a deer in love lights

Holding a towel in one hand, the Slytherin began to polish the glass of one of the trophy cabinets. His lips were an upturned boat as he rubbed the cloth against the cool glass. The only entertainment he seemed to have were the inscriptions written on the multitude of trophies he was staring at.

"Wowzers," muttered the boy, before continuing on with his work. His detention was to clean the glasses on the cabinets, and he might as well get them done as quickly as he could if he was going to have ample time to socialize.

Slipping in unnoticed by anyone, Robin entered the trophy room. Why? Because she wanted to, that's way. Only very slightly surprised, she saw Timothy McQueen. Her hair covered her cheeks as they turned a slight shade of red. Her mind wondered the previous conversation she had with Savannah Lerran. She vaguely wondered what he was doing, cleaning the cabinets. When she got the answer, she mentally slapped herself.

Idiot, she scolded herself, of course he has detention, he's McQueen!

"Detention, McQueen?" She asked, amused. She knelt down beside him and took a sponge, "well, I have nothing to do, might as well help you."

Timothy smirked when the Hufflepuff he'd met at the Shrieking Shack - no, not the one with the twin, the other one - came into the room. Curiouser and curiouser, he thought this situation was, yet he was not going to complain. After all, two heads, as had been proven, were quicker than one. At least, when it came to physical tasks.

"Why thank you, m'lady," replied the Slytherin in a gentlemanly fashion, "your help will always be appreciated." He then set to work on the next set of glass cabinets, careful to avoid the sharp edges.

Robin suddenly stood up as an idea came to mind. "Hey, you're not allowed to use magic, right?" She asked slowly, and not waiting for an answer, she continued, "well, I don't have a detention or any of those restrictions!"

She smirked at him and flicked her wand at each cabinet, muttering, "scourgify."

Within moments, the entire room was practically shining. One trophy in particular caught her eye.

Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, for servicing the school, she read silently.

Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived? Her great granddad?

"No, Potter, you're - " Timothy began with a drawl, but as she began muttering a spell, she'd clearly not listened to him. The Slytherin simply shrugged his shoulders; it gave him less work to perform, so it wasn't all bad.

He could tell her eyes was caught on one of the trophies, and he shuffled towards the aforementioned trophy case to have a look at whatever it was that was so interesting.

"Oh," he replied, "it's Harry Potter. He's brilliant." He glanced back at Robin, "Are you two related, or is it just a coincidence?"

He snapped her out of a trance. "Oh, we're related. It gets quite annoying sometimes, too," she told him, glancing in his direction, "I mean, yeah, he was quite cool, but the bloody paparazzi never leaves us! I had to resort to pranking mercilessly to get them to back off me. And they only backed off for about a month before going after me again."

She didn't know why she was telling him this, but she did. She ran a soft finger around her great grandfather's name and smiled sadly. He had only died a few months ago, and she was very close to him.

"I suddenly feel so much more powerful, being middle-class," Timothy replied proudly, a smirk now curving one side of his lip. As it grew, he stepped towards the trophy case and watched the way Robin handled it. From what he deduced, they seem to be reasonably close. Maybe they were like best friends, even.

"You must have been pretty close, huh?" questioned he. Some may call his question a little intrusive; but it was in Timothy's nature to pry.

"I'd prefer being high-class into being middle-class if I can escape paparazzi," she muttered, only loud enough for him to hear. She hadn't let go of the trophy, and she was polishing it fondly, to give it more shine.

She narrowed her eyes at his question. True, she had this secret crush, but she also knew his nature was to pry. To be witty, sarcastic, annoying even. She decided to answer with truth.

"Pretty close? That's an understatement," she scoffed, "I mean, even though my family's famous, I guess the people themselves are really great. Have you heard of James Potter II? He's my granddad - I'm betting if you follow Quidditch you'd know him as the man who got England the World cup after a century of losing it. He actually never let it go to his head!" She stated, smiling softly, still stroking the trophy.

"Why high-class?" Timothy frowned, "I might sound like a total yakker, yakker," - at the second 'yakker' he glanced at the Hufflepuff, before his gaze flickered back to the trophy case he was handling, "but I think that being middle-class gives you a lot less pressure."

As if the boy meant none of his jabber, he shrugged his shoulders before wiping the piece of glass he'd been cleaning once more with his cloth, tilting his head towards Robin, "That's clean, right? I'm a dude; I don't know shit about house cleaning."

The Slytherin shook his head, "Never been much for Quidditch. It's not something I like, but I don't dislike it either." Timothy raised his brows, "He sounds like a cool dude." The flirt had never been much for comforting people, and the only thing he could do was reach out towards the blonde and pat her gently on her shoulder. "You must really miss him, huh?"

"Well, high-class is kinda fun, and my parents don't let much pressure come to our family," she frowned slightly, "If paparazzi wasn't there that is. But when you're high-class, I still have a pretty big allowance, the best broom, a decent sized house, and if I wanted to be spoiled, I could be one of the most spoiled people there is." She shrugged, finding it unimportant that she was very wealthy.

Robin frowned slightly at his sexism, but she shrugged it off, not really caring, "I dunno anything about house-cleaning either, but if you can see your face in it, then I guess it's clean."

"Yeah, I miss him, and he is pretty cool," she admitted, ignoring the tingles on her shoulder and the butterflies in her stomach, "but no one's immortal, right?"

"Whatever," Timothy snapped suddenly, knowing then that he had lost the argument. "I still like being middle-class. If I was high-class I doubt my mother would let me see Kaci every weekend in the summer like she does now." He sighed, "At least you're not one of those people who make a show of how rich they are."

Taking the Hufflepuff's advice to heart, the blond glanced at a slightly fuzzy reflection of himself in the mirror, and moved on over to the mirror next to it. He moaned, as his arm was already beginning to wear itself. He felt like an old man who fought in the First Wizarding War, who lost everything.

Timothy agreed with Robin, "No one is immortal. Not even vampires. You have to die before becoming one."

Robin knew that the only reason McQueen snapped was because he lost the argument. But he might've won the argument with his comment, "who's Kaci? Is she your sister, or your cousin, or your girlfriend or something?" She bit down any reaction at that, "Well, I don't really want to be the center of attention or anything..."

She noticed that his arms were wearing themselves. "You know, you'd get things done a lot quicker if instead of doing each and every part of it individually, you do it as a whole, then do it again - it's cleaner and quicker that way." She didn't know how she knew that, but she guessed it just came with being female.

"Really? People have to die before becoming vampires?" She asked in surprise, honestly not knowing that piece of information. She shrugged and admitted, "I don't know much about other creatures apart from werewolves."

Timothy laughed bitterly, "Me? Kaci? Together? Oh heavens, no! She's my cousin!" The Slytherin shook his head, "How can you not have heard of her? She's practically the girlish version of me." He wrinkled his nose, "One person told me that logically, under circumstances, we'd be dating..."

He threw in the towel - quite literally. "You do it!" he whined femininely, "if you're so good with this household thing, then you do the cleaning! I'm a dude! Why can't I be subjected to hours snogging Professor Wyse or someone so not available?" He waved his arms about.

"Of course! What, you think vampires are alive?" exclaimed the Slytherin. He looked like a mess in a robe at the moment, but he couldn't bring himself to worry.

Robin tilted her head sideways. "Actually, I haven't heard of Kaci McQueen before, and how could you date your own cousin? That's disgusting!" She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the very thought of dating a cousin.

Robin sighed, "you're such a big baby," she teased him, before flicking her wand at the cloth, making start cleaning without any support. "The only reason I know this stuff is because my mum didn't get any house-elves. This is nothing compared to the shit I was forced to do sometimes." Her nose wrinkled in disgust at the memory of her having to clean the broom shed back at home, which was filled with spider webs and other disgusting things. "You sexist pig!" She exclaimed, throwing her cloth at his face playfully.

"I never thought vampires were alive," Robin responded defensively, "I may be a Hufflepuff, but I'm not stupid. I just thought they died right after being bitten."

Timothy rolled his eyes, "Well, if she wasn't my cousin we would be dating by now. After all, we are bonded by our striking good looks and our irresistible charm." He snickered, "What? Do you think I'm desperate enough to date Kaci?"

The Slytherin snorted, "Yeah, yeah, whatever. You had to do this because you had no house-elves. Thank Merlin for a girly older brother..." He caught the towel with both of his hands and thrusted the towel back at the Hufflepuff, hiding behind a faraway shelf in order to dodge the next hit. "Hit me if you can, Potter!" yelled the third year. Perhaps he can introduce this new pastime to his dog. Towel Throwing...

"Well, you've got it wrong, then," announced Timothy. He hummed a tune, twirling his fingers about.

Robin shrugged at his comment, but she was secretly glad that he wasn't dating this Kaci person. If he was, someone was gonna get pranked...

She caught the towel he threw and smiled slightly, "Oh I'll hit you alright..." She muttered. Wordlessly, she flicked her wand towards her towel. This would make it really bouncy, she thought to herself.

She rolled it up into a ball and threw it at the wall opposite where McQueen was hiding, catching him my surprise. She smirked and said, "And my name's Robin," she added.

Timothy dodged the towel in time - dodgeball in primary school for the win - though he could only notice its bounce against the wall. It hit the wall with a thud, flying off it, and crashed into one of the many glass cabinets the room contained.

He groaned, "Look what you've done!" He stepped away from the glass, knowing well enough it was a bad idea to step on anything broken and fragile.

"Robin... reminds me too much of the bird," remarked the Slytherin. His face broke into a grin, "so Potter it is!"

Robin hid a chuckle at McQueen's groan. "Are you a wizard or not?" She asked him rhetorically, trying to hide a smile from crossing her features.

She flicked her wand at the cabinet, muttering, "Reparo." Nothing happened for a moment, but before McQueen could say anything, the glass shards placed themselves together, as if it was never broken. She smiled in satisfaction.

"It's your fault you dodged out of the towel's way anyway..." She said playfully, smiling.

"Call me Potter if you must..." She trailed off, but she couldn't help but think, He doesn't like my name, nothing showed up on her features though, which was good.

"I am a wizard!" yelled the Slytherin, watching Robin fix the cabinets "but, as proven by my sorting, I am not a Ravenclaw! What? Do you expect me to think or something?" He shook his head. "Merlin..."

He snorted indignantly, "Oh. You expect me to get hit by a towel! They're painful, if you didn't know!"

Her tone dissatisfied, Timothy smirked, "Nah, I'll call you Robin. Just not often enough to make you happy." He laughed.

"Judging by the badge on my chest, I'd say I'm not a Ravenclaw either," She told him, "But I guess since you're muggle-born and all, you might forget that you're a wizard... It happened with my great great aunt once actually," she mumbled in the end.

She had to laugh at his indignant response to her joke. "Relax, I was just joking! I know they're painful!" She laughed.

She rolled her eyes at him, before looking curiously at him. "What should I call you then?" She asked him curiously. "I mean, I'm not even sure what you're first name is and I only know your last name through class! I'm not even sure how I feel about this..."