devastating repercussions , [faolan]

[atti]

With a long, cat-like stretch of his back, Atticus lifted himself from the seat at his desk in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. He took a minute to crack a few joints, loosening the tension that had been building in his muscles and bones since he had originally sat down to do some corrections as his beginners class was writing a short test on ghosts, which he had given near the end of class. When they had finished and filed out, placing their papers on his desk, he hadn’t bothered to get up, and went about correcting them immediately, preferring to give back assignments corrected the next day because he knew how nerve-wracking it could be waiting for teachers to correct work and hand it back. He’d always been terrible at waiting for his professors to give them back, so he assumed the quicker the better to most students.

That had been his last class of the day, and he was certainly feeling it. All of his classes had done a lot of practical training today, besides the test given in the last part of the day, and he was certainly feeling tired. Nevertheless, he had to finish the corrections and grading before heading down for supper and then probably a good book, if he finished his lesson plans for tomorrow now after he was done with the tests, before bed. It all sounded rather nice to him, but he wasn’t sure how he’d be feeling about the whole thing after talking to the student he’d called up to his office after his N.E.W.T. class today. He’d been alerted of two students fighting in Ravenclaw common room a few days ago, and though he was sure that their head of house and the headmaster had worked out an appropriate punishment, he still wanted to talk to one of the parties involved. Thus, he needed to stay in the general vicinity of his classroom while waiting for dinnertime, and was resigned to finishing up what work he needed to for tomorrow.

Deciding he needed a cup of tea, or coffee, whichever he felt like making, he gathered up the rest of the untouched tests and headed up the stairs to his office, waving his free hand to aguamenti water into the small, portable coffee maker and inserting a few bags of tea into the top tray as he settled himself down in the more comfortable office chair. Faolan could find him up here, when he arrived, it wouldn’t be too difficult, and he’d left the door open.

[faolan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i52.tinypic.com/otj5sn.jpg); width: 390px; height: 450px; -moz-border-radius: 40px 0px 40px 0px; border-radius:40px 0px 40px 0px; opacity: 0.8; border-right: #7298ac 15px solid; border-left: #7298ac 15px solid;] It seemed within the past week, Faolan's fairly normal and decent life had quickly turned sour. So many bad things have happen, he wondered if he had been cursed or jinxed by some unseen force. Before this, he had been someone most people respected, at least those that the Ravenclaw valued their opinions. He was good in class, social, respectful, clever, a beater, and generally not what most would expect from the Greyback line. Of course occasionally his temper got short and his mood would become more rambunctious during the moon, but not as bad as he was acting now. It was a good 5 days after the full moon, but slowly it seemed his virtues and morals he held high in the past were now low on his priorities now. Before he was rarely late to class, and now it had become a regular occurrence. There were even a few times he didn't appear at all, and some were the classes he normally liked the best. The next oddity was his attire. It wasn't completely ragged or anything, but it had become less cared for. Often times his appearance looked like he'd been spending his time way to much outside, more than likely sneaking off into the forest where he never use to go. The last and most notable difference was his character. He still had his smart mind, but now he tended to use it for smart or crude responses. Unlike before, where he tried to avoid as many romantic situations as possible, he now could be found stalking and charming any girl that catches his eye. To be honest, as each day passed, to some people he started to resemble his father in more ways than one. Also, since his meeting with Fenrir, Faol had done his best to avoid the one person he trusted almost like a father. He was the DADA professor, Mr. Beaumont, who acted as his mentor in most things he did. He was well aware the man would not be happy with how he had changed and the trouble he had made over the past few days. If anyone was to figure out what had happened, the discerning Frenchman would. Right now, Faol felt it only safer to keep his father's location secret. He felt if he revealed anything of that night, either he, or those he cares about, would pay for his action. There was no way he could allow that. However, after today's class, the Ravenclaw's attempts of evasion had come to an end. Their homework on Werewolves had been due, though he contributed nothing. By the end of class, he heard the professor coolly tell him to see him by the end of the day. On a normal day he wouldn't have been bothered by the request, though as he looked into those eyes, the 6th year knew it wasn't one of those requests. He was in trouble. A few hours passed, and oddly enough, apprehension of what might be said gnawed on his nerves. Because of this he had spent a good part of the time attempting to release it as he roamed the lawn and forest, hunting anything that caught his interest. Knowing he couldn't ignore the meeting forever, he made his way back to the castle in enough time to change his clothes and to take off his now filthy robe. However, what he didn't notice was that some dried blood still remained on his face from the last kill he had made., otherwise he almost looked as he used to. Walking up the stairs to the third floor, the previous injuries he had gotten with the fight with Hector began to ache and sting again. Several scars still remained that were deeper than the average healing charm could handle, and his chest where the fractured rib had been throbbed and nagged the muscles around it. Silently entering the DADA room, he peaked through the entrance before fully walking in. He would never admit it, but in times like these he feared what the professor might do, much like a kid would dread some untold punishment after a parent came home. He wasn't sure what to expect. He had never received a look like that before, so caution was the key. Looking around, he realized the man had likely gone to his office to wait. His acute hearing could pick up the sound of tea being made and the shuffling ove papers. Taking a breath, he slowly made his way up to the winding steps to the DA's office. As soon as he reached it, the young Greyback leaned against the threshold and put a smirk on his face as he asked, "What's the occasion, or did you just miss me?"

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made by hay shay @ caution!

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[atti]

“Tea?” Atticus offered when Faolan announced his presence, ignoring his snarky question. Just as with many things, Atticus found that angsty teenagers were easiest to deal with when you mostly ignored the sarcasm they put behind everything. As it was, Faolan was one of his better students, but the Ravenclaw had been a concern of Atticus’ for a while now. “Sit,” he instructed, waving his hand at the two chairs opposite his desk. “I’d hate for your legs to give out while I’m in the middle of this. It’d be in both of our interests if you remained unharmed.”

Once his tea was brewed, a cup settled itself on his desk and another in front of the chairs on the other side, should Faolan choose to take up his offer. Leaning forward, he snatched the pot out of the air and poured himself a full cup, adding only a lump of sugar. He didn’t take his tea with milk or too much sugar, though without it he found it unbearable. Like many things, Atticus enjoyed moderation. It was good to have sweets once in a while, every once in a while he’d sleep in a few extra minutes, letting out frustrations was okay for the most part... when you didn’t destroy a common room and put other students in danger while doing it.

“Now, Monsieur Greyback, would you kindly relate the events of the altercation between you and Monsieur Wulfe step by step until the moment when I arrived?” he asked, taking a small sip of his tea and staring at Faolan, challenging him to answer with a snide answer. He’d only gotten the jist of what had happened, but he wanted to know exactly what had went down to properly gage the punishments on both sides. After talking with Hector Wulfe, hopefully he’d have enough information to decide what actions to take. Actually, he had enough information as it was, but he was curious as to how Faolan would related the story to him, and plus, there were other things he wanted to discuss... er, lecture about.

ooc ; it's short and crappy, but I wanted to get something up for you and I'm suffering slightly from jet lag atm.

[galen]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; height: 600px; background-image: url(http://i142.photobucket.com/albums/r102/Tamar11/600full-ben-barnes-2-1.jpg); -moz-border-radius: 250px; border-radius:100px 100px 100px 100px; border: 3px solid #ffffff;] THE ANIMAL IN ME Faol gave a quick, almost inaudible huff threw his nose when Atticus merely replied by asking if he wanted tea. He was likely one of the few teachers who would let his jibe go by without a fight or a scowl as if it have never been said. That was a relief, but also an irritation to the young werewolf, who found Atticus' cool nature to be even more unnerving. Why did the Frenchman have to use the formalities, when Faol just wanted to get to the point? As he thought about this, he realized why he felt so tense. Fenrir had also used am unusually calm tone with him at the pub...even when talking about possibly hurting his mother. It hadn't been what he expected of the older werewolf by the stories that were told of his ferocity, but at the time, the man seemed almost genteel. Much like Atticus did now. Seeing that the professor was already pouring him a cup anyway, he didn't bother to respond as his dark eyes barely moved from the older man's presence. It was only when he told him to sit, that he straighten up and glanced at the chairs briefly before turning back to Atticus, deciding whether to refuse or give in. Apparently his mentor noticed this an added that their 'discussion' would take awhile. Giving a quiet relenting growl, he took the nearest seat to the desk and took the offered cup. Liking his tea strong, he didn't bother adding anything before he took a good sip. He kept an unusual silence as he still watched the professor, waiting for the man to break it. Normally by now he would be talking up a storm as they debated on certain subjects, not always pertaining to his class, but now, he barely even moved-partially because he was still very sore- as he eyed Atticus with a curious, but annoyed stare. “Now, Monsieur Greyback, would you kindly relate the events of the altercation between you and Monsieur Wulfe step by step until the moment when I arrived?”the professor finally spoke. Faolan had expected a question like this, but the answer, or the truth, that he would have to reveal, was almost too hard to bear. It wasn't a simple question. Faolan's gaze finally faltered as he looked down at his cup, biting the inside of his lip as if he would hold back the story he would need to tell. Lying was definitely not his strong point, so his only option was to stall or limit the amount of information he had to give. Giving a mild growl as he looked back up to see Atticus with his 'don't mess with me' look, Faol couldn't find himself to keep the truth from him. Taking another sip, as if to mask his hesitation, the Greyback said quietly, almost wishing his mentor wouldn't hear, "It really starts two before that...to really understand...It really just was a wrong place at the wrong time ordeal..for both of us...He jus' chose the wrong day ta mess wi' me.." As he finnished, Faol's thick accent began to show, and for those that knew him well, would be able to sense he was becoming on edge. What made this a bit odd was that the young werewolf generally had a level head. A simple conversation like this would never bring it out. there can be only one mikey! of caution 2.0

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[atti]

Atticus liked to believe he was a non-confrontational person. He had always been told he had a gift for remaining calm under tense situations, being able to hold in his temper better than most people. He exerted quite the astonishing self-control over himself, and was very disciplined in his doings. It took quite a bit to make Atticus lose control in any manor, and rarely did he ever see an argument as the proper way to settle a dispute, much less physical violence. As his father had taught him, any problems could be resolved simply by sitting down, examining both sides of the situation, deliberating on the best process to go worth with, and sometimes there were compromises to be had, but usually they were able to find an answer that suited both sides. That was what his father did for a living; he regulated things with the French Ministry of Magic as a sort of middle-man, the one who sat people down and got them to explain.

As much as his father may have wanted him to, Atticus didn’t follow in his father’s footsteps as had the young Beaumonts before him. He hadn’t wanted to take up the family position in the Ministry, but that had not meant he hadn’t listened to everything his father had taught him when he was younger. He found, however, that the information was of much more use to him in situations like these than they would have been if he had been stuck behind a desk in the office of the Beaumont Manoir back home in France. Certainly the fail-proof steps that the Beaumont family had spent years devising would work in this one too.

But alas, as Atticus remembered when Faolan finally spoke up after he demanded answers, that both parties had to be willing to give information on the problem for this to work, and as it seemed, the young Mister Greyback seemed rather hesitant to speak about it. Calculatingly, Atticus’ eyes narrowed as he listened to Faolan speak.

“Make me understand, Mister Greyback,” he said, raising his cup to his lips, but speaking again before taking a drink. “It would look much better to your head of house if you had a better reason than: ‘He just chose the wrong day ta mess wi’ me.’” He added, after letting the tea enter his mouth and rest there a moment before swallowing. “I’m not going to bother telling you how stupid it was, or how reckless, or how dangerous, or how... well, I’m sure you understand, because I’m quite sure you grasp that what happened was stupid and reckless and dangerous, don’t you?” The tea cup met its companion, the saucer, as Atticus leaned forward slightly.

ooc ; it's short and crappy.