Reasons to Date a Hufflepuff Ch. 2: Slytherin in Love [Teddy/Lorcan]
Fic Title: Reasons to Date a Hufflepuff, and How to Do It
Chapter Number and Title: Chapter II: Slytherin in Love (Or, No One Likes a Sentimental Sop)
Ship: Teddy/Lorcan
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Somewhat cracky, extremely fluffy.
Wordcount: 1448 words, this chapter
Summary: Lorcan's seduction scheme is progressing (he thinks), but his sentimental soppiness is somewhat irritating to pretty much everyone else.
Chapter I is here
Chapter II: Slytherin in Love (Or, No One Likes a Sentimental Sop)
Hieronymus Parkinson
Hieronymus was going a bit mad. A good friend was always able to tell when there was something wrong with his best mate, and there was definitely something wrong with Lorcan.
Lorcan was pining. Lorcan, winner of the 2014 Slytherin House Hottest Evil Bastard Award, was pining. Lorcan probably didn't know how obvious it was, but Hieronymus could tell. Hieronymus could always tell.
For one thing, there was the way that Lorcan wasn't lounging languidly in the common room, exchanging witty banter with whoever he was in the lap of. Instead, he was sitting stiffly by the window, looking out at the softly falling snow and sighing poetically. He was acting like his brother, and Hieronymus never could stand Lysander.
And there was the way that Lorcan was wearing his cologne almost constantly, the one that made him smell masculine, elegant, but very, very gay. The one that Lorcan only wore for special occasions, or when there was someone he was trying to seduce.
But what really bother Hieronymus was that Lorcan hadn't said a word to him about it. Lorcan always talked about whoever his latest fling was. Hieronymus never listened, but it was part of what he liked about his friend -- the endless flow of witty banter that he could tune out, but it would be there in the background, comforting and familiar.
Lorcan
On Sunday, Lorcan went up to Gryffindor to see Lysander. Much as his twin brother grated on Lorcan's nerves lately, what with how ridiculously depressed he got over rejection after breakup after rejection, Lorcan was rather looking forward to having a chat with Lysander. It always grounded him, and Lorcan was feeling decidedly unlike his usual self lately.
They sat down in a corner of the common room for a cup of cocoa. It was an alright common room, although a bit garish, but as Lorcan couldn't stand being around Gryffindor he rarely spent much time here. Sunday evening, however, seemed to be the Gryffindor House time of choice for starting Monday's homework, so they were largely left to themselves.
"How are you, Lor?" Lysander asked, and Lorcan was surprised that his brother hadn't immediately launched into a rant about his feelings for whoever-it-was.
"Don't call me that," Lorcan replied reflexively.
"Why not?" Lysander asked, looking at Lorcan with the large, pale eyes that he had inherited from their mother. Lorcan had the same eyes, but he always kept his narrow.
"Because it sounds ridiculous and dreadfully childish." Lorcan took a sip of his cocoa -- it tasted alright, for something transfigured out of water. "What would I call you, then? Ly? Merlin, that sounds almost as terrible as your real name -- and far less dignified."
Lysander pouted. It wasn't the exaggerated pout he used when he was trying to get his way (which was most of the time) -- it looked genuine, for once. "I read that endearments can help bring family members closer ..." he trailed off.
Lorcan looked down at his cocoa. "Well, all that endearments will do when it comes to me is irritate me so just ... just don't." He felt like a terrible brother, and struggled to find something he could say that would convince Lysander that he cared. And Lorcan did care ... sort of.
"So, Lysander," he managed. "How is your lovelorn heart? Are you feeling better?"
Lysander guzzled his cocoa morosely. "My heart, Lorcan, is a black pit of despair. Untouched by the true love of a woman, it burns. Alone. Secret."
Lorcan raised an eyebrow delicately. "Indeed?"
"Yes," Lysander said matter-of-factly. "It's all true. And how are you, dear brother? I don't believe you ever answered that."
Lorcan pursed his lips and crossed his legs -- the only signifier of a particular emotion that he hadn't managed to weed out in six years as a Slytherin. "I am fine."
"No you're not."
"And how do you think that you can tell my feelings better than I can?"
"Well, it's rather obvious," Lysander said. Finding his cocoa gone, he reached over and took Lorcan's.
"Is it?" Lorcan snapped.
"There's the way your crossing your legs. You never cross your legs unless you're uncomfortable, you think it makes you look unmanly. And, of course, you're not smirking or making bitingly sarcastic remarks."
Lorcan narrowed his eyes. "Don't think that you'll be a better twin if you can read my mind."
"I don't, but I can," Lysander replied.
Lorcan broke down. "Fine! There's someone I'm interested in."
Lysander leaned forward in his chair. "Oh, finally! Is she nice? What house is she in?"
Lorcan grimaced slightly at the female pronoun. He had never gotten around to telling Lysander that he was gay. "Hufflepuff, which I believe answers both your questions."
Lysander smiled. "How lovely! I hope she won't be as fickle as some Hufflepuffs."
"Hufflepuffs are fickle? I didn't think they were capable."
Lysander turned his head away. "They can be," he said, in a melodramatically hushed tone.
"Wait, is this about your girl? The Weasley?"
"Dominique!" Lysander cried, clasping a hand to his heart. What was sad was that he was entirely serious.
"A Hufflepuff, a Weasley, and French? Morganna's bitter heart, are you sure we're related?"
Lysander put his head on one side, and an exaggeratedly thoughtful look spread across his features. "Sometimes I'm not."
Lorcan hated cryptic replies.
Lysander
Lysander had never really been as close to his brother as he thought he should be. Ever since they were small children, they had entertained seperate interests and seperate concerns. While Lysander had spent his childhood wandering the forests and moors, letting the poetry of the countryside enter into his very soul, Lorcan had either been shut up in his room reading heavy tomes on theoretical magic or in Father's study practicing his witty banter.
Lorcan had always met with Father's approval more than Lysander had. He loved them both, Lysander knew, but it was always Lorcan who Father ran to when he had heard some interesting bit of news fresh from the ministry; always Lorcan to whom Father asked to be the first to read each new issue of the Quibbler.
Lysander didn't mind. He only wanted to be close to his brother, and he needed no other family if he had a twin.
But he didn't have a twin, not really. Just after they had started at Hogwarts, Lorcan had fallen off the face of Lysander's earth. Even at home Lorcan no longer exchanged a word with him. For several years, Lysander often thought that there must be mortal enemies who where closer than he and his brother.
Last year, however, Lorcan had started speaking to Lysander again, even coming up to the Tower to see him. Perhaps Lorcan finally felt secure enough in his Slytherinhood to speak to a Gryffindor. Whatever the reason for the change, Lysander counted it as a blessing.
He had since redoubled his efforts to be a better twin, but it didn't appear to be working. Empathy just didn't work on Lorcan, and Lorcan's only interests that Lysander knew of were irony and incredibly dull spell theory, neither of which interested Lysander.
But now, Lorcan was feeling the sorrowful pangs of unrequited love. At last they had something in common! Lysander could use this. He would get Lorcan the girl of his dreams -- as soon as he figured out who she was.
Lorcan
On Monday morning, Teddy approached Lorcan at breakfast. Although inter-house relations had improved since the war, it was still worth comment when a Hufflepuff walked over to the Slytherin table. More than a few heads turned.
Lorcan hoped that Teddy would sit down, but he did not. He stayed standing, hands in the pockets of his robes. "I couldn't get Professor Zabini to let us use the potions classroom, apparently the third year study group has it booked."
"Oh," Lorcan said. "... Library, then?"
Teddy shook his head. "Madame Bulstrode wouldn't let us mix potions anywhere near the books, and it's the practical aspects that you're rough on, not the theory."
"Then how about my dormitory?" Lorcan asked, smiling his best winningly seductive smile and looking up at Teddy through dark lashes.
"Sure, that'll work," Teddy said, without missing a beat. "See you after classes, then."
As Teddy turned and returned to the Hufflepuff table, Lorcan gaped in a most ungentlemanly manner. He had expected Teddy to refuse -- any normal Hufflepuff would refuse!
Lorcan turned to Hieronymus Parkinson. "Am I meeting the head boy in our dormitory this evening?"
"Apparently," Hieronymus replied, not looking up from his book.
Lorcan grinned.
TBC!
Chapter Number and Title: Chapter II: Slytherin in Love (Or, No One Likes a Sentimental Sop)
Ship: Teddy/Lorcan
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Somewhat cracky, extremely fluffy.
Wordcount: 1448 words, this chapter
Summary: Lorcan's seduction scheme is progressing (he thinks), but his sentimental soppiness is somewhat irritating to pretty much everyone else.
Chapter I is here
Chapter II: Slytherin in Love (Or, No One Likes a Sentimental Sop)
Hieronymus Parkinson
Hieronymus was going a bit mad. A good friend was always able to tell when there was something wrong with his best mate, and there was definitely something wrong with Lorcan.
Lorcan was pining. Lorcan, winner of the 2014 Slytherin House Hottest Evil Bastard Award, was pining. Lorcan probably didn't know how obvious it was, but Hieronymus could tell. Hieronymus could always tell.
For one thing, there was the way that Lorcan wasn't lounging languidly in the common room, exchanging witty banter with whoever he was in the lap of. Instead, he was sitting stiffly by the window, looking out at the softly falling snow and sighing poetically. He was acting like his brother, and Hieronymus never could stand Lysander.
And there was the way that Lorcan was wearing his cologne almost constantly, the one that made him smell masculine, elegant, but very, very gay. The one that Lorcan only wore for special occasions, or when there was someone he was trying to seduce.
But what really bother Hieronymus was that Lorcan hadn't said a word to him about it. Lorcan always talked about whoever his latest fling was. Hieronymus never listened, but it was part of what he liked about his friend -- the endless flow of witty banter that he could tune out, but it would be there in the background, comforting and familiar.
Lorcan
On Sunday, Lorcan went up to Gryffindor to see Lysander. Much as his twin brother grated on Lorcan's nerves lately, what with how ridiculously depressed he got over rejection after breakup after rejection, Lorcan was rather looking forward to having a chat with Lysander. It always grounded him, and Lorcan was feeling decidedly unlike his usual self lately.
They sat down in a corner of the common room for a cup of cocoa. It was an alright common room, although a bit garish, but as Lorcan couldn't stand being around Gryffindor he rarely spent much time here. Sunday evening, however, seemed to be the Gryffindor House time of choice for starting Monday's homework, so they were largely left to themselves.
"How are you, Lor?" Lysander asked, and Lorcan was surprised that his brother hadn't immediately launched into a rant about his feelings for whoever-it-was.
"Don't call me that," Lorcan replied reflexively.
"Why not?" Lysander asked, looking at Lorcan with the large, pale eyes that he had inherited from their mother. Lorcan had the same eyes, but he always kept his narrow.
"Because it sounds ridiculous and dreadfully childish." Lorcan took a sip of his cocoa -- it tasted alright, for something transfigured out of water. "What would I call you, then? Ly? Merlin, that sounds almost as terrible as your real name -- and far less dignified."
Lysander pouted. It wasn't the exaggerated pout he used when he was trying to get his way (which was most of the time) -- it looked genuine, for once. "I read that endearments can help bring family members closer ..." he trailed off.
Lorcan looked down at his cocoa. "Well, all that endearments will do when it comes to me is irritate me so just ... just don't." He felt like a terrible brother, and struggled to find something he could say that would convince Lysander that he cared. And Lorcan did care ... sort of.
"So, Lysander," he managed. "How is your lovelorn heart? Are you feeling better?"
Lysander guzzled his cocoa morosely. "My heart, Lorcan, is a black pit of despair. Untouched by the true love of a woman, it burns. Alone. Secret."
Lorcan raised an eyebrow delicately. "Indeed?"
"Yes," Lysander said matter-of-factly. "It's all true. And how are you, dear brother? I don't believe you ever answered that."
Lorcan pursed his lips and crossed his legs -- the only signifier of a particular emotion that he hadn't managed to weed out in six years as a Slytherin. "I am fine."
"No you're not."
"And how do you think that you can tell my feelings better than I can?"
"Well, it's rather obvious," Lysander said. Finding his cocoa gone, he reached over and took Lorcan's.
"Is it?" Lorcan snapped.
"There's the way your crossing your legs. You never cross your legs unless you're uncomfortable, you think it makes you look unmanly. And, of course, you're not smirking or making bitingly sarcastic remarks."
Lorcan narrowed his eyes. "Don't think that you'll be a better twin if you can read my mind."
"I don't, but I can," Lysander replied.
Lorcan broke down. "Fine! There's someone I'm interested in."
Lysander leaned forward in his chair. "Oh, finally! Is she nice? What house is she in?"
Lorcan grimaced slightly at the female pronoun. He had never gotten around to telling Lysander that he was gay. "Hufflepuff, which I believe answers both your questions."
Lysander smiled. "How lovely! I hope she won't be as fickle as some Hufflepuffs."
"Hufflepuffs are fickle? I didn't think they were capable."
Lysander turned his head away. "They can be," he said, in a melodramatically hushed tone.
"Wait, is this about your girl? The Weasley?"
"Dominique!" Lysander cried, clasping a hand to his heart. What was sad was that he was entirely serious.
"A Hufflepuff, a Weasley, and French? Morganna's bitter heart, are you sure we're related?"
Lysander put his head on one side, and an exaggeratedly thoughtful look spread across his features. "Sometimes I'm not."
Lorcan hated cryptic replies.
Lysander
Lysander had never really been as close to his brother as he thought he should be. Ever since they were small children, they had entertained seperate interests and seperate concerns. While Lysander had spent his childhood wandering the forests and moors, letting the poetry of the countryside enter into his very soul, Lorcan had either been shut up in his room reading heavy tomes on theoretical magic or in Father's study practicing his witty banter.
Lorcan had always met with Father's approval more than Lysander had. He loved them both, Lysander knew, but it was always Lorcan who Father ran to when he had heard some interesting bit of news fresh from the ministry; always Lorcan to whom Father asked to be the first to read each new issue of the Quibbler.
Lysander didn't mind. He only wanted to be close to his brother, and he needed no other family if he had a twin.
But he didn't have a twin, not really. Just after they had started at Hogwarts, Lorcan had fallen off the face of Lysander's earth. Even at home Lorcan no longer exchanged a word with him. For several years, Lysander often thought that there must be mortal enemies who where closer than he and his brother.
Last year, however, Lorcan had started speaking to Lysander again, even coming up to the Tower to see him. Perhaps Lorcan finally felt secure enough in his Slytherinhood to speak to a Gryffindor. Whatever the reason for the change, Lysander counted it as a blessing.
He had since redoubled his efforts to be a better twin, but it didn't appear to be working. Empathy just didn't work on Lorcan, and Lorcan's only interests that Lysander knew of were irony and incredibly dull spell theory, neither of which interested Lysander.
But now, Lorcan was feeling the sorrowful pangs of unrequited love. At last they had something in common! Lysander could use this. He would get Lorcan the girl of his dreams -- as soon as he figured out who she was.
Lorcan
On Monday morning, Teddy approached Lorcan at breakfast. Although inter-house relations had improved since the war, it was still worth comment when a Hufflepuff walked over to the Slytherin table. More than a few heads turned.
Lorcan hoped that Teddy would sit down, but he did not. He stayed standing, hands in the pockets of his robes. "I couldn't get Professor Zabini to let us use the potions classroom, apparently the third year study group has it booked."
"Oh," Lorcan said. "... Library, then?"
Teddy shook his head. "Madame Bulstrode wouldn't let us mix potions anywhere near the books, and it's the practical aspects that you're rough on, not the theory."
"Then how about my dormitory?" Lorcan asked, smiling his best winningly seductive smile and looking up at Teddy through dark lashes.
"Sure, that'll work," Teddy said, without missing a beat. "See you after classes, then."
As Teddy turned and returned to the Hufflepuff table, Lorcan gaped in a most ungentlemanly manner. He had expected Teddy to refuse -- any normal Hufflepuff would refuse!
Lorcan turned to Hieronymus Parkinson. "Am I meeting the head boy in our dormitory this evening?"
"Apparently," Hieronymus replied, not looking up from his book.
Lorcan grinned.
TBC!