sit back. relax. smoke?
{ wear }
Dale Lyons. Seventh year. I'm not big on small talk.
Care for a smoke instead?
Harry Potter Next Gen RP account.
Dale Lyons. Seventh year. I'm not big on small talk.
Care for a smoke instead?
Harry Potter Next Gen RP account.
It was quiet in the dorm which was exactly how Dale liked it. It meant that he could finish all his work in the morning without the extra hassle of going to the library. Usually going to the library meant attracting other people that he didn’t necessarily have the energy to dismiss. Some people were exceptionally persistent after all. Especially a group of fifth years that were insisting he run for Head Boy. It wasn’t as if the title didn’t hold merit, he just wasn’t sure if he wanted to run or not. It also wasn’t a matter of whether he was capable or not - he was capable, he just had to juggle his options and his responsibilities and see if he had enough time and effort to do everything that he wanted to.
He looked up briefly when Scorpius Malfoy entered the room before his gaze went back to his work. He was on all right terms with Scorpius. Besides the beginning of the term where they barely talked, throughout the years they maintained a decent acquaintance. It came with living in the same space and being in most of the same classes. Scorpius was an alright fellow. A bit stuck on the pureblood nuances but perhaps that came from his upbringing. Old habits are hard to break especially with a family as influential as the Malfoys. Dale didn’t know and neither was it his business. Being a pureblood himself, he was well aware of how that world worked, but since his family was small scale, they were never put in the spotlight. So it wasn’t exactly a necessity for them to stick to pureblood traditions though in the case that he married a Muggle-born, he had a few uncles that would be against it. But that was another story.
Speaking of pureblood traditions…Dale raised an eyebrow when Scorpius suddenly spoke. Hazel Robins? From what Dale knew, she was in Gryffindor though she came from a house with pureblood Slytherin background. Interesting. That would explain why Scorpius was interested in her that way. Two pureblood families who were interested in upholding the same traditions. “You should know by now that I take Ace’s words like a grain of salt,” he responded smoothly, finishing up the last sentence of his assignment. “She tends to exaggerate.” As true as Ace’s words were, she…always managed to make things worse than they really were. “Though, marriage. Interesting. I suppose congratulations are in order?” Dale was almost certain that, at least in this moment, this was a loveless, political-like marriage. Though if Scorpius wanted to do it, then good for him.
“She does, doesn’t she?” Malfoy sat himself on the wide ledge of the windowsill with his quill and parchment, trying to gain as much of the morning light as he could as it filtered through the murky water of the lake. He knew better than to trust the words that came out of Ace Pruitt’s mouth. He distrusted the girl to such an extent that he actually feared her and what she could do to his reputation. Reputation was everything for an aristocratic pureblood like himself. If there was one thing that generations of wealth couldn’t buy, it was a good reputation. Something like that had to be earned, and could be easily destroyed. The Malfoy family was still suffering from their Deatheater days.
His expression twitched a little in annoyance at the mention of congratulations. It didn’t feel right. For him it was akin to congratulating someone for signing up for the army. It was honourable and decent, but held a sense of dark foreboding. He wasn’t marching to his death, but he was heading towards an dull and inevitably lifeless future. It was like the light had gone out in his eyes. The only consolation was that he knew that Hazel Robins felt the same.
“Yes. Well, you can save your congratulations for the wedding. You will likely be invited.” Because knowing the Malfoy and Robins families, they would make a big, fanciful affair of the whole thing, pouring in tens of thousands of galleons into it and inviting everyone they deemed proper, which included the Lyons family. At least the Weasleys and Potters would never be permitted to attend the wedding - not that they’d want to attend anyway - because he didn’t think he would be able to give his life away to Hazel Robins with Lily Potter watching.
“I don’t suppose your family have started trying to pressure you into marriage yet?” Malfoy asked, knowing that Dale would hardly have any problem finding a girl interested in him. He understood that the Lyons family was more lenient about this type of thing, but most pureblood families, with the exception of the ‘blood traitors’, usually held on to the ideal of marrying young in order to quickly produce an heir. The Wood and the Weasley families had deviated far from this ideal; but where Dale’s family stood, he was uncertain. There had been a huge backlash against the ‘pureblood ideals’ after Voldemort’s fall, leaving families like the Malfoys scrambling to both appease the public and to cling to what traditions they could salvage, while other families learned to adapt.
“Yes,” Dale agreed. “For the most part she’s harmless though she can stir up…unnecessary things.” He wasn’t annoyed with that little stunt she’d pulled with Sierra McLaggen anymore but it just showed the lack of limitations Ace had when it came to exposing everyone’s dirty secrets. Though he had to ease up a little on her, the fourth year had come to her. He was fond of Ace he just did show concern that she obviously didn’t care who she messed around with. He was afraid one day it would just blow up on her.
Dale let out an agreeable hum when Scorpius said that he’d be invited. He honestly didn’t know how to respond. The best argument against Scorpius Malfoy marrying Hazel Robins would be ‘Do you two even want to get married?’ Most people treated marriage as a celebration of love, Scorpius was approaching this out of duty. If he and Scorpius were closer, perhaps, he would bring up an opposition. In an age where pureblood traditions were dying, there wasn’t any use to cling on to them except for matters of pride. As far as Dale could tell, mixing a pureblood with Muggles didn’t diminish someone’s magic. Though people often brought up the argument of Squibs, there were still records of purebloods that had Squibs born into the family without any viable explanation. However, it was still a universal thought for most traditional pureblooded families that the purer the blood, the purer the magic. This was a thought that brought up much conflict. After the war, people had opposed most of the pureblooded families’ way of living in the first place. And with the heroes of the way, the Weasleys and the Potters, going against that thinking in the first place was the standard norm now.
Again, no matter. Traditional pureblooded families still existed as did unconventional pureblooded families. They could do whatever they liked so long as the generations were fine with it. Concepts like ‘duty’ always clashed with a person’s sense of ‘desire.’ Clearly saying, if Scorpius didn’t want to marry Hazel Robins he shouldn’t, but if he felt that he should, then he will. What a bother.
“My parents have encouraged me to settle down as soon as possible though they aren’t pushing anything,” Dale admitted. “Though some of my uncles are bringing up the idea of courting,” his mouth twisted a little at that word, “some girls from influential families.” Dale was lucky to have parents that only wished his happiness rather than their reputation. Some of his uncles were a little too ambitious though, wanting the Lyons’ name to rise up rather than staying in the shadows like they always had. As the eldest male in the Lyons’ family, he had to deal with a lot of his uncles’ bullshit, for lack of a better word. Dale could care less what the rest of his family thought though it became troublesome when they bothered his parents. “However, marriage is the least of my concerns at the moment.”
It was a Saturday morning, which usually meant sleeping in and the slow stumbling of scruffily-dressed or pyjama-clad students wandering down to the great hall for breakfast of brunch. Scorpius Malfoy, however, had woken early yet again because he hadn’t been sleeping well lately. Not since the day he had arranged his date with Hazel Robins. At least today there wasn’t a frog watching him shower. Those were gone by how, thankfully, and he was able to dress in his expensive grey jacket, trousers and deep black turtle-necked jumper in fine cashmere without any fuss.
In the space of time it took for Malfoy to half-heartedly eat his breakfast and return to his dorm room, it seemed that just about everyone had woken up. At least he had his dorm room very nearly to himself. Only Dale Lyons remained in the green and silver-draped dorm room, and Malfoy could see that the boy was awake so at least he didn’t have to be quiet. He was also thankful that Albus Potter wasn’t in the room, because though they usually tolerated each other, he really detested the boy, which was a shame because his sister was lovely.
It was that same sister, Lily Potter, who had been the reason that for a few weeks closer to the start of the year he had barely acknowledged Dale’s existence. She had been practically head over heels for the boy - and probably still was - and she really hadn’t been subtle about it. It had taken him those few weeks to quell the jealous beast inside him and resume normal speaking terms with Dale. The boy was a pureblood after all, and therefore ‘proper’ company for a Malfoy, though he didn’t really make friends. Dale had his own group of friends anyway, Malfoy knew, completely detached from anyone he wanted to associate with.
“Before the younger Pruitt can spoil the news for you in a horribly warped fashion,” he spoke up, now rummaging about his trunk and not even looking at Dale, “no I’m not actually engaged to Hazel Robins. Though she and I have agreed to get engaged at the end of the year.” It was hardly a secret anymore, but he feared Ace spreading the news of his promised-engagement around the school in a way that would shed a negative light on him. It didn’t help that he hadn’t even had a girlfriend yet and now he was making this extreme, life-long decision.
Finding the self-inking quill he had been searching for, and a few blank sheets of parchment, Malfoy closed his trunk and looked up at Dale to judge his reaction, not even sure if the boy would care the slightest about the news. At least being from a pureblood family, Malfoy hoped that he could count on Dale understanding the importance of a pureblood marriage.
It was quiet in the dorm which was exactly how Dale liked it. It meant that he could finish all his work in the morning without the extra hassle of going to the library. Usually going to the library meant attracting other people that he didn’t necessarily have the energy to dismiss. Some people were exceptionally persistent after all. Especially a group of fifth years that were insisting he run for Head Boy. It wasn’t as if the title didn’t hold merit, he just wasn’t sure if he wanted to run or not. It also wasn’t a matter of whether he was capable or not - he was capable, he just had to juggle his options and his responsibilities and see if he had enough time and effort to do everything that he wanted to.
He looked up briefly when Scorpius Malfoy entered the room before his gaze went back to his work. He was on all right terms with Scorpius. Besides the beginning of the term where they barely talked, throughout the years they maintained a decent acquaintance. It came with living in the same space and being in most of the same classes. Scorpius was an alright fellow. A bit stuck on the pureblood nuances but perhaps that came from his upbringing. Old habits are hard to break especially with a family as influential as the Malfoys. Dale didn’t know and neither was it his business. Being a pureblood himself, he was well aware of how that world worked, but since his family was small scale, they were never put in the spotlight. So it wasn’t exactly a necessity for them to stick to pureblood traditions though in the case that he married a Muggle-born, he had a few uncles that would be against it. But that was another story.
Speaking of pureblood traditions…Dale raised an eyebrow when Scorpius suddenly spoke. Hazel Robins? From what Dale knew, she was in Gryffindor though she came from a house with pureblood Slytherin background. Interesting. That would explain why Scorpius was interested in her that way. Two pureblood families who were interested in upholding the same traditions. “You should know by now that I take Ace’s words like a grain of salt,” he responded smoothly, finishing up the last sentence of his assignment. “She tends to exaggerate.” As true as Ace’s words were, she…always managed to make things worse than they really were. “Though, marriage. Interesting. I suppose congratulations are in order?” Dale was almost certain that, at least in this moment, this was a loveless, political-like marriage. Though if Scorpius wanted to do it, then good for him.
The girl leaning against the wall could be easily mistaken for somebody who wasn’t Della Richmond. Her hand was missing a cigarette and her ears were missing their earrings; her normally large mane of curly hair had been tamed to sit on the top of her head, knotted into a bun. And yet it was her and she was there and she was very much thankful for it, hating the clean and claustrophobic air of the hospital wing.
She wasn’t even properly sure who had brought her there, she had been so hysteric. Not Robert Nott. No, Robert Nott had left her, reminding her that she was nothing but dirt on his shoe. Pathetic and weak and small and fucking crying in the middle of the courtyard. Usually it was her favourite smoking spot but returning there didn’t seem wise after the catastrophe that had been her conversation with Nott. As her mind lingered on it she tensed up, creasing her forehead and hugging her arms tight to herself despite it being a mild day out. Again she found herself longing for nicotine to calm herself down and almost regretted sending Robert her packet. Almost. The revenge was much more Slytherin than Gryffindor, something which surprised but did not bother her. He deserved to feel guilty.
Della had been taught by her mother that saying she was sorry should always be followed by forgiveness. That was the natural way of things. That had later been edited by her father. With him, “I’m sorry” was only countered with yells and shouts and curses. But “I’m sorry” had never been answered with somebody walking away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Desperately pleading for him to not care that she was crying; to overlook the fact that she was a dirty mudblood. To stay.
She didn’t need to sort through all the triggered memories to remember the theory that she had created when her mother died. Nobody stays long enough to care. Robert Nott had just proved her theory correct.
It had been strange afterwards. Not being hauled to see the nurse because she could barely breathe from short, panicked breaths and a chest that threatened to crush her from the inside. Not waking up in an unfamiliar bed with snickering students who believed that she had finally gone off her rocker. No, the thing that was really strange for Della was sending Twizzle to call on friends. Dom visiting her in the hospital wing. Dale about to meet with her to smoke. The concept of friends was nothing new, but being able to rely on them when she was weak was. The only other time she had an attack like her last, she had been alone and had to spend a few hours in an abandoned bathroom, convinced she was dying. It was a comforting feeling, knowing that she was not completely alone.
Dale was normally a pleasant guy, in his quiet, calm way. He didn’t go out of his way to talk to people unless necessary but he certainly wouldn’t ignore them if they talked to him. That was just bad manners. Habit. So Dale had accumulated numerous acquaintances through the years, familiar faces, people he could pair up in Potions together but not necessarily talk about family with. Dale didn’t talk family with many people anyways. Besides family.
But despite his seemingly distant manner, Dale did have friends. Dale did have people he was fond of. It was a considerably small list compared to some but it was still there. Della was one of those people. He’d warmed up to her ever since they were paired up for some ridiculous baby keeping assignment back in the beginning of sixth year. They would meet every now and then for a smoke, for a chat, even to compare notes. Della was clever, and Dale did so appreciate cleverness.
Her last owl had bothered him though. Panic attack? Judging from the few vague comments Della had made about her home life, he wondered if it was connected to that. She usually kept herself together well even if she did tend to fly off the handle with her temper. Nevertheless the circumstances, Della was upset, and as a friend, Dale was here to listen.
And to offer good smokes.
His eyebrow raised slightly upon seeing her - no ridiculously large earrings or ridiculously large hair - but he raised a hand in greeting as he approached. “Here,” he fished the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and tossed them towards her. “I can’t remember if they’re on your top ten list of ‘bloody good cigarettes’ but they’re from Spain so they’ll do, I’m sure.”
Lourdes. Listening to American music again?
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DALE. ROB. MY BROS.
Lourdes. Always amazed by your ability to contort your body and face in such astronomical ways simultaneously.
Dale! Always amazed at your ability to use one twelve letter word and one fourteen letter word both in the same sentence to say something that sounds deliciously smart when you could have just said: DUDE YOUR FACE IS BRILLIANT.
Dude your face is brilliant.
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DALE. ROB. MY BROS.
Lourdes. Always amazed by your ability to contort your body and face in such astronomical ways simultaneously.
Don’t do anything rash. I’ll be there in ten minutes.
Megan saw black and a whole lot of black. She hurt so much, but she couldn’t move, and she hoped, really hoped, that she could still walk. She felt somebody touch her and her immediate reaction was to flinch, but she couldn’t flinch. Was something really wrong? She tried her hardest not to think of the pain, but it was blinding, and it just demanded to be felt. She knew she shouldn’t, but all she wanted to do was give up and sink in to the comforting black from behind her eyelids, but she had to fight this, didn’t she? She couldn’t give up, could she? No. No. She had to fight. She did. She had to. But she didn’t know what to do.
Someone, a boy, spoke to her and she found herself almost accidentally clinging to his words. Instructions, that’s what she wanted, what she needed. Instructions. She opened her mouth quietly and a small noise emitted from her mouth. “Hello,” she gasped, concentrating on reply to him exactly. It helped. “Okay. Wake up.” She opened her eyes a crack and focused on blinking. “I’m awake. But… W… what do I do now?” Hopefully he would tell her. “Please keep talking.”
Dale made a quiet noise in affirmation when she started to talk, only to mentally shake his head at himself. She had just taken a huge fall, she obviously wasn’t feeling quite herself. He was quite frankly afraid that she’d just pass out. He wouldn’t blame her if she did but it definitely wasn’t ideal in terms of her health. For now, he focused on her questions. “Hello. Stay awake, will you? Listen to my voice, tell me stories. Don’t slip away. Alright?” As he talked, he took his wand out of his pocket and surveyed her, deciding on the best course of option. Levitation spell, definitely.
He murmured the spell and the girl was in the air, looking perfectly still. He got a better look at her battered body, mouth twitching in what others would call a wince as he looked at the damage. She was definitely going to get some bruising…her shoulder looked dislocated and her leg seemed as if it were broken. She’d become quite battered! He honestly wondered what had happened but decided it was none of his business. She fell. How, Merlin knows, but she fell and she’d fallen hard.
“I’m going to take you to the Hospital Wing now,” he said, measuring his words out loudly and carefully, so that she could focus on them. “Madame Pomfrey will fix you up right away. I know it’s painful right now but stay awake.” He continued to talk to her, encouraging her to respond as he floated her down to the Hospital Wing.
Megan was wearing her new birthday jumper that she’d gotten from Perky Pie for her birthday. It was blue (perry winkle blue, Perky Pie had said), and a really lovely orange colour that reminded her of sunsets. She really wasn’t supposed to be wearing it, considering it was school time, and she was supposed to be in her uniform, but she had her robe wrappedreally tightaround her body so no one could see.
She’d just been done with Charms, and it was just the best lesson, because it was colour change charms. She’d spent the entire lesson changing the colours of everything she could see. It was their fifth lesson doing it, and she’d only just figured it out, so it was lovely. Even though she accidentally pointed her wand in the wrong direction and changed Flitwick’s robes pink.
She was in such a good mood that she decided to slide down the bannisters. Disregarding the last time her and Hugo had tried it in the Hufflepuff common room and she’d accidentally broken her ankle, she sat herself on the railings and pushed off.
And then she slipped.
She was falling, falling, falling, and it was almost like flying, but she didn’t have any support. Her limbs were flailing like a fish on dry land and her stomach was in her throat, and she had no idea what to do, except squeeze her eyes shut and hit the ground. And hit the ground she did.
Dale was sitting at the foot of the stairs, going over some Potions notes. He’d promised Della earlier that he’d let her borrow his since she had missed a couple of lessons but he was going over them to make sure he hadn’t jotted down any of his research notes on it. He felt like it’d been forever since he’d thought about the mechanics behind becoming an Animagus - since becoming one he just went through the basic motions of slipping in and slipping out. He was getting careless and it wasn’t good. And again, getting carried away with his thoughts. He really had to finish looking over this -
THUMP. A very loud thump went off, somewhere to his right. He blinked, wondering if someone had dropped their books from the stairs but stood up immediately when he noticed it was a girl. A girl had fallen down from Merlin knows how high up and she wasn’t moving. “Shit,” he breathed before tossing aside his stuff and rushing to the girl’s side, crouching down and gently rolling her to her side. She let out a small grunt and Dale let out a slight breath of relief. He patted her cheek lightly, hoping that she didn’t have a concussion or anything of the sort.
She was sure to be nursing some serious injuries though and Dale’s other hand examined the rest of her body in the least intrusive way he could. It looked like her shoulder was twisted weirdly and her knee was swollen. He continued to pat her. “Hello? Wake up. It’s better if you’re awake,” he said, louder than he usually was. Once she was conscious, he could get her to the hospital wing to be properly checked. And once she was conscious, she needed to stay conscious.
