Catch The Snitch

Sky had had enough of today, if you asked her. She was supposed to meet with that one Divination professor, always forgot her name…Cassie? Cassander? Cassandra? Eh, not important. But…she had some time to kill, so might as well spend it on a hillside. She laid back, kicking her feet on the grass as she continued reading her stupid Potions textbook. If there was one class she hated, it was that. Eventually she got uncomfortable and rolled onto her side.

After a few minutes, the pain pounding in her head grew too much, and she covered her head with her textbook, trying her best to take a nap. And Sky snored LOUD. Tossing and turning every which way, she tried to block out the brick banging against her brain in her head. Her skin had taken un an unusual pallor, and her hands couldn’t stop shaking. She could pray to Allah all she wanted, but there was no way her curse was going away before she had to meet with Unnamed-Divination-Professor.

Turning back to her beaker, she glanced at the ingredients list, then back at the beaker with a suspicious/inquisitive look. Getting the shit her father had listed….was easier said than done.

After his last class of the day, since the weather was favorable, Martin had decided to cut across the largest grassy courtyard on his way back to Ravenclaw Tower. He hoped he could catch Prof. Dextera during office hours to plan for some extracurricular studies.

Numerous students were out and about, as could be expected. Catching movement in the corner of his eye, he spotted that exuberant Gryffindor chaser making laps around the courtyard while standing barefoot on her broom, apparently practicing that new stunt that had garnered a small crowd a few days prior.

And then he spotted Jones on the grass ahead of him, one of the Gryffindor prefects in his year who he barely knew. He'd probably know her better if he hadn't declined the offer to be made a prefect (he'd been worried that his duties would cut into his study time). Her pale complexion and jittery hands suggested something was wrong. He wasn't well-versed in wizarding maladies, but he couldn't just ignore the girl--for all he knew, she could be in some sort of medical distress. He had to at least check on her.

Quickening his pace, he approached Sky and only stopped once he was within conversational distance of her. "Excuse me, are you all right?", he asked. "I don't mean to bother you, but you really don't look well. Would you like me to fetch the nurse or help you to the hospital wing?"

Sky didn’t really bother with anyone from other houses or other years, few exceptions here and there, like that 7th year Slytherin boy who did NOT AT ALL remind her of a Slytherin. But for the most part, she didn’t bother. Briefly, her gaze was turned to Quinn, who was doing some crazy tricks on her broom, and she burst out laughing. Always the lovable show-off, if you asked Sky. She would probably not care a damn about Sky’s…condition. But better to be save than sorry. Sky had hoped to get her work done before practice later, but realized that with this…Ravenclaw geek, at least she assumed he was, that might not be happening.

And this, according to Sky, was the exact boy that should’ve been made a Prefect. Total stereotypical pompous British accent, Sky being of Welsh descent, she didn’t exactly sound like that. She shakily got up, a smug smirk on her face, crossing her arms and shaking her head sadly. She could still feel her hands vibrating, however. “While I appreciate the offer, sir-“ She semi-playfully mocked him. “I don’t think it’s really needed. The nurses would freak out, if you know what I mean.” Winking, she rolled her eyes, before puking in the grass. “Believe me, I-I am fine.”

In reality, she wasn’t. It was the night of the full moon…so this was to be expected….but….god, she couldn’t just collapse on the floor in front of this guy, could she?

That was the first time Martin had ever been addressed as 'Sir', and it felt...weird. He knew students didn't normally address one another that way, but he didn't understand that it was meant to tease him. He didn't question it though, because the girl's health, or more specifically, the apparent lack thereof, was more pressing.

And then she emptied her stomach. He grimaced. His first thought was that she was reacting badly to something she'd eaten, or more likely, to a potion she'd taken, as she did have a beaker, which was an odd thing to have on one's person in the middle of the courtyard.

"I think that constitutes evidence to the contrary," he deadpanned. If he were certain it was just a reaction to food, he'd pull out his wand and cast evanesco on the vomit in a heartbeat, but since he didn't know the nature of Skylar's affliction, it would be irresponsible to do so--if the girl collapsed, it would be prudent to take a sample of it to the school nurse for analysis, gross as it was.

He was vaguely aware there was a full moon, if only because their astronomy professor would probably have them making observations that evening, but it was so far out of his mind that it didn't even occur to him to link exhibit A before him with the coincidental periodic event. Even if he did suspect a correlation, it wasn't the sort of thing one could just ask about lightly. Asking if someone was a werewolf was like asking a stranger if they had cancer, it just wasn't done.

"I know it's none of my business--you have a right to privacy, so I'm not going to pry. If you tell me you're not lightheaded and not in pain, then I'll be on my way. But if I find you like this again and you decline help again--" He sighed. He felt so awkward, engaging with this random girl against her wishes merely because he was trying to act responsibly. "--if that happens, I'll voice my concern to the nurse, as anything less than that would be negligent."

Sky loved getting up people’s asses, and she could just tell that this guy was clearly caught off-guard by her formal addressing of him. All bite, no bark. Or….was it the other way around? She didn’t get American or British mannerisms as well as she had hoped, but no harm, no foul. She could tell he was absolutely clueless about her intended sarcasm, but brushed it off for now. He’d come to get her shit in time. For now…just suffer through hell, Jones.

She deeply wished she could’ve just passed it off as food poisoning, or PMS, like she could with Quinn. But…Quinn wasn’t the smartest tool in the shed, and this was Bishop. This guy, however introverted he may be, Sky could tell he wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t fall for shit like that easily. Twenty bucks he was already onto her.

Wiping her mouth, she winced upon seeing him grimace, before standing back upright with a crass expression on her face.”Unless you naturally talk like that, I can understand normal English too, you know. You don’t know anything about my medical history, public or private, outside interference, human ailments and everything aside. Oh, and for the record, if you were to try to take anything of mine to the nurse, it’d be considered some form of invasion, privacy or otherwise. You don’t need to know what’s wrong with me, I assure you-“ She smirked, glancing at him with a knowing glint in her eyes. “You don’t.”

At least it was earlier in the afternoon, and so she didn’t have to massively worry until about midnight. She had time to lock herself up and get away from everyone without anyone noticing. At the very least, she could tell Bishop wasn’t going to pry, gentlemen had that trait. And for some reason, it made her oddly…content. For lack of a better word. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m more than a bit lightheaded, and maybe I’m in a more than a bit of pain…but it’s none of your concern.” She growled back at him, clutching her head.

"This is how I normally speak," Martin protested, mildly annoyed. "I apologize if it's too formal for your taste, but it's not something I can adjust without a conscious effort." In his mind, he was making the appropriate compromise between concision in precision. It was hard to 'dumb it down' without inflating the number of words required.

He could tell this girl was a stubborn one. "Look, voicing one's concern for another human being's health to a nurse wouldn't constitute an invasion of privacy in anyone's book. In fact, it's what anyone who's not a sociopath would be expected to do. It's not like I'd be interrogating you or the nurse for details I didn't need to know. Yes, obviously I don't know anything about you or what you're dealing with, nor do I want to get involved more than is welcome, but you have to understand, from all appearances, it seems you're neglecting something serious. How would you react if you found a classmate whose skin had turned pale and who was in pain and throwing up, all without any apparent cause, and attempting to brush it off? If our positions were reversed, I hope you wouldn't just walk away without a care in the world. You're a prefect--you're supposed to be better than that."

He sighed.

"But if you insist that you can manage for now, and you don't want any help, then I'll leave you be."