Number 1 Party Anthem

In true Lucy fashion, she rolled her eyes, though her stomach twisted at the tone of his voice. She didn’t know him, but she did, and she knew that he was avoiding her on purpose. Lucy didn’t blame him, it was a bitch move, but her nostrils flared in irritation. He’d hurt her too. “It’s never a good time for this, clearly, because I know you’ve been avoiding me on purpose.” Her tone raised slightly, before dropping as people walked past. 

He nearly continued walking, he could live with ignoring Lucy Weasley, but she had the nerve to approach him. It took him as out of character for her. She didn’t care about him. He didn’t care about her. They didn’t do, this, a heated exchange implied something. Friendship, a relationship beyond that as friends, an acquaintanceship. This, this wasn’t anything. “Yeah-” he turned to face her, unexpectedly finding her closer than he thought she would be. “Fuck yeah I’m avoiding you on purpose. That’s what you do when you want to stay away from someone.”

@fletchedp

“so, why am i here?”

Fletcher shrugged, deciding to jump right into it then. “You, me. I’ve made the executive decision that if either of us is going to make it through the year, we need to be civil. For Athena’s sake”

“Well, had I known you are already so aware of your numerous shortcomings, I might not have bothered reiterating. Granted, of course, that you actually knew them well enough, and you do seem to ignore them.”

“And of course. Clara and I always have a lovely time together.”

“What’s your deal, huh?” Fletcher shrugged. “Here I am, trying to conversate, and you’re literally spewing negativity about my shortcomings, which I know very well thank you, like a fountain.”

lucy wasn’t attached. that wasn’t what this was - her repeatedly calling out his name as he walked away; since the party on the yacht, things had been different. she thought it’d blow over - but lucy being lucy - she was wrong. this was her trying to find answers. “Fletcher, for the love of all things fucking sparkly and alcoholic, turn around.” she didn’t like walking after him, but she also didn’t like the feeling in her stomach when she didn’t talk to him. 

@fletchedp

Fletcher had been avoiding Lucy purposefully. If he saw her in the hall, he turned the other direction. If he noticed her at meals, he sat on the other side of the room. He did not want anything to do with Lucy because he was angry with her. Anger was not something he felt regularly, thus, it had taken him time to process the emotion. What part of her thought that he wasn’t going to be angry about her playing his drunken voicemails to a group of people? Why had she thought that had been okay? Who saved that sort of thing anyway? He did.

“Still haven’t made any real friends yet?” She tutted loudly, teasingly. “Keep it up and I’ll start to think that you’re doing it to let me keep my status as your only friend. You have to talk to people, Fletch, maybe be nice. Tall order, I know, but try. — Sorry, sorry, I always forget!” Her hands raised in mock surrender; she’s always ready mentally reminding herself to go over boundary issues. Again.

“Ice cream’s always good. Do you know where? Because you’re leading the way,” she said with a nod, addressing his last comment next. Priorities, see. She was tempted to snort, but managed to catch herself with the grace of her upbringing. “Picture my entire family’s face if, by some miracle, I was picked out. That’s — It’s not my type of thing. Strategic thinking, and magi theories, and calculations; I’d be awful at it. Buuut, you, on the other hand, you wouldn’t be so bad. You’re smart, dumbass.”

“I don’t think I’ve got any real friends period. And you know what? you’re pushin’ it Athena. You’re really-” He smiled, S M I L E D, “pushing my buttons today. I ain’t gotta be nice to anyone if I don’t want to.” Not even himself. 

Riley squinted over at Fletcher. 

“So, basically, you’re telling me you’re just about 50 shades of white with a hint of spice and you don’t know party culture from ANY of them??”

“Yup. No spice here. Just as vanilla as mayonnaise.”

( &. fletcher. )

A light roll of her eyes, a small mock-pout of her lips. “I was joking. Don’t be boring, Fletch.” But then Athena’s brightening up again, releasing a giggle that’s bell-like in the air. She’s a tactile person at heart, so she raises one of her hands to poke him in the cheek. “Your sunny personality, of course. Can’t a girl miss one of her oldest friends without having to have a good reason? I see you, like, once every few months. Now I’ve got this whole year to bug you. Isn’t that great? — Unless you’re entering the Tournament and get chosen. Are you? Entering, that is.”

She’s showering him with questions, all at once, in a typical fashion, but — She doesn’t do well with separations. Athena gets attached easily and firmly, hard to shake off once she’s got a hold on you. She grins. “It’s all right, save your painful confessions for another time. Don’t want you to die from expressing your feelings already.” Still, it’s a nice reassurance to hear from him.

“Peachy. Peach-y. Me, you, a whole year of fucking around and you being the only person I like. You know I told-” He moved his face away as she poked at it, “Again with the touching, Athena.”

“What? No. ‘Course not. What would I do in any competition? Bloody useless is what I’d be.” Unless the challenge was to translate a passage from Greek or spout off the latest conspiracy theory. “Are you?”

“…… You’re fucking with me, right?? You’re from England, you’re not from, like, some random ass island in the middle of nowhere.”

“You don’t know that.”

Anita nearly screamed when she turned the corner of the hall, trying to stay within the magical part of the school. She really shouldn’t have been surprised that there was another student in her way going the opposite direction, but when has Anita ever been the one to actually be cognizant of her surroundings?

“Oh –” she let out a huff, but a satisfied one, as the blonde boy stammered. “It’s you. Lucky I didn’t have my wand on me, yeah?”

“Who the fuck walks around with their wand? What are you doing, playing muggle for a day?”

One of these days, her eyes may truly drop out of her head for the sheer vehemence required to roll her eyes in any given Parkinson’s direction. Gisèle sighed, long-suffering. “Don’t be preposterous; I’m far too cultured to fall that low. Now, you, on the other hand…”

Fletcher let out a loud, dramatic sigh. “Far too cultured and on and on and raised in France and I hate the Parkinsons and yada yada yada Fletcher is an idiot and so on and so forth. That’s all your ever on about, aren’t you? Jeezus.”

fletchedp:

“Mate, I think you’re a victim to your own stupidity is more like it.”

“Mmmm. That sounds about right.”

( @fletchedp. ) || ( meme ; open. )

“Miss seeing me in person?” She purposely timed herself to scare him — or attempt to, anyway. Popping up behind Fletcher was kinda the point, grabbing one of his shoulders, before sliding herself into the seat next to him and leaving one arm up to lean against him. “You’ve been completely deprived of my company, aside from owls and Floo-ing. Isn’t this great? I’ve definitely missed you.”

The one instance that he did not sit his back to a wall as he usually did, she was successful, he jumped. His back stiffened, “Fucks sakes, Travers.” He looked around, scanning the area for anyone else, the cost was clear. “You know how I feel about being snuck up on.”

“You know Bette Davis said that the best fun she ever had with Joan Crawford was when she pushed her down the stairs during the filming of Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?” Fletcher did not look up from his crossword at his cousin, but he knew she was there. She had that Parkinson energy that he could feel from a mile away. “You think me and you will ever reach that level of pettiness?” 

@fletchedp

“You’re so right. I never thought of that.”

“Yeah, yeah, Jamie. Fletcher was right, what else is new? Enough with the flattery.”