*/ good 4 the plot line

Marisol nodded sympathetically. “It’s a good thing! You want to help everyone, no questions asked. It shows you have a kind heart.” She patted him on the chest to punctuate her words. “Only, sometimes a few questions can be good. Like when a stranger asks for your help with a strange task no explanations given and then leaves you to worry about it while they go off and enjoy the party that you are currently not enjoying properly.” She reached out, about to grab onto his hand and persuade him to let himself be distracted from the topic of olives when his question made her stop still with a bewildered look. “The oil… no, Benjy, no. It’s made from olives. Like coconut oil is made from coconuts and sesame oil is made from sesame seeds. You can buy olive oil on its own for cooking that doesn’t have any olives in and honestly I hope it never has been used as storage if I’m going to cook with it. Now really, come on. I think there was a mention of martinis? Don’t worry, we can have them with a twist instead.”

“I don’t know that I’d say that,” he argued, thinking about all of the times that he had thrown someone under the bus for his own benefit. “Hey! I am still having a good, albeit different time.” His eyebrows furrowed at the answer, “That seems like a lot of effort for a little oil, I’m going to be honest.” Shaking his head, “You know if we’re olive-less we could ditch the martinis altogether, I make a mean Tom Collins if you’re interested?” 

“mar-TEA-ni.“

xenophilius enunciates the word. there’s something about it that sparkles. as a writer he knows that not all words are created equal, and martini is one that rolls off the tongue luxuriously and high class.

“yes.” then louder– “YES. you’re quite right. take a bludger for the the team – so they say.” he knows little about benjy but in this scatter of minutes xeno now is aware that the other student is more worried about authority than bugs, and xeno promises, “if we’re caught i’ll take the fall. i can be a very convincing villain, i think.”

there’s a stone that’s a bit more gray than the rest. xeno knocks on it twice, pauses, then raps his knuckles three more times before the wall readjusts to open a space enough for one person to squeeze through. “you first. don’t worry. there aren’t any spiders this soon into the path.”

the way that xenophilius enunciates the word, seemingly rolling it about in his mouth, causes benjy to snort before immediately trying to act like he hadn’t. he studies a small crack in a nearby wall. 

“take a bludger for the team?” he echoes, unfamiliar with the saying or the practice, why would someone take a bludger for the team? at the reassurance that the other will take the fall  — something benjy is all too happy to allow him to do, he nods. “alright then, i trust that this plan will work. i can always help you play up the villain piece.”

she links their arms together ,taking charge and leading him towards the kitchen. ‘ let’s just say , i know a guy who knows a guy. ’ petunia can’t help but laugh at her own words , looking at benjy sideways as she grins. ‘ well , something like that at least. but ! i got you. we’ll have those olives , and maybe some chocolates while we’re at it. ’

a  blink.  hestia  blinks  blankly  once.  then,  twice.  with  a  twist  in  her  features,  she  looks  around  them  at  the  surrounding  crowd;  bodies  that  move  in  tandem  with  the  music,  hands  finding  their  resting  on  hips,  lips  pressing  chaste  kisses  onto  the  soft  skin  of  necks  –  everyone  but  her  might’ve  had  five  cups  of  olives  on  their  person.  hestia  is  just  about  to  duck  out,  a  foot  away  from  stepping  away  to  go  scream  at  a  portrait  that  she  knows  will  talk  back  to  her.

“  do  i  look  like  i  have  five  cups  of  olives  on  me?  ”    she  asks.  she  doesn’t  mean  it  to  be  malicious,  and  yet,  it  comes  out  that  way  anyway.  her  bark  is  much  worse  than  her  bite.    “  no,  seriously  –  do  i  look  like  that  kind  of  girl?  is  having  olives  a  good  thing  or  a  bad  thing?  ”

he realizes how ridiculous the question had been in the moment of silence that follows, but he doesn’t back down. too stubborn to admit that no, she doesn’t exactly look like she would have five cups of olives on her. ‘yes,’ he lies, instead, ‘but it’s a solidly neutral thing really. helpful, maybe, but not necessarily inherently good because you could definitely be planning on throwing them at people from the top of the tower.’

she lets out a soft snort , squeezing his shoulders gently before stepping out of his personal space. ‘ well , ’ she starts , pursing her lips in thought. ‘ we could start with the kitchen ? ’ she suggests with a grin. ‘ — i know someone who’d let us slip in. merlin knows how they guard the fridge around here. you should see how people raid it , should they be given the chance. ’

Marisol followed his gaze into the crowd, though she had no idea who the ‘they’ he was referring to was, nor who or what he was looking at. “How very mysterious. I guess we all get our strange cravings. Olives isn’t one I’ve heard of before, though.” She nodded her agreement, already feeling a twist of guilt in her stomach for even suggesting such a cruel action against the house-elves. It was a sign of how drunk she was that she hadn’t thought that through more before saying it. “Summoning might be better, except now that I know you don’t actually want them for yourself, I’m wondering why you’re so fussed. They haven’t even stuck about to wait for you to get them.” Her eyes widened when he questioned the olive oil. “Well, I don’t know, but it makes as much sense as wanting five jars of olives. A bit of bread with olive oil and balsamic vinegar makes for a better snack, you know, because carbs are always good. Especially when drinking. I wonder how many olives you need to make a bottle of olive oil.”

He nods, agreeing that the craving for olives is a strange one. Benjy straightens slightly, shoulders losing their slight hunch as he considers for the first time why exactly he was trying so hard to help. “Huh, guess I never really stopped to consider that I didn’t need to help,” he replied, lips pursing into a slight frown as he thought about it. “They might come back, I guess I can tell them then that I don’t know where to get olives.” He considers the olive oil, head tilting slightly as he tries to envision the process of making olive oil before realizing he doesn’t know how it’s made. “Isn’t olive oil just the oil that olives were stored in?” he blurts out before really considering it further. 

task 001 :: media parallels

“olives. for the drinks?“

now that he thinks about it – xeno recalls the dreaded things being used as flashy ornaments in alcohol. the kind in fancy glasses with thin stems, cradled delicately in curled fingers. expensive. suddenly xeno’s demeanor changes.

“maybe they’re not as bad as i remember.” he acquiesces. “we should try some to test it again. come along.” he spins on his heel. “the house elves should have some. but we might have to take the path behind the walls or we’ll get caught. you’re not afraid of spiders, are you?”

“for like martinis? maybe.”

he’s never been a cocktail kind of guy, preferring the simplicity of a rocks glass filled with ice and strong liquor, but he thinks that martinis have olives. maybe not, oh well. at the suggestion, he straightens up — a learning opportunity at a party isn’t something that you can beat in his opinion. 

“definitely should try them, spare everyone else the potential suffering.” if they’re gross he’ll just tell the sixth year that the kitchens were fresh out of olives — surely the drinks can manage without. “afraid of spiders? not nearly as afraid as i am of getting detention on the first night. off we go!” he cheers, skipping forward to match xeno’s stride while trying to maintain the distance the other had set. 

——  ♡  ❛   I  MIGHT  HAVE  ONE  OR  TWO .  ❜   she’s  got  a  knowing  smirk  on  her  face  ,  amused  at  the  question  and  even  herself  unsure  if  there  was  even  a  chance  she  could .  “what  did  ya  need  them  for,  benj?”  the  ravenclaw’s  head  tilted  quizzically ,  a  melodious  laugh  coming  out  with  the  next  sentence . “we  talkin’  green  or  black?  pitted  or  whole?”

——  ♡  ❛ ONE OR TWO WOULD BE A START .  ❜ he doesn’t know that he believes her, given that he can’t see any olives at a cursory glance but he doesn’t want to call her a liar, either. he tries to think of things that he might need olives for and comes up blank, deciding to try and appeal to curiosity. “you know, that’s a bit of a mystery even to me. one of the sixth years was asking for them.” both eyebrows shoot up at the named options as he’s caught off-guard, “there are different types?”

she responds with a shrug , tilting her head to the side. his answer pulls a laugh from her. ‘ a focaccia ? really now ? ’ petunia shakes his head , raising her hands in an act of surrender. ‘ okay , i’m not going to ask. and sadly , i do not have olives. but , ’ she pauses, putting her hands over his shoulders , ‘ —i’ll help you look ? ’

Marisol was well on her way to off-her-face. The summer was fun but nothing compared to a good Hogwarts party with all her friends around her. “Benjy!” She grinned at him as he approached and flung her arms out for a hug whether he would want one or not. Before she could ask how his summer had been, though, he was asking her about olives. A bizarre question, perhaps, but she wouldn’t be daunted by not understanding the context. “I don’t, no. I have… no olives. Five jars? That’s a lot of olives. Are you making martinis for everyone? Or… or… wow, what else has olives in? Olive oil! I don’t want any olive oil but maybe the house-elves can get some for you. It’s a bit of a way to the kitchens from here, I guess, but you could try calling out house-elf-y names and see if one responds. Does that fall under house-elf abuse, though? That’s probably irritating at the very least for them so maybe don’t do that.”

Benjy glad accepted the hug, pulling Marisol tight for a long moment before stepping back and grinning at her. “I  — you know, I’m not really sure what they plan to do with that many olives and they ran off before I could ask.” He turns back trying to see if he could spot the younger student in the crowd before turning back. “You know, I think that would be kind of cruel. Maybe I could use a summoning charm to summon some olives, though I guess I’d have to specify ‘jar of olives’ unless I want olives flying everywhere.” He sighs giving the room one last glance before calling it quits mentally, at least for the moment. “Wait  — olive oil? Why would I want olive oil at a party?”

“i hate olives.“ xeno looks disgusted. he takes a step back, then another, until he’s comfortable with the distance between them.

who needs olives? more importantly – who needs five cups of them? he’s been schooled on warning signs. what to look out for in others. and this is definitely a Bad Terrible Sign if he’s ever saw one.

“do you just pop them into your mouth and eat them? raw? do you like them that much to hoard five cups?”

benjy squints slightly as he tries to recall the last time he ate an olive – they were slimy and spongy, right? no, those are mushrooms, he corrects himself realizing that he can’t remember ever eating an olive.

“i can’t say if i agree,” he admits, suddenly wanting those olives for the sole sake of trying them. there’s something intriguing about the unknown, he thinks, and those five cups of olives are in many ways unknown.

the request makes her blink  —  once , twice , thrice , then a beat. petunia squints , mouth set into a line. ‘ are you high, benjy ? ’ she throws back , arms crossed over her chest. ‘ even if you weren’t , ’ she continues , voice loud enough to compete with the music , ‘ —what on earth are you going to do with four and a half cups of olives ? ’

“funnily  enough,   i  just  ran  out  of  my  supply.”      she  takes  pity  on  him,   a  grin  playing  on  her  lips.      “buuuut  i  might  know  where  you  can  find  some.”      she  holds  out  her  arm  for  his  own  to  link  through,   tipping  her  head  in  what  she  hopes  is  the  right  direction.      “come  on,  then.    i  can  promise  almost  five  cups  of  olives  &  a  good  time,   right  this  way.          [  …  ]          not  that  kind  of  good  time !”      she  uses  her  free  hand  to  knock  against  her  skull.

“alright.    clearly  those  firewhiskey  shots  had  the  desired  effect.    please,   just  take  my  hand  &  put  me  out  of  my  misery.    i  promise  to  keep  the  creep  in  check.”

“i am so concerned by the mental image of you eating cups of olives,” he says, nose scrunching up as he thinks about it. “you are about to be my saviour,” he decides, linking his arm through hers and pointing his spare hand in a vague direction. “onward to olives and a good time!” he laughs.