Another night of detention (Francis)

[Francis Eric Thorne]

Francis watched her, catching her gaze as she looked at him. The blue of her eyes seemed to look right through him and it was an effort not to shiver under her gaze. He was glad when she looked away, but couldn't help part of him wanting to see those eyes again.

"You probably wouldn't be interested," he said, frowning. He hadn't told a lot of people of his plans to open up a mechanics shop after leaving school, and those he had told usually mocked him for considering such a muggle profession. He fully intended to use magic where possible to help with repairs and improving performance of the machines he would deal with, but he couldn't escape the fact that muggle motor vehicles were where his passion lay. "You'd probably just laugh at me anyway," he mumbled, looking back down at the trophy. He'd nearly finished polishing it now, but the spot of tarnish on the base was stubborn and he was sure Filtch would notice if he left it so he carried on.

[Genevieve Stark]

It can't be that silly, can it? If you were to tell me that you were planning on raising flobberworms then yes, I'd definitely laugh. But I doubt that's the case.

*She taps the tip of her quill on one of the pages of her open History of Magic book, so as to not smudge her essay. It seems that it's time to get a new one, it's starting to write very lightly.*

Alright. How about you tell me yours if I tell you mine?

*Without waiting for an answer she proceeds to tell him her aspirations, looking up at him again.*

I want to work for the Ministry. At the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures if possible. My parents, on the other hand, would rather I didn't work at all. They want me to marry a man with a good name so he can take care of me and give me a good life, as they have. But I'm not planning on depending on anyone to make a name for myself. Neither a husband nor my parents.

*She returns to her writing, which is probably not making a whole lot of sense for lack of concentration.*

If I find a man who's worthy that's fine. But I want to be able to kick him out on the curb if need be. Not have to put up with his nonsense because I'm tied down by kids I can't provide for on my own or afraid to lose my standing.

*She looks up again and laughs, realising that's she's now said much more than she meant to divulge. And again she wonders why she's talking to him this way.*

Okay, that was a bit too much information. Your turn now.

*She hopes she's not blushing, embarrassed about getting personal.*

[Francis Eric Thorne]

Francis couldn't help but laugh. "No, my passions don't lie in flobberworms," he assured her, looking back up at her, surprised to find that he was beginning to enjoy her company. If someone had told him that morning that he'd be laughing at a joke made by a Slytherin he'd have told them they were completely stark raving mad.

His hand holding the rag stilled as he listened to her talk. He'd never imagined she'd be so principled. Most of the Slytherin girls he'd overheard gossiping around the school couldn't wait to be married off to some rich pureblood of questionable character. "That doesn't sound like a bad job to be honest. I've seen you in Care of Magical Creatures. You're... good with them." And she certainly had the confidence required for a position at the Ministry. Francis would be absolutely no good in a magical corperation like that. He'd spend every other second flying off the handle at anyone he didn't see eye to eye with.

Francis cleared his throat. "That's alright. 'S'not too much information..." He looked down again at the trophy he'd stopped polishing. He wasn't sure why he was so hesitant to tell her his dream. He was used to people laughing at him, and while it usually caused him to glare and growl a nasty response, he'd never taken too much notice of their opinions. Still, for some reason he didn't want this snotty, beautiful Slytherin girl to think any less of him than she already did. It had embarrassed him enough when she'd commented on his inability as a spell caster.

Taking a deep breath, Francis began to speak, his eyes still fixed firmly on his hands. "I want to open a mechanics shop..." He paused, giving the trophy a little rub as he thought of what to say. "I love engines. You know... cars, bikes... that sort of thing. I can, you know, fix things..."

[Genevieve Stark]

*Gen looks confused for a second. Engines? Cars and bikes? These were muggle things, she was sure. She'd learned about them in Muggle Studies class. So he is muggle born, or at least a half blood. She did have a sneaky suspicion he might be.*

Ah! I see why you thought I would laugh. You want to live in the muggle world. Perhaps even use your magical powers secretly to get ahead. See? You're not that much different from us Slytherins after all.

*She snickers at this. It's a good thing Genevieve had been taught by her Ravenclaw grandmother to not judge by magical ability...or lack thereof. In this case, for having muggle blood. Yes, she has had to deal with a lot of raised eyebrows and put-downs by her fellow Slytherins because of it, but it honestly didn't bother her that much. Her grandmother had been an outstanding witch in her time and her open mind got her places she didn't dream of ever reaching. Another one of Gen's great qualities was her open-mindedness, due to her grandmother's influence of course. She had now put her quill down, and was looking at him with deep interest.*

So I take it by your plans, and general attitude toward Hogwarts, that you're not so fond of the magical world. Why is that?

[Francis Eric Thorne]

Francis was surprised at her reaction: overall one of the better ones. He had felt sure she would make some sort of damning comment, he'd get all huffy and they'd spend the rest of the evening completely ignoring each other. Instead, she'd made a joke, and not about what he wanted to do but the way he wanted to do it. He smiled slightly, lifting his eyes to look at her. "We're all entitled to be a bit sneaky now and then, right? It's not just reserved for snakes." He raised his eyebrows with another smile, feeling his body relax slightly. He hadn't realised he was tense until he felt his muscles loosen. He really needed to take his friends' advice and chill out once in a while.

"It's not that I'm not fond of it," he explained, finally giving up with the trophy - that he was just smudging even more by fiddling with it as he spoke - he put it and the rag down on the table and leaned back in his chair. "It's just... I want to live the way I want to live. Unfortunately, most people here seem to have a problem with that. That's what I hate. They preach equality, but it's all a load of bull. They don't mind saying muggles are equal, as long as they stay in their rightful place..." He stopped, realising he was beginning to rant. He was talking to a Slytherin after all. She wasn't exactly about to sympathize with him; at least not if she wanted to fit in with anyone in her house. "I just love taking things apart and working out what makes them go. Being able to fix things... make them better even, whether it's manually or by magic... it's a rush, for me at least. But people don't bother looking past the fact that something other than magic can be useful. So that's why I want to get out of here. Then I can decide whether magic's important or not, not have someone constantly telling me that they're right and I'm wrong... Get it?"

[Genevieve Stark]

Yes, I think I get it. I don't fully agree...but I get you. Muggles have to stay in their rightful place, as you put it, because giving them complete equality would be melding both worlds into one. And whether you want to admit it or not, the muggles wouldn't be able to handle that. They probably couldn't tolerate it. They would probably see us as a threat because they don't understand. Don't you think? Why do you think the Ministry has worked so hard to keep our world secret? It's not because we think we are better, although we do have a great advantage, it's for our own protection....in a way.

*She shakes her head, not being fully comfortable with politics talk.*

I myself don't judge against muggles. And I'll be the first to admit that I know next to nothing about them. So no, I'm not laughing at you or your goals in life. They are quite valid and very possible for you being one of them. But could you imagine me trying to live among them? A Slytherin who has known nothing but magic her entire life? I'm not sure I could manage. And I assume that it would probably be the same for them if they were to be invited into our world.

*Snickers.*

But I've deviated from the subject, haven't I?

[Francis Eric Thorne]

Francis listened. He'd always had rather defined views on Muggle/Magic relations, but he agreed that the two worlds had to be kept separate. "It's not so much the separation that bothers me. It's that we think our way of life is so much better, when really, it's just... different..." He trailed off. It was hard to explain what he meant without sounding anti-magic, which he wasn't, even though he wasn't overly good at most of it.

"I don't know..." he said, wondering about the situation. "The muggle borns that come here seem to adapt pretty quickly. We're all essentially the same, us and muggles, just some of us have abilities that others don't. You can do spells, but you'd never be able to use a telephone to talk to someone on the other side of the world in seconds like muggles can." Floo powder and apparition were all very well, but it was a hell of a lot more comfortable to just chat on the phone from the comfort of your own home. "We have magic, they have technology. The advantages of one are no more or less than the advantages of the other. I just happen to be better with technology than I am at magic..."

Francis smiled a little, trying to imagine introducing someone like Genevieve to his muggle friends back home. "You should come take a ride on my bike some time," he said with a hint of a cheeky grin. "I bet you'd love it." Most girls did, whether they were disposed towards mechanics or not. There was something about the thrill of roaring along the road, feeling the wind in your hair and knowing, just for a while, you'd become one with the beast of metal and fire beneath you. The bike was alive and dangerous, more than a broom could ever be. He'd never ridden a magical creature, but he imagined the experience would be more akin to that. "I bet I could get you loving the muggle world in no time at all!"

[Genevieve Stark]

*Gen strokes her quill absentmindedly, her eyes narrowed in thought while he speaks. She'd never given this much thought to the muggle world before. She'd learned briefly about telephones and what they do, and she remembers thinking at the time that it was quite an ingenious trick, but she would't have the slightest clue as to how to operate it. So yes, Francis may have a point. The advantages of one could possibly be equal to the other's, if put in the right perspective. But does this realisation change anything for her? No, not really.*

You do have a point. But I don't think things will ever change. It's that ignorance about each other's ways that gives us magical folk ideas of superiority. Which you, being of muggle background, take personally. But think about it...don't you think that if muggles were to know about us and see our world as we live it, that they would find themselves and their "technology" superior to us as well?

*The seriousness turns to light laughter at hearing his invitation. A picture of a bicycle she'd seen in one of her books suddenly flashing in front of her eyes at the mention of a "bike". Two wheels, a chain, a very uncomfortable looking seat and...foot pedals.*

You're kidding right? That is one muggle invention I do not understand. Why would they choose to pedal around in such a small and uncomfortable looking contraption when they have cars...that's what they're called right?...to get around in? They're very confusing, muggles are.

*She puts her quill down on the table again and stands up to stretch out her arms and legs, still snickering.*

And why would I want to learn to "love" the muggle world, when I love my own world just fine? Should I feel like I'm missing out on something? Because I don't...to be honest.

[Francis Eric Thorne]

Francis grinned. "You've got to admit, this place is a little medieval," he said, looking around. "I mean, where else in the world would people be made to polish tropheys as detention?" He looked at the one he'd put down on the table but made no move to pick it up again.

Francis raised his eyebrows when Genevieve spoke about the bike, taking a moment or two to realise she'd got completely the wrong idea. "No, I don't mean a push bike," he laughed, shaking his head. "I have a motorbike. It has an engine. You definitely don't pedal!" He grinned at her. "I know you'd love it." She might be scared at first - most people were if they'd never been on a bike before - but it always left you wanting more.

"I don't know," Francis replied, finally picking up the trophey again and beginning to rub at the tarnish again. "You might be missing out on... people," he ventured. After all, if the two of them had never been put in detention together and they both finished school and went their seperate ways, the chances were she would never have come across him again if she didn't have anything to do with the muggle world. It was just like he was lucky his mother had been interested in Muggles or she'd never have met his dad and had him. There were so many opportunities in both worlds; he saw it as a little bit stupid to cut yourself off from either one.

[Genevieve Stark]

*Her eyes open wide and her cheeks turn a light shade of pink when he explains her misunderstanding.*

Ah! Well that makes more sense.

*Laughing at herself, she walks over to the open trophy case and leans sideways against its edge with crossed arms, now standing closer to him.*

So this motorbike thing propels itself by the use of an engine. The things you like to fix? Do they break so often that you can make a whole career out of servicing them? Because that makes the sound of a ride on your motorbike a lot less appealing. Although, you have peeked my curiosity.

*Snickers, glad that this evening has turned out to be so entertaining. But what's more entertaining is how Francis keeps scrubbing at that same tarnish spot over and over and over again. She shakes her head and smiles, deciding (unexplicably) to help him out after all. So she pulls out her wand and without saying a word she charms his rag to do the polishing on its own.*

I'm pretty sure that spot doesn't come out, by the way. I've done this a few times, I should know.

*Smiles at him, only now that she's this much closer to him realising how handsome he actually is. Is that why she's being so...unnaturally nice? No, there's something else. She just hasn't managed to figure it out yet.*

[Francis Eric Thorne]

Francis shook his head, still smiling. "There are quite a few engines you know. Every now and then one breaks. I fix bikes and cars and... well most things really. Anything that has working parts." He shrugged. It was just a talent he had, and he embraced it. "Anyway, just trust me, you'd love it."

He was a little taken aback a the trophey and rag drifted out of his hands. Standing up, he followed them as they floated back towards the case, just as she crossed towards him. Tucking his hands in his pockets, he looked down at her, trying not to show any embarrassment. "Er, thanks," he said, clearing his throat. He wasn't completely useless at spells, it just took a lot of practices. The magic he'd taught himself - the stuff that would be useful for fixing cars - he could do no problem, but it was the little things that caught him out.

Shuffling his feet slightly, not sure what to do with himself, he looked back towards the table. "I should, you know... write my essay really," he said. "Now that you've..." He nodded towards the trophey. Still, he didn't move. He was quite enjoying talking to her, although he hated to admit it, and this whole being close to her thing had its advantages.

[Genevieve Stark]

*She smiles at his persistance about loving the ride. But she can't imagine any muggle contraption being more thrilling than riding a broom. The feeling of freedom and control that it gives her cannot possibly be matched.*

I doubt I would love it more than my broom. I can guarantee that.

*Smirking, she follows his gaze to the table, then the trophy case. Suddenly at a loss for words, she nods - her way of saying "You're welcome."*

Oh right! The essays. Yes, we should definitely take advantage of this time to finish them.

*Also not knowing what to do with herself now that they were standing so close, she gives him a nervous smile and returns to her chair. Once there, she picks up her quill and taps it on her book again.*

Ugh! My self-inking quill is done for. Would you mind sharing your ink with me?

*Asking for help has always been really hard for Gen, and right now was no exception. He now has the upper hand, just like she did earlier with the charm. She just hopes he doesn't rub it in. She did charm his rag after all, right?*

[Francis Eric Thorne]

"We'll see," Francis said. He wasn't sure why he was assuming he'd even get her on a bike. It was stupid really. Still, it was an image he liked, especially the part where she helf onto hima round his waist so stay on the back.

Watching as she walked back to the table, he slowly followed her, pulling his seat up so it was a little closer to hers. He pulled his bag closer over the table, and retrieved his half finished essay, quill and ink. He didn't like using the feathered pen, but he'd learned quite soon into his first year that using a fountain pen here was more trouble than it was worth.

Raising an eyebrow, he looked across at her at her question. So now he was the one expected to do favours. She had charmed his rag - in the end - so he was prepared to let her use his ink, but it was too hard to resist playing with her. He grinned. "And what do I get out of this little arrangement?" He lifted up the pot of ink and turned it around in his fingers.

[Genevieve Stark]

*"We'll see?" What does he mean by "We'll see?" That sounds an awful lot like saying they will actually be taking a ride together. On some strange muggle machine at that! No. She didn't technically agree, she only said her curiosity had been sparked. That's not saying yes....is it? No! It's not. She's not going on some freaky joyride with a Hufflepuff! Merlin's teeth! Has she gone insane? She's actually considering it.

Her train of thought is broken by his question. Ah! So he is going to hold the sudden shift of power over her. Why wouldn't he, though? She would...did, actually. She quickly pulls out her wand and points it across the table at him, aiming for his heart, her eyes narrowed threateningly.*

Listen, Francis Thorne. I am as dangerous with my wand as I am beautiful. So I suggest you rethink your options here. Because I could easily knock you out for the rest of the evening and just take the ink from you.

*It sounded very menacing, and had it been some other Hufflepuff student she may have actually meant it. But at this moment, biting her lip is the best she can do to keep herself from laughing. Of course she's not going to curse him. She actually likes him...for some strange reason. Not able to pretend any longer, she allows the menace to disappear from her face and an impish smile to show through as she lowers her wand.*

Alright, alright. We both know that's not going to happen. But the way I see it, you letting me use your ink would make us even. So I owe you nothing in return. Realistically, you actually owe me.

*She points her wand at herself as she stresses the last word, her expression one that says "So there!"*

[Francis Eric Thorne]

Francis rolled his eyes at her threat. He definitely wasn't going to let on that he actually was a little bit scared of what she might do to him, and he was glad he didn't when she said it was an empty threat.

Standing up, Francis walked across to Genevieve's chair, the ink in his hand. Leaning forward towards her, he put the ink on the table in front of her, his hand still resting on it, his other hand on the arm of her chair. "I'll only let you use it if you promise to come for a ride on my bike with me in the holidays," he said with a grin.