14 Dec 2009
Afternoon

Figaro was on the broom he used for Quidditch, a sturdy school broom.  It was a Nimbus, probably about 10 years old.  He was making easy laps around the large courtyard, the one with the big fountain at the center, and with the arches on three sides.  It was sheltered from the wind, unlike the pitch itself, or any other part of the grounds that was exposed to the wet and cold December wind.  The sun we low, but otherwise he was warm in a hoodie, gloves and knit hat.

He was half-way practicing flying with out hands, letting go on the straightaways as he chatted across the courtyard at Derry.

"And so I told her she should ask Zel Trumble!"[1] he said with a laugh.  "Completely taking the piss - I mean - do not ask Zel to the Ball, Winifred, he's a shut in and I've already ruined his life plenty."[2]

"But she did! They're going together." Figaro seemed baffled but relieved that his cock-eyed advice hadn't further strained his relationship with his roommate. 

1.	Figaro counsels Winnie on who to ask to the ball. Dec 5
2.	Zel Trumble is outed as a werewolf.

Derry was goofing around, flying upside down on his Quidditch broom as he talked with Fig.  He guffawed at his friend's story about how his ridiculous advice ended up working out.  "Haha!  Winnie and Zel, huh?"  Flowing low, Derry's hair swept the courtyard ground as he dangled by his feet on his broom. 

He then shot upwards, zigzagging above the courtyard.  When he came back down, his red hair was tinged with dirt and sticking out in odd places.  He also somehow managed to blacken the tip of his nose.  "Hey, maybe you should set me up with someone.  If it worked for Zel and Winnie...!"  The truth was, Derry was kind of jealous that his friend not only had a date, but a girlfriend.  He had always been painfully shy and awkward around girls and it was starting to really get to him.  What's more, the Yule Ball was a once in a lifetime opportunity... Derry didn't want to be dateless for such a memorable event. 

"There's gotta be a girl here that's gonna fall for this cute face, am I right?" Derry joked, grinning broadly.  He pulled at his cheeks, making a comical grimace.     

"Marcus Annwyl's got nothing on you," Figaro said, referencing the former Minister of Magic with the playboy reputation.  But he couldn't keep a straight face. 

"They're not another species," Figaro told him for what felt like the millionth time.  Derry was hopeless with girls and if he was asking Figaro for girl advice you knew he had to be hard up.  Figaro was hardly a prize, but he'd managed to finally get steady with Sophie, but even Figaro had to admit their relationship had always been... explosive. 

"Your only hope is to try for the American girls.  Your accent has magical powers or something."  It was kind of funny how that was a thing for the Americans who apparently thought there was something... fancy about all the Hogwarts students' accents.  That even Figaro's Mancusian accent was fancy and posh.  Of all things.

"Turn the up the Dublin and just ask them., Casanova.  What about Taryn Dickinson? She's tall."  Well, she was part-giant. 

"They're not another species," Figaro told him for what felt like the millionth time.

"Heh, I'm not so sure," Derry said, looking slightly crazed with his eyes wide with terror.  "They scare the wits out of me," he said, pulling at his dirty hair.  He landed with his broom and sat down by the fountain.  "I was in love once," he said, his voice overly dramatic.  "Sally... she was from U.S.  But then she fell for some other dumb bloke," he said, spitting theatrically on the ground.  "Broke my heart in pieces!"  This was a story Fig had heard at least a dozen times.     

"Taryn Dickinson?  I'm only about a foot shorter than her, Fig," Derry said with a snort.  Derry laughed out loud at the mention of "turning up the Dublin".  "Haha, yeah!  Maybe you're right.."  Smiling, he began talking, exaggerating his accent as much as possible, stuffing as many Irish expressions into a sentence as he could.  "Ha, how's that?!" he said, smiling victoriously.  He kicked off on his broom again, swirling around Fig, feeling slightly encouraged.  "How did you ask Sophie?  I mean..to go out with her?"   




     

Figaro followed Derry to the fountain, but kept on his broom.  It was always a little harder riding it slowly - the momentum helped with staying straight - but Fig managed to park it and hover nearby over some crunchy brown grass.

He laced his fingers behind his head and stretched his lower back, chuckling at Derry's dead-sexy Irish accent, the one that was going to summon a flock of yankee ladies and a few lads to swallow him with kisses in the courtyard. 

"I told her boobs looked good," he said.  "Last year.  That was the first time we went out.  Then we broke up over that stupid werewolf song.[1]  "Then we got back together this Halloween.  Proper though.  I'm a new man, hear?" 

Figaro couldn't say it without a bark of self-concious laughter, but he really did adore Sophie.  He just hated how they fought all the time.  But he supposed that was part of it.  He was loud.  She was loud.  He spoke his mind, so did she.  Was bound to be a loud relationship.

But he sighed.  "You'll find someone." The cliche of the century.  Probably not what Derry would want to hear.  "You just gotta put yourself out there.  You have to ask because usually they won't.  I mean, who do you like?"

Loaded question of the century.  Figaro grinned at Derry, daring him to name names.  "C'mon.  Who'd you go with if you could go with anyone?"

1.	The Stupid Werewolf Song

"I told her boobs looked good," he said.

"HAHA!  I forgot that's how you two started out," Derry said, chuckling loudly.  That was SO Fig to say something like that and he loved it.  He broke into another fit of laughter at the memory of Fig's werewolf song, which he started to sing out loud in between his chuckles.  "Best song ever," he said, grinning. 

"I'm a new man, hear?"

"Sure ye are."  Derry grinned broadly, unsure Fig convinced either of them.  He leaned forward on his broom, thinking about Fig's question about who he liked.  Suddenly serious, he fixed Fig with a warning glance.  "Don't you bloody repeat this, ye hear?" he said, pointing his finger threateningly at Fig.  "Umm.. well, I like Teagan but I'm almost 100% sure she doesn't like me at all in that way.  She acts like I'm a brother to her.." he said, frowning sadly.  "Ok..don't laugh, but I also really like Chloe and Lydian.. But I'd never have the guts to ask either of them out.  I'd pass out first!" Derry exclaimed, his eyes widening for emphasis.  "I think they're both taken.. Right?" he asked, a hint of hope in his voice.  After a pause, he said: "...You dare me to ask one of them?"  Derry figured that if he was dared, he might actually find the courage to do it.  He had hardly ever backed down from a dare before.         

 

Of the two of them, it was Derry who had the most successful bouts in his life, so Figaro made the impudently obedient gesture of sealing his mouth with a key.  But as soon as Derry named a name, Figaro guffawed.

"Teagan!?"  She was a quiet girl from his house.  Pretty but he couldn't imagine her being much fun, not like wild child Derrigan Flanagan. 

"Chloe Harris is with that Durmstrang kid," Figaro said with a scoff.  "Heinrich Faust."  Heinrich was impressive to say the least.  A good guy but groomed in that eerie way so many of the Durm-strangers were.  "And I haven't seen Lydian in ages.  No idea what her deal is."

"I dare you to ask Gracie Slant," he countered.  "Or Demitria Strelnikov. "  Two Slytherin girls in their year with nasty reputations for being awful.  Pretty.  But deadly.  "You all like Quidditch..."  Gracie and Demitria were a part of this year's razor-sharp Slytherin team.  Hufflepuff had recently been roundly trounced.   It still smarted a bit. 

But yes - that was something he wanted to see.  Derry Flanagan wooing a Slytherin scissor-sister.

"Why you surprised about Teagan?  She's a nice girl," Derry said, defending his friend.  "Ewww, Heinrich, huh?" he said, scrunching up his face in disgust.  "Maybe I'll ask this fourth year.. I know it's a big age gap though.  Her name's Gloria, you seen her around?" Derry asked.

"Haha, you dare me, huh?  I guess I could attempt it," he said with a grin.  "But I'd like you to be there, so at least if I make a completely fool of meself, we could laugh about it after."  Derry couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of asking those two extremely intimidating girls to the Yule Ball.  In his opinion, considering how awkward he was, it couldn't end up any other way then hilarious.   "Wait...but what if they say yes?!" he said, looking  completely horrified.  A moment after,  he chuckled, saying, "Nahh, that's impossible.  Let's give it a shot!"  He flashed Fig a smile.  Derry accepted the dare.

The momentum had built too much for either Derry or Figaro to pull back now.  The gears were in motion and only the castle itself toppling in on them could stop them now.  Fate had drawn its thread.  Derry had been dared, the dare had been accepted.  It was done.

"C'mon then," Figaro said, ever unto the breach.  He pushed his broom forward to glide under the arches and down the covered walk.  Just before the doors into the interior, he hopped off his broom to stride in by his own two feet.

"I know where to find them."  They were always in the same place, leaning against the door frames looking like Witch Weekly models. 

Figaro led them through the castle until he came upon their roosting spot.  Figaro paused before they approached and leaned against his upright broom like a tall walking stick.

He nodded over his shoulder and spoke to Derry.  "Demitria.  You're not thinking of backing out are you, mate?" 

Derry looked at Fig, terror in his bulging eyes.  "Wha... NOW?!"  Running after his friend, his heart starting beating wildly in his chest.  "Bloody hell, what have I got myself into.." Derry muttered under his breath.  He rubbed at his ginger hair in a futile attempt to look somewhat presentable. 

"Don't worry, Derry Flanagan would never back down from a dare!" he exclaimed to Fig with a broad grin as he caught up to his friend  - feeling a lot less confident than he sounded.  He gulped, hating himself for accepting the dare.  Here goes nothing..he thought to himself as he walked up towards Demitria.  It suddenly occurred to him that he practically never talked to her before - it was something he avoided like the plague.

"HEY girl!  How's it going?" Derry shouted, walking towards Demetria.   

Demitria sighed quietly, checking her fingernails daintily. She was feeling better than she had in months and it was obvious from the way she flashed a pretty smile at anyone who walked by the small group of Slytherin princesses. It was the middle of the month, so her werewolf scars did not hurt. Her veela charm was controlled to a very acceptable level one, just enough to make everyone who walked by notice the beautiful girl lounging in the cold mid-winter sunshine.

It was nice enough out that she wished she could go flying, but she had been neglecting her position in the court for far too long. So instead, she was chatting with the others and listening to the idle conversations of people passing by. After being attacked by the wolf, her sense of hearing had improved and it was much easier to pick up on the tidbits that could be filed away and stored for... ah... later use.

She had closed her eyes for a moment, simply listening to the things around her when a presence crashed into her above-average senses. 

"HEY girl!  How's it going?"

The voice was one she recognized from classes, but nowhere else. As she lazily opened her eyes again, her hyper-rational brain kicked in. Derry Flanagan. 5'7. Gryffindor. Reputation: delinquent, and overtly so. No tact. Reason for engagement: Unknown. Data from previous encounters: None. Has been successfully avoided. Prevention of engagement: Unlikely. Proceed with caution.

Turning her head slightly, the Russian pierced the boy with her almost transparent ghost eyes. She had to repress a wince of pain as the scars on her neck and chest protested the subtle movement.

"I assume you are referring to me?" Her accented voice was chilly, but not overtly cold. "Is there something you wish?"

 

"Yes, I am, Pretty Lady!" Derry exclaimed with a broad grin on his face.  "How are you on this fine day?"  Besides his cheeks, which were slightly rosy - Derry was doing a surprisingly good job at hiding his terror. 

"Fig and I were talking about the Yule Ball, which is, as you know, fast approaching.  Fig here has a date, while I myself, am still dateless.  We were admiring your beauty from a distance and suddenly I thought, 'Hey, what a beautiful and sweet -looking girl that is!' "  Derry added facial expressions and theatrical gestures, really trying to bring to life the scenario he was describing.  "So, here I am, Derry Flanagan, humbly asking to take you out to the ball to show you a good time!"  He ended his short discourse with a dramatic, low bow and a charming smile, full of teeth.

Just to be clear, Derry never talked like that.  He was trying to sound formal and chivalric -  just because he figured it would be more fun.  He wasn't sure if it was due to nervousness or just the goofy situation itself, but Derry's wide grin threatened to explode into a fit of laughter. 

Kitty wrapped her cloak around narrow, bony shoulders. It was freezing. As usual, the group of Slytherin sirens took their spot outside - only when it was nailbitingly cold did they move inside. She twirled one lock of perfectly coiffed hair around her index finger, glancing up at the sky. The only thing to look forward to was the Yule Ball; the theatre of getting your nails done, your hair did, your dress made - it was all incredibly exciting.

"Do you think I should have a centre parting or a side parting? They look so different, like one's timeless chic, the other is more current and when I'm looking through the photos when I'm like, twenty or something, I want to still look nice, y'know?" Kitty spoke softly, her musings rocking the foundations of her selfish little head. Such a conundrum.

Similar mentally breaking topics were quickly shattered with a high pitched, vaguely annoying voice. She looked around. Approaching was a terrible-looking, hardly familiar soul with a grin more stupid than a drunken troll. What was this? An invitation? A suicide mission? He was bold as brass and it made Kitty's blood simmer.

Glancing at Demitria, then back to the boy, and back to her friend, she was almost terrified that her best friend was in arms with this individual. Luckily, it seemed otherwise - the frown quickly turning to confusion. "Uh, who are you?"

Figaro was in awe of the man.  A bold man.  A foolish man.  He must really be desperate to avoid a real human connection to take him up and go shark fishing.  When Derry walked past him to engage the Slytherin Queens,  Figaro turned and watched, his arms open in a grand gesture of Thank You, Merlin.

Whilst Derry posed his horrible invitation, Figaro stood at flank and observed.  And in a pause, he held up his fist and whispered, "Strelnikov...!" in his best rolling-r Russian accent. 

It was of even better entertainment that they'd be able to bother Kittly Li as well.  At her dull query, Figaro stepped forward and clapped Derry on the shoulder by way of presentation.

"This your standard model Yule Ball date: a Flanagan Five Point Oh.  Complete with foppy hair, a stylish vest, and a set of respectably large feet - if you get my meaning," Figaro said.  He knew that every word they spoke to these two, every moment they were in view, was a burden on their winsome, charitable ways. 

"And this week only - guaranteed to send your parents into a fit." 

Derry grinned broadly at Figaro's introduction of him.  Maybe this was gonna be worth a laugh after all.  "And a red head, too!  Where you gonna find a male, charismatic, funny, good dancer, red head these days, huh?  We're rare!" he said, listing his extraodinary qualities on his fingers.  "This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and just because you're extra fine, I won't charge ye!" he added, a beginning of a chuckle on his thin lips. 

He heard an annoying buzzing by his ear and turned around to see an unfamiliar girl beside Demitria.  "I'm talking to the beautiful Miss Strelnikov.  So kindly piss off, will ye?" he barked at her, gesturing for her to hit the road. 

Then, getting on his knees, he grabbed Demitria's hand in his and kissed it loudly.  "Dearest Lady Strelnikov of the Slytherin House, the most wonderfully vile and seductively devilish of the Hogwarts' Houses..."  He paused and gulped, realizing he might've been pushing his luck there.  He didn't really feel that way about Slytherins... Well, maybe just a tad.  "Would you be so kind as to accompany this poor red-haired kid to the ball?  Look at these puppy eyes!"  Derry then proceeded to display his best pitiful expression. 

If he expected to get a date then, Derry would've been stupid.  He did have a slight hope that she would say yes until the terrible words about Slytherin escaped his lips.  Oh well.  Derry couldn't miss an opportunity to shock and slander, what could he say?  There must have been a suicidal strand in him after all.