Afternoon Clean Up, Part Two

[ch_fireball]

Charlie looks around. From what he can see of them, Sprout's got her students well under way. Potter and a band of stragglers are making their way towards the Quidditch pitch, and he saw Bones and her group rounding the greenhouses some time ago. He assumes that the group with the Devil's Snare to tackle have tucked into that project

Comments

Brown, Li, Longbottom, Zabini

[ch_fireball]

Continued from here and here.

Re: Brown, Li, Longbottom, Zabini

[zabini_b]

Blaise tries to fold his hands and fails. He's still wearing those bloody awful protective gloves that Weasley forced on him earlier. Blaise has a feeling they won't be charmed off. He shakes his head in disgust and props one leg against the wall instead.

[ch_fireball]

Charlie picks up one of the remaining implements from the grass. (Things are strewn all over, but that mess can wait for later. Right now he has more challenging work to do.)

Moving quietly to a position just around the corner of the wall from the boy, Charlie extends the handle on his snare...

... and ...

... reaches out just so...

... and ...

... drops the rope over Zabini's head, tightening it as it falls past his shoulders.

[zabini_b]

"Argh!"

Blaise lurches forward, unable to put his hands out to stop himself, and lands head first in a trailing rose bush. At least it's not a magic one, he thinks, and then re-evaluates his judgement as the bush's tendrils begin to wrap themselves around him. Thorns dig in where no thorns should go.

"OW OW OW BUGGERING HELLFIRE!" he cries, and begins to thrash from side to side in an attempt to free himself. The bush encroaches further, winding itself as far as his neck. Blaise goes limp in the hope of dissuading it from going any further. If his hair gets messed up, people will pay.

[ch_fireball]

Whoops.

Charlie flicks his wand in the direction of the rose -- aggressive, that one -- he wonders if it's some aura the boy puts off -- he looks down at the snare in he's holding -- Hmm.

The bush stops dead, but doesn't release its hold.

Well.

Another twitch of the wand and the briar branches become ropes.

Charlie gives Zabini a moment to collect himself before he steps up beside the boy.

[zabini_b]

"You!"

Blaise shoots Charlie a resentful glance, although he's a little bit grateful for the slackening of branches. Hold on, why should he be grateful? It was Weasley who tripped him up in the first place.

"Bastard," he mutters, loud enough to be heard, and rolls onto his back.

[ch_fireball]

This is one of those moments when Charlie wonders whether he should really have been entrusted with the responsibility of teaching. He doesn't quite have the whole 'looking out for the students' well being' part figured out.

And sometimes he's a bit vague on the teacher-student boundary thing, too, but he's working on that.

He gives the snare a light tug, which elicits a darker scowl from Zabini. "Not hurt at all, are you?"

[zabini_b]

"I'll live. No thanks to you." Blaise is aware that he's being petulant, and that Weasley is about one step away from kicking him in the face and leaving him to turn into compost for the roses.

All he'd wanted was a moment's peace and quiet, and perhaps a crafty cigarette. Not bloody...chuzpiffles or whatever they were supposed to be hunting.

"Chuzpiffle," he says thoughtfully.

[ch_fireball]

Charlie kneels beside Zabini and takes hold of the boy's shoulder, helping him to lever himself up into a sitting position.

"It's chizpurfle."

The boy shrugs.

"So," Charlie says to him, "I could untie you and let you join your group. Or I could levitate you up the hill and feed you to the jarveys like that. Which would you rather?"

[zabini_b]

"Oh, I'm torn," says Blaise, "do give me a moment to decide. Both options sound so desperately enticing."

The professor (if he can even be called such) looks unimpressed. Blaise sighs.

"Untie me, then. And careful of my hair."

[ch_fireball]

Charlie begins to untie the rope. By hand.

The boy sneers.

"Yes, I could make it vanish. But you said you wanted your hair unmussed."

The rope is knotted at every point where the briar's branches had forked. This is going to take a while.

"Of course," Charlie says to him, "there's a third option. We could sit here while I read you a long, unconvincing lecture on the reasons why you should be happy to spend this afternoon Labouring in the Service of the Greater Good, Making your Contribution to the Institution which has served you so well, Participating Gladly in the Grand Tradition that is Hogwart's Year-End Clean-Up."

He reaches a point where he can unwind a several long strands of the rope at once.

"Yeah, I thought not." He pauses and looks the boy in the eye.

"So is there a reason you're having such a bad day?"

Just a few -- particularly stubborn -- knots to go.

[zabini_b]

Blaise wriggles and the rope, though still impossibly knotted, slips down and frees his left hand. He's still got that damn glove on, though.

"I hardly think that's any of your business."

Blaise's voice is cold. In honesty, he's quite confused. He hadn't expected Weasley to honour his request to leave his hair alone, and he certainly hadn't expected the man to try to converse with him.

Charlie looks aggravated, although there's amusement mixed in there too. The rope is taking forever to untie.

[ch_fireball]

Charlie is a little taken aback by the boy's response. It's not like he was asking about his sex life.

Oh.

Charlie concentrates on working the knots, but the boy's not the only thing in an uncooperative mood.

[zabini_b]

Blaise wriggles again, aware that he's probably only making the professor's job more difficult, but feeling too recalcitrant to care. All of a sudden, he's had enough.

"Oh, just vanish the rotten things," he says, "I've got a comb in my pocket anyway."

Charlie's eyebrows shoot up.

"It's not vanity," Blaise clarifies, "just good practice."

He won't be believed; even Draco makes fun of Blaise for carrying a comb at all times, though he usually clamours to borrow it about ten times a day.

[ch_fireball]

Charlie pauses, looking at the boy.

"All right, then," he says. "Up you go." He stands and drags the boy up with him by the ropes which remain knotted around his chest.

Charlie winds up the loose ends of the rope. "If we're going to do it that way, we can take care of it when we've got you up to the Owlery." And he sets off towards the hill at a steady, purposeful pace with his captive in tow just behind him.

[zabini_b]

Blaise drags his feet and considers some sort of harmless jinx, then decides against it. To be expelled on the last day of school would be nothing short of anticlimax.

"Why can't I be in a different group?" he whines. "I hate my group. It's stupid and pointless."

Zeus, but he's acting like a six year old. Weasley's shoulders are hunched with irritation and he's yanking on the ropes like a hangman testing the drop.

Blaise doesn't actually mind having to clean out the owlery - he keeps a fleet of six or seven there, and he's meticulous about making sure they're adequately provided for.

Oh well. Time to go in for the kill. Blaise clears his throat.

"Are we nearly there yet?"