Requested by: blazelight790

A/N: I'm not taking any more requests. I've got too much going on. I'm finishing the ones I have and then taking a break. If I decide to come back, I'll let ya'll know. But for now, no more. Thanks for understanding.

With a stifled huff, the young woman all but dropped her bag on the library table. If it wasn't for all the fifth years cramming for the fast approaching O.W.L.s, she wouldn't have been so careful. Not that she was always noisy in the library; it was just this day that warranted a who-gives-a-bloody-hell attitude. Peeves was being particularly annoying after he'd already been warned that the fifth years were off limits for the next few days. Bloody Baron had given him a sound lashing—or as close as you can get to one without a corporeal body—after he'd disrupted a few star Slytherins and one Ravenclaw. The young woman was certain he was attempting to get on the good side of the Grey Lady—still. Apparently, he had yet to learn a lesson.

But, it didn't matter why. All that matter was that Peeves was being particularly brutal to everyone else—especially an introverted, petite Ravenclaw. He'd followed her all the way from the tower to the library, taunting and blowing raspberries. As a final act of annoyance, he'd snitched her books from her bag and strewed them all over the corridor before flying off to torment someone else.

Heather rattled her lips as she pushed her fingers through her limp locks. Plopping down in the nearest chair, she pulled out a sheet of parchment and read over what she had so far on her essay for Transfiguration. After getting her thoughts together, she opened her ink well and scrambled around in her bag to search for a quill. Her fingers desperately grazed the thin fabric and came away with dust and small pieces of parchment. No quill.

She did growl in frustration this time—quiet loudly in fact—her fingers clawing the air in front of her. Several glares quickly shut her up.

"Peeves," she muttered under her breath.

A flash of white caught her eye as someone sat down besides her. Her green eyes flicked over to meet bright blue before a feather tickled her nose. "Looked like you needed a quill."

Heather tried to offer thanks or at least take the quill, but ended up twisting around in her chair to sneeze over the back—quiet loudly again and quite ugly. Sniffing and pressing the back of her hand to her nose, she turned back saying, "Thank you."

The young Ravenclaw glitched for a moment when she saw who was offering her the quill: Jack. He was a smooth talking, fun-loving, every house loved him Slytherin. She'd heard him described as if the Weasley twins were actually triplets separated at birth and one had made it into Slytherin. He was fun loving, cunning, ambitious when he set his mind to it. He diverged a bit when it came to his feelings for others; Jack always seemed ready to help someone in need. But, Heather reasoned, that just might be him working his charm. He's got plenty of that—almost too much.

"Ya know," Jack said, breaking her concentration, "the quill won't do you much good in my hands."

"Oh, I don't know. I could always have you write my essay."

He smirked. "Did I just hear those words come from a Ravenclaw's mouth?"

Heather shrugged, snatching the quill. "Why not make someone else's hand do the work? Mental capacity wouldn't be necessary on your part. No need to worry."

The Slytherin offered a quiet chuckle. "Sure you're in the right house?"

Ignoring him, the Ravenclaw reread her last sentence to gather her words.

"Peeves's nothing, ya know. You just got to outwit him. Should be easy for you."

The auburn haired girl looked down at the Ravenclaw insignia on her robe. Her thumb brushed over it briefly. "Smarts, sure. Wits, not so much. He involves an entirely different skill set than what I know."

"So, let me get this straight—"

"What?"

"Let me finish," he reprimanded quietly.

"Sorry."

"No you're not. Anyway. Let me get this straight, I know something that a Ravenclaw doesn't?"

"You have a skill set."

"Still something," Jack said.

"What was the point to this?"

His eyes darted around the shelves before he pulled his chair closer to hers. "How about I help you out?"

"What?"

He sighed, rolling his eyes. He leaned closer until his lips almost brushed her check. "How about I help you with Peeves?"

"How?

Jack leaned back in his chair, arms wide spread as that was an answer. "Give it a shot."

"What a shot?"

"Me. Outwitting the poltergeist."

"Out pranking the poltergeist."

"Same thing. You in?"

"You sure? What if it doesn't work?" Heather asked as she stood and stuffed her belongings back into her bag.

Jack smiled as he took it from her and slung it over his left shoulder. Draping an arm around Heather's shoulders, he smirked and nodded. "Of course. And, if that doesn't work, I can always pull the Bloody Baron card. Slytherin has its perks there."

"I was thinking about Filch…"

"Easy."

"Really?"

"Yeah, run!"