ask forgiveness, rather than beg permission

@Matthew Lestrange

Margo had a theory that more Slytherins turned out to be dark wizards because they spend seven years in a basement. That'd do a number on anyone. Even just being in the basements made her feel homicidal - it was why she skipped Potions as often as she could. She thought they'd all be less smarmy and smirky if they had great big windows like the ones in the Ravenclaw tower.

As for why Hufflepuffs still managed to be such beacons of joy and fairness... she wasn't sure. Something to do with brain chemicals or something. She heard Molly say something about them once.

She had been waiting awhile, but her sources (a sixth year Slytherin she had snogged last year) told her Lestrange was in the common room. She had to whizz but she could hold it. She was dancing a little bit while she waited, but she would not leave her post. No way. Never.

She banged on the walls, not sure exactly which portrait was the one for the common room. "Oi! I need a Head Boy out here!"

Back to the dungeons for Matt.

It wasn't his favourite place to be but he knew there were worse places they could have stuck the Slytherin common room. Still, he wished Salazar Slytherin hadn't been such a goth and had chosen a tower or something. The dungeons were cold and often forgotten by the caretaker. He walked down the familiar staircase leading towards the section that belonged to the Slytherins. The same area as potions and the presumed area the troll Harry Potter and his friends fought originated.

He turned three corners passing by familiar portraits. Waving hello to a few he frequently spoke too. Many of the wizards and witches in the paintings down here were former Slytherins. He didn't even get along with the real people in his own house let alone the paintings. His brisk pace slowed as he heard something echoing off the walls just outside the common room. He turned his last corner. Instantly recognizable was the blonde against the black grey of the dungeon walls. He sighed, any time he'd spoken with Margo she had tested his patience.

"Margo, what the hell are you doing?" he called to her as he walked forward down the hallway.

Margo was practically hopping from foot to foot trying to keep her need to urinate at bay, when she finally heard the voice the voice that meant her salvation. She wheeled around, one hundred percent unperturbed by the look of annoyance on the darling Head Boy’s face as she straightened up.

“Hi!” she said brightly, smiling widely. “I have incredibly important Head Boy business that absolutely cannot wait. Unfortunately, it needs to because I have to whiz - I’ve been waiting for you for awhile. Walk me to the bathroom and then we’ll have our little chat, yeah?”

The nearest bathrooms where in the common room. However, now was a busy hour so he wasn't about to bring anyone who didn't belong in there.

"Here, we'll have to go to the ones by the Potions classroom." he said gently and they began to walk towards the bathrooms. It wasn't a very long walk but he expected she wanted into the common room. It wasn't going to be that easy for her. "Common room will be crowded and I'm not even sure the castle would let you into the women's bathrooms upstairs."

The dungeon was particularly cold this afternoon and exceptionally poorly lit. He knew the caretaker didn't care for the dungeons but at least when it was the previous gentleman he made an effort. There's a lot wrong with the castle that could never be fixed but there had to be a magical solution to the damn draft. Today, however, was a good day for Matt so the company of Margot wasn't a chore for him. On days like today he could probably even handle some of the worse Slytherins. Margot wasn't a bad person either, she was good at heart. It suddenly dawned on him how rude he was being.

"Also, how are you Margot?" he asked her with a brief smile.

“That’s fine just get me to a loo-hoo-hoo,” the word got away from her and she stopped, wincing as she clenched her knees together. “Christ, how the hell do women keep a baby in for ninth months. And then push them out. Human bodies are horrifying.”

The urge passed and she began a brisk walk, following Matt’s direction.

“Besides my body hosting some sort of water devil, great!” Margo said, picking up the pace as the bathroom door came into view. “Really great, actually. Super swell summer, professors are being really nice - a few of them already gave me extra credit homework so I won’t flunk out once OWL seasons hits. I thought that was very nice of them, all things considered. But I needed to talk to you because, as you know, the castle is at war.”

They had reached the bathroom. She opened it, listened for a second, and then said, “No one’s in there, you can sit at the sink and listen. Like I was saying,” she slipped inside, jogging for the toilet. “The castle is at war and I have a way to fix it!”

He groaned but followed her inside.

"You are one of the most unconventional Ravenclaw's I've ever met." he said as he leaned up against the sink.

She entered the stall and he couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity of the situation he was in. Of course, that was par for the course when it came to Margo. Of the few instances the two of them had shared a conversation he had always left slightly more confused than when it began. He couldn't begin to imagine Margo's "solution" to the "war" at Hogwarts. Whatever it was, she was probably asking him because he's the most likely to cover up anything against the rules. Margo may be unconventional but Matt was basically a rebel compared to her, at least in his own mind.

"Right, a war." he turned around to look at himself in the mirror. He ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it. But it was the end of his day and his hair was beginning to deflate; emulating his attitude. "What have you dragged me into this bathroom to ask of me, Margo?"

Finally, a man who did as he was told.

“Thank you!” she chirped as she closed the stall door. She had long given up thinking through why she had been made Ravenclaw. She hated studying, had no curiosity about anything other than her classmate’s sexual history, and mispronounced words on a regular basis. She suppose the Sorting Hat had been given so little to work with, it just sent her after her brothers.

Shame was one of the many words not in her vocabulary, so as she pissed, she said, “Right, so usually when everyone hates each other there are two things that unite them. A common enemy, and a bangin’ party. So unless someone has a way of raising You Know Who from the dead, which would probably be irresponsible, it’s time for a party. And I mean, a big one.”

She flushed the toilet and threw the door open, letting out a sigh. “Christ, I feel better.” She crossed to the sink. “So… if I were to throw one, you know, for the sake of morale… how likely would it be that I get in trouble? Considering how noble my reasons are.”

He looked at her as she washed her hands, taking in the expression on her face. Ignoring the fact that she had just walked out of a toilet stall in order to maintain his composure. She stood and he sat in silence for probably a good ten seconds or so.

"Well, for one I really wish you hadn't broached the subject to me." he said, breaking the silence. This placed him in a difficult situation because the idea sounded terrible coming from her mouth. But, he could definitely work with it if he had to. He touched his lip and hopped off the sink - he began to pace the length of the bathroom, thinking.

"Alright, so the idea is half-cocked but that means it's about half-well thought out. That being said, I'm now implicated so I'm either the nark or the cool head boy." his pacing slowed down and he looked back at her. "Thanks for giving me this wonderful predicament." he said to her with heavy sarcasm.

He really didn't think this head boy thing out. The headmaster had chosen him, obviously, but it was weird to think about. A former huffie giving a Slytherin a damn head boy badge. The prefect badge was obvious, he was the least problematic Slytherin in his year. But he was definitely not the least problematic young man in the entire student body.

"Hang on I gotta think about this." he held his finger up to hush her even though she wasn't saying anything.

She didn't mean to brag... but she was very good at getting people into predicaments.

He was talking through it without any help from her, once she finished washing her hands, she leaned against the wall, head lolling a bit as she got more and more bored by his reasoning. She knew he had to go through them, but she was really just waiting to hear the yes that she was sure he'd get to eventually.

"I'd like to point something out. I wasn't the one to start punching Jack Dyllan - but I am the one with an idea to maybe heal those wounds. I could act as an intermediary! Over drinks and dancing, you two could talk it out. Kiss and make up." She tried to bite by the smile that was coming onto her face, a bit too pleased with herself for the comment. But she cleared her throat and blinked her eyes. Trying for innocence, which came easily when you were mostly a vacant fool. "I mean, I'm sure you'd like to end your feud in time for graduation."

His finger dropped and his feet stood in place as his mind began to mull over the situation placed in front of him. His thought train, however, came screeching to a halt at the mention of Jack Dyllan.

He looked at her with what some may consider malice in his eyes.

"No."

And he began walking out of the bathroom, fulling expecting her to follow but not wanting her to.