Solace, My Arse

The Forest of Solace. Slate grey eyes flitted across the signboard proclaiming the words, shining in the darkness. The owner of said eyes resisted the urge to snort.

As he proceeded further into the dark, dense forest, Reid's eyebrows continued in their steady climb towards his hairline, and the temptation to snort became almost unbearable. White marble, shining gazebos, shining messages, light in the darkness, a symbol of hope. How utterly......pretentious. Meretricious ornamentation, nothing else. Obviously, someone had thought that they were doing these so-called, dead 'war heroes' a great favour, by constructing this ridiculous place. If these people were anything like the history books described them (which Reid highly doubted), then they would have preferred the money going into this monument to be donated to charities, trusts and organizations. Not spent on bloody marble and gardens, which no one gave a flying f*ck about anyway.

Of course, the only reason why Reid had even set foot in here, was because he needed to sneak into Hogwarts. The edges of the Forest of -cue eyeroll- Solace, mingled freely with the Forbidden Forest, on the Hogwarts grounds. The magic of the Garden of -eyeroll, again- Solace, would surely interfere with the protective wards, create a weak spot. A few handy ward-unravelling scrolls, and Reid would have successfully entered the most 'protected' and 'secure' place in Wizarding Britain.

Reid had reached the clearing already. Intending to cross over to the other side, he walked.....then stopped. It was inevitable, stupid things had a magnetic-like effect on his attention, they called out to him loudly, prayed and begged for his contempt. Like a large, blinding sign: "This is Stupid. Please Come Make Fun of It." His gaze darted sideways, to an inscription on a white, marble pillar. Something like "Forgiveness is magic". Reid simply couldn't resist, he snickered loudly. Yes yes, exactly like how Harry Potter had forgiven Voldemort. Forgive and forget, my arse.

Henri had not felt like herself since Brian's little party in the Room of Requirement. Sure, she had sprung back into the routine to the next day almost unscathed. Of course, she had seemed much more fragile the night before. She had left the party early, while all of her dorrmates were still dancing, and had locked her dorm from the inside. She had spent the night alone, and the girls who shared the space with her had not even tried to get inside. They knew better.

But she arose perfectly back to normal. She flounced about, she had fresh gossip, she continued to treat herself like the Queen of Hogwarts. Even queens had off days, and that was all she was letting the student body believe she'd had.

But Henri was messed up. And more than usual too. She needed to go cause some trouble anonymously, do it for herself rather than for an audience. She had taken advantage of the Hogsmeade weekend and a few cans of spray paint. She was currently up in the Garden of Solace's gazebo, spraying colors every which way. Her extra paint cans sat in the windowsill, waiting to be used.

And then... she heard a laugh. She was utterly surprised - who the hell actually visited this memorial? She spun around, and the strap of her bag whipped out, knocking a can from the sill and to the ground. She hurried to the window and poked her head out, watching as the can fell and rolled to the feet of a boy.

There went her anonymity.

Something small and hard, hit the paved path leading away from the gazebo with a metallic clang, then rolled down all the way to Reid's feet. His wand was gripped tight in his hand, curse waiting on his tongue, before you could say, "The f*ck?!" He hadn't survived five years in the school famed for producing the likes of Grindelwald just on looks after all. A second of relaxation, of not having your guards up, and you could find yourself strapped to the school ship-mast for the entire night. It wasn't a pleasant experience, not when creatures with true-to-God teeth snapping at your feet.

A dark head popped out of the gazebo window, and Reid's wand twitched hard. He would probably have struck before speaking, but the girl's head illumined by the moonlight was sporting a faceful of surprise, and unease. It was a telling expression. It told him he hadn't been ambushed by an underage Muggle-hunter, rather stumbled upon an amateur prankster.

Reid knelt slightly, and plucked the can off the ground. He turned it round in his palm, the silver night light gleaming off the label. Spray paint. Reid's mouth twisted to the side. God, this reminded him of school. His proper Muggle school, at the naive age of ten, when even spraying graffiti on walls seemed highly cool and rebellious. "Charmed to be permanent, I hope? Glad to see I'm not the only one with supreme disregard for this excuse of a monument."

His pointed shoes clicked softly, as he walked over to the window. Bent his head, till his nose was inches away from the girl's. "Childish, but effective. Don't let me interrupt you, kiddo." He tossed the can forward carelessly, and swerved around.

Then, almost as a second thought. "Wait, are you a student at Pigfarts?" If she was, that meant she had sneaked out. Which also meant he could use the same way to sneak in.

She let out an irritable sigh as the boy did, in fact, notice her dropped can, spurring a curse word from his lips. Meh, still no guarantees that he was not a square. Some of the dorkiest kids around still cursed to act like normal people. She wasn't looking forward to dealing with another person. Another person meant another act she had to build specifically for them. She just didn't... care enough currently.

He spoke to her from his place and she nodded. "Naturally," she said, rolling her eyes. She had done it before she left the school, so she didn't have to worry about the trace still lasting. "I can't make it too easy for anyone."

He approached and she didn't move. Her eyes looked dispassionately indifferent and bored, even as he practically touched his face to hers. "Childish," she repeated. "Oh, sorry. I'm not one of those pretentious douches who analyze the meanings and implications behind pranks. I do it because why the f*ck not?"

She caught the can and shook it, beginning to spray one of the plaques. He suddenly spoke up and she didn't look up at him, just replying, "Yes, babe."

((AVPM!))

Pretentious douche. Rather than annoy him considerably, which the insult should have, Reid felt amused. Here was a girl, who rather than accost him, or bat her eyelashes at him, or accuse him of immorality, simply looked indifferent. Bored. How refreshing.

"I am one of those pretentious douches, unfortunately." Reid cocked his head to the side slightly, face calm and smooth. "Except I don't waste my time on analysis. Or....pranks." He raised his right hand outward, pointing it towards the plaque the girl was beginning to spray. Reducto.


The marble cracked down the middle, splintering, pieces flying in all directions. Reid allowed a faint, moonlight-like smirk to grace his lips, "Much more effective, don't you think?"

"Would you....ah, happen to be in the bird house? Raven-whatever?" Reid propped an elbow sideways, on a large chunk of marble that had flown out from the plaque he had just blown up. He didn't elaborate much, naturally. "I required directions."

"Joy," she drawled in response, remaining unmoving as he refused to get out of her space - not that she minded. Henri was not exactly passionate one way or the other about anything. Besides, his face wasn't terrible to look at, so there was that. But pretty faces didn't change anything for her. Naturally, she preferred a good-looking view, but people were still shit-excuses for wasting space, pretty or not.

His words did peak some interest, and she raised an eyebrow, shifting her weight so one of her hips jutted outwards, expressing her distaste for words without action. But, he seemed to see that it was time to act, for he raised an arm without looking, and the next moment, a plaque was reduced to shards and dusts.

Ah, shit. Explosions were one way to get her blood churning.

She felt a ghost of real-Henri stirring, alighting her eyes with the gleam she so often hid - the gleam of spirit that indicated a malice no youngster should have so naturally. Yes, this particular waste-of-air could possibly be worth her time.

"I am from the house of blue," she said. "Though I don't really like to anything I'm required to do. I like to think I get something in return."

Henri raised an eyebrow. "But I can get that easily on my own. Go cut down one of their sacred, ancient trees or something - which is pretty much every other one. These Brits assign importance to every sock and doily they come in contact with. I'm sure I can get away with some other crime to satisfy my need for 'walking away unscathed.'"

She liked the way he talked. She didn't often get to play up the part of her personality that sounded clever. She was usually stuck in slang and giggles and airheaded claims. She liked this brutish honesty, this negotiating sort of speech.

"I'm not afraid of trouble anyway. Who says not getting caught is the fun part? Sometimes, that's the best." Yes, the girl probably needed a good therapist.

Henri smiled a small smile. "That's the thing - teenaged girls don't know what they want. Just stick around and I'll figure something out." She quickly scooped all of her things into her bag and then swung through the window of the gazebo, standing before the boy. "Shall we?"