Quietus

This close to the winter break made Gryffindors extra tiresome. More like herding sleep-deprived jarveys and much less like dealing with actual human teenagers. Rose Weasley, Head Girl extraordinaire, had given herself the responsibility to patrol tonight, knowing that every other prefect in the castle was a hopeless case, and knowing that when no one else could bring themselves to follow the rules, she would still be following them. To the bitter end, if necessary.

And honestly, tonight, after turning a corner to find yet ANOTHER Gryffindor out of the dorm after curfew, Rose was feeling quite bitter indeed. Did they think she LIKED taking points? Did they think she enjoyed having to punish her housemates and ruin their chances of winning the House Cup? It was Christmas!

“Aw, honestly, Rose,” her housemate Dane was the latest miscreant, caught lugging a box of butterbeers up the stairs between the third and fourth floor. “I think you like taking points. I think you enjoy punishing us and ruining our chances of winning the House Cup. Don’t you know it’s Christmas?”

Boys were so exhausting. Especially Gryffindor ones.

“Just hurry and get those to the dorm room, and tell anyone you see along the way that I’m taking double points from now on.” Because this was ridiculous.

“Brilliant. Thanks.” Dane began to shove the crate again before pausing and pulling a bent sugar quill from his trouser pocket. It was unpleasantly sticky. “Happy Christmas. This makes me think of you.”

Rose watched him go before depositing the quill in the nearest bin. Just three more floors and she could head back to bed. Plus the kitchen and dungeon and she ought to check the front doors and… Merlin. What was the point of being the Head Girl if you still had to take the worst shifts? She continued down the stairs, her steps dragging.

A crash rose from the floor below, and Rose skidded down the last few steps and around the corner, only to discover that a suit of armor had taken out a Christmas tree, which had taken out the tree next to it, and so on, and so on, all the way down the corridor. It was a giant evergreen dominos game and it made her want to weep.

Standing amid the crushed bulbs and scattered candy canes was tiny third year Patch Callahan, who looked mildly befuddled and had tinsel in his hair. And hanging over his ears. And maybe up his nose, but that wasn’t worth investigating. He turned in a slow circle, taking in all the damage, and only looking mildly alarmed when he spotted Rose.

“I didn’t do it.” He’d obviously done it. He was the only one there. “I swear!”

“Okay…?”

Patch pointed to a tiny frog jumping out from beneath the suit of armor nearest the door. “HE did it!”

“Just clean it up, Callahan, and then go to bed.”

“Sure thing, Rose,” Patch shoved the nearest tree up against the wall, where it sagged unhappily. “Oh! Happy Christmas to you!” And he handed her a sugar quill.

Suppressing the urge to throttle the younger boy, Rose stomped back towards the stairs. She wouldn’t even bother with the dungeons or the kitchen. The Head Boy could manage those himself, and she desperately wanted to lock herself into her dormitory and smother herself with her own pillow. That sort of activity could take all night, so she’d best get started soon.

On the first floor, somehow, Rose ran into Dane again, this time with a giant basket full of chocolate croissants. Before she could even open her mouth to threaten him with undue harm, Dane grinned and fished another sugar quill out of his pocket.

“I DO NOT WANT YOUR SUGAR QUILLS, DANE PITNEY. WHY DO YOU KEEP GIVING ME SUGAR QUILLS?” Rose took off her shoe and pitched it at him. They were both lucky when it was snatched out of the air by the Slytherin Seeker and Head Boy. Scorpius Malfoy. In the flesh.

“She just tried to murder me, Malfoy. You saw it.” Dane lifted his basket in self defense, and only protested a little when Scorp stole a croissant.

“You know what a wise Muggle philosopher said? She said ‘Who run the world? Girls.’ I think we should bend to the inevitable.” Scorp handed Rose the croissant with a wink.

“That’s not even grammatically correct,” Rose scoffed, but she was mollified. That was the good thing about her Head Boy – he always managed to make things seem easier and more reasonable. Dane disappeared up the stairs with his basket, and Rose tore the croissant in half to share it with Scorp.

“Happy Christmas?”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze. “At least it isn’t a sugar quill, right?”

Thank Merlin for Slytherin boys.