Stolen Moments

Jack was in the study room, feeling slightly guilty, but mostly tired. She had come into the room for some last minute cramming for the task, going through spells like rapid fire, stunning chairs, jinxing books, sending cushions flying, healing self-caused injuries. Now, the room was in ruins around her, but she left it as is as she slumped against a windowsill., pulling out a flask of Butterbeer she had nicked.

In a few days, it would boil down t her and her wand, no help, no tricks, no pranks. She was beginning to think she may have been wrong to assume she would win without a problem. She knew her abilities but she was beginning to get a dose of reality. She forced thoughts like that out of her head. Confidence was key. Had she not survived on confidence alone?

She swigged the Butterbeer and rummaged through her knapsack for the other food items she had borrowed from the Kithcen. She ate a roll and then scrounged up some sweets from her last trip to Honeydukes. She deserved a treat. she deserved some time by herself, to not worry about pressing matters like tournaments, and fake friends, and moody poltergeists, and secret meetings, and Quidditch practice.

She closed her eyes. She needed to get on the pitch, fly around for herself. Not practice for the team, freedom for her sanity's sake. She needed a weekend in Hogsmeade with people who cared about her... She needed people who cared about her, first... But now, she would be content with this stolen moment...

She pointed her wand at the mess and levitated it in one mass, concentrating hard as she finished her roll. She flicked her wand and all the items and junk began spinning around in a dance orchestrated by herself. She stood and walked to the middle of it, concentrating on not letting anything hit her and picking a target. There was a paperweight soaring trough the air. Every time it neared her, she snatched at it... Always just out of reach...

House Elves were disturbingly intrusive; especially so when they cared about people. Mops was pushing her luck. Ariel hadn’t expected to wake up with the House Elf bent over him. She’d been trying to remove the orchid she’d discovered in the Kitchens. Clearly she was more disturbed by its position than what it was. She didn’t nearly mind the elephant as she did the flower that was tattooed from the bottom of his spine down to his thigh. The fact that it was his arse probably disturbed her the most but she didn’t have to try and remove it. It wasn’t the best way to wake up.

But after yelling at the skittish House Elf and banishing her to the Kitchens, Ariel had no choice but to get up. The dorm was empty and a quick peek through the curtains told him that the only person that had been around was that sodding Bulgarian that should have died from a STD by now. He’d be incompetent by thirty, though, so it was really no loss. He was probably shacking up somewhere with that fifth year that idolized him so. It made Ariel’s skin crawl. He wouldn’t give himself so freely.

Dressing was a task he revelled in. Ariel adored looking through his wardrobe, fingering the soft, expensive fabrics that he’d bought with his step-father’s money. Armani, Gucci, Prada...it was all there; so many brands, so many names and so many designers. Ariel didn’t need it, he knew he didn’t, but it felt good to spend that bastard’s money. It was that feeling you got after a hard workout, those same happy hormones were released. He was most definitely gleeful when he pumped in the pin number. Today he chose to wear Armani, desperate to feel the soft fabric against his skin.

Once dressed and groomed, Ariel left the Dungeons, not wanting to be in the presence of the Neanderthals any longer. He found that idiot that had been going through his wardrobe earlier in the week. Oh yes, he found Mr. Krum well enough. Truly the boy had no sense of decorum. It wasn’t the boy that idolized him so. It wasn’t puppy’s cousin. No, it was some blonde that had gotten it into her head that shagging the school manwhore was a good idea. Ariel passed, swallowing the bile that had climbed into his throat.

The nearest source of refuge was the Study room, the library not being secluded enough, so that’s where he went.

Ariel had wanted solitude but he wasn’t going to get that, not while in the presence of that redheaded Gryffindor that had been picked for the Triwizard Cup. She had a nice enough name but she shortened it to Jack. How common, Ariel thought. Yes, Jaquellene was much preferred yet Ariel couldn’t think for the life of him why he cared. Still, it was a topic for conversation.

“I’m sure if you go into the Restricted Section you’ll find more aggressive opponents in the books. At least they’re not wholly inanimate.” Ariel spoke blandly from the doorway.

Jack hated that it seemed she could not escape in this school. She just could not find the time alone she craved, even if her secret wont was the exact opposite. She had escaped to the Room of Requirement only to be discovered. The empty classroom... You would think that with an enchanted map of the school, Jack would be able to find a proper hiding place, but she also had the worst luck of anyone.

She turned and sighed. Oh goody. The sarcastic Slytherin that spent his time terrorizing her classes. Another member of the Amelia Lyons fanclub- he could not stop bothering her in Potions, though it would not be so noticeable except that Doyle was the president, and a jealous one at that. She knew this boy to be vain and rude- so they had one thing in common. She looked down at her muddy sneakers, her sweatshirt, and her ratty jeans. Could you guess their differences?

She nodded. "I'm aware. But you also have to be a good student to get permission to go there. I don't need another detention." Really, she did not want to deal with the ordeal of getting caught and serving her detention. Not this close to the first task. Once it was done, sure she would unwind with a few playful detentions, but not when she was stressed.

"And to what do I owe the grace of your presence?" she asked, an edge of sarcasm in her voice. Not for any reason except that he was a person, and at the moment, they were her least favorite species. She reached out and grabbed the paperweight and allowed the junk to settle back to where they had originally been. She tossed the paperweight and caught it, looking back at Ariel. "Hmm?"

Permission? That didn’t sound like the prankster he’d heard people grumbling about in the Dungeons. Curiously enough, the students that lurked in the dungeons gambling, drinking and enjoying female company always had something to complain about. They were rarely content and for the life of him Ariel couldn’t think why. They had attention from women they’d consider beautiful, were winning hands in games of poker and blackjack and were drinking the Firewhisky stocks dry. Had Ariel been for that sort of thing he would have been at his happiest. But people were fickle weren’t they?

She didn’t seem particularly pleased with his presence what so ever. He wasn’t particularly pleased with hers either so it was win-win. Still, the opportunity to mess with her head was laid out before him and the prospect was interesting him immensely. The only problem was that Ariel was too tired to harass. He was awake enough to mock but House Elves were going to be the death of him. He’d end up looking like that pitiful excuse for a Veela in his house. Part-Veela or not there was no excuse to look as ugly as that young man did. It was a pity really.

“You have to have permission to go to the Restricted Section? My, my, where’ve I been?” Ariel deadpanned. “The Librarian doesn’t giving a flying toss what anyone does as long as they don’t disrupt her nail-painting session or whatever it is she does to try and make her look less horrifying. It doesn’t do much but one can’t deny that she tries; amiable yet in vain all the same.”

Ariel cocked an eyebrow at Jack. She was lucky that he hadn’t turned around and left the room. She was incredibly lucky to have him in her presence although at present there was no real need for him to be here. “You are here, I am here.” He said simply. “It is not because I adore you and want to see you so badly succeed in the Tournament. I think, though, that I should offer my condolences to your parents now. If you’re practicing with paperweights and odd titbits of stationary then they had better begin planning the funeral.”

Jack stared coldly at him, deciding it was not worth arguing with him over the issue of the Restricted Section; regardless of his own beliefs, Jack had the worse luck ever, and if someone were to try to sneak in when the librarian was alert and annoyed, it would be her. There was also the fact that she was not intent on using books. She had just happened to find enough here to use.

Whatever. She was sick of people picking fights with her just because she would play her part in the ridiculous little charade. Since she seemed to be the only student at Hogwarts that ever had enough spirit and fight in her to defend her honor and her pride, it seemed whenever anyone was in the mood to go pick a fight with someone, she was sought out.

Frankly, it was getting sort of old.

At his next words, she rolled her eyes. "Oh really? I thought you were hear to teach me secrets I never knew. Oh, darn! Whatever will I do now, without your help!? Surely, I'll fail." She thought it was stupid that everyone assumed she needed their help now. Yeah, she would not admit it, but to have the support of maybe one person might be nice, but she hated that everyone thought so highly of themselves, they thought they would be perfect for the job.

At his next words, her anger bubbled. Oh, boy, that was it. Taking a shot at her intelligence and her abilities, and it was a shot at her pride. Sure, she had more pride than the owlery had droppings, but she would not tolerate that. Especially from this kid who had never even bother to get to know her. "Oh, sorry! I forgot you were the authority that decided who was ablest for this tournament. Last I checked, I was champion and you were the prat who wanders around trying to find people to annoy."

[I'm so sorry! I forgot all about this thread! I won't let it happen again, Jackles. Promise!]


Ariel truly hoped that he wasn’t wasting his time on this Gryffindor. The Slytherin Head of House was punishing any Slytherin caught willingly in the company of a Gryffindor. Ariel never willingly did anything unless it benefited him in some way. At present he couldn’t find any reason for him to help Jaquellene or for her advancement to aid him. She clearly didn’t want his help anyway but still Ariel felt compelled to help her somewhat. Subtle hints and all that. Plus he really wanted to stick it to the French. That stupid Pirate-loving twat and the idiot that had the thing for Krum’s Hufflepuff. They weren’t that impressive. Even the Durmstrang boys made for a pretty poor showing.

“I wouldn’t want to waste precious knowledge on the member of the light and a Gryffindor no less. You thick-headed idiots would only put said knowledge to a poor use. The Ministry pipes for example...they all drink water and it’s the most undefended thing in the building. If only someone had the brains to put a potion in it. If I were to tell you that then no doubt you’d strife to have it protected and such. Not that that matters at present. It wouldn’t be hard to put one of those fun little Cruciatus potions in there. They’re particularly potent in June.”

Ariel rolled his eyes. If she continued like this then he’d be putting his money on Durmstrang. The French didn’t stand a chance the dozy prats but Durmstrang could easily beat Hogwarts if their Champion wasn’t practicing with paper weights and using man-eating plants instead. Ariel still wanted to think that Jaquellene would come up with something that would ensure the victory of Hogwarts. Ariel cleared his throat and reached up to scratch his temple. He did so before crossing his arms over his chest and speaking once more.

“It doesn’t matter how able I think you are. Nor does it matter how able you think you are. It’s how able your body knows it is. I reiterate the point that you’re going to die if you continue with paperweights. The Tournament isn’t meant to be easy. Start practicing with something more interesting, more potentially dangerous. I don’t know...with wolves maybe?” Ariel wasn’t suggesting that he’d go out during the Full Moon and run around attacking Jaquellene from all angles by any means. Thanks to his own unique ability to cover his tracks no one knew that Fenrir had enriched that half-werewolf blood with the real virus and he intended to keep it that way. “Or perhaps they’re a little too violent. Later, then? Start simple. What about the Merpeople or lets go back to basics and say Boggarts or the Room of Requirement? For some inexplicable reason I want to lend a hand. Maybe it’s for my own amusement or perhaps it’s because I want to stick it to the Europeans. I’m going to say both. So what’s it going to be? Paperweights and death or everything dangerous and eternal glory?”

Jack hated the fact that Ariel thought she was stupid enough to consider this being her only worthy training for the tournament. She had actually studied up on more advanced magic, she had challenged herself in classes, spent time in the duelling arena, trying harder in classes that may be relevant. She had just happened to be in this room, happened to get bored, and had begun some very casual, very relaxed training exercises. Did he really think she would take the tournament so lightly? That she would only practice with this?

But nevertheless, he was offering help, when no one else had. No one had asked how preparations were coming along for the tournament. Not even professors. She had decided to stick her nose up at any help, but she now realized that was just a stupid, pig-headed idea that was invoked by her own stubborn sense of pride. If she had learned anything from her interactions with Vito and James Wake, sometimes the best thing was to admit you were not a super hero, that you could not do everything on your own, that you were not perfect. Unfortunately, this was very difficult for Jack.

However, he had said something about a Boggart. Obviously, he knew where to find difficult things to practice against. She had been combing the castle for such things, especially because she would be needing them for Potter's Army. She was hoping to be able to use people's fears as a good way to practice against them, but she needed a Boggart, and that was sort of an odd request for your Care of Magical Creatures or your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

She mentally sighed. If she wanted the opportunity to be able to have access to some legit, dangerous foes for her own benefit and the benefit of the people she was responsible for in Potter's Army, she would have to swallow her pride with this vain, Slytherin boy and admit that she would not mind some help. She would also have to forget that he had, whether intentionally or not, offended her, because she now needed him on her good side.

“Right...” she said in a non-committing sort of tone, vague enough so he could translate it whichever way he wanted too and she could be content because she had not actually agreed with him in any sort of way. “Hmm... Well, believe it or not, I have been intelligent enough to go train in the Room of Requirement.” She raised an eyebrow and smirked, unable to keep back the biting words. “But I have been unable to locate a Boggart. And I was actually hoping on doing that. I haven't had much practice on one and you never know what you might face...” She doubted she would need to know how to fight a Boggart, but she did need one for Potter's Army. Last she had checked, she had been fine with Boggarts, but she could pretend for this cause. And she did have a lot to fear for nowadays...

Thinking about it, seeing Jaquellene go up against werewolves would be an interesting thing to witness. She’d lose and possibly get bitten in the process; another member to add to the pack of idiots. The desire for blood was unyielding especially when you were equipped with the genetic need for it. There was a reason Ariel kept himself clean, constantly clean rather, and away from those who dirtied themselves easily. He had the capability to be as unstable as his father was. One pint would quench the desire for the liquid ebbing and flowing through his own veins. But he would not take his own. He did not need it. He was not a monster. He made sure of that.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened. How proud his father would have been with another addition to the little pack of psychos. How proud. Perhaps he’d even of come home for the occasion. Ariel doubted it highly.

Ariel mockingly applauded the Gryffindor, glancing over his shoulder to look down the corridor for his Head of House. A flogging to his beautiful chest was what he’d get if he was caught. Not that it was particularly beautiful. It would have been if that ruddy dog hadn’t had a go at it in its depressed state during the full moon. Yet again it had gone for its chest and yet again Ariel had had to heal his own wounds, his own self-inflicted wounds. He could see his mother’s face in his mind’s eye. He could see the disappointment, the sadness, and in turn those feelings were reproduced within him. Still, he didn’t have to tell her. She asked but he could lie. Well, he could try and lie. She saw right through him. She was the only person in the world that did and he thanked Merlin for it every day. He could be himself at home even if her little brats drove him crazy.

“The Boggarts like the Astronomy Tower,” Ariel said, crossing his arms over his chest. “It would be more practical if we go after Christmas unless you’ve got a coat suitable to wear up there. It’s on the highest level. The altitude adds to the cold. You should have thermal socks too. They’re all the rage in Muggle London aren’t they?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You are Muggleborn aren’t you? Wait, of course you are.” Ariel scoffed. “Never mind that though. It only puts you at a slight disadvantage. I do hope they don’t have a test on Wizarding Culture. Perhaps you better scuttle off to the Library. Although, it’s rather pointless learning about it from a book. You’ve got to live it. It explains the minds of so many Purebloods. Our culture is meant to be exclusive so to speak. I’m all for sharing it, me.”

Ariel stepped inside now and pulled the door of the study room shut behind him. He twisted the lock, satisfied with the click it made, and took his bag off of his shoulder.

“If you want to do the Boggarts before Christmas then I can lend you one of my coats; providing of course you don’t have one suitable enough of your own and you don’t dirty it. They’re a nightmare to clean, I’ll tell you now. However, there are the Centaurs. They’re always fun to aggravate. I suggest you wear a hat if we attempt that because your hair will stick out like a sore thumb. I also suggest a decent pair of shoes. They start chasing you if they don’t get you with the arrows. That’s always amusing. Let’s see...we could try mermaids but that would be freezing. Feel free to go yourself, I’ll stand by in case you drown.” Ariel smirked. “Then, there’s duelling. Easy, simple and better than paper weights, you’re more or less guaranteed to be hit back. So, shall we start with that? Unless you really want to go to the Astronomy Tower. By all means, if you want to, let’s go!”

Ariel gesticulated with his hands before dropping them back down to his sides. He shed his outer robes and threw them down on top of his bag. He took his wand out of his back pocket and pressed the tip of the thin, crooked Ivy wand to his cheek, waiting for her to make her decision. “I have time. Classes are...irrelevant.”

This guy really was a conceited asshole, Jack was realizing. She had been forced to realize, through getting to know James better, that people were not always the front that they out up for other people. Partly, it tired Jack to know she would be dealing with another person who thought that the sun shined out their own arse. But it also was nice to see someone with some fight in them, someone who would not merely break down crying if she got rough and would not baby her in return.

She watched him glance behind him and for a second she was puzzled by this. Was he paranoid? Or had her status gotten so low it was reputation-ruining to be seen with her. She vaguely remembered something a Slytherin girl had been talking about in the bathroom the other day, about the Head of House forbidding them to speak with Griffindors. Funny. Then why was he bothering with her? He probably had a bet Hogwarts would win or something.

Jack carefully filed away the information that the Boggarts liked the Astronomy tower. That could be very useful to her later. She would be sure to see if she could wrangle one for permanent use in for Potter's Army. She could keep it alive, she was sure. It would not be so difficult, considering she would store it in the Room of Requirement, where it would have everything it needed, minus food and everything that the room could not create, but she could nick that...

She realized he was giving her a weird look and she glanced back at up at him. He asked if she was a muggleborn and she retained the same fixed expression, staring at him. She was used to discrimination for being a muggleborn by now. She just stared at him, a slight smirk on her face as she chewed her lip. She was not proud of her parents but she was proud to say she was a muggleborn who kicked ass. Who became Triwizard Champion and proved all of the pureblood pricks wrong. She smiled at him and said, "Oh, I can't wait to prove you wrong."

He stepped inside and closed the door, locking it behind him. He continued on with his monologue. She smirked at the end of his speech and said, "It seems like practicing for the tournament has a dress code. I was not aware." She did have thicker coats, but not by much. Even her peacoat was rather worn. She had woolen socks, but shoes... Well she had her trusty muddy sneakers and that always worked for her before. Why would they fail her now.

She realized something and looked at Ariel. "You've been thinking about this for awhile, haven't you?" she said, her head ticked sideways slightly. She had not pegged him for much of a thinker. Yes, he was witty and sarcastic in class, but she though his vapidness may somehow cancel that out. Well, if Jack had learned anything by now, it was that she should stop trying to make snap judgments. "I'd like to tackle Boggarts later, but I don't often get a willing duel partner."

It was nice to see someone actually willing to do something and she felt her adrenaline build for a duel. She rolled up the half sleeves of her thermal shirt to just above her elbows and pulled out her willow wand, the trusty fellow who had saved her butt too many times to recount. She leveled herself ad pulled her shoulders back, before giving him a smirk and a small bow. "Ready?" She smirked wider. Jack always liked to open with a joke so she flicked her wand at him and said, "Tarantallegra!"

Irony.

This situation was ironic on top of the many other things it was. He was helping someone who looked as if she should have been shovelling pig shite out of a barn or wherever pigs lived on farms. She wasn’t the most visually pleasing young woman in Hogwarts but those who were looked as if they should have been packaged up and shelved for Christmas gifts. If she spent more than a minute on her appearance then it would make an incredible difference, Ariel was sure. Going further than just brushing one’s hair was most important. Everyone seemed to love redheads anyway; they had sex appeal or something. She wouldn’t have to do too much to help herself. Ariel wasn’t going to mention his ‘concerns’ though, just in case she felt justified in setting fire to his hair.

She was a Muggleborn though. She was a Muggleborn that thought she could surpass the Purebloods around her. Ariel wasn’t going to call himself pure of blood because he wasn’t; it was just how he was brought up, around that culture. He wasn’t included in that band of blood purity because he wasn’t blessed with pure blood or half blood or even muggle blood. He was tainted with a foul disease and that was what ran through his veins, not magic-filled blood but diseased blood. If he was going to be put into a purity band then he’d have half of what he should have had to be a part of Slytherin.
That was embarrassment enough even without the burden of having this excitable little animal that ran him into the ground every Full Moon. It was a bloody puppy, something that should have been given to a little girl as a Christmas present.

Even with the burden of disease, he felt he was a part of Magical culture. As long as people didn’t know he was safe. He could walk around the markets sampling the food and talking to the people that flocked to the different magical squares for the entertainment and displays of their culture. He could live it without being shunned. But Jack...she had Muggle blood in her veins and everyone knew. The Ministry knew, the Death Eaters probably knew if they concerned themselves with her and people in Hogwarts knew. She was forever going to be judged on her blood and even in the tournament, inadvertently, blood mattered. You needed knowledge of the place you lived in and to know about that you’d have to live it.

The last thing Ariel wanted was to open the doors to the Magical world beyond Diagon Alley for a Muggleborn. As ‘amazing’ as Diagon Alley was, there was so much more to live within. There was so much more she did live within. It was just a shame she didn’t see.

“I’m sure you’ll prove them all wrong,” Ariel said with a small shrug, “But it is doubtful that you will on so little knowledge. At this rate, the Eastern Europeans will be going home with the prize. I don’t think anyone could handle seeing the French sod off with it. Could you imagine the uproar?” Ariel smirked and chuckled to himself. “Ah the French, once our allies then not, then again and then not...all for the convenience of your King’s. Which King of yours was it that played with the French like children play with yo-yo’s before moving onto another toy? Or was it multiple? Even better...”

Ariel tugged his tie down and raised a blonde eyebrow at Jaquellene when she spoke with regards to his thoughts on the matter. Clearly she thought he cared. He didn’t really. He just wanted to show the French and the Europeans where to shove themselves. To do this he’d have to help Jaquellene. He knew he could never have taken part in the tournament himself. He never would have been able to survive transformations as well as the physical, mental and emotional strain of the tournament. Yes, he’d spent some time thinking about how he could ensure the success of Hogwarts but he’d not been sat alone brooding about it for hours on end. He had other things to brood about that didn’t concern other people. No, he’d rather brood about his own misfortunes than the misfortunes of others.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Ariel said coldly. “Your interests are not mine. My disdain for the inhabitants of this school does not end with you. You are foolish to even think it. I do not wish to help you more so than what is necessary. It would be illogical for me to do so. I wouldn’t want to suffer for longer than I have to. But, I do want to help you to a degree. I’d hate for Hogwarts to lose because of an idle Gryffindor that believes she can succeed without practice. Plus, I’m sure the Ministry wouldn’t want your blood to stain the grass.”

Duelling, that’s what he’d offered. It wouldn’t do him much harm he’d figured. Ariel was fine for the most part, healthy until said health began to deplete again. He was at his peak, at the point where he did not need aid of that cane full of Gin and Tonic and he did not need various potions to keep infection away or anything of the like. He was at that point between recovery and relapse. The relapse being the release of that bloody puppy again. He could take her, he was sure, but he didn’t duel often enough. He didn’t know his limitations as well as he should have done.

Ariel sidestepped the jinx, throwing up a shield to deflect it away from him. The wall absorbed it and he dropped the shield. She wanted a joke. She wanted it to be fun. Alright, fine. Ariel knew he should have thrown something a bit more sinister at her but instead he flicked his wand, muttering “Anteoculatia” under his breath.