cribellate | SERAPHIM DIAS

Truthfully, Dias? I have no idea what you would be getting punished for. I don't waste a great deal of time thinking about you at all.

[He leans forward then, sharply, and shoves open his textbook.]

Get started, then, I haven't got all night. There's loads of better things to be doing than this. Not that you're likely to know, Ravenclaw, but: there are.

Like what?

Snogging your cousin?

[She very very casually pulls her books out of her bag and sets them on the table, and looks at him, blankly.]

[That's cleverer and quicker and more cutting than he'd expected her to be, and something of real irritation--closer to anger--twists first across his face, before he fights that down. Instead, he stares at her, the dark look in his eye perhaps the only suggestion at the blacker mood in him.

But he smiles, a little, coldly.]

Jealous?

Edited 2013-10-07 21:28 (UTC)

[She glances up at him and recognizes that look. Normally she doesn't rile people up like this, but she doesn't like the way he dismisses her, treats this like punishment.]

Of being your cousin? No, I'll keep my mudblood, thank you.

Give me your work, please.

[Sirius laughs at that, once, shortly. That's a defence that he's heard some of them adopt, that near-pride in dirty blood, but he's not encountered it directly until now.

Carelessly, he flips through his book, as if looking for a bit of parchment--but his eyes are still on here, cool.]

I meant more the snogging. You were really quick to leap to that possibility.

[She has a hand reached out for that bit of parchment that he's looking for]

Well I hate to break a boy's heart, when I say no.

And who wouldn't jump to that conclusion? It's practically all I see you do outside the Quidditch pitch. Every girl in school knows that if you step out with Black you end up on your back.

[It's a particularly classy rhyme thought up by one of his castoffs.]

[It's not offensive, it's true, and he grins a little like the rhyme is some great badge of pride he gets to wear. He gives up the search for the parchment--the pretense of the search, really--and sits back, shifting his hips off the chair a little so he can dig his cigarettes out of his pocket.]

Clever. Are you really saying no?

[He wouldn't, probably. He'd toy with her, maybe, because he can, because she's resisting him--but she's a mudblood, not worth his actual time or attention. The conclusion of it would be a little cruel at best. But if he has to endure this-- tutoring, he might as well make the best of it, and he offers the cigarettes to her before he takes one for himself. Manners.]

[Her expression softens, goes from defensive into something softer, more feminine. She is always on her guard around boys and maybe even more around these pureblooded boys who just like to make everyone miserable.]

I mean it. I have no interest in a broken heart or a sullied reputation.

[She doesn't take a cigarette, and instead takes his book, looking through it for something, notes, anything that might tell her about his level in this class.]

[Fine. More for him, then, and he slips a cigarette out and shoves them back into his pocket, digs out his heavy silver lighter. It's got the Black family crest on it, of course, and he rubs his thumb against it as he flicks it to life, lights his cigarette with it and leans back, blowing a stream of smoke from his nose in a casual exhale.]

No interest in a good time, either. You Ravenclaw girls, you're all the same. Blood doesn't even come into it.

[He lifts his cigarette to his lips again, as he adds:] There's nothing in there, don't waste your time.

Really?

[She closes the book and wrinkles her nose, though that's more at not a single note, in any margin]

That's not what Millie Turner would say, if you asked her.

[There's a pause. Millie Turner is pureblood in the most scraping of fashions - no one can point to a muggle anywhere in the family, but she hasn't got one of those pureblood names, either.]

Of course she would scratch my eyes out if she knew I knew.

[Turners, they're not really worth anyone's time. Useful, vaguely, and Sirius spares a second of thought to conjure up an image of Millie Turner. Not bad. Blood status helps. But Dias here is more fit, actually, for all that she's got dirty blood, and Sirius likes girls who are easy, but he also likes girls that push back.

So he leans forward, his elbow on the table, cigarette shifted to the corner of his mouth a moment so he can grin at her--dark, knowing.]

And how do you know? Don't tell me you're a secret gossip.

I don't need gossip to use my eyes, Black.

[She looks up at him, suddenly, and is surprised by the look he's giving her. It's not precisely comfortable.]

You know you might not be failing this course if you took a single note.

I'm not failing.

[He's not looking away, either. He keeps his eyes fixed on hers, that little smirk still on his face.]

I'll do what I always do. Sit the exam, get an O, finish the class that way. What are you implying, exactly, by the way? Just so we're clear. What are you saying you've seen?

Well, to begin with, I've seen your exams, and no, you're not getting any qualifications-

[But then, maybe, there's a challenge there. Seraphim doesn't usually rise to those kinds of things, but, well.]

I don't sleep. I see a lot of things. For instance, your brother was doing more than snogging Marion Winters from Hufflepuff behind the one-eyed witch.

[She shrugs]

And even I know her assets don't merit that level of dedication, you may want to sit him down and explain that there's nothing that can get the stink of desperation that bad out of robes.

[Why have you seen my marks, he nearly demands it of her--but he doesn't actually care much about good marks. He always manages in the end, one way or another.

The detail about Marion Winters is far more interesting anyways--Regulus, really; Sirius' nose wrinkles up--and a second later he's smirking, though it's less keen than it was before.]

Really.

[And the way he's looking at her now is a bit different as well--calculating, nearly, though still with that smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.]

Why don't you tell him? You're the all-seeing eye around here, who never sleeps, for... whatever reason.

[She just gives him a look, like, seriously.]

You know very well that even if I cared enough to tell him, he would dismiss it. And I don't care enough to tell him.

[He raises his eyebrows a little in return, like, seriously right back at you.]

But you cared enough to tell me.

[She sighs, finally. Why is she doing this - why did she agree to do this?]

We're not getting any work done at all, are we?

It's a simple question.

[He blows a stream of smoke out--not in her face, mercifully--and grins at her.]

D'you really like this shit that much, that you're so eager to get started?

It's not shit. And yes, I actually enjoy it.

[She does know how to relax, though. She sits back, and looks over at him.]

You care more about what's going on around here than you let on.

[He snorts, as he puts his cigarette to his lips again and sucks in.]

Do I. That's what you've observed about me, in your sleeplessness? You might want to get that all-seeing eye examined. There's not a lot that I care about.

[she doesn't think she's wrong, but she reaches for his cigarette, takes it out of his hand, her fingers brushing his hand, and takes a drag. She doesn't smoke but she is her brother's sister: she knows how. She lets out a breath of smoke. Her smile looks like the cat that got the canary]

It's not divination.

[She knows what a challenge looks like. She should know better than issuing this one. She should see the danger.]

What is your problem with just doing the work?

[He stares at her, quite directly, his expression a little hard. There's the smallest of smiles on his mouth--not necessarily amused, but still in place--and he holds his hand out, waiting for her to give his cigarette back.]

My problem is that it's a waste of my time.

[The corner of his mouth quirks, a very small and brief expression.]

All of this, is a waste of my time. Why are you so keen on doing the work?

[The way he says it, it's the stupidest thing she could be doing with herself.]

[She hands it back, calmly.]

Well, I rather like it, I'm good at it, it's interesting, so no, hardly a waste of my time.

Why did you come here, if you didn't want to do any of this? Why not just leave it, and not say word? It's hardly like you think anything of me, so it wasn't about me.

Perhaps I didn't know to think of you.

[It's a weird compliment, and maybe not even a compliment. Mostly what Sirius does is toy with people; everyone knows that. He smirks at her all the same.]

Here's an idea. Why don't you just say that I've done the work? You can tell Professor Sinistra, you'll look good for doing your bit, and I'll get out of this.

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