Clashing, Crashing, and Mice Made of Ice

Francesca Malfoy was pissed. It wasn't an emotion she dealt with often, considering that her interaction with other people was rather limited, and that she wasn't the type to let difficult assignments faze her overly much. But the witch figured that she was allowed to be at least a little angry, all things considered. That bloody roommate of hers had gotten her into detention, again.

All the blonde had done was walk over to ask exactly what the other witch was doing, when the other Hufflepuff had promptly run off after a quick response about living life to the fullest, or some such nonsense. Cesca had stood there for a moment, blinking in bafflement, which had been just enough time for an Prefect to turn the corner and catch her at the scene of the crime. The girl had tried to explain, but the Seventh year Gryffindor had refused to listen. The blonde had quickly understood that the Prefect cared little about if she was actually at fault or not, and more about seeing her get in trouble. The girl really did loath how other students tended to take out their dislike of her elder bother on her.

The girl had arrived fifteen minutes early to her detention, and was busy scribbling out an irritated letter to Scorpius when the clock struck eight. Right hand flying across the parchment, leaving a trail of cursive in its wake, Cesca dragged a box of ice mice out of her bag with her left hand. Moments later she was nibbling on the nose of one of the confections, smiling slightly even as her quill slashed viciously across the page. It was terribly pleasant to have a doting elder brother who owned a candy store.

Casey was bad at detention.

Rephrased - she was good at getting detention. She was bad at complying with detention. It was a completely foreign family trait. Every Weasley was pretty good at ending up in detention, but most of them seemed to deal well with it. Even her legendary prankster uncles Fred and George had reportedly been very prompt and compliant with detentions. Casey, on the other hand, still struggled with the idea of obeying authority.

Today her excuse was she was outside practicing her Quidditch abilities with Lily so she could bring honor and glory to the team when she inevitable became its star player. It only made sense, her father and brother had been top Seekers in their day, and she had more Quidditch players in the extended family than she had fingers and toes. She thought it was a good excuse and Lily must have, else she would not have agreed to the practice... Okay, to be honest, she had not told Lily anything of the detention. Detention. Pfft. And only because it was a stupid formality just because she had gotten mad at her Care of Magical Creatures professor and had sort of... released all of the nifflers.

It was a substitute who was running detention, and it was that very substitute who had stepped outside for a cigarette and spotted Casey.

The door to the detention room entered and Professor Yorke entered, holding Casey by the upper arm. "Mouthing off to me - you'll be getting another detention for that, you know."

"I'm aware," Casey drawled, rubbing her arm as she adjusted her Quidditch pads. "This is classic repression of the masses - and of logic too. All I asked was that you let me change-"

"You also made some nasty comments about by mother."

Casey's mouth tipped open. "I'm insulted. Those weren't nasty, they were damned clever-"

"SIT!"

Casey flung herself into the nearest chair, which happened to be right next to another girl. She turned to inspect. "Oh, bloody cocking hell. Yorke, I can't spend an hour next to a Malfoy - I choose the Forbidden Forest."

Professor Yorke was having none of it. He pushed into the broom cupboard for another smoke, leaving Weasley and Malfoy to their own devices.

Francesca looked up as a Weasley was dragged in. A young, cocky Weasley. So much for being able to write in peace. Cesca didn't mind Weasley's all that much, to the never-ending disappointment of her brother. Sure, most of them were far too loud and boisterous for her tastes, but they usually left her alone. In her book, that made them tolerable enough.

The blonde had even held a civil conversation with a Weasley once, Dominique. Therefore, when Casey made her way through the door, all but kicking and screaming to show her displeasure, Francesca only let out a little sigh. Sure, she mourned the loss of her peace and quiet, but she didn't really mind all that much.

But then the younger witch had noticed her. And then she'd spoken. And all of Franceca's indifference towards the other girl flew out the window.

Scorpius had taught her how to deal with comments like that, upon learning that she was too quiet to consistently snap back with a snarky comment at a moment's notice. It was simple, the practically trademarked I'm-so-much-better-than-you-peasant glance down one's nose worked wonders.

However, Francesca was a bit to irritated to be content with that. The teenager had always understood that an impressive percentage of people had something against at least one member of her family. When it came down to it, the blonde was okay with that, accepted it even. Asking her relatives to stop making enemies was like asking them to stop being blonde. Francesca hated it, however, when her entire family got lumped together under one distasteful label. They weren't all blonde carbon-copies of each other. She was a Hufflepuff for heavens sake! Wasn't that enough proof for the idiots of the world?

Eyes sweeping up and down the other female's figure in an over-exaggerated motion, Cesca pursed her lips together slightly. "Yes Professor," the blonde said after a moment, voice quiet but clear, "can't we send Weasley down to the Forbidden Forest for detention?"

The girl was a Hufflepuff, but she was still a Malfoy. Casey had not been raised with the more progressive Weasleys, the ones more willing to forgive and forget. Hermione and Ginny had preached second chances until the cousins had wanted to drown themselves, but Charlie Weasley had not been around to see the Malfoys redeem themselves. He was still under the impression that they were, as a whole, insufferable, bigoted and obnoxious. And he had not been afraid to share these opinions to his children.

Besides, they had never done anything to prove otherwise. Even now, the Malfoy girl stared at Casey as though the Gryffindor girl were some unsightly cockroach that had forced herself into the blonde’s attention. Casey promptly responded with a sneer, never thinking of her own image, of course. Lily often reminded the girl of how her actions reflected onto her character, but Casey always acted as she felt, claiming that she should never be ashamed of being true to herself. The girl still had a lot to learn.

At the other girl’s words, she piped up, “Hear that, Teach? Even she thinks it’d be better suited for us both.” The door slammed behind him. “See? There you again – choosing ignorance over solutions, all for the sake of your pride. Pathetic!” She had hoped her rant would be enough to goad him into coming back out and continuing their argument, sparing her from alone time with the Malfoy girl. Today, however, just was not her day.

She sighed and sat back in her chair, blowing a few strands off of her forehead. She reached forward and began loosening her Quidditch pads, finding that she was a bit sweaty in the get up, regardless of the frigid temperature. She lolled her head back – she had absolutely nothing to do. She did not have her bag, so she had no books, no parchment, not even a quill. Her wand was tucked into her boot – even her broom had been left with Lily. “This is ridiculous.”

Francesca just watched as the Gryffindor attempted to goad the teacher into loosing his temper, or perhaps even letting her go. Cesca wasn't about to pretend that she knew what the other witch was thinking. While the blonde was usually decent enough at reading people, this girl confused her a little. Did the Weasley not care at all about possible consequences? The Malfoy had always rather doubted that members of the Gryffindor house had absolutely no sense of what their actions might cause, but the girl did have to admit to herself that there might be at least a grain of truth to those words. After all, this girl certainly seemed to act that way, even if all her housemates didn't.

Finally Casey sat, beginning to take off what appeared to be Quidditch gear. Moments later, the girl rolled her head backwards. There was a look of utter boredom and frustration on her face. The blonde couldn't help but internally agree as the Weasley stated how ridiculous the situation was.

Francesca's eyes unfocused for a moment, recalling a conversation she'd had with her sister only a month or so before. Her sibling had been sitting in the exact same position, a very similar expression on her face, murmuring about how ridiculous the world could be. Blinking the image away, the blonde abruptly turned her head to face the window. This Weasley was nothing like her elder sister. Clearly, the student was more tired than she had thought.

Making a noncommittal noise of agreement from the back of her throat, Francesca had gathered herself enough to face the other girl again. Violently snapping her teeth together, Cesca bit off the head of the candy mouse she held in one fist. Headless, the confection finally stopped squirming, causing a small but victorious smile to cross the teenager's face.

Knowing what little she did about the other human in the room with her, the brunette's boredom would probably make her want to talk. Even if it was only a parry of insults. Trying to prevent that very thing from happening, the blonde reached into her container of ice mice and grabbed one by the tail. Tossing it to the Wesley, Cesca sat back and began to contently nibble upon her own.

They fell into uncomfortable silence. Casey had been raised in a loud, happy household. Animals typically ran rampant through the household, and her mother was the only one in the home who had had any sense of an indoor voice. Dinners were always full of her parents arguing about the political state of the world, with Sawyer butting in on the days he was there to prove just how clever and well-versed in the ways of the world he was. Casey had been there to feed the dogs under the table and complain about there was nothing good on the telly anymore.

So silence was not something she was exactly pleased to have an excess of. Especially considering Professor Yorke wanted her to be silent. The fact that he would enjoy the silence in the room made Casey absolutely certain that it had to come to an end. She was briefly given a respite by the squeaking of Malfoy's candy mice, but the blonde girl savagely silenced the mouse with a vicious bite. Casey exaggerated a shiver, muttering the word, "Psychopath."

And silence once more. Ugh. She dropped her head onto the table, rather abruptly too, causing a small thud. Her head pounded and protested, but she ignored it - being from the more adventurous branch of the Weasley family tree had made her well equipped to deal with pain. Her pain tolerance was almost unhealthily high when it came to simple scrapes, bruises, and aches. They did not bother her much, honestly.

Now tickling curses on the other hand...

She slammed her hands on the table and sat up. "BORED!" she announced, almost like a battle cry. She pushed herself up and approached one of the cabinets, pulling it open. Wandering the room was definitely not allowed, making her all the more happy to do just that. She opened the cabinet and came face to face with stacks of books. She began taking them out one at a time, reading the titles, and tossing the boring sounding ones over her shoulder.

Evidently, they were all boring.

Francesca heard the muttered "psychopath", and almost winced. She didn't, of course, but it had been a close enough thing. Her bother had legitimately wondered if she was a sociopath when she hit the age of seven and still appeared to care little about much of anything. He had kept his suspicions to himself for about a year, before regretfully bringing it to the attention of their parents. If Cesca was odd now, she'd been an even odder child, so the blonde could see where her brother was coming from. That didn't mean that it hadn't taken her a while to forgive him, however. Her parents had immediately set her off to get tested, and the results had been slightly confusing.

Francesca was certainly not a sociopath, but did appear to demonstrate slightly sociopathic tendencies. It was later discovered that this was just because it was difficult for the witch to form emotional attachments, taking a much longer time than it did for most. Even though it had been proven that Cesca was in no was a sociopath, what the other girl had called her still struck a chord.

Then Casey got up, screaming that she was bored loud enough for everyone within a 50 meter radius to hear. Cesca raised two delicate, blonde eyebrows as the Weasley began to throw books over her shoulder. Standing silently from her desk, the blonde went to stand behind the other student, picking up books as the Gryffindor threw them.

Stacking the books in a neat pile on a desk to her side, Francesca received a thankful look from Professor Yorke. The Hufflepuff was hardly tidying up for the sake of being helpful, but being liked by Professors was hardly a hardship. The blonde had long ago found that it was very easy for her to get away with things, quiet as she was, but a little cementing could do no harm.

Sighing, Francesca continued to pick up the books littering the floor. "You are aware that this isn't going to get you anywhere, yes?" the teenager asked quietly. Her question had been far too soft for the Professor to catch it, perhaps even too low for the Weasley to hear, depending upon how good the girl's ears were.

Casey really was just looking for something to do. However, there did not seem to be a single interesting book in the place, so she had to settle for entertaining herself by means of creating a cacophony of thuds and bangs. Casey was really a simple girl. She wanted adventure. She disliked silence. There was not much complication to her, and she liked to keep it that way. Miss Francesca Malfoy, however, was making things difficult for her.

"I was, before you started making my efforts vain," Casey informed her, continuing to focus on discarding the books. "Besides, it keeps you from murdering candy mice, so there's some benefit still, don't you think?"

((Sorry it's so short! Getting back into the swing of things.))

((Totally okay. This feels a bit awkward to me, so sorry if it is.))

Cesca barely refrained from rolling her eyes at the girl before her. "It's impossible to murder something that was never alive in the first place," the blonde murmured sarcastically. Her words hadn't been directed at the other girl, but the Hufflepuff was pretty sure that they'd be heard none the less. Besides, who was this second year to tell her how she should eat her candy? It was her candy. Furthermore, she had to let out her aggression somehow, and viciously consuming a enchanted sugar mouse seemed to be a school-approved way to do that.

Continuing to pick up after the Weasley, Cesca sighed softly. She really didn't intend to spend her entire detention doing this. Her only problem, was that she had no idea what the younger girl might want. The blonde was usually rather good with this sort of thing, but Casey was so different that she had little to go on. It was a feeling that the student was both unfamiliar and unhappy with.

"I am not above bribing you with candy to get you to stop," Cesca informed the Gryffindor bluntly, "I have all sorts of stuff in my bag, and I'd be more than happy to share." Placing one last book atop one of the stacks she'd created, Cesca pivoted and headed back towards her bag. Grasping one of the straps, the blonde pulled it up onto her chair. Hand resting on the zipper, she looked back towards the Weasley expectantly.