RPG LOG: OSCAR WEASLEY AND MARIUS SMITH-weasley
Title: In Which Oscar Is Win
Who: Oscar Weasley and Marius Smith-weasley
Where: The Frickenawesome Gryffindor Common Room
When: On a fantastic evening :|
Marius sat in the common room, staring at his homework. Staring was doing absolutely nothing to help get it done. He sighed, put down his quill, and closed his eyes. Maybe if he rested for a moment...
"Are you sleepy?" A voice whispered softly near his ear.
"I just hate homework," Marius mumbled, in actually a little too tired to pay attention to who was talking to him.
"Aww, poor woobie," Oscar murmured, still quietly. "You want some help?"
"Don't call me woob--" Marius's eyes shot open and he sat up quickly. "HOW DARE YOU SNEAK UP ON ME?"
Laughing, Oscar barely dodged breaking his nose on the back of the first year's head. "Calm down, woobie, I was just playing," he chided, still grinning as he plopped down on the chair beside him. "So whatcha doing?"
Marius glared and picked up his quill and his assignment. "Nothing that is any of your business."
"Oh, yes, homework should be kept most confidential," Oscar agreed somberly, then smiled. "Come now, if I help you it'll be done faster."
"I'm not going to let you hug me in return or anything creepy like that," Marius said, casting suspicious glance #43. "And who says I need your help anyway?"
"Well you may not need it, but it certainly couldn't hurt," Oscar pointed out. "And I'm one of the top in my year, you know. Despite whatever you think, I'm not stupid."
"I never said you were stupid. I simply question your motives."
"I think I'll take that as a compliment, since it's probably the best I'll ever get from you." The older boy grinned. "Speaking of bests, how'd that expedition to Slytherin turn out?"
Marius pondered the best way to say he'd gotten lost on the way down and decided the dungeons were a very damp and creepy place and would probably do horrible things to his hair. "I decided to cross Slytherin off my list of possible transfers."
"Oh?" Oscar held back a chuckle. "That's getting to be a very short list, woobie."
"I still have options!" Marius protested, unwilling to think about what exactly those options were, lest he be forced to admit-- well. No thinking. He had options.
"Right, like...?" Oscar trailed off, raising his eyebrows.
Marius frowned. "I don't see why I have to tell you. In fact, I don't see why we're talking at all. I've got homework to do."
"Aww, woobie, don't be like that," Oscar teased, his expression a mockery of Marius's own pouting scowl.
"I'LL BE HOWEVER I WANT TO BE!"
"That's right, woobie, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise," Oscar nodded seriously, his eyes wide and earnest. "You follow your dreams, and never give up, and you can do whatever you want, you hear me?"
Marius's eyes widened as well, but this time in horror. Oscar Weasley was worse than his Mother. "OH MY GOD I HATE GRYFFINDOR."
Oscar choked on a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. Coughing slightly, he said, "Relax, woobie, I was teasing you." He reschooled his face to a semblence of sobriety.
Marius's cheeks burned red with rage, as was beginning to become a regular occurence. "I HATE GRYFFINDOR, AND I HATE YOU MOST OF ALL!"
"I know you do, woobie," Oscar said fondly. "Now, settle down and do your homework. What's the subject?"
"If I tell you will you go away?"
"I can't make any promises."
"Then I'm not telling you!" That said, Marius went back to staring angrily at his homework, hoping that if he kept it up long enough, it would start doing itself. It wasn't too farfetched--the castle was practically alive, why not his assignments too?
Oscar leaned over the boy's shoulder, peering at the heading on the paper. "History, eh? You're lucky, that happens to be one of my best subjects. Well, relatively. No one can be that good at History, with Binns as a professor."
"Why are you still here?" Just because Marius seemed to be incapable of doing his homework did not mean he needed help.
"Because you're a first year in my house and it's my responsibility to make sure you don't fail your classes and shame us all," Oscar answered, straight-faced.
Marius, once again showing himself completely immune to sarcasm, sighed and said, "Fine. I don't understand this goblin war at all."
Oscar blinked, then grinned. "Well, the thing you have to remember about goblins is that they'll go to war for the stupidest reasons. I think they just get bored if they aren't killing us or eachother. If you can remember the number, the reason, the names involved, and the years it happened, you should be alright in general. But if he's asking for a whole essay on just one - well, that's what the textbook's for. What is it, anyway?"
Shame, Marius thought, shame to the entire House of Gryffindor if he didn't tell, so he said, "The Third Great Goblin War of the Broken Teacup."
"Ah," Oscar said with a wince. "Now, do you have your book ready, or is it time for me to teach you how to use the index, too? That one's bloody confusing, it sorts by goblin leader rather than number or title or anything sensible like that - I swear they do it just to be troublesome.."
"It makes sense to me," Marius said haughtily, opening to the proper page. "Leaders deserve to be remembered."
Oscar smirked. "Yeah, we'll see if you think that after you have to memorize a few dozen names for the end-of-the-year exams."
"Mother raised me to respect those who did great things in the past. I suppose a ruffian like you wouldn't understand."
"I suppose I wouldn't," Oscar agreed bemusedly.
Marius frowned. People usually took offense to his assumptions about their character--even if he was usually right--but Oscar was continually surprising him. He didn't think he liked it, and tried to steer the conversation back in a less potentially life-philosophy-altering direction. "What I don't understand is how I'm supposed to write ten inches on motivation when all it seems to be is an argument over some stupid chipped china." His Mother would probably have something to say about never taking tea service lightly, but Marius chose not to think about it.
"Oh, but see, that was a goblin-made teacup. As you probably know, goblins are awfully protective of things they make. In this case, if I remember correctly, was when Urguk the Unfortunate took tea with Ragnuk the First and, being a clumsy thing, dropped one of Ragnuk's priceless heirloom cups." Oscar pursed his lips, wracking his brain for long-dormant information. "Urguk thought he shouldn't have to pay for it, and Ragnuk disagreed, and so they both gathered armies and fought a big war, and then they killed Urguk and took all of his money and girl-goblins and that was basically it. But if you drone on a bit about how seriously goblins take their possessions, ten inches ought to be a breeze."
"I still think it's stupid," Marius muttered, and started writing, wondering what Oscar was still hovering around for. "If you're waiting around for a thank you, you're wasting your time."
Oscar grinned. "I know. I don't have anything better to be doing right now, though." He leaned back in his chair. "I've run out of homework, James hasn't, and I've spent enough time in the library this week that I'm worried any more will have me turning into a Ravenclaw."
"So I'm helping you out by letting you look over my homework, then." Marius twirled his quill between his fingers. "In that case, I'm thinking you'd love to clarify Blargh the Bloodthirsty's part in all this?"
"Of course," Oscar replied amiably, stretching out his legs under the table. "Blargh was Ragnuk's best- well, I hesitate to say 'general,' because goblin military tactics don't really work that way - but anyway, once Ragnuk became a prominent leader among the goblins, Blargh remained his right-hand m- er, goblin, and is mentioned in most of the goblin wars throughout that century - ending when he challenged Ragnuk himself, and went the same way as Urguk, but with even more bloodshed. Not that goblins can get anything done without a fair bit of bloodshed first."
Marius frowned and wrote some more, and some more, quiet for the most part, only opening his mouth to ask Oscar more questions, and soon his assignment was done, and with hardly any ripping out of hair. "Well, what are you still lurking around for. I'm done, aren't I? Or would it make you happy to look it over for me?"
"It would!" Oscar assured him, fighting back a laugh as he took the younger boy's paper. He skimmed it neatly, wondering if it would be prudent to tell Marius that he had misspelled 'ammunition' four times throughout the ten inches.
"What are you smiling about?" Marius frowned. He hated when Oscar smiled, and said so. He hated everything about Oscar, actually, and said that too.
Oscar just grinned wider at his words. "Did you actually want corrections, or just a pat on the back for a job well done?"
Marius narrowed his eyes at that. "There are corrections to be made? I thought I got it all down properly -- I checked twice!"
"Well, yes-" Oscar winced slightly. "But you misspelled 'ammunition' four times, and this sentence runs on and should probably be split into about three separate thoughts, and here you said Blargh instead of Ragnuk-"
"GIVE ME THAT!" Marius yelled, and snatched back his essay, furiously making corrections, before shoving it at Oscar once again. "Is it up to your standards now?"
"It looks lovely," Oscar placated, scanning the paper quickly and finding no errors that he, being only twelve, even if it was a very sharp twelve, would recognize. "Definitely top-marks material."
"You really think--" Marius caught himself before he said anything too damaging--what kind of Smith asked for affirmation from a perverted Weasley--and took his assignment back. "Of course it is. Then again, you are just a Gryffindor and this is the worst House."
"That it is," Oscar said cheerfully. "Its only inferiors being Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff - oh, wait.."
And a few days ago, Marius would have defended Hufflepuff with his life, but now he knew that they were insipid and unwelcoming, certainly not the Hufflepuff of his Mother's day, and Ravenclaw and Slytherin were off his list, which left Gryffindor and he hated, hated, hated Oscar Weasley. "I'M GOING TO BED," he proclaimed, and gathered his belongings and stomped up the stairs.
"Sweet dreams!" Oscar called after him, and only once the first year was out of sight did he allow himself a self-congratulatory chuckle.
Who: Oscar Weasley and Marius Smith-weasley
Where: The Frickenawesome Gryffindor Common Room
When: On a fantastic evening :|
Marius sat in the common room, staring at his homework. Staring was doing absolutely nothing to help get it done. He sighed, put down his quill, and closed his eyes. Maybe if he rested for a moment...
"Are you sleepy?" A voice whispered softly near his ear.
"I just hate homework," Marius mumbled, in actually a little too tired to pay attention to who was talking to him.
"Aww, poor woobie," Oscar murmured, still quietly. "You want some help?"
"Don't call me woob--" Marius's eyes shot open and he sat up quickly. "HOW DARE YOU SNEAK UP ON ME?"
Laughing, Oscar barely dodged breaking his nose on the back of the first year's head. "Calm down, woobie, I was just playing," he chided, still grinning as he plopped down on the chair beside him. "So whatcha doing?"
Marius glared and picked up his quill and his assignment. "Nothing that is any of your business."
"Oh, yes, homework should be kept most confidential," Oscar agreed somberly, then smiled. "Come now, if I help you it'll be done faster."
"I'm not going to let you hug me in return or anything creepy like that," Marius said, casting suspicious glance #43. "And who says I need your help anyway?"
"Well you may not need it, but it certainly couldn't hurt," Oscar pointed out. "And I'm one of the top in my year, you know. Despite whatever you think, I'm not stupid."
"I never said you were stupid. I simply question your motives."
"I think I'll take that as a compliment, since it's probably the best I'll ever get from you." The older boy grinned. "Speaking of bests, how'd that expedition to Slytherin turn out?"
Marius pondered the best way to say he'd gotten lost on the way down and decided the dungeons were a very damp and creepy place and would probably do horrible things to his hair. "I decided to cross Slytherin off my list of possible transfers."
"Oh?" Oscar held back a chuckle. "That's getting to be a very short list, woobie."
"I still have options!" Marius protested, unwilling to think about what exactly those options were, lest he be forced to admit-- well. No thinking. He had options.
"Right, like...?" Oscar trailed off, raising his eyebrows.
Marius frowned. "I don't see why I have to tell you. In fact, I don't see why we're talking at all. I've got homework to do."
"Aww, woobie, don't be like that," Oscar teased, his expression a mockery of Marius's own pouting scowl.
"I'LL BE HOWEVER I WANT TO BE!"
"That's right, woobie, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise," Oscar nodded seriously, his eyes wide and earnest. "You follow your dreams, and never give up, and you can do whatever you want, you hear me?"
Marius's eyes widened as well, but this time in horror. Oscar Weasley was worse than his Mother. "OH MY GOD I HATE GRYFFINDOR."
Oscar choked on a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. Coughing slightly, he said, "Relax, woobie, I was teasing you." He reschooled his face to a semblence of sobriety.
Marius's cheeks burned red with rage, as was beginning to become a regular occurence. "I HATE GRYFFINDOR, AND I HATE YOU MOST OF ALL!"
"I know you do, woobie," Oscar said fondly. "Now, settle down and do your homework. What's the subject?"
"If I tell you will you go away?"
"I can't make any promises."
"Then I'm not telling you!" That said, Marius went back to staring angrily at his homework, hoping that if he kept it up long enough, it would start doing itself. It wasn't too farfetched--the castle was practically alive, why not his assignments too?
Oscar leaned over the boy's shoulder, peering at the heading on the paper. "History, eh? You're lucky, that happens to be one of my best subjects. Well, relatively. No one can be that good at History, with Binns as a professor."
"Why are you still here?" Just because Marius seemed to be incapable of doing his homework did not mean he needed help.
"Because you're a first year in my house and it's my responsibility to make sure you don't fail your classes and shame us all," Oscar answered, straight-faced.
Marius, once again showing himself completely immune to sarcasm, sighed and said, "Fine. I don't understand this goblin war at all."
Oscar blinked, then grinned. "Well, the thing you have to remember about goblins is that they'll go to war for the stupidest reasons. I think they just get bored if they aren't killing us or eachother. If you can remember the number, the reason, the names involved, and the years it happened, you should be alright in general. But if he's asking for a whole essay on just one - well, that's what the textbook's for. What is it, anyway?"
Shame, Marius thought, shame to the entire House of Gryffindor if he didn't tell, so he said, "The Third Great Goblin War of the Broken Teacup."
"Ah," Oscar said with a wince. "Now, do you have your book ready, or is it time for me to teach you how to use the index, too? That one's bloody confusing, it sorts by goblin leader rather than number or title or anything sensible like that - I swear they do it just to be troublesome.."
"It makes sense to me," Marius said haughtily, opening to the proper page. "Leaders deserve to be remembered."
Oscar smirked. "Yeah, we'll see if you think that after you have to memorize a few dozen names for the end-of-the-year exams."
"Mother raised me to respect those who did great things in the past. I suppose a ruffian like you wouldn't understand."
"I suppose I wouldn't," Oscar agreed bemusedly.
Marius frowned. People usually took offense to his assumptions about their character--even if he was usually right--but Oscar was continually surprising him. He didn't think he liked it, and tried to steer the conversation back in a less potentially life-philosophy-altering direction. "What I don't understand is how I'm supposed to write ten inches on motivation when all it seems to be is an argument over some stupid chipped china." His Mother would probably have something to say about never taking tea service lightly, but Marius chose not to think about it.
"Oh, but see, that was a goblin-made teacup. As you probably know, goblins are awfully protective of things they make. In this case, if I remember correctly, was when Urguk the Unfortunate took tea with Ragnuk the First and, being a clumsy thing, dropped one of Ragnuk's priceless heirloom cups." Oscar pursed his lips, wracking his brain for long-dormant information. "Urguk thought he shouldn't have to pay for it, and Ragnuk disagreed, and so they both gathered armies and fought a big war, and then they killed Urguk and took all of his money and girl-goblins and that was basically it. But if you drone on a bit about how seriously goblins take their possessions, ten inches ought to be a breeze."
"I still think it's stupid," Marius muttered, and started writing, wondering what Oscar was still hovering around for. "If you're waiting around for a thank you, you're wasting your time."
Oscar grinned. "I know. I don't have anything better to be doing right now, though." He leaned back in his chair. "I've run out of homework, James hasn't, and I've spent enough time in the library this week that I'm worried any more will have me turning into a Ravenclaw."
"So I'm helping you out by letting you look over my homework, then." Marius twirled his quill between his fingers. "In that case, I'm thinking you'd love to clarify Blargh the Bloodthirsty's part in all this?"
"Of course," Oscar replied amiably, stretching out his legs under the table. "Blargh was Ragnuk's best- well, I hesitate to say 'general,' because goblin military tactics don't really work that way - but anyway, once Ragnuk became a prominent leader among the goblins, Blargh remained his right-hand m- er, goblin, and is mentioned in most of the goblin wars throughout that century - ending when he challenged Ragnuk himself, and went the same way as Urguk, but with even more bloodshed. Not that goblins can get anything done without a fair bit of bloodshed first."
Marius frowned and wrote some more, and some more, quiet for the most part, only opening his mouth to ask Oscar more questions, and soon his assignment was done, and with hardly any ripping out of hair. "Well, what are you still lurking around for. I'm done, aren't I? Or would it make you happy to look it over for me?"
"It would!" Oscar assured him, fighting back a laugh as he took the younger boy's paper. He skimmed it neatly, wondering if it would be prudent to tell Marius that he had misspelled 'ammunition' four times throughout the ten inches.
"What are you smiling about?" Marius frowned. He hated when Oscar smiled, and said so. He hated everything about Oscar, actually, and said that too.
Oscar just grinned wider at his words. "Did you actually want corrections, or just a pat on the back for a job well done?"
Marius narrowed his eyes at that. "There are corrections to be made? I thought I got it all down properly -- I checked twice!"
"Well, yes-" Oscar winced slightly. "But you misspelled 'ammunition' four times, and this sentence runs on and should probably be split into about three separate thoughts, and here you said Blargh instead of Ragnuk-"
"GIVE ME THAT!" Marius yelled, and snatched back his essay, furiously making corrections, before shoving it at Oscar once again. "Is it up to your standards now?"
"It looks lovely," Oscar placated, scanning the paper quickly and finding no errors that he, being only twelve, even if it was a very sharp twelve, would recognize. "Definitely top-marks material."
"You really think--" Marius caught himself before he said anything too damaging--what kind of Smith asked for affirmation from a perverted Weasley--and took his assignment back. "Of course it is. Then again, you are just a Gryffindor and this is the worst House."
"That it is," Oscar said cheerfully. "Its only inferiors being Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff - oh, wait.."
And a few days ago, Marius would have defended Hufflepuff with his life, but now he knew that they were insipid and unwelcoming, certainly not the Hufflepuff of his Mother's day, and Ravenclaw and Slytherin were off his list, which left Gryffindor and he hated, hated, hated Oscar Weasley. "I'M GOING TO BED," he proclaimed, and gathered his belongings and stomped up the stairs.
"Sweet dreams!" Oscar called after him, and only once the first year was out of sight did he allow himself a self-congratulatory chuckle.