♪ ♫ Wait! They don't love you like I love you! ♫ ♪
Who: Our favourite Nordic 6th years from opposing houses. But fuck you, this is not Romeo and Juliet and there are NO star-crossed lovers.
When: The evening of October 16th
Where: Ravenclaw 6th year boys' dormitory
What: Pure unadulterated fluff. For once. Rated C for Cute.
Warning: Søren's foul language. Why is this a surprise?
As much as he (usually) enjoyed Arithmancy, today he had fidgeted and twitched his way through class irritably. Today, Arithmancy had denied him the sweet rewards that usually stemmed from the words "later" and "not in public".
...fuck.
He gave thanks and unending praise to God when class was finally released to enjoy what remained of the weekend (fucking Saturday make-up classes. So what if he skipped detention? He'd be back the next day anyway.) and sped through the hallways towards the Great Hall where it was approaching the end of dinner. (Another reason to hex the everliving shit out of the son of a bitch who thought that Saturday afternoon classes were a good idea.) He scanned the Ravenclaw table and found it empty of the person he was seeking.
Irritated, he stomped upstairs towards the Gryffindor Tower, snapped a harsh "MOVE, you supersized bitch" to the portrait (she quickly slid aside with a loud tirade of only being painted this way, thank you very much and she had been far more slim in her youth), and made his way up to his dormitory. He dove immediately for his trunk, throwing aside the contents in messy piles until he emerged with a battered piece of old parchment triumphantly.
He gave it an impatient prod with his wand.
"I really really promise that I'm going to get into loads of not-quite-legal-bullshit with this, show me the map."
The parchment gave a flustered twitch before ink lines spread like veins under his fingertips, revealing a detailed map of the school and its occupants. Søren grinned at the small illustration of the Ravenclaw house and the unmoving dot in the boys' dormitory. Today was already getting better!
He whistled "Den finaste eg veit" cheerfully as he traced the secret passage from the Gryffindor first year girls' dormitory to the Ravenclaw sixth year boys' dormitory. It made no fucking sense, but it was fucking convenient!
He pushed his way into the girls' dorm, ignoring and waving aside the high-pitched squeals and protests until he reached a small alcove. The map showed a picture of a small figure tapping the wall with its wand and spitting out a long stream of curses in Troll.
...well, okay. Sure.
The wall slid open smoothly, revealing a stone passageway with a sand-covered floor. The passage opening closed behind him, leaving only his own breathing and the dark for company. A lumos spell had the tunnel sufficiently lit as Søren traveled fearlessly down its path and towards the Ravenclaw tower. He consulted the map when the path split into a fork. Another little figure appeared, stared at both paths, and then shrugged up at Søren apologetically.
...awesome.
He took the left fork with a put-upon sigh before quickly backtracking and dashing down the right fork. Fuck bats fuck bats fuck bats FUCK BATS FUCK BATS FUCK. BATS. FUCK. BA--
He ran face-first into a solid wall of smoothly lacquered wood. It spun like one of those weird rotating doors in front of ritzy hotels in Copenhagen, tossing him into a small, confined space full of...hanging...things. Well. Shit. It wasn't the worst scrape he'd been in, but the wall...door...slid back into place behind him and couldn't be damned to move again.
He rapped his knuckles experimentally on one of the walls, hoping to Jesus that this was just the inside of a...sideways broomcloset or something.
Stranger things had happened.
When: The evening of October 16th
Where: Ravenclaw 6th year boys' dormitory
What: Pure unadulterated fluff. For once. Rated C for Cute.
Warning: Søren's foul language. Why is this a surprise?
As much as he (usually) enjoyed Arithmancy, today he had fidgeted and twitched his way through class irritably. Today, Arithmancy had denied him the sweet rewards that usually stemmed from the words "later" and "not in public".
...fuck.
He gave thanks and unending praise to God when class was finally released to enjoy what remained of the weekend (fucking Saturday make-up classes. So what if he skipped detention? He'd be back the next day anyway.) and sped through the hallways towards the Great Hall where it was approaching the end of dinner. (Another reason to hex the everliving shit out of the son of a bitch who thought that Saturday afternoon classes were a good idea.) He scanned the Ravenclaw table and found it empty of the person he was seeking.
Irritated, he stomped upstairs towards the Gryffindor Tower, snapped a harsh "MOVE, you supersized bitch" to the portrait (she quickly slid aside with a loud tirade of only being painted this way, thank you very much and she had been far more slim in her youth), and made his way up to his dormitory. He dove immediately for his trunk, throwing aside the contents in messy piles until he emerged with a battered piece of old parchment triumphantly.
He gave it an impatient prod with his wand.
"I really really promise that I'm going to get into loads of not-quite-legal-bullshit with this, show me the map."
The parchment gave a flustered twitch before ink lines spread like veins under his fingertips, revealing a detailed map of the school and its occupants. Søren grinned at the small illustration of the Ravenclaw house and the unmoving dot in the boys' dormitory. Today was already getting better!
He whistled "Den finaste eg veit" cheerfully as he traced the secret passage from the Gryffindor first year girls' dormitory to the Ravenclaw sixth year boys' dormitory. It made no fucking sense, but it was fucking convenient!
He pushed his way into the girls' dorm, ignoring and waving aside the high-pitched squeals and protests until he reached a small alcove. The map showed a picture of a small figure tapping the wall with its wand and spitting out a long stream of curses in Troll.
...well, okay. Sure.
The wall slid open smoothly, revealing a stone passageway with a sand-covered floor. The passage opening closed behind him, leaving only his own breathing and the dark for company. A lumos spell had the tunnel sufficiently lit as Søren traveled fearlessly down its path and towards the Ravenclaw tower. He consulted the map when the path split into a fork. Another little figure appeared, stared at both paths, and then shrugged up at Søren apologetically.
...awesome.
He took the left fork with a put-upon sigh before quickly backtracking and dashing down the right fork. Fuck bats fuck bats fuck bats FUCK BATS FUCK BATS FUCK. BATS. FUCK. BA--
He ran face-first into a solid wall of smoothly lacquered wood. It spun like one of those weird rotating doors in front of ritzy hotels in Copenhagen, tossing him into a small, confined space full of...hanging...things. Well. Shit. It wasn't the worst scrape he'd been in, but the wall...door...slid back into place behind him and couldn't be damned to move again.
He rapped his knuckles experimentally on one of the walls, hoping to Jesus that this was just the inside of a...sideways broomcloset or something.
Stranger things had happened.