Riley blinked up at the head girl, then nodded slowly. So what if he was a couple minutes late from the meeting? He still had time to drop by the hospital wing to visit Fletch and nurse Snyder, draft that essay or at least the first part, remember to have something to eat, and maybe manage a quick nap before heading out for the patrol for the hour after curfew.
"Are you alright?"
He blinked again, hard; her voice was kind, of course it was. That was how Calla landed her position, he was sure. "Um."
"I ask because I know you've got OWLs this year. I remember it being difficult, balancing studying with prefect duties. And I certainly didn't have the... high maintenance friends you have."
"He's not high maintenance, he's just..."
"Accident prone?" She smiled down at him. "And of course you're also close to my sisters new Herbology project, so of course that draws attention."
He had to peer at her, his tired brain lagging behind. Herbology project? "That must mean Cat. I don't really know anyone else. But what are you -?"
Calla flapped a hand dismissively. "Riley Matthews. You're no good to anyone dead on your feet, you must know that. So tell me, what can I do to help?"
Riley blinked. He hesitated, mulling over his options. What had he told that seventh year Slytherin last week? He was probably going to fail history of magic if he couldn't finish the essay he'd already caved and asked for an extension on. Now, he was going to either sleep through patrol or not sleep at all. Not sleeping would mess with his classes, patrol would mess with his essays. And he couldn't just leave Fletcher alone in the hospital wing, no, that would be cruel. Even if Fletcher would understand. Nose crinkling in distaste, he looked back up at Calla, already digging a little hole to shove his self-resentment later.
"I may, um, be having a bit of trouble. Staying on top of things. I mean, I didn't not expect it since I always make an idiot of myself, but -"
"If you need us to cut back on your duties for a short while, I can arrange that for you. You do have an unfair number of responsibilities compared to some of the others. It's really only fair that we ask them to step up to the plate now that you need the help."
Riley gaped at her, reluctantly nodding. "That - that would help. I think. Please."
Calla Goode smiled. "I'll see what I can do. And Riley?"
He winced. "Yes?"
"Don't worry about tonight's patrol. I can take care of that."
requested by anonymous
(this was too hard to write. But awkward Calla scrambling for an excuse was worth it.)
Astor was tired. Tired, sore from practice - a bludger to her arm was never pleasant, that it was a new team member who had managed to immediately club her with their bat afterwards made it worse - and dreading the classes she still had to endure, where some idiot would inevitably bump into her bruised self.
To top it all off, she had heard truly disturbing rumours about Calla's treatment of some Ravenclaw - Stevie Hopper, if she had the name straight, beater and prefect. Old friend of Calla's, not that her sister would admit it. So when she walked into the Entrance Hall to find Hopper slipping through the doors to the Great Hall and Calla lurking about in the shadows of the gigantic hourglasses, obviously hiding, she stormed right up to Calla and shoved her with her better arm, back against the Gryffindor hourglass.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Calla seemed caught off guard for an instant. Had she been in a better mood, Astor would have relished the moment. "I'm examining the house elves' cleaning quality. Seems to be in order."
The younger sister snorted, glaring at the elder. "Rubbish. You're avoiding Hopper. No doubt because of the whispers of that obscene Mordred and Morgana."
"I can't believe you read that trashy -"
"Don't you lie to me again, Calla." Astor glared at her sister, her tone broking no argument. Calla stared back, setting her jaw after a moment.
"You don't know what you're talking about, Astor. You cannot begin to understand what motivates me."
Astor grabbed her wrist before she could make her escape, her grip unnecessarily tight. "Stop treating me like some clueless child! We're both Goode's, we both have the Succession hanging over our heads, we both know you're -"
"Don't say it."
"- Making a huge mistake, one you aren't about to fix, but -"
"Astor."
"- That's besides the point. What matters is that you're forcing Hopper away from you, and if there's one thing I know it's that you can't take being alone -"
Smack!
In Calla's defence, slapping Astor was probably the only way to get her to shut up at that point. The Slytherin was in a worse mood than usual, less reasonable, less patient.
In Astor's defence, she was already in pain. When she slammed Calla back against the hourglass more harshly, it could have been justified as self-defence, her surprised and furious what the hell, Calla, barely legible over the resounding thwack.
She pinned her there with one hand - she had Quidditch to thank for her strength being greater than Calla's - and scowled at her. It wasn't much of a fight, but then the Goode's weren't physical - not usually. Not with fists. "Don't waste your time challenging me to something you can't win," Astor hissed.
"St - Hopper doesn't need you worrying about him."
"You, though, you do. Even if you are too stuck-up to admit it.”
have you even told your brother about how you feel about calla? maybe if he cares enough he'll back off. and then you can have what is obviously now his sloppy seconds.
“I would like to, just so that he knows because I don’t want to tell him just for the sake of my own well-being and be selfish… the last thing I want to do is interfere with his happiness honestly, if he’s happy then I should be too. He doesn’t have to back off if he doesn’t want to… Calla isn’t anyone’s ‘sloppy seconds,’ it’s been a privilege to even get to talk to her as much as I have.”
