Sasha offered Figaro an awkward grin in greeting and then turned his attention to arranging his Magical Creatures supplies carefully on the table in front of him.  "How did you do on your essay?" Sasha asked as he carefully straightened the handful of library books stacked carefully next to him, all pertaining to either the topic of the research project or somehow connected to their magical pest tracking assignment.  The short essay they'd submitted the first Thursday of the term had been a clear warning to all those in the class that all the claims made about the workload for NEWT level courses were true. 

Sasha set his collection of class and reading notes directly in front of him along with a clean scrap of parchment.  His own essays from the first two weeks were rolled up and set off to the side but within easy reach if it was needed. 

The essay had been important; any assignment had the potential to damage or solidify his grade in either direction.  But, that month's project was the big one.  As Sasha understood, they needed to identify and track down an infestation.  And, then, work with the professors to remove it from the castle.

He hoped Figaro had been on the look out for signs of infestations.  "I've been seeing some droppings down around the paddocks behind Nagde's cabin," Sasha tossed out, shrugging slightly.  "There's also something creaking in a cabinet in that unused classroom in the dungeons.  I've been hearing it on prefect rounds.  Have you come across anything?"

Figaro noticed Sasha's meticulous plan of attack about homework.  He arranged his tools so damn eagerly, like a butcher, or a Healer, laying out his instruments in anticipation of some grand exercise.  No matter how solemn he seemed, there was something about it that made Figaro suspect Sasha enjoyed this academic labor.

Figaro's preparations were somewhere at the opposite poll.  A garbage bin would have a better organizational scheme than his bookbag, which he'd opened and let spill onto the table.  Falling out of it were magazines, crumpled parchment, battered textbooks, quills both broken and intact, half empty ink bottles, food wrappers, and even a pair of Quidditch goggles.  He rummaged in it with casual disdain, drawing out by some serendipity some articles that would be useful for their Care of Magical Creatures coursework.  A self-inking quill with frayed feathers, and a folder of notes and empty pages.

"Got a Pass.  Professor Hagrid marked me down for length, though."  Also marked on the paper was a call for better research - there'd been a few inaccuracies regarding the history of griffons in the British Isles.  Figaro didn't seem personally bothered by it, but that short essay had turned out to be one of the easier assignments of that first week.  NEWT-level courses were not a joke.  And Figaro was only taking five. 

Even though he had his supplies out, he was just resting his forearms on the spread of irrelevant papers and looking around them.  He shrugged at the inquiry about their latest project - to clear up an infestation at Hogwarts.  Practical. Research- and labor-intensive.  And requiring in preparation and much documentation.

"There's been a great deal of shrieking coming from the girls' dorms..." he said absently.  "Either banshees or first years...Oi, can I borrow that?"

There was a book in Sasha's stack called Chalfante's Common Castle Blights, Pests & Hauntings.  He reached for it before getting a formal response to his rhetorical request, sliding it over and around and cracking it open right in the middle.  Perhaps reading through the various symptoms and signals would clue him into something.  He knew the idea was probably to actively take time to look around the castle and take note of one's surroundings, but who had the time for that.

"Ha, hilarious this:" He quoted from the book.  "Bloody puddles found around fireplaces, hearths or large floos may indicate a chimney bat problem and may require a professional and accounting of any missing pets or house elves... Shite! I want to find some bloody puddles..."

He wrote down 'bloody puddles'.

Sasha was no stranger to the differences in their academic techniques.  The textbooks had changed over the years but the present-day Figaro book bag looked not all that dissimilar to the book bag of last year.  And the year before.  In the past, Sasha would, occasionally, comment on the general state of disarray but this year things were ... different.  Not strained, per se, just more like ... well, like things had changed and they were still feeling out what that meant. 

"That's good."  A pass was, indeed, good and at this stage of their educational careers, they were harder to obtain and carried more weight than they had in the past.  Though, getting marked down for length seemed such an easy thing to avoid.  "It seems like they're giving us lots of essays.  I've had at least three a night since the start of term." 

Sasha shifted his own stack of books a little to the side to accentuate the half-inch ribbon of open table between Figaro's workspace and his own.  Just to make sure it was quite clear where one student's pile ended and the other began - just in case Mr. Morgan or one of the professors happened by.  He straightened his clean bit of parchment in front of him and readied his quill, jotting down observations on infestations as they came up.  He'd just started writing Shrieking from girl's when he sighed and quickly tugged his wand out to erase the errant note.

"Well, neither of us can go in the Hufflepuff girls' dorm so that's not really one we can investigate," Sasha pointed out.  Not only were both of them boys but, at this stage, Sasha would much rather get caught sneaking in Slytherin House than Hufflepuff.  He wasn't exactly Hufflepuff's favorite person these days. 

Sasha opened his mouth with the intention of pointing out that he hadn't seen any bloody puddles by fireplaces, hearths or floos.  But, before he managed to state the obvious, it occurred to him that any cause for motivation wasn't necessarily a bad thing.  "Maybe that's something we should go looking for," Sasha finally offered.  If they happened to find something more useful en route, who cared what they initially went looking for.  "We could also look on the grounds, too.  The owlery is filthy enough - I'm sure something has infested that."

A grin crept onto Figaro's face - Sasha's taken his joke about the noisy first year girls seriously.  Pretty funny for lad with no sense of humor. 

But he furrowed his brow at Sasha's eagerness to get up and 'go looking for'.  As much as Figaro would prefer to go and do something more entertaining than sitting in this nook in the dim library, tromping around and climbing stairs whist note-taking diligently was not his idea of fun.

"Yea, maybe," he said, and kept on flipping through the book.  There was a section on identifying strange odors and what they might indicate.  That the urine of  doxy pups smells like apple cider, and the aura of some poltergeists can smell like baking vomit and cinnamon. 

He really didn't want to do this project.  He felt distracted and the amount of work it was going to take loomed ahead insurmountable and dull.  Getting started was a trench.  At that thought, he shut the book and slid it back towards Sasha, inadvertently skewing up the order on the other side of the 'line'. 

With a couple of shuffles, he came upon their latest Runes translation assignment.  His was only about a quarter done.  He looked down on it, and it seemed halfway more attractive than Creatures, for some odd reason.  He got up and walked off for a moment, saying, "Right back." 

Took him about two minutes to find the section with all the Runes reference, and then he returned with the fat little book, shaped more like a brick than a tile.  Visiting Professor Maras was having them translate Old Centaur... He started leafing through to find the translation for the next series of morphemes.

His quill nib scratched on his parchment as he traced out the translation he'd found.  Idyllic, was the what it stood for.  He'd need an English dictionary next to sort out just what that meant.

"You pissing yourself about the Tournament, then?" he asked as he continued slow progress on the translation.

The plan didn't work.  Figaro was still in his seat, still flipping through the now creased book with only a marginal degree of interest.  This could be problematic.  They needed to do the project; this was what they'd scheduled this time for.  Sasha had known Figaro wasn't the most diligent student for years now but he had to understand that ignoring the project wasn't going to make it go away, right?

But, with a slight sigh, Sasha watched as the book was shoved back in his direction.  He was distracted for a moment by reordering his study supplies, but when Sasha looked up, he found Figaro had abandoned their assignment all together and had moved on to Runes. 

"I...I've already done those," Sasha admitted as Figaro got up and shuffled off between the bookshelves.  They'd made it all of five minutes before the Hufflepuff had gotten distracted.  "We've got to do this," Sasha reminded Figaro when the Hufflepuff returned.  "At some point.  It isn't something we can leave until the last minute." 

From the stack of textbooks, Sasha tugged his Biology textbook free from the stack and flipped through the pages until he found a duplicate of his class schedule carefully nestled between the pages.  Lines had been drawn into the few instances of free time on his schedule (mostly the hour before breakfast, meal times, his one study period and those seminar slots).  On the added lines, Sasha's study times for the week had been as carefully and thoroughly scheduled out as his actual class times. 

Sasha sighed and, with his wand, erased COMC Project from their current time slot.  "When would you rather do it?" he asked.  "I've got class until nine the rest of this week.  And, we shouldn't put it off too long.  I could move my charms essay to tonight and we could meet tomorrow at five." 

"Bloody hell," Sasha muttered when Figaro brought up the Tournament.  He hadn't admitted to anyone how nervous he really was.  There were few things that could really distract Sasha from homework; the pending Tournament was one of them.  "I don't know what I was thinking, entering.  I assumed I wouldn't get chosen.  I'm not exactly champion material.  Everyone knows that."

Merlin's balls, Sasha was worse than the professors.  Figaro would get his project done on time and Sasha could go off and do his early if he wanted to.  Figaro had though it would be easier working along side Sasha for the project, not harder.  Classes were harder this year, and apparently that made Sasha more of a Ravenclaw than usual.

Figaro sighed and gave Sasha a look.  He didn't need Sasha on his case.  He tried to ignore him as Sasha tried to get him to commit to a time so they could work on their respective Creature projects, but it was making it difficult to focus on the next rune to translate.  They all looked the same, but at the same time, so intricately different.  Leave it to centaurs to find ways to be both vague and descriptive...

He put his quill down and gave Sasha a different look.  A C'mon.  Honestly.  Kind of look. 

"I call shenanigans, mate.  That's total kelpie.  Course you wanted to be champion or you wouldn't have entered," he said matter of fact.  "You wanted to know if you'd be good enough to get picked.  Good enough to win.  And now you know.  But now you've got to deliver."

Figaro had also put his name in the Goblet for the exact same reason he was saying Sasha did.  "Put my name in too.  If I get picked, I'll promptly shit myself and dive in."  He shrugged.  "What else can you do?" 

Honestly it was that excitement and tension that had made Figaro decide to try.  He knew he wasn't the calibre wizard to win, but the excitement, the attention, the thrill of not knowing? Worth it. 

"You're a ringer.  I know it."

Sasha flushed but resisted the urge to drop his gaze when Figaro gave him that look.  Procrastinating had never made any sense to Sasha - if one had time for a task now, why put it off?  Who knew what else would end up on their plates as they got closer to the due date. 

But, they weren't required to work together.  If Figaro preferred to work on his own timetable, Sasha could adjust.  Most of the time, he could work faster on his own, anyway.  If Figaro preferred to co-study rather than collaborate, Sasha could shift his own attentions to something more conducive to desk work.  With a flick of his wand, he moved the COMC project session to Thursday after Astronomy and moved the corresponding Muggle Studies and Defense Against the Dark Arts essays to the current time slot.

Sasha tugged two more books from his bag and set Magical Ailments - Treatments and Myth next to The Oxford Textbook of Infectious and Communicable Diseases next to each other.  With quill to a fresh sheet of parchment, he started writing: A Triad of Poxes - A Comparative Exploration of Dragon Pox, Chicken Pox and Small Pox. 

"Do I seem like the shenanigans type?" Sasha asked, glancing up from his page, a slight grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.  "I ... I was being honest.  I entered because I assumed I wouldn't be chosen.  I don't know. I'd been talking to Professor Trishna and he told me that I shouldn't enter.  That I wouldn't be prepared for the type of stuff I needed- need to know.  I know he's not the only one that doesn't think I can do it.  I don't know.  I was tired of people thinking that."  He'd needed to prove to himself and to others that, at the very least, he could put his name in.  "I know more - I've done more than people think I have."

"Guess I assumed it was time for my luck to change, you know?"  Whether getting chosen was a good omen or a bad one, he didn't know yet.  He supposed he'd find out in two weeks.

Sasha shrugged and paused a moment to scribble down a few opening sentences in his essay.  "You're gutsy.  You'd probably do fine if you are chosen.  And, people like you."  Sasha could see Figaro diving in.  And, either succeeding in fine glory or crashing and burning.  "I think people usually do better with these kind of things than they expect to."

Figaro didn't buy it.  Or maybe he just didn't grasp it.  Thinking you wouldn't get picked wasn't a reason to do a thing.  Attention was a reason.  One of Figaros favorites.  Show'em What For - that was another reason.  Gambling, betting on it - that was a reason.  But doing it because you didn't want to do it?  No kind of reason. 

"You're a complicated man, Schlagenwagon," he said with a tolerant sigh and a shake of his head.

The idea that Figaro could possibly be chosen for the Tournament was thrilling.  "Merlin, I hope there'll be dragons here."  It was a bold thing to hope in the same space of having a thought that he'd be a Champion.

He shook his body in a giant, exaggerated jittery shivver, trying to shake the willies this whole business game him.  "Eeesh!" 

He coughed loudly into his fist, and it echoed in the quiet library and shifted his chair with a scrape, all as he tried to refocus on the Runes.  "Ngh..." he sighed and frowned at his work.  He raised his eyes up at Sasha who appeared to be drafting some kind of work of "lit-chra-cha", happy as a clam.

"How do you it?" he asked.  "You're taking what - seven classes?  Plus you still do all that muggle stuff.  How do you do it?"

Figaro didn't even know the half of it. 

Sasha stared blankly at his roll of parchment, his brow furrowed in thought.  Sasha liked to think it wasn't so much that he was complicated, it was just that life had gotten so bloody complicated around him.  He was just struggling to keep pace.  And, lately, he wasn't entirely confident he was succeeding; Professor Trishna's comments coupled with Kronos' most recent letter - which lay unresponded to in his bag - had left him very uncertain. 

For the briefest moment, Sasha opened his mouth, poised to elaborate if, for no other reason than to see Figaro's reaction and compare it to Professor Trishna's.  For a non-authority figure's perspective.  Of all people, Sasha assumed, Figaro was the least likely to freak out.  After all, there were plenty of rumors of Fig crossing paths with various unsavory individuals.  And, he hung out with Tawse. 

But, a stack of books hovered past their table on their journey to be reshelved and Sasha quickly shook his head.  Talking about it once had been a foolish mistake.  Talking about it again would be idiotic.  Talking about it in the library, under Mr. Morgan's nose was just dumb. 

"They did dragons last time," Sasha said, turning back to his essay with a sigh.  "Harcroft thinks they won't repeat tasks.  We were trying to guess what the creature would be the other day - if it is a creature task.  Seeing a dragon would be amazing, though.  They've got to be remarkable in person."  As long as one wasn't trying to interact with them. 

Sasha pulled out his wand and pointed the purple-hewn tip at his essay, removing an unsatisfactory sentence and shifting the ink of the other lines down the page to make room for the longer, more thorough replacement.

"Not seven," Sasha corrected, having finished up the new sentence and chasing the paragraph back together.  "The professors keep trying to convince me to but I haven't, you know, dropped any.  I'm still taking all twelve.  But, I have scaled back to only the muggle subjects I need - and, mostly just reviewing for the GSCE exams.  I just don't do much besides studying - it's not that bad.  It'll get easier after the tournament."

Twelve?!  Figaro had never sat and counted because five was closer to the digits he dealt with on his daily time-table.  Were there even twelve courses at Hogwarts? Were there that many hours in a day?

"How could you possibly need all that?" Figaro asked, truly baffled.  "What does someone even do with twelve N.E.W.T.s?  Bet you the Minister of Magic doesn't even have that many.  I revise maybe an hour a night, sometimes two.  Maybe cram for exams.  You know me, mate - not shy about giving advice, am i?  You gotta calm your wand.  Dead serious.  Heart attacks exist."

Figaro had his arms crossed for the moment, leaning back his own Runes forgotten for the moment.  People who worked all the time? What kind of life was that?  Figaro wasn't a philosophical chap, but he knew a thing or two about balance, about the need for some unstructured lackadaising in one's life.  You needed time to let moments happen. 

"Honestly, what's all this for at the end of the day?" he asked with a flick of his hand at their pile of books. 

There were that many courses at Hogwarts.  And, there were at least that many hours in a day. More so, Sasha had survived the first two weeks.  There were only thirty-some-odd left.  It was just like a really long marathon - he just had to take it mile by mile. 

"I'm not going to have a heart attack," Sasha insisted, putting his quill and wand down.  "It's just two years.  Then I think I'm going to take a year off before starting University.  I'll make it.  Besides, with twelve N.E.W.T.s under their belt, someone can do just about anything they want.  Right?  Become Headmaster or Minister or something." 

He knew their study habits were different.  Different like water was different than stone.  But, it wasn't really about study habits.  Nor future plans, though that did play a role. 

It had more to do with Figaro's last question.  It was about what it was all for at the end of the day - it was about getting to the end of the day.  "To be honest-"  Sasha hesitated a moment and glanced around the library, waiting for the Gryffindor closest to them to wander off towards the other end of the library.  "I like to ... I need to stay busy.  I still don't idle very well.  My mind starts to wander.  Studying keeps me distracted and focused.  And, ... in some ways, I don't really know what to do with myself when I'm not studying.  I know it probably sounds pathetic."  But, for the time being, keeping his head in a book was his most effective and primary coping mechanism. 

Figaro didn't enjoy making Sasha uncomfortable or anything, and he was just realizing that he might be doing that and started to draw it back a little.  He shrugged and watched the tall, blonde Ravenclaw work through an explanation for his Ravenclaw-ness.

Figaro could relate to the need to stay busy.  He really could.  That made sense, but why Sasha would choose something so everlastingly dull, Figaro wouldn't ever get.  Figaro was looking for the next interesting moment, the next laugh, the next surge of adrenaline, or reaction from the crowd.  Figaro soaked himself in so many varied experiences that he was never bored.  Or something.  He understood not wanting to be left to your own mind.  It was as boring as hell.

And, he wouldn't admit it, but when bored he found time to think about the shitty situation his family was in, and how it'd be years and years before he saw his dad again.

"Nah, you're not pathetic.  Just a bit barmy, mate," he said a little loudly, shutting up his own mind to wandering to unpleasant places.

"But busy you are though.  Better at busy than anyone at Hogwarts, likely.  Mission accomplished," he said a little stiffly. 

He shrugged again and sat forward again, towards his Runes.  "You remember what this one's supposed to be? Not in the book."

He pointed to his page where there was a small rune that resembled a coffee pot and a dragon's footprint sort of. 

"Barmy?"  Sasha glanced across the table at Figaro before grinning and shaking his head.  He wasn't entirely sure if Figaro's comments were his usual non-committal tongue-in-cheek remarks or if there was really honest annoyance or ... whatever it was behind the stiff remarks. 

They were opposites.  Relaxing, kicking back and goofing off was as difficult for Sasha as staying focused on a Care of Magical Creatures assignment was to Figaro. 

"But, you knew that already.  It's not new.  I flunked the quidditch party, after all.  Which, I never properly apologized for.  I wasn't expecting Foley to be there." 

Sasha leaned over the desk and took a look at the rune.  "It might be Fehc?[1]  The Marcommanic version of Fehu?  Meaning wealth or cattle?  But, I'm not quite sure.  Might be a doodle." 

The Ravenclaw turned back to his essay but set his quill down after only a moment.  "You know.  You should tutor me sometime.  In like being normal.  Idle.  Something like that." 

1.

Fehc

Ugh.  He really had totally trolled out at his Quidditch party, hadn't he.  In all the excitement of school starting, he'd almost forgotten about Sasha being excruciatingly awkward and leaving the party.   At the time Figaro hadn't really thought of it, but at some point after when he was mopping up, he'd been bothered that it was so difficult to be Sasha's friend sometimes.  But then, it was probably difficult to be his friend, too.

"I'd tutor the crap out of you, mate.  Professor of Taking the Piss, I am" he said, absolutely delighted at Sasha's morbid notion that Figaro teach him to relax.  His mystery rune/scribble was now forgotten, and he laid down his quill.

He laced his fingers together and leaned forward across the table with mock intensity.

"Are you prepared to go into the breach? To face horrors of boredom and to abandon all responsibilities?  Have you ever looked into the face of scalliwaggery, Mr. Schlagenweit? It isn't pretty.  If you do this, you have trust me.  And it won't be easy.  Because I am very.  Very. Prone to silliness."

Figaro stared at Sasha with a completely blank face.

"Professor of Taking..."  Sasha couldn't quite tell if Figaro was being entirely serious.  It was often difficult to tell with the Hufflepuff.  Though, in all fairness, Sasha wasn't entirely sure how serious he was being, himself.  Part of him had said it just as a way to acknowledge his own shortcomings at previous social events.  But, there were times he wished he was better at just ... whatever kids did.  Especially lately. 

The Ravenclaw could acknowledge that he had a lot to learn, especially since couldn't even say it.  Vulgarities were about as common for Sasha as plates that featured meat-filled dishes.  But, wasn't taking the Piss a bit extreme?  "Is there no, you know, middle ground?" 

Apparently, there wasn't. 

Figaro could have been speaking another language and, already, Sasha was starting to have doubts.  He'd assumed, by the nature of ... well, goofing off ... that this whole endeavor would be casual.  Easy.  Fairly non time consuming.  Which was especially important since, nowadays, everything got scheduled ahead of time.  How big of a time block was taking the piss going to require?  "I'm not sure I know what scalli- scalliwaggery is.  And, I'm not very prone to silliness," Sasha admitted, quite possibly unnecessarily. 

Once again Sasha tugged out his class schedule and outside-of-class schedule and laid them out in front of him.  "Well, we've got to get this Creatures project done.  And, I've got to try to not humiliate myself next week.  I ... how late do you stay up?"