Chapter 6!
Blah. Disclaimer. Blah
~ ~ ~
Having learnt his lesson somewhat from the incident with the rolling pin in the kitchens, Cassius Warrington entered the library at ten minutes to three. With purposeful strides, he made his way towards the back of the library, to the table where Fallon had told him to meet her.
As it was a Saturday and they did not have any classes, she was not in school robes and uniform. She wore a black, somewhat slinky robe that bared her shoulders and had long, loose, sheer sleeves. The garment was form-fitting from bust to hips, then flared out somewhat, with openings on the sides to mid-thigh. She was reading, her face hidden behind a book entitled "Seldom-Brewed but Highly Useful Potions" by Zelma Mosley, two dainty feet, clad in high-heeled boots, crossed at the ankles and propped on the table. From his excellent vantage point, he could see glimpses of smooth, black-lace-stocking-clad legs through the openings of her robe.
Fallon turned a page in her book, but did not look at him in any way. Calmly, she spoke, "If you're QUITE finished staring... I've a plan."
Warrington pulled his attention away of trying to see which angle gave him the best view of her legs and walked closer to the table. Fallon, to his great chagrin, removed her legs from the table and sat upright, finally setting the book down to look at him. He sat down across from her, and looked at her curiously. "So, what is the plan?"
"This," she lay her book down open and flat on the table, and slid it slightly across the table for him to see. He glanced down, and grimaced slightly.
"'The Strongest Legal Truth Potion'... looks bloody complicated. Where the devil are you going to get these ingredients, anyway?"
She smiled at him, "Most of them can be found either in the greenhouse, or can be gotten from Snape. The others... that's where I will need your help."
He gave her a dubious look, "If it involves me performing sexual favors for any eccentric apothecary owners, I will have to politely refuse."
Fallon rolled her eyes and scoffed, "As if... don't flatter yourself. It's actually quite simple. You just have to place the orders for some things."
"Oh," Warrington said slowly, "And why can't YOU do that?"
"You've just turned eighteen. I'm still sixteen. I'd have to get permission, and we don't have that much time to spare for me to owl my parents," Fallon spoke impatiently, "I hope that's not too hard to understand."
"I see," Warrington nodded thoughtfully, "Well... what do I order, where from, and how much will it cost?"
"I've got the cost covered," Fallon rolled her eyes, "Just get a bloody sheet of parchment and I'll dictate to you the orders."
* * *
Three dictated orders later, the two schemers left the library, Fallon with her book tucked under her arm, and made their way towards the Owlery. "All right... one can be sent using your owl, one can be sent using mine, and the other, we'll use a school owl." Warrington said calmly, taking one of the notes and tying it onto the leg of his tawny owl. Fallon nodded, and was already in the process of tying another parchment to the leg of a fierce-looking screech owl a short distance from him. After both their owls had flown off, the third order was tied to the leg of a school gray owl, and they left the Owlery.
"All right... now what?" Warrington asked her. She pursed her lip thoughtfully, and glanced through the book again.
"All right... to the Greenhouse. I need to gather Chervil buds, rosemary and white sage leaves, and snapdragon flowers," Fallon said, already pushing open the door to one of the Herbology greenhouses, and making a beeline for a plant with oddly shaped pink flowers. Reaching up to her hair, she pulled out the long silver pin that held it in a bun, and Warrington was not entirely surprised to see that it was actually a decorative stiletto. Her hair tumbled down as she bent slightly to cut away several of the flowers.
The excursion to the Greenhouse was fairly short, and soon, with a flower pot transfigured into a box filled with the necessary plants in Fallon's purse, the two stepped out and headed back towards the school.
"Hello there, gorgeous."
Fallon stopped walking at the voice, and swore softly in Latin. Turning around, she fixed an icy, derisive sneer on the person who had addressed her.
"If you want to die, you can just tell me. No need to go in such a roundabout manner," she hissed.
The fellow was none other than the Chaser Marsden that Warrington had heard Pansy gossiping about that other day at the library.
"Fal... why must you be so difficult?"
"The name is FALLON. But you're a Hufflepuff. I forget... a concept so complex as a two-syllable name would be too hard for you to comprehend. But bugger off unless you want to end up in the infirmary."
"Oh, you should just give me a chance... it's not like you have any other bloke to date," Marsden said in a condescending voice, and Fallon seethed. How DARE he? Condescend to a SLYTHERIN!
But before she could say anything particularly scathing, Warrington, standing behind her, spoke up, his voice a cold and menacing snarl, "She's not interested, wanker. And it would be in your best interests not to persist in any such thoughts of her."
Marsden looked startled for a moment, then laughed somewhat, "Fallon... you're shagging... HIM?"
"Would it be any of your bloody business if I were?" Fallon's eyes were blazing, and quite deliberately, she stepped closer to Warrington, until she felt his chest against her back. He obligingly put an arm around her waist, the other arm at his side, wand in hand. Fallon sneered at the Hufflepuff chaser, and coolly twirled her stiletto in one hand.
"You've two seconds to remove yourself from our presence. If you do not... you might just find yourself lacking a few vital appendages. And unable to father children," she spat.
Unwilling to face the wrath of two angry Slytherins, the Hufflepuff 6th-year left at a fairly quick pace. Fallon glared at the boy's retreating back for a moment before stepping away from Warrington.
"Bloody bastard..." they both spoke at the same time. Then, staring at each other in surprise, they both burst out laughing, in the middle of the hallway.
Finally, Fallon calmed down, though her eyes were still dancing merrily despite the irritating encounter with the presumptuous imbecile.
"All right... to Snape's office. I just need to get some Jobberknoll feathers from him. And then... the potion ingredients we ordered should not take longer than two days to arrive. And then... Operation Extreme Public Humiliation will be officially under way!"
An hour later, Warrington, watching as the girl, snugly ensconced in an armchair by the fire, nibbled at the end of a sugar quill as she scribbled notes on a piece of parchment, reflected that it had been... not bad so far.
Fallon Anderson wasn't always pathologically violent.
Hmm... perhaps their friends should get into spats more often.
At that moment, a flying pillow from the other side of the room, where a Slytherin 4th year had been trying to cast a Banishing Charm, hit her on the arm, knocking her quill out of her hands. Fallon leapt up, and proceeded to berate the squirming, cowering younger student in very loud and sarcastic tones.
All right... so perhaps she would always be... tempery.
Oh well, it was still interesting.
~ ~ ~
More later!
Blah. Disclaimer. Blah
~ ~ ~
Having learnt his lesson somewhat from the incident with the rolling pin in the kitchens, Cassius Warrington entered the library at ten minutes to three. With purposeful strides, he made his way towards the back of the library, to the table where Fallon had told him to meet her.
As it was a Saturday and they did not have any classes, she was not in school robes and uniform. She wore a black, somewhat slinky robe that bared her shoulders and had long, loose, sheer sleeves. The garment was form-fitting from bust to hips, then flared out somewhat, with openings on the sides to mid-thigh. She was reading, her face hidden behind a book entitled "Seldom-Brewed but Highly Useful Potions" by Zelma Mosley, two dainty feet, clad in high-heeled boots, crossed at the ankles and propped on the table. From his excellent vantage point, he could see glimpses of smooth, black-lace-stocking-clad legs through the openings of her robe.
Fallon turned a page in her book, but did not look at him in any way. Calmly, she spoke, "If you're QUITE finished staring... I've a plan."
Warrington pulled his attention away of trying to see which angle gave him the best view of her legs and walked closer to the table. Fallon, to his great chagrin, removed her legs from the table and sat upright, finally setting the book down to look at him. He sat down across from her, and looked at her curiously. "So, what is the plan?"
"This," she lay her book down open and flat on the table, and slid it slightly across the table for him to see. He glanced down, and grimaced slightly.
"'The Strongest Legal Truth Potion'... looks bloody complicated. Where the devil are you going to get these ingredients, anyway?"
She smiled at him, "Most of them can be found either in the greenhouse, or can be gotten from Snape. The others... that's where I will need your help."
He gave her a dubious look, "If it involves me performing sexual favors for any eccentric apothecary owners, I will have to politely refuse."
Fallon rolled her eyes and scoffed, "As if... don't flatter yourself. It's actually quite simple. You just have to place the orders for some things."
"Oh," Warrington said slowly, "And why can't YOU do that?"
"You've just turned eighteen. I'm still sixteen. I'd have to get permission, and we don't have that much time to spare for me to owl my parents," Fallon spoke impatiently, "I hope that's not too hard to understand."
"I see," Warrington nodded thoughtfully, "Well... what do I order, where from, and how much will it cost?"
"I've got the cost covered," Fallon rolled her eyes, "Just get a bloody sheet of parchment and I'll dictate to you the orders."
* * *
Three dictated orders later, the two schemers left the library, Fallon with her book tucked under her arm, and made their way towards the Owlery. "All right... one can be sent using your owl, one can be sent using mine, and the other, we'll use a school owl." Warrington said calmly, taking one of the notes and tying it onto the leg of his tawny owl. Fallon nodded, and was already in the process of tying another parchment to the leg of a fierce-looking screech owl a short distance from him. After both their owls had flown off, the third order was tied to the leg of a school gray owl, and they left the Owlery.
"All right... now what?" Warrington asked her. She pursed her lip thoughtfully, and glanced through the book again.
"All right... to the Greenhouse. I need to gather Chervil buds, rosemary and white sage leaves, and snapdragon flowers," Fallon said, already pushing open the door to one of the Herbology greenhouses, and making a beeline for a plant with oddly shaped pink flowers. Reaching up to her hair, she pulled out the long silver pin that held it in a bun, and Warrington was not entirely surprised to see that it was actually a decorative stiletto. Her hair tumbled down as she bent slightly to cut away several of the flowers.
The excursion to the Greenhouse was fairly short, and soon, with a flower pot transfigured into a box filled with the necessary plants in Fallon's purse, the two stepped out and headed back towards the school.
"Hello there, gorgeous."
Fallon stopped walking at the voice, and swore softly in Latin. Turning around, she fixed an icy, derisive sneer on the person who had addressed her.
"If you want to die, you can just tell me. No need to go in such a roundabout manner," she hissed.
The fellow was none other than the Chaser Marsden that Warrington had heard Pansy gossiping about that other day at the library.
"Fal... why must you be so difficult?"
"The name is FALLON. But you're a Hufflepuff. I forget... a concept so complex as a two-syllable name would be too hard for you to comprehend. But bugger off unless you want to end up in the infirmary."
"Oh, you should just give me a chance... it's not like you have any other bloke to date," Marsden said in a condescending voice, and Fallon seethed. How DARE he? Condescend to a SLYTHERIN!
But before she could say anything particularly scathing, Warrington, standing behind her, spoke up, his voice a cold and menacing snarl, "She's not interested, wanker. And it would be in your best interests not to persist in any such thoughts of her."
Marsden looked startled for a moment, then laughed somewhat, "Fallon... you're shagging... HIM?"
"Would it be any of your bloody business if I were?" Fallon's eyes were blazing, and quite deliberately, she stepped closer to Warrington, until she felt his chest against her back. He obligingly put an arm around her waist, the other arm at his side, wand in hand. Fallon sneered at the Hufflepuff chaser, and coolly twirled her stiletto in one hand.
"You've two seconds to remove yourself from our presence. If you do not... you might just find yourself lacking a few vital appendages. And unable to father children," she spat.
Unwilling to face the wrath of two angry Slytherins, the Hufflepuff 6th-year left at a fairly quick pace. Fallon glared at the boy's retreating back for a moment before stepping away from Warrington.
"Bloody bastard..." they both spoke at the same time. Then, staring at each other in surprise, they both burst out laughing, in the middle of the hallway.
Finally, Fallon calmed down, though her eyes were still dancing merrily despite the irritating encounter with the presumptuous imbecile.
"All right... to Snape's office. I just need to get some Jobberknoll feathers from him. And then... the potion ingredients we ordered should not take longer than two days to arrive. And then... Operation Extreme Public Humiliation will be officially under way!"
An hour later, Warrington, watching as the girl, snugly ensconced in an armchair by the fire, nibbled at the end of a sugar quill as she scribbled notes on a piece of parchment, reflected that it had been... not bad so far.
Fallon Anderson wasn't always pathologically violent.
Hmm... perhaps their friends should get into spats more often.
At that moment, a flying pillow from the other side of the room, where a Slytherin 4th year had been trying to cast a Banishing Charm, hit her on the arm, knocking her quill out of her hands. Fallon leapt up, and proceeded to berate the squirming, cowering younger student in very loud and sarcastic tones.
All right... so perhaps she would always be... tempery.
Oh well, it was still interesting.
~ ~ ~
More later!