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7th year, mid-September
Oct. 3rd, 2014 02:13 pmErik had ignored both the half- and quarter-hour warnings for the closing of the library— deliberately for once, rather than being too immersed in studying to notice. Tucked away at his little table in the back corner overlooking the lake, walled off from the rest of the world by piles of books and a quieting charm, his quill moving at a feverish pace in an effort to get to the end of his Charms essay before turning in— with ten inches done, he had four still to go. It wasn't due for a few days yet... but N.E.W.T.s were only eight months away, and Erik couldn't afford to get lazy.
Especially now that he didn't have the added burden of Head Boy duties to add to his plate on top of everything else.
It was difficult not to let that rankle— being passed over, when he'd been within inches of being the first Slytherin Head Boy in almost ten years— but being passed over for a Hufflepuff? The shame was nearly enough to devour him whole.
At least he hadn't lost to Charles. Then, Erik reflected, he'd have had to spend the entirety of first term locked in his dormitory to avoid murdering Charles when his smugness inevitably drove Erik mad.
As if summoned by Erik's thoughts, Charles's voice floated toward him, muffled by the quieting charm but no less recognizable. "Erik? Are you still hiding back here or have you gone— ah, there you are."
Erik didn't look up from his parchment, waiting instead until Charles entered his peripheral vision to respond. "I am not," he said repressively, "hiding." He allowed himself a glance, sidelong and up into Charles's irrepressible grin— but just as quickly looked back down at his work, letting out a careful breath that did little to ease the sudden tension in his spine. "In case you hadn't noticed, we've rather a lot of work to do."
Especially now that he didn't have the added burden of Head Boy duties to add to his plate on top of everything else.
It was difficult not to let that rankle— being passed over, when he'd been within inches of being the first Slytherin Head Boy in almost ten years— but being passed over for a Hufflepuff? The shame was nearly enough to devour him whole.
At least he hadn't lost to Charles. Then, Erik reflected, he'd have had to spend the entirety of first term locked in his dormitory to avoid murdering Charles when his smugness inevitably drove Erik mad.
As if summoned by Erik's thoughts, Charles's voice floated toward him, muffled by the quieting charm but no less recognizable. "Erik? Are you still hiding back here or have you gone— ah, there you are."
Erik didn't look up from his parchment, waiting instead until Charles entered his peripheral vision to respond. "I am not," he said repressively, "hiding." He allowed himself a glance, sidelong and up into Charles's irrepressible grin— but just as quickly looked back down at his work, letting out a careful breath that did little to ease the sudden tension in his spine. "In case you hadn't noticed, we've rather a lot of work to do."
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Date: 2014-12-01 09:38 pm (UTC)“Pince will be over here in a moment, you know,” he continued, blue eyes skimming over the neat stacks of books. “D’you really want to be rushed out of here and realize later that you’ve left behind something you can’t live without?”
He plucked up a text and held it up to his chin, smiling slyly at Erik from over the top of it, dark hair slipping forward across his brow to frame his eyes.
“Besides, you’ve days yet. I’ll let you look at mine if it’ll make you feel better about it."
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Date: 2015-04-17 07:12 pm (UTC)Nevertheless, Charles did have a point. He'd been bullied away from his work by Pince twice this term already; he was in no rush to repeat the experience a third time. His chair screeched back as he pushed himself away from the table, getting to his feet and huffing his hair out of his eyes as he began piling his books. The stack he planned to take was far larger than the stack he planned to leave; dividing it in half, he pushed one pile toward Charles with a dry, "Make yourself useful, then."
no subject
Date: 2015-07-05 07:45 am (UTC)"Come to think of it," he began, walking slowly backwards, the books following him, "I ought to be the one insulted between us. You think my essay's rubbish." Smirking, he stepped smoothly out of the way of a wayward chair and continued his slow, backwards saunter toward the door.