Entry tags:

drabble, fic, meme, prompts

Prompt: Valentine/Augustus Rookwood & Bathseda Babbling (also known as, FINALLY a happy Auggy fic!)
Requested by: minorchord

request one here



She'd gotten her schedule down pat, and it was perfect. It was beyond perfect, because it gave her exactly enough time to walk from her class to the library where she could relax and enjoy the simple pleasure of walking through the illustrious halls of Hogwarts while still making it to the library before some loud study group swooped on her favourite group of couches to study in. With a nod to the librarian--a stern, serious woman with glasses who liked to suck on muggle hard candies and sugar quills in her spare time--she walked in.

Seda sighed happily as she found the nook untouched, curling up into the worn leather chair with a quiet smile of happiness that quickly faded into a confused pout as she felt something prick her bum. Half-scooting off the chair, she found the corner of the index card that was poking out from between the cushions and pulled it out. She'd almost discarded it when she noticed that, on the back, very heavily etched was her name-- Seda Babbling. Curious, she turned it over.

On the lined side, was written:

she walks in beauty, like the niGht
of cloudless climes and staRry skiEs,
and All That's best of dark and brigHt
meets in her Aspect and her eyes;
thus meLlow'd to that tender Light
which heaven to gaudy day denies.

Her brows lifted for a moment, intrigued by both the topic and intended subject of the poem as well as the author--a muggle poet named Byron. It was only a moment before she wondered about the strange capitalization--erratic and almost detrimental to the effect of the poem. Whipping out a quill, she scrawled each letter again on the bottom of the index card.

G-R-E-A-T-H-A-L-L

Great Hall. The Great Hall? Seda paused, quill hovering over the index card. Was she reading too far into things? No. No, she couldn't be, because the letters were quite clearly capitalized, and no one just happened to randomly capitalize the exact letters that spelled out 'Great Hall' in the middle of the first stanza of a Byron poem. No one.

She sat for another moment before deciding. Grabbing her bag and the note, she stood up, whisking out of the library and towards the Great Hall.

Once there, she saw the second card with no trouble--slid under the loose doorframe to keep it still, it probably looked like a simple wayward slip of parchment to anyone else. She knew better, pulling it out carefully so as not to tear it.

one shade the more, one ray the less,
had half impair'd the nameless grace
which waves in every RAVEN tress
or softly lightens o'er her face,
where thoughts serenenly sweet express
how pure, how dear their DWELLING-PLACE.

This one was easy. Raven and Dwelling-place. The common rooms. More than just intrigued now, Seda made her way to the common rooms and found another card tucked under the frame of the portrait. It said:

and on that cheek and o'er that brow
so Soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
the smiles That win, the tints thAt glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
a mind at peace with all below,
a heaRt whose love iS innocent.

This card-- S-T-A-R-S. Stars? Did he expect her to--oh. Seda's quick mind took only a moment to catch up with that one, and with a small smile she turned on her heel.

When she reached the astronomy tower, there was someone there already, and she slowed her steps, suddenly wary that somehow this might be a trap of some kind. She wasn't normally the paranoid type, but it seemed too easy for someone to lie in wait in the tower and disengage her when she came up. It was already twilight, the rapidly setting sun throwing golden beams of light in strange angles across the stairs. Holding her wand out, just in case, she climbed slowly and steadily, and as she turned the corner she found--

--Augustus Rookwood, with a crooked, charming grin on his face, in the middle of the room, with tiny tea candles hovering all around him like miniature stars. Behind him--and she was sure he'd placed himself specifically for this purpose--was the setting sun, an explosion of oranges and reds and pinks fading into the darker violets and indigos of dusk. Even at fifteen, he had an easy air about him, charming without being overbearing, sincere in his eagerness.

"Bathseda Babbling," he began, as she stood shocked and motionless at the door, wand still pointed at him. "Would you do me the honor--" he was on one knee now, the ridiculous boy, "--of being my Valentine?" He gave her a coy little pout. "Lord Byron would want you to."

She blinked, rapidly, four or five times, before licking her lips and allowing their corners to be pulled into a smile. "Well, we certainly can't let the good Lord Byron, down can we?" she asked in amusement.

"No," he replied solemnly. "We most certainly can't."

"In that case," she said, tucking her wand away and looking at him as if to ponder the issue. "Well, in that case, I guess I must say yes."

He was on his feet in a moment, and before she knew it, he'd reached her and his lips were against hers, arms at the small of her back, the heat from his palms pressing through her clothes to burn at her skin. She clutched back at him for a moment, letting the spontaneity of the moment overcome her.

He pulled back, grin on his face. "I was hoping you'd say that," he replied, and he said it so matter-of-factly she couldn't help but laugh.