Thanx to all who reviewed – Aniron, Sam Volz, Shigatsu, Heather the Hobbit,
Elerian, izzy, Aniron (again), and Spunkz the wacked out Spaz. To Spunkz:
I can just imagine a chocolate-covered Snape (mm, yummy). Special thanx to
Aniron for coming back and reviewing every chapter – we'll get Adam to read
HP if it's the last thing we do.
Hope you all enjoy Chapter 8!
-Elemmírë
PS – For future reference, my name is Quenya (Elvish); it means "star- jewel". Unoriginal, I know.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Disclaimer: I WISH I could keep Fred Weasley and Draco Malfoy (can I, please?) but they belong to JK Rowling. ::mutters:: Lucky JK Rowling.
CHAPTER EIGHT – The Trophy Room
"Riley! Oi!" Riley looked up in time to see Fred rushing towards her, parchment in hand. Madam Pince glowered at him, and Fred slowed down – barely.
"Fred! Nice to see you, too. Are those the –"
"Yeah. Jamie and Erin finished first, but the other two – er – the other two –"
"Great. Let's see it," said Riley, ignoring Fred's sudden loss for words. The first one was written by the two Hufflepuffs, and was a reasonably good impression of a panicked George.
"Bree – Having trouble with those Healing Charms Flitwick was going on about the other day. D'you think you could help? Meet me at ten in the Trophy Room. Love, George."
Riley snickered. "Love, George – nice touch. Here, let me read the other one." The next note was much more disappointing.
"My darling George, I have fallen madly, hopelessly, desperately in love with you. I long to behold your angelic face and kiss your luscious lips. Come to me in the Trophy Room at ten. With everlasting love, Sabrina."
Riley made a face. "Excuse me while I BARF. Who wrote this?"
"Actually, I did," Fred said sheepishly. "Terry and Lisa decided to pursue more – intimate – endeavors."
"Ugh. Bad mental image. Well, we'll need to do this one over again. Geez, Fred, didn't you think about what you would want a girl to write to you?" Fred shook his head. "We need run-to-me, not run-for-the-hills. It needs to be much more demanding – like this." She quickly scribbled a note on a scrap of parchment. Fred picked it up and read it.
"George – I can't stand it anymore. Every time I see you, I get so turned on. Only you can help me. I'll be in the Trophy Room at ten tonight. Prepare to be snogged senseless – Bree."
Fred handed the note back to Riley. "That's loads better than I could have done. I almost feel like running off to the Trophy Room myself," he said with a half-laugh.
"Exactly. It adds extra urgency," she giggled. "Plus it gets George all 'excited' before he gets there. He'll hardly be able to keep his hands off poor Bree. We'll mail those at nine-thirty, so the effect doesn't wear off and they don't realize what we've done."
"Let's go get some school owls." The Gryffindors hurried out of the library, missing an exasperated look from Madam Pince.
* * *
Riley checked her watch from her well-hidden post in the hallway. Nine fifty-five; in a few more minutes, George and Sabrina would appear. Sneaking closer, she chekced the Trophy room for occupants. The room was empty, so when Riley heard footsteps in the adjoining corridor she cleaned out fast.
George arrived first. To Riley's extreme chagrin, it took Sabrina almost two minutes longer to get there. Checking the hall for other students, Sabrina then cautiously entered the room – closing the door behind her. Riley breathed a sigh of relief; the closed door was crucial to the plot.
Darting forward, she muttered "Locius!" under her breath and tapped the heavy brass doorknob with her wand. No sooner had she done this, angry voices could be heard. The doorknob rattled, but Riley knew they weren't going anywhere. The charm she had used was one of her own invention. It prevented a door from being opened unless the original spell-caster said the incantation backwards and turned the knob.
Twenty minutes later, the furious, frustrated pounding on the door and shouts for help had died away. Riley imagined George was having the time of his life and wished there was a way for her to check. A drawling voice behind her made her jump.
"O'Connor, what are you doing out of the Gryffindor dormitories at this time of night?"
"Oh no, not you," Riley muttered. Malfoy AGAIN. Didn't he ever feel like leaving her alone?
He drew closer. "What was that?"
She gave him a purposely forced smile. "I said, 'Was that taboo?' I didn't know that wandering the corridors at night looking for people to hex was against the rules."
"Ought to be more careful with whom you use your sarcasm on. Not all people are as benevolent as I."
She raised one eyebrow. "Yeah? Like who?"
Malfoy shrugged. "Filch, for example."
Heavy footsteps and a meow from the adjoining corridor made both exclaim in anger and fear, "Filch!" Malfoy dove for the handle of the Trophy room, then cursed under his breath. "Locked." He pulled out his wand. "Alohomora!"
Riley exhaled in exasperation. "Oh, move over," she said impatiently. Filch's footsteps drew closer. With a whispered "Suicol!" and a tap on the knob, the door swung open. Malfoy and Riley fell into the room, surprising and embarrassing a very mussed George and Sabrina. They looked as though they had been very busy, to Riley's immense satisfaction.
"Hey –" George began, but Malfoy clapped a hand to his mouth.
"Quiet! Filch is coming this way!" Riley hissed, then performed the Locius Charm once more. Luck seemed to be with her. For the second time that night, the doorknob rattled immediately after Riley said the incantation. A crash from the floor above caught everyone's attention.
"Peeves!" came Filch's muffled voice from the other side of the door. Several seconds later, George spoke again.
"It's alright now. Filch'll be ages writing up Peeves' report."
Riley relaxed and leaned her back against the door, noticing that George and the pretty Ravenclaw prefect were holding hands. "Thank God."
"What were you two doing out here at this time of night?" asked Sabrina curiously.
"We were – "
"Walking!" Riley interrupted Malfoy quickly. "We were walking around and, um, bumped into Filch and Mrs. Norris. But now we've got to go – come on, Malfoy – " She grabbed his wrist and hauled him towards the door.
"Oh, and Riles?"
She turned to look at him, blinking innocently. "Yes, George?"
"GET YOUR OWN ROOM!" Riley shut the door, just in time to block the Medal of Magical Merit George had hurled at her.
She caught up to Malfoy and impulsively grabbed the sleeve of his robes. "What were you doing out here, Malfoy?"
He turned his arrogant face towards her. "I, O'Connor, am a prefect. I was merely doing my rounds."
"Oh. I see."
"What kind of an excuse do you have for breaking curfew?"
Riley snickered unexpectedly. "Playing matchmaker." He looked skeptical. "Didn't you see George and Bree when we walked in on that? Two of my very satisfied – if unknowing – victims."
"And do you always do this, this 'matchmaking', as you call it?"
"Not really. I only speed along what would have happened anyway. People should be happy. I mean, don't you think everyone deserves someone to give them unconditional acceptance and trust?"
His face was impassive. In the darkness of the corridors, Riley couldn't see his eyes. After a long pause, he spoke again. "While your idealisms are admirable, they are not entirely true. Not everyone should be forgiven."
It didn't occur to Riley until later that night, safe in Gryffindor Tower, that Malfoy could have been referring to himself.
Hope you all enjoy Chapter 8!
-Elemmírë
PS – For future reference, my name is Quenya (Elvish); it means "star- jewel". Unoriginal, I know.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Disclaimer: I WISH I could keep Fred Weasley and Draco Malfoy (can I, please?) but they belong to JK Rowling. ::mutters:: Lucky JK Rowling.
CHAPTER EIGHT – The Trophy Room
"Riley! Oi!" Riley looked up in time to see Fred rushing towards her, parchment in hand. Madam Pince glowered at him, and Fred slowed down – barely.
"Fred! Nice to see you, too. Are those the –"
"Yeah. Jamie and Erin finished first, but the other two – er – the other two –"
"Great. Let's see it," said Riley, ignoring Fred's sudden loss for words. The first one was written by the two Hufflepuffs, and was a reasonably good impression of a panicked George.
"Bree – Having trouble with those Healing Charms Flitwick was going on about the other day. D'you think you could help? Meet me at ten in the Trophy Room. Love, George."
Riley snickered. "Love, George – nice touch. Here, let me read the other one." The next note was much more disappointing.
"My darling George, I have fallen madly, hopelessly, desperately in love with you. I long to behold your angelic face and kiss your luscious lips. Come to me in the Trophy Room at ten. With everlasting love, Sabrina."
Riley made a face. "Excuse me while I BARF. Who wrote this?"
"Actually, I did," Fred said sheepishly. "Terry and Lisa decided to pursue more – intimate – endeavors."
"Ugh. Bad mental image. Well, we'll need to do this one over again. Geez, Fred, didn't you think about what you would want a girl to write to you?" Fred shook his head. "We need run-to-me, not run-for-the-hills. It needs to be much more demanding – like this." She quickly scribbled a note on a scrap of parchment. Fred picked it up and read it.
"George – I can't stand it anymore. Every time I see you, I get so turned on. Only you can help me. I'll be in the Trophy Room at ten tonight. Prepare to be snogged senseless – Bree."
Fred handed the note back to Riley. "That's loads better than I could have done. I almost feel like running off to the Trophy Room myself," he said with a half-laugh.
"Exactly. It adds extra urgency," she giggled. "Plus it gets George all 'excited' before he gets there. He'll hardly be able to keep his hands off poor Bree. We'll mail those at nine-thirty, so the effect doesn't wear off and they don't realize what we've done."
"Let's go get some school owls." The Gryffindors hurried out of the library, missing an exasperated look from Madam Pince.
* * *
Riley checked her watch from her well-hidden post in the hallway. Nine fifty-five; in a few more minutes, George and Sabrina would appear. Sneaking closer, she chekced the Trophy room for occupants. The room was empty, so when Riley heard footsteps in the adjoining corridor she cleaned out fast.
George arrived first. To Riley's extreme chagrin, it took Sabrina almost two minutes longer to get there. Checking the hall for other students, Sabrina then cautiously entered the room – closing the door behind her. Riley breathed a sigh of relief; the closed door was crucial to the plot.
Darting forward, she muttered "Locius!" under her breath and tapped the heavy brass doorknob with her wand. No sooner had she done this, angry voices could be heard. The doorknob rattled, but Riley knew they weren't going anywhere. The charm she had used was one of her own invention. It prevented a door from being opened unless the original spell-caster said the incantation backwards and turned the knob.
Twenty minutes later, the furious, frustrated pounding on the door and shouts for help had died away. Riley imagined George was having the time of his life and wished there was a way for her to check. A drawling voice behind her made her jump.
"O'Connor, what are you doing out of the Gryffindor dormitories at this time of night?"
"Oh no, not you," Riley muttered. Malfoy AGAIN. Didn't he ever feel like leaving her alone?
He drew closer. "What was that?"
She gave him a purposely forced smile. "I said, 'Was that taboo?' I didn't know that wandering the corridors at night looking for people to hex was against the rules."
"Ought to be more careful with whom you use your sarcasm on. Not all people are as benevolent as I."
She raised one eyebrow. "Yeah? Like who?"
Malfoy shrugged. "Filch, for example."
Heavy footsteps and a meow from the adjoining corridor made both exclaim in anger and fear, "Filch!" Malfoy dove for the handle of the Trophy room, then cursed under his breath. "Locked." He pulled out his wand. "Alohomora!"
Riley exhaled in exasperation. "Oh, move over," she said impatiently. Filch's footsteps drew closer. With a whispered "Suicol!" and a tap on the knob, the door swung open. Malfoy and Riley fell into the room, surprising and embarrassing a very mussed George and Sabrina. They looked as though they had been very busy, to Riley's immense satisfaction.
"Hey –" George began, but Malfoy clapped a hand to his mouth.
"Quiet! Filch is coming this way!" Riley hissed, then performed the Locius Charm once more. Luck seemed to be with her. For the second time that night, the doorknob rattled immediately after Riley said the incantation. A crash from the floor above caught everyone's attention.
"Peeves!" came Filch's muffled voice from the other side of the door. Several seconds later, George spoke again.
"It's alright now. Filch'll be ages writing up Peeves' report."
Riley relaxed and leaned her back against the door, noticing that George and the pretty Ravenclaw prefect were holding hands. "Thank God."
"What were you two doing out here at this time of night?" asked Sabrina curiously.
"We were – "
"Walking!" Riley interrupted Malfoy quickly. "We were walking around and, um, bumped into Filch and Mrs. Norris. But now we've got to go – come on, Malfoy – " She grabbed his wrist and hauled him towards the door.
"Oh, and Riles?"
She turned to look at him, blinking innocently. "Yes, George?"
"GET YOUR OWN ROOM!" Riley shut the door, just in time to block the Medal of Magical Merit George had hurled at her.
She caught up to Malfoy and impulsively grabbed the sleeve of his robes. "What were you doing out here, Malfoy?"
He turned his arrogant face towards her. "I, O'Connor, am a prefect. I was merely doing my rounds."
"Oh. I see."
"What kind of an excuse do you have for breaking curfew?"
Riley snickered unexpectedly. "Playing matchmaker." He looked skeptical. "Didn't you see George and Bree when we walked in on that? Two of my very satisfied – if unknowing – victims."
"And do you always do this, this 'matchmaking', as you call it?"
"Not really. I only speed along what would have happened anyway. People should be happy. I mean, don't you think everyone deserves someone to give them unconditional acceptance and trust?"
His face was impassive. In the darkness of the corridors, Riley couldn't see his eyes. After a long pause, he spoke again. "While your idealisms are admirable, they are not entirely true. Not everyone should be forgiven."
It didn't occur to Riley until later that night, safe in Gryffindor Tower, that Malfoy could have been referring to himself.