Henrietta Gray is emotionally robust (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unregrettable) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
gooseberryhigh2016-09-27 06:24 pm
unregrettable) wrote in gooseberryhigh2016-09-27 06:24 pm
Entry tags:
Hanging out
Who: Dahlia Hale and Henrietta Gray
When: Evening of Saturday 24th September [backdated]
Where: By the Ornery Oak
What: Celebrating the start of a new Quidditch season!
Dahlia was sitting a safe distance away from the Ornery Oak, but she had the determined look of someone about the challenge the tree. From time to time, she touched the cans of Coke next to her to make sure they were still cold, since her ability to cast cooling spells was something she still doubted.
She caught sight of a student -- clearly a freshman -- and momentarily forgot about Henrietta and the cans. The poor kid was looking terrified and hesitating to walk past the tree. He made a false start a couple of times, but whenever the oak moved, he’d rush back to safety.
“It’s ok if you walk closer to this edge of the path,” she shouted at him after watching his distress for a few minutes. He looked unsure, probably wondering whether she was trying to trick him, but he was very obviously trying and failing to look confident and not run while he followed her advice. Dahlia snorted under her breath, trying to not laugh; it was funny, but she also remembered how scary the oak used to look.
“Ah, we could’ve taken bets on how long it took him to get past,” Henrietta said lazily from where she was sprawled out on the grass next to Dahlia. “And you know they learn quicker if they have to figure it out for themselves.” Well, maybe not quicker, but a lesson learned from the Oak was a lesson not soon forgotten. “Although,” she added with a grin, “I’m pretty sure I spent most of my freshman year trying to get as close to the trunk as possible.”
Apparently she’d even managed to touch the tree at one point, but she had to take her sister’s word on that, because a sideswipe from one of the branches had given her a hefty dose of concussion. After that, Henrietta had considered her mission a success, and moved on to other challenges.
Dahlia elbows Henrietta playfully when she suggests letting that poor child figure it out on his own, but doesn't say anything. Henrietta is probably right, though Dahlia still feels a bit sorry as she watches the freshman visibly sigh with relief when she reaches the other side of the tree.
"I tried to poke it once. With a stick," she says, shaking her head at the memory, "That's the only way I ever managed to touch it during freshman year."
She picks up a can, which doesn't really have Coke inside -- it's a beer can, she just transfigured the outside -- and opens it.
"That damn thing threw acorns at me once," she adds. She's still both annoyed and amused.
“So throw them back,” Henrietta replied, laughing. “That’s what I do. Although, fair warning, the Oak does have a pretty much unlimited supply of ammo…” She propped herself up on her elbows and squinted thoughtfully at the tree. “Hey, now there’s an idea. You could treat it like Snitch practice and see how many you catch.”
She cast around in the grass for an acorn and, finding one, tossed it at her friend before taking another sip of her not-Coke. Beer wasn’t her favourite, but she wasn’t one to turn down a drink -- and besides, they needed something with which to toast the start of the new Quidditch season. “Excited?” Henrietta asked, knowing she didn’t need to elaborate.
Dahlia caught the acorn and held it in her hand for a moment. "You know, the difference between these acorns and Snitches is that Snitches aren't aiming for you," she said, tossing the acorn in the air and catching it again, "These are more like miniature bludgers, that's what they are."
She threw the acorn back at Henrietta and narrowly missed. Being a chaser: clearly not her future career.
"No, not excited at all," she said, obviously joking, "Are you?"
Henrietta didn’t even twitch when Dahlia threw the acorn at her, and raised one eyebrow as it went sailing past her shoulder, amused by the miniature bludgers comment.
“My feelings are too deep to express,” she replied, keeping her face completely deadpan, but she wasn’t entirely kidding. She was excited, sure, but also nervous and hopeful and impatient and a dozen other emotions that she couldn’t name. But she wasn’t used to letting anyone see that, occasionally, Henrietta Gray wasn’t as shallow as most people thought. “So,” Henrietta continued, deftly changing the subject, “should I be worried about Ebonhide’s team this year?”
“I don’t know, how lucky are you feeling?” Dahlia was clearly joking; she knew the Azurcrest team was a good team.
She took another sip of her non-Coke -- it wasn’t uncommon for her to get distracted by conversations and return to a lukewarm beer, so she tried to make an effort to remember -- and shrugged. “I think we’ve got a good team this year, and a good captain. I don’t know how well the new people will fit in, but you know, that’s always something to worry about and they’ll probably be fine. Do you have any new people this year?”
Dahlia was trying to avoid worrying too much about things like the idea of a Chaser who had never even played Quidditch before. She had to trust Leonardo with this.
“A couple,” Henrietta replied, including reserves in that statement. She tilted her head thoughtfully, remembering their earlier practice, and an involuntary smile spread over her face. It was nice to have the familiar old faces back on the team, but the newbies were fitting in pretty well too, and Henrietta was feeling positive about their chances. “Yeah,” she said slowly, unwilling to give too much away, “we’ve got a good team too.
“But of course,” she added, nudging Dahlia’s leg with her foot, “a good dash of luck never hurts.” As Seekers, they knew that better than anyone. Henrietta raised her beer in a toast. “To Quidditch, and to luck! May the odds be ever in our favour.”
“To Quidditch!” Dahlia nodded solemnly and clinked her can against Henrietta’s, “May we always see the snitch before our rivals.”
Thinking about this year made her feeling slightly uneasy, and after drinking a couple of large gulps, she stretched her sore muscles to avoid thinking about it. This would be her last year, and she just wanted the whole team to make it count. It was hard to believe there would be no more Quidditch practice by next summer, no more working on her senior project or smuggling in beers to drink by the Ornery Oak.
Henrietta set her empty can aside and lay back down on the grass, wriggling until she was comfortable. Soon, she knew, the weather would change and it would be too cold to lie around outside in the evenings. But for now, as the last rays of the setting sun warmed her face, she was content to stretch out, drink her friend’s contraband, and talk Quidditch until it went dark.
When: Evening of Saturday 24th September [backdated]
Where: By the Ornery Oak
What: Celebrating the start of a new Quidditch season!
Dahlia was sitting a safe distance away from the Ornery Oak, but she had the determined look of someone about the challenge the tree. From time to time, she touched the cans of Coke next to her to make sure they were still cold, since her ability to cast cooling spells was something she still doubted.
She caught sight of a student -- clearly a freshman -- and momentarily forgot about Henrietta and the cans. The poor kid was looking terrified and hesitating to walk past the tree. He made a false start a couple of times, but whenever the oak moved, he’d rush back to safety.
“It’s ok if you walk closer to this edge of the path,” she shouted at him after watching his distress for a few minutes. He looked unsure, probably wondering whether she was trying to trick him, but he was very obviously trying and failing to look confident and not run while he followed her advice. Dahlia snorted under her breath, trying to not laugh; it was funny, but she also remembered how scary the oak used to look.
“Ah, we could’ve taken bets on how long it took him to get past,” Henrietta said lazily from where she was sprawled out on the grass next to Dahlia. “And you know they learn quicker if they have to figure it out for themselves.” Well, maybe not quicker, but a lesson learned from the Oak was a lesson not soon forgotten. “Although,” she added with a grin, “I’m pretty sure I spent most of my freshman year trying to get as close to the trunk as possible.”
Apparently she’d even managed to touch the tree at one point, but she had to take her sister’s word on that, because a sideswipe from one of the branches had given her a hefty dose of concussion. After that, Henrietta had considered her mission a success, and moved on to other challenges.
Dahlia elbows Henrietta playfully when she suggests letting that poor child figure it out on his own, but doesn't say anything. Henrietta is probably right, though Dahlia still feels a bit sorry as she watches the freshman visibly sigh with relief when she reaches the other side of the tree.
"I tried to poke it once. With a stick," she says, shaking her head at the memory, "That's the only way I ever managed to touch it during freshman year."
She picks up a can, which doesn't really have Coke inside -- it's a beer can, she just transfigured the outside -- and opens it.
"That damn thing threw acorns at me once," she adds. She's still both annoyed and amused.
“So throw them back,” Henrietta replied, laughing. “That’s what I do. Although, fair warning, the Oak does have a pretty much unlimited supply of ammo…” She propped herself up on her elbows and squinted thoughtfully at the tree. “Hey, now there’s an idea. You could treat it like Snitch practice and see how many you catch.”
She cast around in the grass for an acorn and, finding one, tossed it at her friend before taking another sip of her not-Coke. Beer wasn’t her favourite, but she wasn’t one to turn down a drink -- and besides, they needed something with which to toast the start of the new Quidditch season. “Excited?” Henrietta asked, knowing she didn’t need to elaborate.
Dahlia caught the acorn and held it in her hand for a moment. "You know, the difference between these acorns and Snitches is that Snitches aren't aiming for you," she said, tossing the acorn in the air and catching it again, "These are more like miniature bludgers, that's what they are."
She threw the acorn back at Henrietta and narrowly missed. Being a chaser: clearly not her future career.
"No, not excited at all," she said, obviously joking, "Are you?"
Henrietta didn’t even twitch when Dahlia threw the acorn at her, and raised one eyebrow as it went sailing past her shoulder, amused by the miniature bludgers comment.
“My feelings are too deep to express,” she replied, keeping her face completely deadpan, but she wasn’t entirely kidding. She was excited, sure, but also nervous and hopeful and impatient and a dozen other emotions that she couldn’t name. But she wasn’t used to letting anyone see that, occasionally, Henrietta Gray wasn’t as shallow as most people thought. “So,” Henrietta continued, deftly changing the subject, “should I be worried about Ebonhide’s team this year?”
“I don’t know, how lucky are you feeling?” Dahlia was clearly joking; she knew the Azurcrest team was a good team.
She took another sip of her non-Coke -- it wasn’t uncommon for her to get distracted by conversations and return to a lukewarm beer, so she tried to make an effort to remember -- and shrugged. “I think we’ve got a good team this year, and a good captain. I don’t know how well the new people will fit in, but you know, that’s always something to worry about and they’ll probably be fine. Do you have any new people this year?”
Dahlia was trying to avoid worrying too much about things like the idea of a Chaser who had never even played Quidditch before. She had to trust Leonardo with this.
“A couple,” Henrietta replied, including reserves in that statement. She tilted her head thoughtfully, remembering their earlier practice, and an involuntary smile spread over her face. It was nice to have the familiar old faces back on the team, but the newbies were fitting in pretty well too, and Henrietta was feeling positive about their chances. “Yeah,” she said slowly, unwilling to give too much away, “we’ve got a good team too.
“But of course,” she added, nudging Dahlia’s leg with her foot, “a good dash of luck never hurts.” As Seekers, they knew that better than anyone. Henrietta raised her beer in a toast. “To Quidditch, and to luck! May the odds be ever in our favour.”
“To Quidditch!” Dahlia nodded solemnly and clinked her can against Henrietta’s, “May we always see the snitch before our rivals.”
Thinking about this year made her feeling slightly uneasy, and after drinking a couple of large gulps, she stretched her sore muscles to avoid thinking about it. This would be her last year, and she just wanted the whole team to make it count. It was hard to believe there would be no more Quidditch practice by next summer, no more working on her senior project or smuggling in beers to drink by the Ornery Oak.
Henrietta set her empty can aside and lay back down on the grass, wriggling until she was comfortable. Soon, she knew, the weather would change and it would be too cold to lie around outside in the evenings. But for now, as the last rays of the setting sun warmed her face, she was content to stretch out, drink her friend’s contraband, and talk Quidditch until it went dark.