Justin Finch-Fletchley (condign) wrote in riddikulus,
@ 2008-04-18 23:29:00

January 10, 1998 - Friday Evening
Characters: Justin Finch-Fletchley & Julianne Dorny
Setting: Ancient Runes Classroom to Hallway. 18:00 (6PM)
Summary: After the Ancient Runes meeting on Jan 10, Julianne and Justin have an awkward chat that leaves her feeling disappointed and him thinking she's a crazy.
Status: Complete!

As the first Ancient Runes Club meeting of 1998 came to an end the members trickled out of the classroom. The meeting had been relatively productive. They'd caught each other up on their individual winter holidays, and even entertained the idea of holding an actual meeting involving the actual club. They discussed club agenda's for the rest of term, future projects, book lists, tutor assignments, and even a few rumoured apprenticeships that Babbling had found for the summer months. There was even brief talk of a fundraiser for an organization that was yet to be picked - detailing was limited but there'd been talk all the same.

It went well to say the least, well Justin thought so. It was a pleasant meeting and it was really nice to see everyone again. Though they didn't exactly do much Ancient Runeing(?) it was a good two hours of fun conversation - and there'd been free sweets and snacks acquired from the kitchens. They got a lot of the planning done for the remainder of the year and in the Hufflepuffs book - collaborative agendas were the best sort.

As Justin did after every meeting he made sure that he was the last to leave. He figured it was his responsibility as head of the club to clean up the classroom when they were done with it. Though the kids that were involved were relatively cleanly it wasn't much of a surprise that a few spare pieces of trash were left behind on a regular basis. He took his time packing his book satchel of things while the others left. Scribbling down notes of last minute tutor changes of a particular fifth year, while saying his farewells to other's who did the same.

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piano
2008-04-25 08:41 pm UTC (link)

She blinked once and looked out the window. Was he for real? Was he fooling with her? That - friends wouldn't discuss problems and worries with each other? What kind of 'friends' did he have, that he wouldn't see them as the people you would talk to, especially about problems? Maybe that explosion of his on New Year's Eve wasn't just about him with too much alcohol: maybe Justin was so badly knotted up, locked down, that it was just an explosion. Maybe he was slightly unbalanced because of all of this repression, who knew. Mr. Nice Guy at school with this meltdown on the journals. He just had the excuse of the beer, didn't he, who would know.

But she knew. She walked past him into the hallway and looked at him, feeling stung though she forced herself to look placid. "It not be bragging to say that you be confused and upset, Justin," she informed him quietly, her shoulders square. "To talk about 'personal issues.' That not be bragging, no. That be friendship. Or something simple - like human decency, reaching out to someone who be like minded, maybe."

Sighing, she took a few steps down the hall and then stopped. "I be sorry then, my apologies, I thought you might feel like me. I be sorry for 'bragging.' Good night," she added, blinking again as to clear away his words and turning away.

She had been so hopeful, hadn't she.

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condign
2008-04-26 01:14 am UTC (link)

To say Justin was entirely over this conversation was an understatement. He was hungry, drained and in need of a civil wind down - not a wind up. And unfortunately for Julianne....the Hufflepuff wasn't going to give her the pleasure. He'd decided that was probably why she acted the way she did. To get under people's skin. People that talked a lot of smack had a tendency to need more attention than he was willing to offer when he wasn't in the mood. And Justin Finch-Fletchley....was far from in the mood.

He would have responded to her assumption that he didn't know a thing about friendship, but immaturity tended to grate at the boy's nerves. And when he knew he was lacking patience for such things he tended to respond with very little emphasis for the sake of keeping civil. Another raise of his brow followed and though he was tempted to point out that she had the very bad habit of picking out only the negative bits of what he was saying the entire conversation - he decided against it.

"Night," Justin offered refraining from a mock worthy head waggle and eye roll. He wasn't entirely genuine in good wishes as he watched her go. He wasn't going to talk with the girl about something if she wasn't going to be mature about it and be on the defensive the entire time. He didn't need people who'd shoot his observations down just because it wasn't what they wanted to hear. If she wanted to bloody mope about it and try to prove to him that he had no idea what it was like to be torn between two worlds she could just go fuck herself. Honestly, he didn't care if this interaction ended poorly. She was clearly delusional and in need of a good shove off of her high horse.

He locked the classroom door and intentionally turned toward the opposite direction that the Ravenclaw had headed. He'd rather walk the long way to the Great Hall for dinner than have to continue the conversation of what would undoubtedly turn into the game of "My Life is Worse Than yours" - a game her refused to play not only because it was petty but he was too damn tired to humour her.

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piano
2008-04-26 01:54 am UTC (link)

Defensive judgmental prick. Defensive judgmental prick. Closed off, selective-hearing, negative, snobby - raise your brow again, I be so sure your eyebrow needs the work out - unsympathetic jerk. How come all you did was going with leapin' all over me when all I wanted was to find someone, someone who, just someone who would talk about this and - judge me, go ahead. I've been judged for years. Just the fat girl, that I'd be. All I ever been my whole life was a doormat. All I ever wanted was to be liked, and -

He doesn't know me at all, she realised, trying to console the hurt feelings as she found an empty classroom and transfigured her piano, not bothering to close the door as she quickly sat at it and absently played an arpeggio in A major shifting to A minor and then E minor before transitioning to the Moonlight Sonata within the span of a minute. The song Mozart wrote for his pupil, Giulietta Guicciardi, the one true love of his life - the love he yearned for and never got. The song was full of want, in C-sharp-minor, an odd key, violating every rule of the traditional sonata.

He doesn't know me. And I suppose he never will, she thought, pressing harder against the keys and waiting for the music to sweep over her like the wind. Waiting, waiting.

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