It wasn't often that Lucrezia patrolled outside of her allocated hours, and she certainly hadn't left her rooms with the intent of catching any miscreants in their nefarious affairs. Certainly not in her nightdress . She was merely on her way to check if Soma had, yet again, found herself detained with the various rodents that dwelt in the dungeons.

But as her luck had it - none whatsoever, everything had been a series of unfortunate events since arriving at Hogwarts - the second she'd turned the corner towards the last class on the corridor, she'd been greeted with... outrageously intimate and rather fervent sounds. Her lividity lasted for all of five seconds before she realized the source of said sounds must be of a student origin. In retrospect she should've waited until they stopped or at least announced her presence before barging in to identify the impudent little idiots.

The things she'd seen would haunt her for the rest of eternity. Which is why she was traipsing through the castle at nearly two in the morning with one impossible Slytherin behind her. She couldn't quite udnerstand how the other boy had escaped her... She thanked Morgana, Blackwell was not in her classes. She had no idea what to do with him. And after docking fifteen points of him, she still didn't know what to do with him. So off to the Slytherin Head they were. All she wanted was to pass him over to Morgan and get back to sleep. Possibly brew a Forgetfulness Potion before that, however.

Knocking on the door with fierce determination and an almost rabid glower on her face she waited, foot tapping nervously at the ground. Blackwell's serene smile felt mocking and she was about to take another five points when the door opened. Without so much as a good morning, sorry to bother you at this ungodly hour, the Potions Mistress turned her glare towards Morgan and scowled. "I believe this is yours" she said in a low, menacing voice. "It was found f—fornicating in my dungeons." A vein throbbed at her temple and her nose twitched.

Grabbing Blackwell by the collar of his disheveled shirt, she pushed him towards Morgan and glared furiously as the boy had the nerve to look almost grateful. And not in the least guilty! "I took fifteen points off" she stopped and squinted her eyes, daring him to comment on it. "His... partner in crime scurried before I managed to—" realize what exactly I was seeing, and attempting to unsee it, she would've liked to say, but cut herself short. "It's yours. Deal with it. I'm going back to bed" she practically barked and balled her hands into fists. Had Blackwell just waved at her with that idiotic smile of his?

She was about to tell him something, but thought better upon raising her eyes back to Morgan. She huffed and turned around, muttering something unintelligible. "Good night" she muttered, disappearing after the next corner.

A fierce knocking at his door in the middle of the night roused Landis, who had only recently gone to bed. Flinging a robe over his head he grabbed his wand with bleary-eyed haste, expecting an urgent situation, good reason to be dressed and headed elsewhere in the castle, another Dementor attack or Merlin-knew-what. Opening the door revealed only an irate Di Luca with one of his Slytherins. Landis' gaze transferred to Blackwell as though he could divine, through close scrutiny, what terrible thing the boy had done to be sent to his Head of House in the middle of the night.

Caught shagging, though indeed terrible and icky to think about when one was talking teenage boys, hardly seemed the emergency he had been expecting. Landis had little patience for that behavior, having spent his first year of hire regularly combing through the library stacks to traumatize the slow learners, but he rarely chose to terrorize his Slytherins in such a way. In the stew of teeming hormones and poor decision making that encapsulated Hogwarts, fornication - like bodily injury and wayward enchantments - seemed sadly inevitable. Di Luca stormed off before he had the opportunity to ask her why she felt it necessary to deliver Blackwell to him, now, at this hour. Landis rather felt a lecture could wait until morning.

Not least of all because lecturing Blackwell was an exercise in futility. Though Landis possessed a grudging fondness of his Slytherins as an unspecific group, the boy had an inherent Darian-ness that made him slippery, suspicious, and difficult to punish. Being caught at what he had really only heightened the comparison. Landis sighed as Bran gave a serene little wave to the fleeing professor.

"Come on, then," he said, a frown forming as he held open his door. This would be quick, not least of all because having a student in his rooms was a little uncomfortable. Bran wouldn't be seeing his bedroom which was behind another door, only the living area with its fireplace and chairs, but still. Landis was waking up rather quickly, the rate exponential with his scowl. He placed his wand aside on the table near the door and crossed his arms, considering. "Poor choice," he said at last. The dungeons were rather damp. Not that he could really throw stones, not when he and Juliette - well. "Blackwell, I believe scouring cauldrons would be the appropriate response for you if only you hadn't traumatized the Potions Mistress."

If he hand't been right in the middle of an earth-shattering experience of the sensory variety, Bran would've almost been shocked at being caught. In the two and a bit years of his many, many midnight -or breakfast, or brunch, lunch, evening snack, dinner... another random snack? - rendezvous, Bran had never been caught in a situation quite as explicit. He probably would've been even more outraged at getting caught by Di Luca of all people. At least, thank Merlin, she hadn't been Storm that would've been awkward for everybody. Not that this wasn't; the sadist, albeit a fashionable sadist - he had to give her that - seemed to have been unnecessarily horrified at the image she'd been greeted with. Well, honey, life's not fair and she should've bloody knocked.

Nevertheless, he'd expected some sort of horrifying affair of a detention, but the professor had merely docked some points and grudgingly led him up the stairs. He would've been amused at her obvious discomfort, if not for the fact that for the duration of their trip, he'd though she'd take him to McGonagall, or worse: Storm. But when the recipient of their visit proved to be Mr. Morgan—well Bran's night, albeit quite tumultuous for a second there, seemed to be only getting better. He had to bite several times into his bottom lip to refrain from actually cackling. Like she'd never seen that before. On second thought, Bran was decidedly sure that she'd seen, or even done, much much worse. Something about those gloves she always wore...

When her back was turned and her uncomfortable monologue was over, Bran tilted his head to the side and with an almost angelic smile, raised his hand to delicately wave after her. He was quite pleased with himself, if he did say so himself. Managing to affect that woman, in any way but annoyance and sadistic amusement, was quite a feat. As the librarian's sleep-heavy voice eventually came, Bran's eyes were immediately upon his person. Dressed. Such a shame. Nevertheless, he smiled politely, clasping his hands behind his back, causing his barely buttoned shirt to open up, and entered the man's rooms.

He took in everything with barely concealed enthusiasm, and just a moment's disappointment at not being able to see his bedroom. That would've been quite something to... keep him company on those long lonely nights. That was lie, he had no such nights. But the thought counted! His eyes fell back upon the librarian as he noticed movement out of the corner of his eyes. He raised a curiously amused eyebrow at seeing his wand. What? Did he think he was some sort of dire and bloody situation? Well, he would've said he was sorry to disappoint. If he actually were. Turning on the spot gracefully, he lazily slid over to where the couch was and took a seat, with legs crossed and hands perked on his knee.

"Poor choice of what Mr. Morgan? The time? The activity? Or maybe the place?" he asked with a perfectly polite smile, almost chipper, as he fluttered his long eyelashes once. "Because if it's the latter, I'm afraid I respectfully disagree" he added more seriously, yet keeping a polite tone. "Very sturdy desks" he explained gravely, tucking a stray curl of his disheveled hair back behind his ear. He blinked serenely a few times, and uncrossed his legs only to realize his fly was still open. Why, how absolutely inappropriate. He lifted his hips off the couch, back leaning into the seat and lifted his shirt to take care of the problem, tongue between his teeth and concentration in his features.

"I'm awfully apologetic, Mr. Morgan. This is no way to be presented to anybody" Bran apologized, actually feeling guilty for at least one thing. His lips curled into a very amused smile as his House Head's words came next. "It certainly wasn't my intention, sir. I was of the impression that nothing at all could faze our esteemed Potions Professor." If he preened a little... Well, there was only so much control one could have over their own feelings. "And I won't mind any cauldron scouring, Mr. Morgan. I have some experience rubbing—" the pause had not been intentional, but again, a man could only do so much "—things clean and I take full responsibility for my—humm—illicit actions and accept my punishment willingly."

He smiled again, keeping it polite, some semblance of apology in it. But he was very much so distracted by seeing Morgan so... at home, and his eyes sometimes had a life of their own. Currently they were of the idea that hungrily taking in every corner, crook and curve of their librarian's body, was a good one. It wasn't. He stopped, and cleared his voice, straightening his posture with a frown. "I'm sorry this matter was brought to you in the middle of the night, sir."

Blackwell was irrepressible, already lounging on Landis' sofa where he had invited himself. He zipped his fly, praised the desks, let loose a little smirking innuendo. All perfectly acceptable activities for one of his mates - which Landis was not. The man's expression became increasingly unimpressed as Bran chattered away, arching a single brow at Bran's readiness to be punished.

"As am I," he said, a certain gravestone finality clinging to every word. He had noticed Bran's scrutiny and assumed it was because his students rarely saw him dressed casually. The wizarding robe he wore was one of his oldest and least formal, lacking the high neck and fiddly clasps of his more expensive robes and thus easier to throw on. His tone turned, picking up some tartness more appropriate to a scolding. "Shockingly the Founders didn't take into account your illicit activities and build some private nooks; I know it's difficult, but please do refrain from copulating in public. We have a difficult enough time holding onto staff as it is without your underage bum scaring them to pieces."

Landis moved towards the sitting area, the sofa Bran had appropriated. He did not sit but leaned against the dark fireplace, arms still laced across his chest. "There is only one year standing between you and a whole world of options better suited to your rampant hormones than sturdy desks. This is the first time - " The look he gave Bran clearly implied, that you've been caught, "And it will be the last, I'm sure, lest I need to find more productive chores with which to fill your hours. Yes?"

Bran thought they should've—the founders, that was. They should've thought that having teenagers in full-bloom of their sexuality locked away in a little less than a prison, would've eventually led to such situations. You couldn't fight Mother Nature, after all. Or—well, he supposed one could, but Bran wouldn't. He had needs and who was he to deny his body the... release that came from a rather simple and quite natural physiological act? He supposed he could deal with them on his own, but why would he when there were willing bodies ready to assist him with his... problems?

And yet, he instructed his face into something at least resembling a student's being admonished by his Head of House and nodded gravely to acknowledge his words. "Yes, sir, I'll refrain from copulating" his lips twitched just the tiniest bit as he very seriously repeated the librarian's word. "In public" he added after a moment's silence, as if an afterthought, lips curling into a positively angelic smile. There. Now if anybody were to call him on it, he hadn't promised stopping altogether....

His gaze followed the tall, lean figure of the librarian with rapt attention, a barely audible breathy sound escaping his lips at noticing his crossed arms. If he had any sort of sense of danger or were he any other of his other housemates, perhaps Bran would've swallowed tightly by now. Maybe fussed about with his shirt - still an obvious sign of what had he just been up to only a few moments before - or straightened his posture, or maybe even get just the slightest spike of fear. But Bran wasn't  any other of his housemates, and danger—well, danger had always been heavily intertwined with other feelings. And, at the end of the day, Bran simply couldn't take someone so attractive very seriously. Not in a position of authority. Or, well... not this sort of authority.

His eyebrows raised curiously at having his hormones called rampant, and he tucked his chin in, hiding a highly amused little smile at the implication that no, this had quite certainly not been the first time he'd been at it. But, quite frustratingly the first time he'd been caught, indeed. He would've liked to comment that the hours he filled with his... activities were his own and his productivity was otherwise recognizable in his grades and stellar behavior in the face of other members of the staff. Di Luca - now - aside, he dared say. He wondered if she'd ever look him in the eyes again? That would surely be something worth writing in his CV. If only...

Alas, he merely cleared his voice and inclined his head in understanding. "Of course, Mr. Morgan, you can rest assured there shan't be any repeat experiences" he smiled minutely, polite and respectfully. He wondered if this would've been the right time to inquire of Darian... Most probably not, he decided looking at his face. "So... how shall I be punished, sir?" he eventually managed, the face of innocence, batting his eyelashes faintly.

Blackwell did not seem especially daunted; circumstances were hardly ideal for intimidating students, even if it hadn't been this particular irreverent student. Landis would have to be content with the assurance Blackwell gave. It was really all he could do - there was a charm he liked to cast on Darian from time to time when his cousin had really angered him, but Landis was fairly certain he couldn't go about casting those sorts of spells on minors.

He looked at Bran, disgruntled, as he inquired sweetly after his punishment. "Tutoring," Landis said. "Every evening for the next fortnight you'll help Gloria Erescut with the Slytherin first-years for as little or as much time as she needs you.[1] Your extracurriculars can be worked around."

He thumbed at the wooden ring on his hand as if in irritable thought, then straightened with a sense of resigned purpose. It was unfortunately his responsibility to see the boy back the long, cold walk to the dungeons. Though Landis trusted Blackwell to have enough sense in his head to return to Slytherin without taking an accidental right turn into a vanishing cabinet (or more likely into someone else's pants), he could just visualize Di Luca's expression should she run into the student she'd delivered to him wandering the halls twice in one night. "Come. I'll escort you to your Common Room."

1.	NPC 7th year and NPC activity; in-house tutoring on general subjects

Bran received the news of his detention both crestfallen and relieved. On one hand it would be ridiculously easy and only an imposition on his schedule, and his levels of stress, as dealing with the plebes tended to have mental repercussions. On the other hand it was so—so... banal. But then, at the mention of extracurriculars his eyes flew open towards Morgan, peeved glare in his eyes. "What about my club, sir?" he asked icily, one hand coming to rest on his chest. "I couldn't possibly ask all the members to shift their schedules because of... this" he said derisively, pointing between the two of them.

Having to be walked back by the librarian back to his dorms put a dent in his plans, but—well... when he put it that way; who wouldn't want to be escorted by Landis Morgan? Regardless of the destination. For a moment he entertained the thought of asking whether he'd get a kiss when they reached the Slytherin porch, but even he did not have that much of a death wish. So he merely smiled and stood to his feet, futilely straightening the creases in his shirt. "Of course, wouldn't want me to find another desk would we" he deadpanned, still a small charming smile on his lips. But it took everything to not simply burst out snorting.

"Someone else will have to bear the duties of leadership for a time," Landis said, not seeming especially moved. "However will they get on without you. Well, I suppose you'll see." Bran's affront amused him. He offered the boy a thin smile. "Perhaps Ms. Erescut can schedule you for a very late shift." At any rate, Bran's tutoring schedule would be up to her entirely. Warmly Landis considered her; she was unlikely to be charmed by the likes of Bran into more favorable times.

Bran stood and fussed a little over himself while Landis retrieved his wand, the only thing he needed or wanted for the walk. "Merlin forbid," he said with a flash of dry humor as he held open his door, equally deadpan.

Bran would've liked to respond that as much as he prided himself with how the C&O Club had evolved since he had taken over, there wasn't a single member that could possibly lead adequately in his absence. Instead he pursed his lips and straightened his posture, indignation all across his features and acknowledged the directions with a curt nod. Upon hearing the possibility of a very late shift, he pulled back looking even more distraught, blinking horrified at his House Head.

How late would that shift be? He had appointments to keep and rendez vous to see to! His stamina would suffer tremendously, not to mention his complexion, if he was supposed to stay up all night just to tutor some dimwit. "I'm sure I will find someone appropriate for the task" he then replied sullenly, half a scowl barely contained. As the librarian retrieved his wand, Bran put the misery he felt over his club situation at the back of his thought and instead decided to make the best of the walk back to the dorms. His smile grew, toothily and bright as Morgan miraculously attempted a joke and he thought at least something had come out of all this fiasco.

As he stepped through the door he gave one last quizzical look behind him, a last disappointed thought at not having seen where the man slept and waited for Morgan to lead the way. He wondered if this would be a good time to ask him about his hair care ritual...