Julie Mobblestone (mobbleblood) wrote in __incendio,
Julie Mobblestone

Where: Arthimany Classroom
Who: Julie and Edgar and Jon
What: Edgar confronts Julie

Edgar was brooding.

Only slightly, but still. There was brooding, and with Edgar that was never good. Because the truth was, he was breaking a few rules. Or perhaps he wasn't. But there had to be rules to how involved one could get with their students. Well, maybe there weren't, because he always knew how much professors stepped outside of their roles, but this was ridiculous. Bailing students out of duels they clearly shouldn't be in? Not reporting it?

That was the reason he had called Julie in, under pretense of it being her Arithmancy grade, which truly wasn't as spectacular as it could be. But in truth, he was legitimately worried about her, and work for the Order of the Phoenix had made him slightly wiser to how to treat behavior that manifested itself as careless behavior with someone truly capable of utterly cruel behavior.

So he stared at the Griffin printed clock on his desk in deep thought, waiting.

"This best not be about my paper," Julie said, wrenching open Edgar's door--the Arthimany classroom's door so hard that it made a loud bang as it bent back on its hinges, hitting the wall. She was five minutes late, though truthfully she had been standing outside the classroom door for eight. Julie did not want to look eager to meet Edgar. It would've made her feel more pathetic then having Jon walk her to her morning classes usually did.

She shifted her light book bag on her shoulders (in contrast to most of the other seventh years', her book bag only held her Ancient Runes books as she had given up on most of her other classes), and placed a hand neatly on her hips. The neatness of her movement gave away how nervous she was feeling. This definitely wasn't about her Arthimany paper. It had been it's usual mediocre mess, but nothing to get anyone's knickers in a twist about.

"'Cause it's a long walk from Hufflepuff to here and..." she trailed off, the excuses falling flat on her lips.

He smiled a genuine, if very distant, little half smile. "No, it's not about your paper-- though I expected a better effort from you, to be honest." Merlin, <i>why</i> was this so difficult? "I'm concerned about you, Mobblestone. I am going to be quite frank with you, your reckless behavior with Rodolphous put us both at risk. And that isn't like you."

Not to mention the other behavior he'd been seeing in her. And Edgar had never truly been that concerned about her because he didn't see the need--not that she hadn't always been in his sphere of thought, but he had never counted on--well, he didn't know what he had never counted on. Frankly, the all business should have called for a strict warning, an explanation of the cold, hard facts, all to be drowned down with a large bottle of fine Firewhiskey, slept on, and never brought up again.

Unfortunately, it didn't look as if things were going to be that simple.

Julie snorted loudly. "You didn't really expect a better paper off of me, did you?" she asked. Upon seeing the little smile, the one that barely reached his eyes, her hard expression began to soften around the edges. She turned away quickly and shrugged. "It's the end of the year, yeah? One paper wouldn't've saved my grade."

Pointedly ignoring his comment about Rodolphus, she pulled her bag off of her shoulders and looked around the classroom for a chair. Her eyes roamed half of the classroom before she gave up and picked a seat not too far away from Edgar. She threw her bag down next to it, and sat on the edge of the desk, exhaling loudly to cover up the slight wince the sudden movement had caused. Rodolphus had been a much better at magic then she, and her rage alone could not make the skill distance close enough to allow her to hold her own against him.

Julie's eyes flickered up to Edgar's. She scratched the back of her neck nervously. "Erm."

She could try to ignore him all she liked, but he was going to get his point across, damn it.

"I know I am probably overstepping my bounds as teacher in this area," he drummed his fingers a bit nervously on the desk. "But the thing is, I'm just as much your professor as I am your friend. And a concerned friend at that. What the fuck were you thinking, Julie? <i>I</i> can barely hold myself against Rodolphous, who you should at least realize is completely skilled in his area of expertise: hurting people. And I feel like I only just got there in time and-- and Merlin, Julie, what other kinds of trouble have you gotten into, acting like this?"

Reasonably, he wasn't thinking reasonably. There were other ways to go about dealing with things like these but he was only a year older, for heaven's sake! How could he be expected to act as a functional adult in this context?

Her arms crossed immediately, and the softened expression vanished. Julie frowned, her forehead wrinkling. Did she look like an idiot? "Do I look like an idiot?" She asked angrily. "I didn't just--I didn't just run in there," she argued back, though admitting that she had practiced and obsessed for months and months over Rodolphus didn't seem like the best thing to do at the moment. Julie bit her bottom lip, hating the fact that someone was yet again pushing into her face how she would never be good enough to stand against Rodolphus and get back some for her brother. Despite all the extra studying, the hours of practices, everything she'd done.

"You just gonna lecture me like the other professors, huh?" Julie asked, standing up. Too quickly, though; the sudden movement against caused her to inhale sharply. "Trying to lure me in here about some stupid fucking paper, <i>Professor</i>? Doesn't sound like something a friend would do."

"I don't think I need to tell you that some discretion is advisable in this case, Julie!" he yelled. "I can't very well announce to everybody that the reason I want to see you is because you tried something very stupid and life-threatening." He saw her wince in pain, and he felt bad. Good, he probably should have. It was a reminder of exactly what kind of mess they had both gotten into. He just couldn't shake feeling like it was his fault, just a little bit.

"For once in your life, Julie, be an adult. You can try to play the victim here, but come on. We both know better than that. I understand that something had you hurting and you went after it the only way you know how, but this is a <i>war</i>, Julie! You can't do something like that without bringing down other people. What if he had killed you, Julie? How would that have helped anything, except serve to make me hate myself, and maybe take down a few other people? It's not a solution, Julie, it's a problem."

Edgar ran his hands through his hair. It wasn't just about Rodolphous, of course it wasn't. There was so much more. But this just seemed to push everything over the edge.

"And of course I don't think you're an idiot," he said, softly. "I just don't think you thought through some of the more important points of it."

"It wouldn't've taken down anyone else," Julie said angirly. "It's not like I marched in there and invited everyone I knew along! I--it--<i>You</I> weren't even suppossed to be there!" Her bangs, which hadn't been cut in a few months, flopped infront of her eyes. She pushed them out of the way, only allow them to increase her annoyance.

"I get that people are going to get hurt in war. My fucking brother is in St. Mungo's still because he stuck his nose where it didn't belong, you know?" She shouted, feeling her stomach twist in guilt for blaming something on her brother. "And I'm not the only one who's got someone hurt right now! So don't you effing make it sound like I'd walked up to Lestrange--" she spat the name out--"With a bunch of firsties in row, ready to throw them to the slaughter. It was s'posed to be me only! And, frankly, I doubt me getting hurt or killed would have changed the tides of war!"

"Maybe you're not trying me like an idiot, but I'm sick, <i>sick</I> of everyone treating me like I'm so delicate person who's two inches away from a mental breakdown," she murmured darkly, picking up her bookbag. First all her teachers, then her friends, and worst of all Jon. And now here was Edgar, telling her just how much she had been hurting and how she dealt with the pain as though he and everyone else had everything figured out.

Edgar pressed his fingers to his temple. This was all going so out of whack, Merlin, <i>Merlin</i>. But she had a point, really. He was harping that fact over, and over again, but then why not? She had done something bloody stupid and she had put them both in danger and the hell with it if she didn't think she wasn't going to understand what she did.

"Do you really think I would have left you for dead?" he shouted, positively tearing at his hair. "Could you think for an instant that if I thought you were in danger I would have <i>left</i> you there?"

God, she just didn't get it, this was just not sinking in. Edgar wasn't explaining himself properly, he was allowing himself to get too emotional, but--

He crossed to where she was and gripped her arm. "That's what worries me, Julie. I wasn't supposed to know, you say? Well, then what the hell was supposed to happen? You trudge off to battle without a soul knowing where you went? I am not going to spare you your fucking pride, Julie, what if he had killed you? You should've known better than that-- what if I hadn't showed up? Have you given any consideration to the fact that you almost <i>died</i>?" Edgar yelled. "How would your death have helped your brother at <i>all</i>?"

"Then-then I just would've been dead! It's not the worst that could happen!" Julie yelled back, desperately wanting to fight with Edgar. She felt her eyes get watery and hated herself even more for it. She tried to wrench her arm out of Edgar's grip but his was tighter.

"I don't believe that," he said softly, looking at her. "I don't believe that you don't fear that." He looked down now, maybe a little ashamed of himself. "It's just that... if you're--when you're in... I can't stand the idea of you in danger, Julie, because I have this crazy, terrible, interfering urge to make sure you're not."

Julie felt sick with herself for letting out a short laugh. He was fighting with her, but then being sincere. She didn't like to make fun of people when they were truly being sincere, but she felt like if she didn't the bubble in her stomach (which was rapdily feeling more like a storm) would just explode.

"We're all in danger," she said. "And you're one to talk--how many times have you just vanished during the school year for weeks? You know? It's hard not to take things into your own hands and--" she stopped; not even knowing what she was saying anymore.

"Look, I'm sorry you nearly got hurt. I'm really <i>really</i> sorry about that," she heard her voice crack and looked away startled. Julie cleared her throat quickly, a faint red tinge to her cheeks now. "I didn't mean for that to happen, you know?"

"I know you're sorry," Edgar murmured. “I don’t want to blame you, but I do want you to know what kind of trouble you got yourself into. And I didn’t mind nearly getting hurt. I’d do a lot more for you, you know. I know it’s difficult when stuff happens, but you’ve just… you’ve got…” he trailed off, taking a good look at her face, his free hand touching her cheek ever so slightly. What was <i>he</i> doing? What the fuck was he doing, he was—He was kissing her. Edgar was definitely kissing her.

"I know what kind of trouble I got into," Julie tried to protest against his lips. Her voice came out muffled and awkward.

He drew back. "I--sorry, I can't believe, no. No you're right, you do. You're perfectly capable of handling yourself." He ran a hand through his hair even more agitatedly--<i>what the hell had he been doing?</strike>

"R-right, I am," Julie agreed. She stood there for a moment, her arm still gripped in one of Edgar's hands. Even though he had pulled away a little to run a hand through his hair, she was still closer to him then she had ever been during anytime they were friends, or anytime he'd been her professor.

Her stomach lurched--that instinctual 'just do it now' sort of feeling that nearly got her sorted into Gryffindor all those years ago. She listened to it. Julie lunged forward, smashing her mouth against Edgar's in a very ungraceful kiss that was nevertheless full of unbridled passion that she'd been trying to supress around him all year long.

He didn't know what to do. They upturned a chair in their haste and it clattered to the floor. He was afraid to breathe, hoping she didn't realize what she was doing and pull away. It was some kind of strain off his shoulders now that it had happened and he didn't feel so guilty for being her professor-- <i>one</i> year older, that was all. He ran his hand down the length of one of Julie's arms, grasping her hand when he came to it, kissing her as softly but as passionately as he could bring himself to without shocking her back into reality.

But the fact of the matter is that at the very time this unforeseen lapse in judgment occurred, Jon was walking through the halls after a little studying in the library, when he heard a clatter coming from the Arithmancy classroom. Peering inside the door, he was a little startled to find Bones kissing somebody. The amusement dissipated when he realized who exactly was in his arms, however.

Julie felt like she had been waiting a very long time for this little, almost forgotten part of her to suddenly feel fulfilled. She had had really hot snogging sessions before. But this felt like she couldn't keep her hands off of Edgar, and all of her pent up frustration burst forward and she found herself touching and caressing every part of his body she could get her hands and lips on. She let out a small moan, her eyes closed, oblivious to everything that wasn't Edgar.

There was just part of himself that couldn't contain it. He had to, it was imperative. Even if he couldn't breathe, Edgar was too afraid that if he took his lips away, he'd never be able to do this, to <i>feel</i> this again. He let her hand go, the other snaking around her waist, pulling her as close as she could possibly get, the other hand fisting in her hair, holding her as if she were the most breakable thing in the world.

Jon felt slightly nauseous, and a little dizzy. Surreal was how he would describe the scene in front of him because if he recalled correctly, it rarely happened that professors clutched his girlfriend to them like she was some kind of expensive treasure. Backing away from the door, his feet took him in a direction he had no real recollection of.
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