Ficlet: Megan Jones and the FIB (Megan Jones, Eloise Midgen)
Title: Megan Jones and the FIB
Disclaimer: : Alas I do not own Harry Potter.
Characters: : Eloise Midgen, Megan Jones
Summary: : Megan and Eloise talk about the latest FIB to enter the Ballycastle Bat's dining hall.
Rating: : PG
Word Count: : 608
A/N: : written for the nosmutforyou Grammar Ficathon. I used the prompt: acronym. Thanks to bk03 for looking this over for me.
“El, FIB at three o’ clock,” Megan whispered to her friend.
Eloise’s forehead wrinkled as she tried to think of what Megan was trying to tell her. They had been friends for years and over that time had come up with many different acronyms. So many in fact that she couldn’t quite remember what FIB stood for.
“What’s a FIB?” Eloise asked without whispering. Wasn’t an acronym secretive enough? Besides she’d been meeting Megan for lunch at the Ballycastle Bat’s official dining hall once a week for the last several years and knew that everyone there was much too loud for them to overhear their quieter conversations.
“A Fit Intelligent Beater,” Megan hissed.
“Oh,” Eloise said as she began let her eyes roam about the dining hall. “My three or your three, Megan?”
“Yours.”
Eloise turned to her right. There was an attractive gentleman, perhaps two or three years older than them, holding his lunch tray. He had the square jaw and look of intensity that Megan always seemed to favor, but she found to be disconcerting.
“Well?” Megan asked exasperatedly after a few moments had passed.
“How do you know he’s a Beater, Megan?”
“Because we just signed a new one to our team. No one’s seen him in action except the coach, but I’ve heard he’s a looker. It’s got to be him,” Megan assured her, taking a bite from her chicken salad before washing it down with a glass of water.
“He’s all right” Eloise said, as she turned back to her sandwich and took a bite.
“Just a bit? He’s gorgeous,” Megan argued. “Blue eyes, wavy brown hair, gentle smile, absolutely lovely. Do you think I should go talk to him? Just to make certain he fits all the qualifications for being a FIB. He might just be a fit beater and be completely stupid and I’d have to call him an FB or perhaps an SFB.
“What’s the S for?”
“Super.”
Eloise looked at the man again. “He’s not that attractive.”
“The Super’s for his self-esteem,” Megan explained. “Besides acronyms with only two letters just seem…useless.”
“Well, go on and talk to him.”
Megan nodded and began walking over to the man.
Eloise watched surreptitiously, as she ate her sandwich, but couldn’t make heads or tails of Megan and the other man’s conversation as both of them spoke in low tones. One would nod or shake their head while the other grinned or blinked when the other said something. It was all quite annoying really, as she couldn’t tell whether it was going well or not. After a few minutes she saw Megan wave at the man and begin her walk back to their table.
“So was he an intelligent Beater?” Eloise asked, as Megan began to sit down..
“No. He wasn’t a Beater at all, actually,” Megan said as she took another bite of her chicken salad and looked idly around the room.
Eloise knew that look. It was Megan’s way of avoiding an embarrassing situation. Was it something the man had said? Something he’d done? Eloise needed to know.
“Chaser?”
“No.”
“Well, he’s much too tall to be the one who goes after the snitch. Is he a Keeper?”
Megan shook her head and took another bite of her food, then a drink of water.
“Did you get a new coach?”
“He’s the Ballycastle Bats new binman.”
“Are you-“
“It’s not a big deal,” Megan said with a shrug of her shoulders. “He just collects trash instead of hitting bludgers.”
“Right,” Eloise said.
“Right.” Megan echoed unsurely.
“So is he a Fit Intelligent Binman?”
Megan shook her head. “Super Fit Binman.”
Disclaimer: : Alas I do not own Harry Potter.
Characters: : Eloise Midgen, Megan Jones
Summary: : Megan and Eloise talk about the latest FIB to enter the Ballycastle Bat's dining hall.
Rating: : PG
Word Count: : 608
A/N: : written for the nosmutforyou Grammar Ficathon. I used the prompt: acronym. Thanks to bk03 for looking this over for me.
“El, FIB at three o’ clock,” Megan whispered to her friend.
Eloise’s forehead wrinkled as she tried to think of what Megan was trying to tell her. They had been friends for years and over that time had come up with many different acronyms. So many in fact that she couldn’t quite remember what FIB stood for.
“What’s a FIB?” Eloise asked without whispering. Wasn’t an acronym secretive enough? Besides she’d been meeting Megan for lunch at the Ballycastle Bat’s official dining hall once a week for the last several years and knew that everyone there was much too loud for them to overhear their quieter conversations.
“A Fit Intelligent Beater,” Megan hissed.
“Oh,” Eloise said as she began let her eyes roam about the dining hall. “My three or your three, Megan?”
“Yours.”
Eloise turned to her right. There was an attractive gentleman, perhaps two or three years older than them, holding his lunch tray. He had the square jaw and look of intensity that Megan always seemed to favor, but she found to be disconcerting.
“Well?” Megan asked exasperatedly after a few moments had passed.
“How do you know he’s a Beater, Megan?”
“Because we just signed a new one to our team. No one’s seen him in action except the coach, but I’ve heard he’s a looker. It’s got to be him,” Megan assured her, taking a bite from her chicken salad before washing it down with a glass of water.
“He’s all right” Eloise said, as she turned back to her sandwich and took a bite.
“Just a bit? He’s gorgeous,” Megan argued. “Blue eyes, wavy brown hair, gentle smile, absolutely lovely. Do you think I should go talk to him? Just to make certain he fits all the qualifications for being a FIB. He might just be a fit beater and be completely stupid and I’d have to call him an FB or perhaps an SFB.
“What’s the S for?”
“Super.”
Eloise looked at the man again. “He’s not that attractive.”
“The Super’s for his self-esteem,” Megan explained. “Besides acronyms with only two letters just seem…useless.”
“Well, go on and talk to him.”
Megan nodded and began walking over to the man.
Eloise watched surreptitiously, as she ate her sandwich, but couldn’t make heads or tails of Megan and the other man’s conversation as both of them spoke in low tones. One would nod or shake their head while the other grinned or blinked when the other said something. It was all quite annoying really, as she couldn’t tell whether it was going well or not. After a few minutes she saw Megan wave at the man and begin her walk back to their table.
“So was he an intelligent Beater?” Eloise asked, as Megan began to sit down..
“No. He wasn’t a Beater at all, actually,” Megan said as she took another bite of her chicken salad and looked idly around the room.
Eloise knew that look. It was Megan’s way of avoiding an embarrassing situation. Was it something the man had said? Something he’d done? Eloise needed to know.
“Chaser?”
“No.”
“Well, he’s much too tall to be the one who goes after the snitch. Is he a Keeper?”
Megan shook her head and took another bite of her food, then a drink of water.
“Did you get a new coach?”
“He’s the Ballycastle Bats new binman.”
“Are you-“
“It’s not a big deal,” Megan said with a shrug of her shoulders. “He just collects trash instead of hitting bludgers.”
“Right,” Eloise said.
“Right.” Megan echoed unsurely.
“So is he a Fit Intelligent Binman?”
Megan shook her head. “Super Fit Binman.”