, least of all not in his current state. Flinching perhaps involuntary, Hugo looked on at Simon rather stupidly. “Hey --” he began. However, he only began to realize that his feet felt oddly detached from the rest of his body, wait --- he was floating! Hugo Weasley was floating. He gave his legs a little kick to test it out, and a childlike laugh escaped him. “--hahahahahaha! Check it out! I’ve been Levicorpus’ed.” He hadn’t the faintest idea as to why he was floating, but between this and the sundae, he felt great. “Say, you didn’t happen to levitate me, did you?” he blurted out to Simon, as the thought of why he was floating finally crossed his mind. “Pretty sure that’s gotta be illegal somewhere, but don’t worry -- I won’t tell.” Simon didn’t immediately say anything. There was no response he would wish to give to the accusation that he would perform an illegal act - a rather childish one at that - within the walls of the Ministry of Magic. Instead he found more appropriate words. “Your situation does have to do with substances of questionable legality, but not quite in the way you are implying.” He could have very well explained the situation, but the young man thought he was being levitated and he didn’t seem too bothered by the situation. Perhaps it was best to not upset the status quo as it currently was. “I will, however, ask that you don’t try to fly anywhere. I don’t believe that will have a good outcome.” “Instead I would recommend that you allow me to escort you to the healing centre.” While he used the word recommend, Simon really didn’t say it as a recommendation. He was basically informing Hugo of what was going to happen. Meanwhile his head was already going through the food that would be confiscated and properly disposed of before this spread any further. Not to mention the backtracking that would be completed to figure out if it made it to anywhere else. “Whoa, whoa.” The thought of Hugo getting stoned at work -- hah. He immediately put his arms up in a gesture of surrender, but hah. Hah. Substance abuse. “Me. Substance abuse at work? Do people call it substance abuse anymore? Isn’t it like, getting high?” As ridiculous as Hugo looked hovering over the ground, he had momentarily forgotten about it until Simon pointed it out again. (Such was the single-mindedness of having your sensory appreciation heightened.) “Oh, huh. So what happens if I try to fly?” In an attempt to answer his own question, he outstretched his arms and began to flap them up and down. He began laughing at how ridiculous he must have looked, but unfortunately, once his first laugh triggered a whole series of laughs, to the point where he was struggling to simultaneously wave his arms and bowl over in his state of amusement. He looked like one of those flying monkeys in one of the films his Mum had once forced him to watch as a kid. Flap, flap. “This is kinda fun though. You sure it’s actually dangerous?” “Uh. Escort? Why would you need to escort me?” he asked, confusion spiking in his voice. “C’mon -- I can fly.” Oh, shit, he thought. He knew what he looked like -- Peter Pan! Yeah! Laughing at the very thought, Hugo grinned rather ridiculously at Simon. “I can fly, I can fly, I can fly!” he exclaimed, his version of the Peter Pan song rather off-key. Simon exhaled a little louder than absolutely necessary. Sometimes work was exactly like dealing with his own children. He could only imagine how Bobby might respond in such a situation. It probably would be reminiscent to this. “No, you are able to float continuously until such a point when the effect wears off. As we are unsure when that point might be, and this is likely connected to an ongoing case, you will receive an escort.” He stood then, twirling his wand to cast ropes that might tether to Hugo. It would turn the young man into a sort of balloon. “It would be in everyone’s best interest if you did not attempt to resist.” Had Hugo not been high as a kite, his reflexes might have prevented him from being caught by Simon’s ropes, but as it were, it took him a very delayed reaction of a few seconds to realize that he was tied up. Haha. Tied up. And not just tied up. Hugo was getting tied up by an escort. The very connotation made him chuckle to himself, as he remained floating above ground. Simon’s next words only made him laugh harder, so hard that he couldn’t help but lean forward to clutch his own ribcage. Resist! Hah! “Hahaha, I gotta hand it to you -- you’re funny, sir! So where are we headed off to?” Nothing about this was particularly funny to Simon. Although that was par for the course. This was work related and simply a matter of moving a floating young man. “We are headed to the healing centre.” Without the equivalent of a human balloon in tow, that should have been an easy trip. It was one that Simon made many times before. However, he had never actually had someone in tow or had to create a plan for this possibility. That was perhaps an oversight. Not that it would stop him from currently directly them both - although mostly Hugo, toward the condiment station. It must not have been built very well because one bump and the towers of ketchup and mustard started to topple. “Wait ----” Hugo began, trying to complete the sentence without sounding like a complete dope, but words were beginning to fail him. Or already failing him. “--- whaaaat. I’m not injured -- I don’t even work in your department! I work in PR!” he protested. But despite the increased vehemence in his voice, even he couldn’t escape the fact that he was virtually a floating human balloon. Whatever, he thought. He was too lazy to walk. It was like being pushed around in a stroller like when he was a baby, except this was cooler because how many people could possible brag about being a human balloon? Nothing was cooler, Hugo thought. Until he passed by the condiment station and his eyes widened at the sight of the ketchup bottle. Mmm, ketchup. If only he had a good plate of greasy fish n’ chips to match. Suddenly hungry again, Hugo made a rather lackadaisical swipe toward the nearest bottle of ketchup, only to cause a mustard bottle to fall, which caused a ketchup bottle to fall, which caused …. an avalanche. “SHIT,” Hugo covered his mouth in a mixture of both shock and laughter as he realized what had just happened. “Sir -- duck!” he yelled out, as he reached his arms out in an attempt to catch any errant bottles flying his way. Simon was never one to rest on his laurels. It wasn’t in his nature. So, while he might have been in an unexpected situation of escorting a human balloon while facing an avalanche of condiments, he wasn’t overwhelmed by it. No, if that was going to come, it would be later. Instead, he was in a difficult position to keep a reign on Hugo while not being battered by ketchup and mustard. To the best of his ability he quickly deployed a shield charm, containing the worst of it. Anything more would have to be dealt by someone else. “Mr Weasley, please desist from trying to help,” he said turning his focus back to the young man. “Now, we are going to continue to the healing centre so that we can move forward from this incident.” He sounded sure in his voice. So, sure that he was going to do just that and en route be sure that the appropriate people were notified to deal with the secondary incident. At the sound of Simon’s voice -- focused, calm, self-assured and certainly an antidote to the floaty feeling that had taken over Hugo’s headspace -- Hugo immediately dropped his arms and his body turned slack as a ragdoll. It only took one fraction of a glance to his left to notice the numerous ketchup bottles strewn all over the floor. Shit. Mum was going to kill him. Have him drawn and quartered. Make him see a fate smilar to the poor ketchup and mustard bottles. “Sir yes sir,” he replied, his mouth outstretched by a giant yawn. Exhausted for the mid-day, Hugo dropped his head down. Where was his bed when he needed it? “Alright, alright,” he mumbled wearily. “Accio Healing C -- I mean, to the Healing Center we go,” he said, mustering up every ounce of willpower in him to stay awake, in lieu of wanting to pass out on the nearest Healing Center bed. |