Fabian Prewett (killerfish) wrote in wingardiumrpg, @ 2011-01-14 14:52:00 |
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Current mood: | rejuvenated |
12 August 1975
Fabian Prewett could not study one bit longer for his Auror exam, or he might go insane. As always, there was really only one option if he didn't want people asking him about how he was doing on the Auror exam and wanted a real distraction instead, and that was Hestia Jones. He happily Apparated to her door and knocked, uncaring as to whether or not she had plans or naked men or other such things going on in her flat.
Hestia had no plans and unfortunately no naked men or plans with naked men, so she went to the door and after checking through the peephole, answered. "You knocked this time! I'm training you so well."
"I'm polite," he said proudly.
"Let's not go wild," she said, and stepped back, swinging the door open. "Come in. Have you eaten yet? Never mind, stupid question, I'll bet my Gringotts vault you haven't."
"I haven't," he confirmed, and came inside. "Your flat's always so clean. How do you do it?"
"I clean," she answered. "Come on. I have frittatas. They're not even cold yet."
"What are frittatas?" he asked, intrigued, and grabbed a chair.
"Eggs, sort of like an omelette or a quiche -- these have bacon, tomatoes, and cheese, But basically, whatever you want," she said brightly.
"Whatever I want?" Fabian liked the sound of that. "I like bacon."
"Well, these are made, but you can put whatever you want in them," she said, serving some on another plate for him.
"What's a quiche?" he asked next, and took some bacon for his.
"Kind of like a pie, but you use eggs and milk in the crust and other fillings instead of it being like... a pie for dessert," she answered. "You are full of questions."
"It has nothing to do with defence or law so it's terribly interesting to me right now," Fabian answered honestly.
"Oh," she said. "Well, I could keep talking about food but all that's going to do is make us hungry. Even if we're eating."
"All right, what do you want to talk about?" he prompted. "I'll listen to anything. Especially if it's dirty," he added.
"Well, I'm not going to talk dirty to you tonight, sorry," she said, taking a drink of her tea. "I have things to accomplish."
He raised his eyebrows and took a bite of his frittata as he considered that. "Talking dirty to someone else?"
"Oh yeah," she said, mock seriously. "Mr. Advanced Arithmancy and then mapping early stages of new projects. I am going to be absolutely filthy."
Fabian found this alarming, enough so to leave a bite hanging as he stared at her skeptically. "You're working? At home?"
"You have to study, I get stuck with the bitchwork because I'm youngest on the Committee. It happens."
"But at home! You should be having fun. You're too young and fit to be working at home," Fabian protested.
"You're right, I should go work at a high-top table in a pub somewhere."
"Absolutely not," he said, offended. "You're too good for that."
"You're too much sometimes," she told him, reaching across the table to pat his cheek playfully.
He shot her a grin. "You're too much."
"All the time, or just sometimes as well?"
"Oh, all the time, it's why I'm not here all the time," Fabian said airily.
"Of course," she allowed, nodding.
"That and there's such great demand for me."
"I noticed that your presence was required in Janine Croaker's knickers," Hestia said delicately.
"Just trying to help out a mate. ... A former roommate," Fabian amended, to more accuracy. "She was funny, anyway."
"But she doesn't even speak Icelandic, Fabian, I'm not sure how you managed without boring yourself to sleep," she responded in a perfect deadpan.
He flashed his best charming smile. "Not every woman can be as interesting as you."
"Mhm," she said, sipping her tea. "It's exhausting being wonderful."
"And yet you pull it off, every day."
"No, really, stop." She was a bit drier but if they stayed in this vein that's what the whole night would be.
Fabian paused. "All right," he agreed, much lighter. "We should get out. Get some air. Paint the town red or the like."
"Fabian," she said. "Not that I don't love the idea or painting in general, but are you sure? Your exams -- "
"Is it the red? We could paint the town blue," he said, happy to feign perfect obliviousness to her meaning.
"No, I love red, although blue has always been good too," she said, answering the question and moving right along, "You should go hoome and study."
He grimaced. "I'm tired of studying. I have to have it all by now." He wasn't confident enough to cover all the doubt.
"The town will still be around to be painted red once you've passed," she replied. "And then it'll be even better! Because it'll be celebrating!"
Fabian groaned. "You're supposed to be distracting me."
"I'll distract you," she said. She just knew how going out usually ended up and with him days away from the exam, it seemed like pushing his luck -- not that that was unknown for Fabian.
"After the exam," he echoed, and put his face in his hands. "The exam."
And now she'd done it. "You're going to be brilliant," she said. "Flying colors, and then some."
"Shouldn't matter, it's about saving lives in the end," he said finally, upon looking up. "Not about me."
"Bloody Gryffindors," she huffed, mostly to herself. "You're going to be great and you'll be given your pass and then you'll get to do all that."
Fabian wanted to ram his head against the table, because then he might stop getting neurotic about this. "I keep having nightmares about just forgetting all this shite once I have the damned parchment in front of me.."
"You won't," she said. "It's pactically second nature and all to you now."
"It bloody well better or I'll end up a laughingstock."
"Well, if that happens, we can run away. To another country. Join a circus," she said, like this was a perfectly reasonable solution.
This intrigued him. "A circus?" he asked, cracking a smile. "Really?"
"A traveling one," she said.
"What would you do?" he had to ask.
"I sort of thought trapeze would be fun but I'm kind of put off by heights," she replied easily. "So I guess I don't really know."
"We'd figure something out," Fabian said wisely.
"I don't really care for clowns either," she added pensively. "Maybe a circus would be an awful idea."
He considered that, genuinely. "We could be traveling players. Or bards. Do they still have those?"
"If we did it it would exist," sbe pointed out.
He paused. "That makes sense," he had to admit.
"You should learn ukelele," she continued. "I think you'd make a charming ukelele player."
Fabian mused. "It's a bit small, isn't it? Isn't that the small one?"
"Oh shut up, everything is not about size."
"It's a bit about size, I'd look ridiculous." He imitated playing a tiny guitar.
Hestia laughed, and then covered her mouth. "It's part of the absurdity, the humor!"
He made a face at her. "You just want to laugh at me!"
"No, I want everyone else to laugh at you," she said. "I'm in on the act. The straight man, if you will."
"That isn't better," he pointed out.
"You came up with the idea," she pointed out in return.
"But mockery! I wasn't in for the mockery!"
"Oh, you're no fun."
"I am loads of fun." He pulled a completely ridiculous face at her.
Hestia laughed again. "Okay, fine, I'll play the ukelele," she said.
"And I'll dance," Fabian said, very dignified.
"Oh lord."
He grinned at her. "You'll love it."
"Forget it. I'll buy a monkey."
"Hestia! Don't leave me!" Fabian pressed a hand to his heart, wounded, and feigned falling dead.
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from her smile getting too big. "Are you done yet?" she said.
"You know in fairytales you can't just wake 'em up by talking," he mentioned, eyes still shut.
Hestia rolled her eyes. "In fairytales it's not usually the village idiot that gets the kiss either, you know," she said, but had raised herself in the chair enough to lean over the table and kiss him on the head. "Mwah. Better?"
He opened his eyes and looked at her skeptically. "That's it? This is your conquering hero," he teased.
"Oh by sweet Merlin's beard, you are looking for distraction," she said, and leaned over more to kiss him on the mouth.
He kissed her, and grinned upon pulling back. "Now I can study."
"Yeah, frittatas and a snog and you're rejuvenated," she said, falling back into her chair. "Now I know you're ready."
"Tell me you aren't going to work once I'm gone," he checked.
"Of course not," she lied.
He laughed. "You're a bad liar."
"Yes, I am," she acknowledged. "But I also need to work on it."
"On lying? I agree."
"No not on that," she said easily, and decided to try logic. "But when you pass and you want to celebrate, what if I have to work on this instead because I didn't work on it tonight?"
He wanted to pick holes in that logic, but it was harder than it should've been. "Good point," he had to admit. "All right. Going."
"Okay," she said. "Do I need to send food? Do I need to send you food tomorrow?" she then checked.
"... I'll come over," he decided, upon reflection on the food problem. "Or I could just order in. Ordering in is good."
"Yes, darling, but when you order in, you actually have to place the order. The restaurant doesn't just psychically know what it is you want and where you live to deliver it," she responded pragmatically.
"By now they should," Fabian deadpanned.
"You still have to order," she reiterated.
"I'll order," he assured her.
"Okay," she said seriously. "But if you don't want to, you can come over."
"Okay," he echoed, only slightly stifling a grin.
"All right," she said. "Go. Study. Try not to fall asleep on your notes. Make it to the bed."
He saluted, and unabashedly kissed her again. "... G'night," he concluded.
"Go away," she said, laughing and swatting at him.
"You'll miss me when I'm gone," he swore, and cheerfully left.
"Bloody Gryffindors," she swore, picking up her fork again to finish the frittata.